However, as long as the demands were not made on the spur of the moment, as it were, I felt, like the immortal Micawber, that something might turn up, and so I went stolidly on my way, only carefully noting the date of my enforced appearance at the County Court. My chief difficulty at this troublous time, as it always was afterwards while I was ashopkeeper, was the absence of ready money, even in such small amounts as might suffice to pay the few pence required to pay my fare to and from the office on a wet day. This gave an exquisite relish to the farce of receiving not merely begging circulars, but visits of calling beggars, whether they boldly asked alms, or in a confidential manner requested the loan of a few shillings for a fortnight.
When the day of my appearance at Court arrived, I was punctual in my attendance, having obtained a day's leave from the office, and I must admit, that in spite of the urgency of my own private affair, I found it possible to take a great amount of interest, and find a great deal of amusement in what was going on. I must also confess that I was really appalled at the utter disregard of the value of the oath taken by those appearing as plaintiffs or defendants. It was rare, indeed, to find in any case that the plaintiff did not swear one thing and the defendant the exact opposite. The duty of the Registrar (I had not made the acquaintance of the judge yet) seemed to consist of deciding which was the most likely story out of each pair told him, and acting accordingly. And as I was not called upon till midday, I heard a great deal of this, so much indeed that I felt full of wonder how any man could occupy such a position as that presiding officer did and retain any belief in what anybody said.
At last my case was called, and it was simplicityitself. "Do you owe this money?" queried the Registrar sharply. "Yes, sir," I replied. "Then why don't you pay it?" was the next and most obvious question. "Because I can't," I answered humbly, and was proceeding to explain those reasons, although I could see the gentleman I was addressing was taking no notice of me, when he suddenly stopped me and called upon my creditor (who I may say, was not the doctor, but an agent to whom the doctor paid a percentage for collecting his debts) to give evidence of my means. He stated what he knew very fairly, viz. that I kept a shop and had a permanent situation. Upon which the Registrar ordered me to pay within a fortnight and called the next case. I was, of course, mightily astonished at being so peremptorily silenced, especially as I felt sure that from what I had seen that morning I should have got on much better had I denied the debt altogether. But I was only then commencing my acquaintance with our laws, as affecting debtor and creditor, wherein at every turn a premium is placed upon dishonesty and falsehood, and the honest debtor seldom obtains either justice or mercy. Of that, however, later on.
That first experience of mine at the County Court, apart altogether from my personal interest in it, was a serious revelation to me. I had no idea before how futile were the oath-takings, with what lightness of heart men and women perjured themselves. Ido not mean by that any reference to difficulty of expression or treachery of memory, but deliberate lying upon oath, and that too about such trivial matters as a few shillings, or even, as it appeared to me, for the sake of preventing a friend from losing a case. Also I was amazed to see how lightly this matter was regarded by the officials; for I had always looked upon perjury as a crime of such magnitude as to be even spoken of with bated breath. But these officials lived in an atmosphere of perjury, and had I suppose, grown case hardened, at anyrate, they heard it all day long and took no heed as far as I could see. I make no excuse for referring to this matter again, because of what I believe to be its tremendous significance.
Another thing in which I then first became much interested was the ease with which anybody possessed of sufficient impudence and plausibility could accumulate debt, repudiate it or ignore it, or delay paying any part of it until summoned for it, and then quite easily, as it appeared to me, get off by paying a ridiculous sum per month. Here in many cases I failed to see any justice at all. To illustrate my meaning I will quote two typical cases. The first was that of a man who did not appear himself, but sent his young wife, who was rather good-looking, very smartly dressed, and completely equipped with saucy self-confidence and much power of repartee. The debt was £15 for meat supplied from day to day.Small amounts had been paid off the ever-growing bill, but at last the butcher, who was in a very small way of business, feeling that his hopes of ever getting his money were growing so faint as almost to disappear altogether, summoned the debtor for the amount. Undoubtedly he had been very patient, but then if such patience were not common among small traders, however would the poor live?
The debt was not denied, for a wonder, but the lady pleaded, "My 'usban's ben aht o' work fur a good many weeks, an' he aint earnin' more'n fifteen shillin' a week nah, me washup, an' so we cahn't pye this money." "But you have been still running up the bill," said the judge. "Yus me washup," said the lady, "we 'ad ter live, yer see." Upon being appealed to for leniency to the debtor under these sad conditions, the butcher successfully proved that the consumer of his meat had four carts and six horses, and kept four men in constant employment. As to being ill or out of work, these statements were pure embroidery, the whole concern was in flourishing order, and had been for years. The butcher wound up by declaiming indignantly, "An' I gotter find a bloke like that in grub wot I gotter pye my hard-earned brass down on the nail fer, 'im as could buy an' sell me twicet over any dye?" it did seem queer.
But the net result was that the debtor wascondemned to pay his debt of £15 and costs off at the rate offive shillingsper month, and the lady danced out of the witness box with amouefull of derision at the hapless butcher. Lest this may seem to be an especially chosen incident I here assert that such a case is peculiarly common and typical as is the next case I quote, but the reason for the difference in treatment I leave wiser heads than mine to determine.
A pale, slender man neatly dressed and giving his occupation as that of a clerk, was summoned by a doctor for a debt and costs of £5. 10s. This, by the way, was at another County Court and before a judge. Asked why he did not pay the bill, the defendant pleaded that the amount originally asked was excessive, inasmuch as it was for three visits and two bottles of medicine. He further stated that he was just emerging from a long period of unemployment, and that his wages were now £2 per week.
Without calling upon the doctor the judge thundered at the unfortunate debtor "who are you to assess the value of the doctor's services? Pay the whole amount within a fortnight. That'll do, I won't hear another word. Next case." And the hapless debtor went slowly down and out as much surprised as I was, doubtless, at the strange inequalities of justice. The case was peculiarly noticeable in that the defendant, having moved a long way from the neighbourhood after incurring the debt, had voluntarilyreturned to the doctor with the first money he had earned to pay his bill, and only refused on account of what he considered its exorbitant amount. I make no comment, I only wonder.
Now came for a time a blessed relief, not that is from any of the major burdens, but from my most pressing necessities. Orders flowed in from all quarters, and I found the utmost difficulty in keeping pace with them. I used to get up at half-past two or three in the morning, and after making myself a cup of tea get to work with such furious energy, that I look back upon it now with utter amazement. Many and many a time I have done what anybody might consider a really good day's work before breakfast-time(I never had any breakfast) or say eight o'clock, when I must needs wash and dress and rush off to my office work where I was due at nine. By the time one o'clock came, I had a decent appetite which I stayed very cheaply, my early experience now standing me in good stead. A half-penny loaf, a pennyworth of cheese, a half-penny beetroot or a penny tomato with a half a pint of mother-in-law (stout and bitter) to wash it down with, used to make me a very good meal at a cost of threepence or fourpence. Or I would, if flush of money, have a quarter of boiled pork and a ha'porth of pease pudding, which with a halfpenny loaf or a ha'porth of potatoes made a sumptuous meal and one that I enjoyed far more than any elaborate banquets I have everattended since. And the total cost never exceeded sixpence.
Such meals had a relish all their own, and if business drove me to a cook-shop for the orthodox cut off the joint and two vegetables for sixpence, I never enjoyed it as well, with one exception. A local cook-shop made a speciality of stewed steak, at least that is what they called it, though it was really shin of beef, and it was very good and satisfying, with plenty of thick brown gravy. They only charged fourpence for it, so that with a pennyworth of potatoes and a pennyworth of pudding afterwards I could make a really good meal for sixpence. Here I learned what was of great use to me, a lesson that I now see inculcated on every hand, how small a quantity of food the body really needs to do good work upon, and conversely how much more food than is really necessary the average man or woman does consume. But I cannot take any credit for this learning, for like so many other useful lessons conveyed to us it was compulsory, I had no choice but to learn it. The result has been at any rate that the "pleasures of the table" have never since then meant anything to me, one plain meal in the middle of the day sufficing for all my needs, and keeping me in such health as the results of my overwork will allow me.
Still I should be very sorry to go about endeavouring to force other people to go and do likewise, because I have learned very thoroughly how great a factoris individuality, and how true is the old proverb that one man's meat is another man's poison. And I humbly think that if some of our vociferous propagandists would learn that lesson also it would be much better for the general peace.
There was no especial reason as far as I know for closing that last chapter, and commencing a new one, except that it was getting too long in my opinion. For the story I was telling was incomplete, I having gone off at an unexpected angle on the question of food supplies. However, I will now resume and say that the influx of work I mentioned lasted for a fortnight, during the whole of which time I can aver that, except on Sundays, I was never in bed after 3 a.m. or before 11 p.m., and that I was often so weary on coming home from the city with a load of moulding, that I would sit down on a chair in the shop and be unable to rise for half an hour. But as I would not allow myself to think about the future, or ask myself what was the good of it all, I was not unhappy, and I was able to take a good deal of pride in my work. And by the time the pressure slackened, I had settled that wretched summons, had paid my rates, and a few other immediate liabilities, besides being able to buy a few sorely needed articles of clothing for the family.
There was however no lightening of the old burden of debt, and in fact I realised that nothing short of a miracle would enable me to do that. For if I got all the work I craved for I should surely break down, while the utmost that I could earn would not do much more than pay the heavy current expenses of the shop. Had I been able to employ some help, it might have been better, but I don't know about that. I had to do my own errands—I could not delegate my buying in the city to anybody else, although it did entail such a heavy burden upon me physically. Meanwhile I paid cash for everything I had, though I did not pay anything of the bills already incurred.
In this connection I have an amusing recollection. The moulding merchant with whom I dealt was an elderly German in a large way of business, and I had always heard of him as a kindly old soul, but had never come into personal contact with him. Now, however, I owed him nearly £30, for which I had given a bill, and was constantly renewing it; and, consequently, although I dealt with the firm for all my mouldings, and paid cash, I dreaded meeting one of the principals, and indeed slank in and out of the premises like a thief. One day, however, I ran right into the old gentleman, who looked at me keenly and said, "Ach, Meesder Boollen, aindt id?" I humbly answered, "Yes, sir." "Yes, sir," he rather mockingly replied, "now I haf peen in pizness here in London for more as tirty year, andt I nefer ad agustomer dot righdt me sooch nice ledders as you. But you tondt send me no money, hein? I likes to read dose ledders, dey vas very goot, but vy tondt you pay some money too, hein?"
I endeavoured to give him such reasons as I had, and he listened carefully, saying when I had done, "Ach so! Vell, you pay ven you can, undt tondt you go puying your mouldings someveres ellas mit your ready money. Ve all haf droubles, undt ve get over 'em. You get over yours somedime I hope, and den you pay your bill. Goodt efening." And he turned and went into his office, while I went on into the moulding shop with a warm feeling of gratitude to the kind old man, and a firm determination that he should not suffer loss through me if I could possibly help it.
Thenceforward I struggled on, sometimes feeling as if the waters which were always about my chin would suddenly submerge me, but compelled to go on. I often compared myself at this time to a man running in front of a train, between two high walls, allowing of no escape to either side, having no choice but to run or be run over. Still I found solace in my books and newspapers, and relieved my mind of some of its cares by taking an intense interest in political matters as well as the open air propaganda of religion.
What I suppose will strike some people with amazement is the fact that starting as an extreme radical, never a Home Ruler, I gradually became utterlydisgusted with the radical position. Full of admiration for the socialism of Christ, I grew to detest the socialism that I saw being practised by the noisy party in the vestry, and the doctrines I heard preached by the socialists in the open air simply filled me with dismay. For it was nothing else but the survival of the unfit and incurably idle, the morally degenerate, at the expense of the fit, the hard-working and ever-striving classes, an effort in short not to level up, but to level down, a complete subversion of the golden rule of do to all men as ye would they should do unto you. Get all you can for yourself, and the devil take anybody else. Eat and drink all you can at somebody else's expense, no matter who. Beget as many children as you like, and let somebody else care for them. And so on. Oh! it used to make me very sick and sorry, but I am glad to say that in my preaching of what I felt to be right, I always had a most sympathetic and respectful hearing; and I really do believe that the detestable doctrines of loaferdom and savagery which masquerade as socialism have very little hold upon the ordinary people of our streets.
Another great solace of mine was an occasional chat with my fellow shopkeepers, most of whom, like myself, had a severe struggle to live. It makes me positively ill to hear the blatant cant that is talked about the working man, meaning journeymen and labourers only. The small London suburban shopkeeper toils far harder than any of them, is preyedupon by them to an extent which must be incredible to those who don't know, is taxed almost out of existence to support them in the schemes continually being propounded for their benefit by their representatives on the Borough Councils, and is quoted in radical newspapers as the bitter enemy of the working classes.
I found them a kindly, genial, well-informed class of men, shrewd and keen, as indeed they need be in order to live, and particularly free from the petty vices of public-house loafing, betting, and bad language, which are so peculiarly the characteristics of the "working man." But the hardest hit of them all I think were the small grocers. I knew two or three of them intimately, men whose lives were one long grey grind of labour. Who could not live unless they opened very early in the morning, before the big capitalist shops, such as the Home and Colonial, Lipton's, etc., and kept open late at night for the same reason. Even then they would not have been able to live but for giving credit, which the big combinations do not allow their employees to do. Many hundreds of families would come to the workhouse long before they do, especially in hard winters, but for these small tradesmen giving them credit for the bare necessities of life, and thus tiding them over the pinching time. This system of first aid can hardly be called philanthropy, since those who extend it do it for a living, and yet in the multitudinous lifeof poor London it is a huge and most important factor. Even the poor itinerant coal merchant, who goes to the wharf and buys his coal by the ton, and then retails it through the streets in small quantities from dawn to dark, may be seen on Saturdays, the hardest day of all, when his selling of coal is done, painfully dragging his weary way from door to door, collecting the payment for the coal he has been vending on credit all the week.
The costermonger, who has a regular pitch and regular customers, competing with the tradesmen to whom he stands opposite in the most unfair way, in that he has no rent, rates, or taxes to pay, will give credit, and generously too, although he may often through a bad week have to pay usurious interest in order to borrow the money to go to market with. In fact all the small traders give credit, for the reasons I have already stated. Of course, in this way much very inferior stuff is got rid of, because it is certain that he who buys on credit retail with either tradesman will have to pay higher prices than for cash, or will have to put up with inferior goods, since it is impossible to scrutinise too closely what you are receiving on credit unless indeed you are of sufficient rank to make a tradesman glad to serve you on any terms.
One great exception to the universal rule of credit is the publican. Because his wares are a luxury, and the indulgence in them in many cases preventsthe payment of legitimate claims, money can always be found for him much, to the other shopkeepers' disgust. So far is this system of credit carried out that I have known men get their ha'penny morning and evening paper on credit, and even take their workman's ticket, which their news vendor kept a supply of for the convenience of customers, with the casual remark, "Stony broke this mornin', old man, pay you on Saturday." More fools they to allow it, I hear some folks say, but such poor traders allow a good many things to be done to them rather than get the name of being close-fisted with their customers.
To return for a moment to the work of the small shopkeeper, take for instance the butcher. He must needs go to market, no matter what the weather may be, as early as three or four in the morning; he is hard at work all day fully exposed to the weather, and on Saturday must keep open until one o'clock on Sunday morning. In addition to this in many neighbourhoods it is imperative for him to open again on Sunday for a few hours in order to satisfy the demands of those curious folk who will not do their marketing on Saturday while the "houses" (public understood) are open, and when they close at twelve o'clock are unfit for anything but quarrelling or reeling home to bed. Hence Sunday trading with all its attendant evils and its cruel strain upon the small tradesman.
I must confess, however, that although I sympathisedso deeply with all my shopkeeping associates, personally, I did not suffer as they did. For my business being of a non-essential character it did not greatly matter how late I opened my shop or how early I closed it. That I had to carry my materials home from the city was due to the facts of my position being so bad that I could not lay in a stock, and partly because I found it cheaper and more convenient, if more laborious, to buy my moulding as I got orders for frames. Another thing I must say in justice to my customers, and in spite of the reputation of the neighbourhood as impressed upon me when I started in business there—I made practically no bad debts. Perhaps that was partly due to the fact that people do not, in humble walks of life that is, have pictures framed until they have the money ready to pay for the work; and another thing, when I took work home, I always waited for the money, for I always wanted it urgently.
Occasionally, it is true, I had a little difficulty with people who talked grandiloquently of calling round in a day or two, and paying a bill of a few shillings, or of sending a cheque, say, of seven and sixpence, but they were exceedingly seldom. But I had many heart burnings through the vagaries of a certain type of person who would come in and waste hours of my time (and I noticed that these visits usually occurred when I was urgently busy) examining mouldings and getting estimates up to several pounds in value.After which they vanished, and I never saw them again.
Once I was fairly victimised, though fortunately for only a small amount, but I must plead that it took a long time. And as the story is, in my opinion at any rate, exceedingly romantic, I may be pardoned for telling it at length. In the course of business we had made the acquaintance of a French lady, said to be a countess, and through her we became intimate with her son and a lady from Sweden reputed to be his wife. He was a pupil of Schubert, and an exquisite violinist, and as I was always a great lover of music, and he was exceedingly hospitable, we often went to his house, which was close at hand in Melbourne Grove. There we met a truculent individual, black-avised, as the old description runs, speaking a most hideous travesty of English, and withal behaving as if he owned the establishment. His name I never rightly knew, but it was nearly all consonants I remember, and he was introduced to me as a Russian prince who had taken a prominent part in the tragedy of Plevna, and held the rank of Captain in the Preobrajensky Guards. Only a day or two elapsed after my first meeting with this warrior when he appeared in my shop, and endeavoured to tell me a wonderful tale of a diamond necklace worth some thousands of pounds, the property of a French lady of high rank. This splendid article had been pawned for a large sum, and the ticket had nearlyrun out, but if it were redeemed it could be repledged for a greatly increased sum, and the kindly person who would advance the cash for this transaction would make something like 200 per cent. for his amiability. How I understood all this I do not know but I did, and smiled sardonically at the idea of me being selected for the operation,me!who never had any money except what I was in immediate and pressing need of.
His highness seemed genuinely and pathetically surprised, also somewhat incredulous, when I managed to convey to him the true state of affairs concerning myself. I did not, however, trouble to tell him that I felt absolutely bristling with caution towards him, regarding him as the worst type of theChevalier d'industrieI had ever heard of. So he went away, but did not cease his visits to me, sometimes flashing a pocketful of gold, sometimes without a sou. At last he made his grand coup. He advertised in the French papers for a valet to attend upon a Russian nobleman, who, as he had much valuable jewellery, would require a deposit of £70 as security against dishonesty. Then he took a house in East Dulwich Grove on a twenty-one year lease, and entered into negotiations with a furnishing company to fit it up. Of course he got his valet and his security, with part of which he paid the first instalment of the purchase of his furniture. Within a week he had sold every item of that furniture, and leaving his hapless valetto starve in the empty house, had departed to the wilds of Soho to lead a gay life as long as the money lasted. For this was his peculiarity, stamping him indubitably as one of theboysso graphically depicted by Mr Ernest Binstead; he would lie, swindle, steal, do anything to obtain money, sell the bed from under his dying mother, let us say, or worse than that if it were possible, and when the money was in his possession he would fling it broadcast with both hands as if he were lord of millions.
He had hardly disappeared before a man came to me who gave me his card, which described him as a diamond merchant. He told me a pitiful story of how the vanished nobleman had victimised him in the matter of a diamond necklace, at which I felt the corners of my mouth relax as I thought "same old song and dance." In consequence of the evil wrought in his accounts by this most untoward transaction, he was under the painful necessity of raising a loan on a bill of sale. His house was fairly well furnished, but—he had no pictures. Now I knew what pictures were to a house and—by the way—what a beautiful lot of engravings I had framed to be sure. (I almost purred.) If I would only lend him a few just to hang on his walls while the money-lender looked around, he would be glad to pay me a pound for the accommodation, and I could have the pictures back the next morning. Of course I wanted a pound very badly, and I didn't see much risk, and the pictureshad been in stock so long that I didn't reckon them at more than £2. 10s. anyhow, so I said, "All right, I'll bring them round in an hour's time." He thanked me and left. He had not been gone more than five minutes, when a neighbour who was a baker came in and asked me if that wasn't the tenant of No. — East Dulwich Grove, who had just gone out. I said it was, and gave an outline of the transaction just completed. My neighbour quietly said that they owed him fifty bob for bread, and he meant to have it, and left.
I took the pictures up and hung them. They looked very well, and the family was loud in expressions of admiration. After many assurances that I should have them back the next day, I left, meeting on my way back my baker neighbour. He called on me about two hours later, saying that he'd got his money, but only after kicking up such a row that the respectable Grove was quite scandalised, and even the paupers at the workhouse infirmary opposite were interested. I only smiled, for I thought I understood. When, however, I found an my arrival home next day that my pictures hadnotbeen returned, and on calling round at the house found it empty, I realised that in spite of all my confidence in my own astuteness I had been done. Two days later, I saw my pictures exposed for sale in a local pawnshop at a far higher price than I had ever dared to ask for them. I had a chat with the pawnbroker on the subject, and heseemed very much amused. I found it difficult to understand why then, although it is clearer to me now.
I also had a visit once from a certain notorious adventuress, whose alias was, I believe, Mrs Gordon. She made quite a lot of interesting copy for the newspapers about that time, and her picture was published in various journals. But her plan for getting something out of me was not very ingenious, at any rate I easily evaded it, and took considerable credit to myself for my cleverness in doing so.
Taking things all round, however, I was very fortunate in not being victimised to any extent, for there is a large number of ingenious folk going about London whose business it is to entrap unwary tradesmen who deal in goods which may be easily disposed of for a trifle of ready money. Dealers in perishable commodities, such as butchers, bakers, grocers, or green-grocers, are tolerably safe from the attentions of these gentry, but jewellers, furniture dealers, picture dealers, etc., are particularly liable to be preyed upon, as I found, and indeed my poverty was several times my only protection. I could not fall into their traps, because I wanted money on account, which they never had.
Now, strange as it may seem, I really did build up a fairly good reputation in the neighbourhood as a picture-framer of taste and punctuality, but owing to the fact that I could not wait upon customers atall hours, could not, that is, attend to both businesses at once, I was unable to do well. And then there is for suburban picture-framers a distinctly slack season which extends from June until November. Then when people are saving for their holidays, enjoying them or recovering from them, the poor maker of frames may as well close his shop unless he has other strings to his bow. The expenses still go on, rent must be paid, gas bills met, etc., but my takings averaged five shillings a week.
At one of these periods, having received an invitation from a distant relative in the wilds of Wiltshire to spend a fortnight down there at an inclusive cost which was less than I must have spent had I remained at home, I decided to go away. On leaving I pasted a notice on the shutters: "Gone for a much needed holiday, return on the 25th of August.—F. T. Bullen." When I did return, I was greeted by all my shopkeeping neighbours with sardonic surprise, not unmixed with scorn. They all said they never thought to see me again, having fully expected that I had "done a guy," as they inelegantly put it, and several hinted rather plainly that they considered me a fool for ever coming back; which went to show very clearly that they knew as well as I did myself that I was in difficulties. Indeed in a small community such as ours was, it was not possible to conceal one's straits any more than it would be in a little country town. I have no doubt that every one of my neighbours knew how few werethe customers that came into my shop as well as they knew what the expenses of the shop were, in fact, as they put it frequently to one another, I kept the shop, the shop didn't keep me.
Yes, everything seemed to trend downwards towards a place of the depth of which I had no conception. Every fresh run of orders at the rare intervals when they did arrive, only seemed to stave off the evil day which would surely come, and it is not putting the matter one whit too strongly to say that I had lost all hope of ever doing any good for myself and family. Neither did I see how I was going to get rid of what had come to be a perfectly diabolical burden, the shop. Despite all my efforts I got deeper and deeper into debt, and among other things the crushing load of the rates, then going up by leaps and bounds, owing to the socialistic tendency of the local authorities, made me feel peculiarly bitter; especially when I saw the troops of able-bodied men slouching about the workhouse recreation grounds.
A keen sense of humour is one of my richest blessings, one that I prize more than I can tell, but never before have I felt so keenly the great desirability of being able to express myself humorously in writing. For this narrative of mine, drab in all its essentials, tends ever to more gloom. There were touches of humour in my life, for I know that I often had a hearty laugh, but I remember too that this healthful exercise was usually after I had gone to bed, and was reading one of my favourite books for perhaps the twentieth time. But I am bound to say that any relief to the gloom of my daily life except on Sundays, the delights of which I have spoken before, was almost entirely wanting. I could, I dare say, introduce a few humorous touches occasionally, for which the reader would be duly grateful, but it would be at the expense of truth, and anyhow it would be of a saturnine character if it were drawn from my experience of every day life.
Take, for instance, a scene which I witnessed on Saturday night late, outside the East Dulwich Hotel,at the corner of Goose Green. It had been raining for a long time, and the streets were in an exceedingly bad state. Just there, however, some attempt had been made earlier in the day to sweep them, and in consequence the kennel on both sides was full of liquid mud, had become in fact a creek of mud a yard wide and several inches deep. I was taking some pictures home during a slight break in the weather, and rounding this corner I saw two men, both of whom were drunk, amicably endeavouring to take one another home. They staggered about a good deal, getting nearer and nearer the kerb, until one of them slipped down, and the other, endeavouring to raise him, rolled over on the top of him. Locked in a close embrace, and making no sound, they rolled into the kennel; while I, the solitary spectator, helpless by reason of my burden, became doubly so because of a perfect agony of laughter. Like hippopotami they wallowed in the viscid stream, and at last emerged on the farther side, as Mrs Gamp would say, a marks of mud, but still horizontal. They rolled right across the road, which was fairly wide, and into the creek of mud on the other side where, with their heads on the kerb, they rested from their arduous journey apparently full of peace. A policeman and a little knot of spectators had by this time arrived, and much discussion, punctuated with shouts of laughter, went on as to what should be done with and for them. What was done eventually I do notknow, for I had to fulfil my errand, aching all over with my paroxysms of laughter. Yet as the boys say when they are the victims, "I don't see anything to laugh at."
This digression is of malice aforethought, because I cannot help feeling that readers will say "I wish Bullen wouldn't so persistently sue for our sympathy. Surely he must have had some good times." And that is the worst of the simple annals of the poor; they are deeply interesting of course to the protagonists, but are apt to become wearisome in the recital, because, as the Irishman said of his wife, they are all worse and no better. However I went on, doggedly, hopelessly, not because I was a brave man struggling with adversity, but because as far as my limited intelligence went I couldn't do anything else. Several people, one of whom most generously helped me over a tremendously difficult stile, suggested bankruptcy as being the obvious way out of all my troubles, but that I felt was impossible. True, Iwasa bankruptde factobut notde jure, and I believed that if I did become a bankrupt in law, I should lose my last hope of earning a living, my job at the office. So I ruled that suggestion out as impracticable, for supposing I did lose my job, it was no figure of speech to call it my last hope. I was rapidly nearing forty, my own profession was irrevocably closed to me even if the state of my health would have allowed me to take it up again, and as for my other employment, withthousands of abler, younger men clamouring for it, what possible prospect had I? and I had a wife and five young children! I will not say that I was absolutely friendless, but the two or three faithful friends I had were powerless to help me except in a desperate emergency, and at a great personal sacrifice then. As a dear friend said to me the other day, while we were discussing the condition of a mutual friend who had become the victim of a most serious misfortune absolutely without fault of his own: "There is nothing more heart-breaking than to have a friend who is what the Spaniards callgastados, used up, no more good in this pushing world. You can't keep him, you can't ask anybody else to keep him, and in spite of yourself, with the best will in the world, you get tired of his incessant appeals for help, however piteous and sincere."
Is that not so? and all the more sad when it is the result of misfortune and not of indolence or vice. However I did not allow myself to think, for fear I should lose my power of sleep, which I knew would be fatal. I dared not open my letters, the postman's knock sent a clutching pang through the pit of my stomach, and if it had not been for my Sundays, with their entire switch off from the terrors of every day life, I feel sure I should have gone mad. It was at this juncture that I began to write. Leaning over the counter in the empty shop I covered page after page with neat clerkly script, an exercise I alwaysloved, narrating my early experiences at sea. It was a delightful relief, and as such I enjoyed it, but if I ever had any wild dreams about publishing what I was writing they did not last, for when I had written about forty thousand words I put the MS. away and forgot all about it. Finally I threw it in the dustbin, which was a pity, for I daresay it was quite as good as anything I have ever done in the same way since.
Meanwhile matters plodded towards that destined end which I felt was inevitable, but would not realise. I got into more difficulties with my landlord. The state of the house was simply disgraceful, and he would do nothing. Then all of us got sore throats, and the doctor said bluntly, "It's of no use my attending you unless you have these drains seen to; they are a grave danger to anybody's health who comes into your shop!" Thus admonished I again approached my landlord, who sent a man to put two dabs of mortar upon the soil-pipe at the back of the house. Then in despair I wrote to the vestry, and very promptly their surveyor appeared. He condemned not merely my drains, but those of the whole row of houses in which my house stood. And then there was a pretty fine how d'ye do, I can tell you. My premises were all ripped up at the back to get at the drains, which of course were under the foundations, and when everything was in a state of chaos the operations mysteriously ceased. Rats invaded the house and devoured our small stock of provisions, until I took to hangingthem up as we used to do on board ship. I wrote piteous letters to the vestry, imploring them for mercy's sake to finish the job, but they took no notice and kept on doing so.
Then I made a bold stroke. I wrote to the Local Government Board, placing the whole facts before them. Talk about red tape and bureaucracy! Never have I dreamed of such celerity. Within forty-eight hours the work was completed, and I received from Whitehall a copy of an indignant letter from the vestry denouncing my complaint, as the work in question was done. I never before realised how efficient a public department might be in the proper hands. Those drains of mine had been open for three weeks, and there had been absolutely no response to my repeated applications to have the work done, when I took the step I have detailed.
This little affair cost my landlord (so he said) £25, a large sum for a man in his position, and this did not improve our relations, as might be supposed. But I hardly thought he would go to the length he did. It is customary for such tenants as I was to take a few days' grace for payment of the quarter's rent, which varies from one week to six according to the disposition of the landlord, and the circumstances of the tenant. Naturally I took as long as I could, and as long as I paid within a month was usually considered a good payer. With this landlord, however, I had to be very careful, especially after his last feat. Still Iwas not prepared to find, as I did on coming home on the evening of quarter day, three bailiffs in my humble abode. One was an emissary of the landlord's, whose rent was only due at twelve that day; one was for the inhabited house-duty, a trifling matter of a pound, including landlord's property tax; and one was from some other creditor whose claim I had overlooked. The total amount with costs of all their claims amounted to a little less than £20.
I confess that unable as I generally was to extract any fun out of my troubles, this time was an exception. As I was introduced to each of my uninvited guests in turn, and heard their claims, I was suddenly seized with the humour of the situation, and laughed until I was fain to hold on to the counter, or I should have fallen down. My wife stood at the door of the shop parlour looking most anxiously at me, for she thought, as she afterwards told me, that my brain had given way at last, while the three bums looked at me, and at one another in an undecided irresolute fashion, which only made me laugh all the more. However, I gradually recovered, and then said, "Well, gentlemen, I am sorry for you if you have decided to remain here, for I can neither feed you nor give you a shake-down. So you'll have but a poor time of it. I can't possibly get any money until to-morrow, and I am doubtful if I can get much then. However, that's not the point. Do the best you can. I've got some work to get on with," and I mounted to my workshop and started.
Before many minutes two of them decided to go home for the night, having delegated their authority to the third, who as soon as their backs were turned came up to me and said, that if I could give him a couple of shillings he would go too, he didn't want to put me to any trouble. I told him candidly I should have been glad to comply with his request, but as all the money I had was sixpence, I must forego the pleasure. He sighed, and then after exacting a promise that I would let him in next morning, departed also, leaving me free to get on with my work. He had not been gone many minutes when I heard my chum Bob's musical whistle below, and immediately he came bounding up, having heard the news across at the library of my having a house full of bums. He could only sympathise, but rejoiced to find me in such good spirits, was surprised also, but not more so than myself. He left a couple of shillings, with the desire that I would make one of my famous curries against the time he closed the library, when we would have supper together.
I readily agreed and hurried up with my job in order to get at my cookery, for indeed these little chance meals which I was in the habit of preparing, when there were funds, were exceedingly pleasant to me, to my family, and to Bob, who was a frequent sharer of them. I am afraid they bore a strong family likeness to the celebrated symposia indulged in by Mr Micawber and his family with David Copperfieldas only guest, but I can honestly say that I never pawned or sold any household goods to procure them, as the immortal Micawber did. At any rate on this particular occasion I know that, thanks to Bob's two shillings, we had a gorgeous supper of curried skirt and kidney, with potatoes and rice; the scent of which, as Bob said when coming in at 10.30, was enough to make a dead man sit up and ask for some.
His genial company and the good meal sufficed to keep the black shadow away long enough for me to get to sleep, but as soon as I awakened in the morning it was beside me with all its terrors. In my emergency I bethought me of a certain money-lender who, upon a previous application to him, had informed me that he would willingly lend me £20 if I found a good surety, and would take repayment at the rate of £2 per month for twelve months. I did not accept then, because I could not bring myself to ask anyone whom I knew to do anything I would not do myself, viz., become surety for another. But now I was desperate, and I remembered an acquaintance who, though his salary was good, was for some reason or another chronically hard up. He, I felt sure, would be my surety if I could spare him a little of the loan. Utterly immoral, even dishonest and without excuse, of course, and I am going to offer none—I only set down the facts.
Upon broaching the matter to him, I found him not only willing but eager, for he himself was in urgentneed of £3, and I could spare him that out of £25, the amount I proposed borrowing. So at lunch-time we sallied forth, finding our, what shall I call him, banker? in, and ready to oblige. Indeed it was fatally easy, and I was absurdly grateful, quite forgetting for the time the other gentleman in the Adelphi to whom I had to pay £1 every month as interest on a loan of £10. I handed over the £3 to my friend in need, and at five o'clock hurried home to find my three visitors ranged along the counter in the shop. In a lordly manner I paid them off, took their receipts, and we parted on the best of terms.
My amiability to the agent, however, did not extend to my landlord. I felt his behaviour to me very, very villainous, especially remembering the wretched state of the premises for which I paid him rent under his solemn agreement to keep them in habitable repair. The rain came through the roof so copiously, that I had to keep tubs up in the top rooms to prevent the whole house from becoming swamped. The ceilings were falling down, and the huge cistern supported upon brick piers in the kitchen was leaking to such an extent that it threatened daily to collapse and flood us out. So I resolved, as this was the last quarter of my three years' agreement, to remove before quarter day, and to refuse to pay him any rent, as a set off against the condition of the premises he had compelled me to live in so long.
A shop nearly opposite had become vacant by reasonof fire which had gutted the whole house, but it had been restored to its original condition, or something resembling it, and I took it. I did not blazon my intention abroad, believing that my few regular customers would easily find me, but I passed the word around among my acquaintances, and I make no doubt at all that my present landlord knew of my intentions perfectly. But he was powerless to prevent me going. Indeed, I believe that the privilege of leaving the house you hold before quarter day without fear of distraint for rent is about the only one possessed by the poor tenant, who is otherwise entirely at the mercy of his landlord. However, my landlord made no sign, while as the time approached I made all preparations for flitting. At night, after closing time, my chum Bob, to whom all violent exercises were a joy, used to come over and assist me in the transference of my goods from one house to the other, until we were fairly well fixed in the new abode, with the exception of our absolute necessaries, such as bedding, cooking utensils, etc.
On the last night, that is the 20th of the month, we worked like beavers, getting bedsteads across and put up so that the family might move in and be comfortable. Fortunately it was fine, for we had left the heaviest things, the piano and two counters, until the last. We got the two counters over without much difficulty, and then at nearly 1 a.m. we tackled the piano. We wheeled it out and along the pavementuntil it was opposite the new home, then lifting it into the roadway we tried to wheel it across, on its own castors of course. But it was heavy going, and in the middle of the road we stopped for breath and to wipe our brows. Suddenly a light beamed across us, and a gruff voice said, "Now then, what's this ere little game?" We both looked up, and there stood a huge policeman, who had come up all silently in his rubber-soled boots, and was shedding the light of his bull's eye on the scene. For some idiotic reason or another, I burst into yells of laughter, Bob joined in, and the policeman followed suit. Just three idiots I suppose. But it was a quaint scene at one in the morning, in the middle of Lordship Lane.
As soon as we could speak, we explained the situation to him; and he, bless him for a good fellow, saw it in the right light, pulled off his heavy coat, and lent a hearty hand, so that the piano was installed in the new premises in a very short time. Fortunately we had a little liquid refreshment to offer him, which he accepted in a becoming spirit, and then said, "Well, boys, I must get around before my sergeant turns up—he won't understand who I am with my coat off." And so with hearty good wishes all round we parted.
I had a busy week following, for of necessity I had to do everything that needed doing to the shop with my own hands, save what Bob did in the precioushours of his leisure after ten, which he so willingly devoted to my service. And I managed to spend a sovereign for the fascia, which was done by a man who was so drunk that he could not stand on the solid earth, but balanced himself upon a precarious plank stretched between two high trestles in front of the shop, and splashed in the letters in magnificent style. I did not watch him, for I fully expected to see him dashed to death upon the pavement at any moment; but when on his coming for his money I went out and surveyed his handiwork, I paid him without a word, for indeed there was absolutely no fault to find.
But I had hardly settled in this new shop than my troubles with regard to the building commenced, and threatened to surpass my experiences across the road. Hardly a piece of furniture could be moved upstairs without bringing some of the ceilings down, and such easily scamped places as pantries and cupboards were de-ceileden bloc. The first really serious matter, however, which showed me that I had in no way bettered my position arose through the frost. I cannot fix the year properly, but it was when the frost set in some time at the end of January, and lasted until nearly June. I saw with a certain complacency my neighbours carrying water into their homes from standpipes in the streets, while my supply was intact and working well. And then with dramatic suddenness the supply-pipe from the main whichran underneath the pavement into my house burst asunder, and the water welled up through the flagstones, making a glare of ice all over the footway, which was a great danger to the passers-by.
I was immediately summoned by the Water Company on the one hand, and by the vestry on the other, to make this breakage good. With cheerful confidence I turned these demands over to my landlord, never doubting in the first place that it was his duty to repair this damage, and in the next that he would instantly perform that duty. It was a heavy blow to me when I received a curt note from him to the effect that it was no business of his, and that I could do what I chose in the matter. As if I had any choice. And so I had to call in labourers and plumbers to the tune of nearly £3, which outlay moreover did not result in my water-supply being resumed. But the shock I then received was a lasting one, for I realised that these new premises of mine bade fair to become worse than the old ones. They had been renovated after the fire by contract in the flimsiest and most casual way, and scarcely a day passed but some new defect discovered itself, until I really was afraid that the building would collapse about my ears.
Meanwhile my old landlord lost no time in putting the law's machinery in motion against me. He summoned me for two quarters' rent, one being in lieu of notice and a trifle of £10 fordilapidations caused to his premises by my neglect. Strong in my belief that I was legally justified in leaving uninhabitable premises as I did, I determined to fight, and in due time I appeared before Judge Emden at the CottageOrnée. Of course I conducted my own case, and equally of course my creditor employed a solicitor. But I lost nothing by that, for I found his honour most kind and impartial. Only when I exhibited my defence explaining the condition of the premises, and asking the Judge whether I was compelled to remain in a house which was in so parlous a state, he replied in words which I can never forget: "You are not compelled to remain in such a house, you may leave before the expiration of your term, but you must pay the rent—that is the law."
Then, of course, I could only express my sorrow at having built upon so insecure a foundation, and explaining my circumstances asked for time to pay. The judge asked me what offer I could make, and I immediately said that it was impossible for me to promise more than a pound a month, which indeed it was, for at this time nearly all my office pay was eaten up by these monthly payments, and my means of living were intensely precarious. But the solicitor to the landlord in a white heat of indignation put on for the purpose, pictured me as rolling in wealth, enjoying a bloated official salary, and having a fine business in addition, so that it was the barest justice that I should be ordered to pay forthwith.
To my great joy the judge replied with sternness that he believed I had made an exceedingly fair and honest offer under the circumstances, and that if my offer were not accepted immediately he should exercise his own discretion as to what terms he should consider reasonable, and it was quite possible that he would make no order at all. This was sufficient for my opponent, one pound a month was accepted, and, as they say in the House of Lords, the matter then dropped.
It must not be supposed that in other directions my affairs had got any smoother as time went on; nor that, although I worked as hard as flesh and blood would permit, that I succeeded in overtaking any of my liabilities. Moreover, I began to receive unmistakable warnings that my physical capacity was becoming unequal to the constant strain I put upon it, although I only knew that my morning cough was more exhausting than it had been, and that I always awoke in the morning feeling dreadfully tired, much more so indeed than when I went to bed. And always I found myself unable to keep up those terribly punctual monthly payments, and trying to discriminate between people who would be put off and people who wouldn't.
The first immediately unpleasant result of this discrimination or attempted preference was in connection with my latter loan. Now please understand that I am bringing no indictment against the money-lender, or mean anything opprobrious in speaking of him in that way. If he had lent me thousandsinstead of single pounds, he would have been a banker, and if I had wanted his money for speculation instead of to pay my rent and get my family food, I should have been a financier to be esteemed instead of being a borrower to be despised. I am only, however, concerned with the plain facts now, and they are that I sent a polite letter of apology to the money-lender, telling him that—oh well, you can imagine the kind of things a defaulting debtor would say—but the whole comprising just an ordinary letter of excuse for non-payment.
To this effusion I received no reply whatever, but two days afterwards my surety came rushing to me in a state of great agitation, flourishing a telegram which he had just received from his wife, to the effect that a man had been put in possession of their furniture in default of my payment of an instalment of the loan. Desperately he demanded of me what I meant by such behaviour, and tearfully assured me that such an experience had never been his before, in which I have reason to believe he was not within the parallel lines of fact. I was as stunned as he, and promised every reparation in my power, while I knew that nothing short of that instalment would avail. So I immediately obtained leave of absence, and went a-borrowing, a frequent exercise alas, but one which I never practised without a sense of poignant shame, preventing me from degenerating into the common species of "earbiter," as he is vulgarly called, of the Montague Tigg type.
Miraculously, as I think, I succeeded in borrowing the £3 required, on my faithful promise to repay at the end of the month, from a man who was as poor as I, but more methodical, and had put it away towards his rent. Let me say before I go any further, that I did not abuse his trust, nor did I ever do so to anybody except in the single case of my surety, which I was now engaged in repairing. I hope I do not put this forward in a spirit of offensive or aggressive virtue, but I do want to disavow any association with that rotten type of man who will promise anything to get your money, will, having got it, squander it, and then ridicule you for being such a fool as to lend to him, of all people in the world. This type I am glad to say is usually of the "sporting" breed of "boys," and has no relation to decent beings.
With my delayed instalment and my friend's freedom in my hand, I hied me unto the ancient capitalist at Victoria. I made no complaint, for indeed I had no ground. He made no apology, but received my money (I beg pardon, his money) with dignity, saying that he was glad the matter was so speedily arranged, because the aggressive process involved a lot of trouble which he hated. But business was business, and a bargain was a bargain, as he hoped I knew well, and—he hoped the weather would continue fine, being indeed very seasonable for the time of the year. And so we parted, I certainly feeling trulyashamed at having put this good old man to so much unnecessary trouble, my friend to indignity, and myself to so many superfluous blushes.
And as if to compensate me in some measure for what was in truth a heavy day, I found on my arrival home quite a nice order awaiting me. A gentleman of that fine class, the commercial traveller, who had often patronised me before, came in and ordered four pounds worth of pictures, paying as was his wont the money for them upon giving the order, and telling me that I could deliver them any time within the month. By great good fortune I had everything necessary to carry out the order in stock, and as soon as he was gone, I set to work with a glad heart. For I was like a cork, easily depressed, but popping up again serenely as soon as the pressure was removed. However, I could not be allowed even that small interregnum of peace, for at about ten a man came in with some inquiry about my charges for framing. I paid as much attention as I always did to his questions, but unfortunately had to leave him in the shop for a few minutes, while I went into my workshop. When I returned he was gone, and so was my glass-cutting diamond, which was lying upon the baize-covered table on which I cut my glass.
It was a heavy loss to me, for I had got used to itscut, and although its price was only 12s. 6d. I never had another that I could use properly, not being at all expert anyhow. I will not deny that this mademe feel very unhappy, for when there was so much lying around stealable that would never be missed, I did feel it hard that a fellow should come in and steal my principal tool, for which at the outside he would only be able to realise about three and sixpence in pawn. Still I suppose I ought to be thankful that this was the sole theft I suffered from in all my business career, only somehow the present loss was so great that I was very grieved over it, and moreover I had to send to a local glass-cutter, with whom I was not on any the best terms on account of being a trade rival, for some squares of glass in order to complete my contract in time.
About this month I managed to get a little extra money in a way that seems fantastic, but which came to me as a very welcome addition to my spasmodic earnings. A young gentleman who had been an occasional customer came to me one evening, when I was trying to hammer out an article or story on the counter for want of something more immediately profitable to do, and asked me if I had any objection to model for him. I did not recognise the verb in its present application, and begged him to explain. It then appeared that he was an artist who earned most of his living by illustrating magazines, articles, and stories, and being extremely conscientious, he needed the living model so that his pictures should be vraisembleable as possible. But the professional model was not to be found in East Dulwich, and soin his extremity he thought of me as a man probably eager to earn an honest shilling in whatsoever strange ways.
After a few enquiries I closed with his offer of one and sixpence per hour (always very generously interpreted), and promised to come up to his house as soon as I had closed the shop, or say about 10.30P.M.I went, and laid the foundation of a friendship that still endures, the artist in question having illustrated several of my books and done so, in my poor opinion, better than any other living artist could have done. But I am getting on too fast.
It must be remembered that as yet I had no experience of "modelling," knew absolutely nothing of what it meant to stand for half an hour in one position, and in parenthesis I may say that I never learned well. But I did my best, and my employer was pleased to say that my intelligent appreciation of what he wanted was much more useful to him than would have been the trained immobility of any professional model. But oh! how I suffered. I thought I knew what hard work, what endurance was. I got a severe shock. In justice to myself I must ask my readers to remember that I had been up since 6A.M., and it was now nearly midnight, and that even if I had not been using my thews and sinews all that time I had been up and about. Anyhow I know that after striking an attitude which satisfied my employer and maintaining it for say seven or eight minutes, Ifelt as if I was in some infernal torture chamber, and though very anxious toearnmy money and to win approval I had to give in.
But my employer was kindness itself, and though naturally intensely anxious to carry out his ideas, he never took the slightest advantage of my position, or insisted upon any pound of flesh. So far from that, and I cannot tell what it meant to me then, as soon as my time was up I was invited to a good supper, which his charming wife had prepared, and at which I was made to feel a welcome guest, with no thought of that hardly earned eighteen pence in the background. How much this kindly intercourse helped me I have no means of knowing, but the impression it made upon me at the time is no keener than the sense I have now of how kind it was; and I have been an honoured guest in that friend's house for the last ten years.
This seems, in these desultory confessions, a right and fitting place to set forth the fact that in many of my customers I found friends. By which I mean people who think about you, who would take trouble for you, or would make sacrifices to help you, who grieve over your misfortunes and rejoice when you are doing well. And how precious they are. I have always been a great stickler for the proper definitions of words such as Freedom, Love, Friendship, Truth; and I do wish people would not lightly talk offriendswhen they only mean some casual acquaintance whoknows little of them and cares less. I can frankly assert that the only pleasant recollections I have of my shop-keeping days, connected with business that is, are associated with the many kindly folks whom I served. Of course my particular business lent itself to closer relations with customers than ordinary shop-keeping, since I had to discuss their desires with them, and give them the benefit of my experience. The one drawback attached to this was that I often spent three or four times as long discussing a trifling order as it was worth; but that was counterbalanced by my sometimes getting a big order with a very small amount of talk.
It did occasionally happen that I, as the Yankees happily and metaphorically put it, struck a snag even in this, and one glaring instance lingers luridly in my memory. A neighbouring tradesman, with whom I was on most friendly terms, very kindly gave me an introduction to a well-to-do customer of his at Tulse Hill. My friend was a builder and decorator, and had done a great deal of work for this gentleman, to their mutual satisfaction. So when, one day, his customer asked him about getting some old English frames regilded he recommended me, and did not, in ordinary business fashion, stipulate that he should have a commission upon the transaction. Cheered by my friend's description of his customer, I waited upon the latter, and was received in the most jolly fashion as a guest, and not in any patronising spirit, refreshments beingproduced and some pleasant general talk ensuing. I was then shown the work and asked for an estimate. This I gave after close calculation, and with due consideration of the fact that my customer had probably obtained other estimates before asking for mine.
But to my intense amazement, the gentleman, upon hearing the sum named, immediately said that he could get the work done in the best style for just one quarter of the sum I had named! Now there was nothing for me to do but give him the lie direct had I obeyed my first impulse. But I stifled it, and mildly said that such a price as he had quoted meant gilding with German metal, as the quantity of gold leaf required to cover those frames would cost three times the sum. He, of course, said that he didn't know anything about that, the price given him by a gilder in the Minories was for English gold. I then rose to go, saying that I regretted not being able to go further in the matter. He then said he did not want to disappoint me, and what was the lowest I could do the job for? I replied quietly that I had quoted the lowest possible price for regilding, and one that was less than half what would be demanded by a big West End firm, but that if he cared to have the frames renovated and touched up where necessary I could meet him with an estimate of half the first amount quoted, but explaining fully that this would be in no sense regilding. After a lot of talk he agreed, and I undertook the work.
My kindly gilder, for I could not do the work myself, never having been able to master the delicacy of touch required in this exceedingly technical operation, made every effort, as he always did, to help me to make the best of a bad bargain, cutting his price as I had cut mine. And he did his touching up so well, that when the work was finished I felt that my customer would say that it would have been a waste of money to have had those frames regilded, they looked so well. Now my part of the work so far consisted in getting the six heavy frames to my shop from Tulse Hill, having first removed the pictures from them, and the completion of my task would be to return them, fitting the pictures in again and hanging them; and my share of the profits were almost precisely what a carrier would have charged for the job. But in the meantime, my customer had removed to Clapham Common, and the task of delivering those frames, which required the most careful handling, was thereby vastly increased in difficulty. However, I tackled it successfully by the aid of the gilder, who, wanting his money, agreed to wait at a neighbouring hostelry until I should return with the spoil.
My customer's satisfaction at the way in which the work had been done could not be concealed, and indeed the pictures did look very fine when in position. Then he asked me nonchalantly if I had brought the bill. I handed it to him. He glanced at it and said, "Oh! you have made a gross mistake. You agreed to dothe work for £2 pounds, and this bill is for £5." For a moment I was speechless, and then replied as calmly as I could, "I have made no mistake, sir; you wanted me to do the work for £2, and I told you it was impossible. I have to pay my gilder £4. 5s., and he is now waiting for the money at the Plough."
"Well," he rejoined casually, "that's nothing to do with me; you'll get £2 or nothing. You can please yourself."
Now I am anything but a courageous man, but I felt desperate, and although he towered over me like a giant with a very threatening air, I said, quite coolly, "You owe me £5 for work done, and I shall not leave this house until I get it," at which he laughed merrily and retorted, "Ah! so that's your little game is it? Very well, stay here until I'm tired of you, then I'll throw you into the road." So I sat down on the nearest chair (I was then in a partly furnished drawing room), and resigned myself to wait. Fortunately, there was a book there, Kipling's "Light that Failed," and I began to read.
Now strange as it my seem, so great is the power of detachment from circumstances over which I have no control that I have always possessed, that I read that book through with the utmost enjoyment, only an occasional cross current of compunction traversing my mind for the weary wait imposed upon my faithful coadjutor. I had finished the book about a quarter of an hour, which means that I had been in the housenearly four hours, when thegentlemancame in and said, with assumed surprise, "What, you here still? How much did you say you wanted?" "£5," I replied quietly. "All right, here you are," he answered, holding out a £5 note to me. I took it, examined it, said "thank you," and walked out of the house.
Tame ending, was it not, to such a dramatic situation, and tamer still the fact that my only sensation was one of satisfaction that I had got the money. I joined my gilder, who was, I regret to say, distinctly the worse for liquor, having had, as he said, no option but to beguile the long afternoon by taking eight special Scotches for the "good of the house." However I explained the situation to him, handed him his money, and made haste home feeling that if ever I had earned fifteen shillings in my life I had done so on this occasion. In conclusion of this episode, I regret to have to add that my friend who had recommended me to this "genial sportsman," as I heard somebody call him, had the grievous misfortune to lose £50 of hardly earned money due to him from the same merry gentleman. I cannot trust myself to comment upon this behaviour which, alas, is all too common among a certain class who habitually live beyond their means and regard the poor tradesman as fair game. If they can only borrow from him as well their delight seems proportionately heightened.
And now I had a sudden gleam of joy, a bit of pleasure so keen that it made me forget for the timeall my troubles. I had a story accepted, and it appeared in print. Many of my readers will know what that meant, but I will not believe that any one could have been more delighted than I was. Not that I built up any airy structures of hope, of fame and fortune as an author upon it, but I could not help feeling that it was wonderful how I, without any of the usual educational aids, in competition with the mighty army of able writers ever assaulting harassed editors in London, and under the stress of such stern life-conditions as mine, should have accomplished such a feat. True it was only in a boy's paper,Young England, true that the pay was only a guinea, and that I waited six months for it, but the golden glorious fact remained that I saw myself in print.
Perhaps it is strange that I did not then neglect the business which yielded me nothing but debt and disappointment, and throw all my energies into this new channel. A profound distrust of my own abilities, and an idea that this was just a bit of curious good luck may possibly account for my apathy, but whatever it was I know that for a long time I was content to rest upon my laurels in the literary arena and to grub along in the shop. The verb I have used just expresses it; I grubbed and got ever deeper and deeper into the mire, and to the well-meant advice of my friends as to why on earth I did not give up the unequal struggle and go bankrupt before it killed me, I could only render the same answer asbefore, that bankruptcy spelt workhouse because I should inevitably lose my job.