XCI.—A CURTAIN LECTURE OF MRS. CAUDLE.JERROLD.Douglas William Jerrold was born in London in 1803, and died in 1857. He was first a midshipman in the navy, then a printer, and lastly, a man of letters by profession. His “Caudle Lectures” were published in the London Punch, and extensively read in England and America.
JERROLD.
Douglas William Jerrold was born in London in 1803, and died in 1857. He was first a midshipman in the navy, then a printer, and lastly, a man of letters by profession. His “Caudle Lectures” were published in the London Punch, and extensively read in England and America.
1. Bah! that’s the third umbrella gone since Christmas. What were you to do? Why, let him go home in the rain, to be sure. I’m very certain there was nothing about him that could spoil. Take cold, indeed! He doesn’t look like one of the sort to take cold. Besides, he’d have better taken cold than takenour umbrella. Do you hear the rain, Mr. Caudle? I say, do you hear the rain? And, as I’m alive, if it isn’t St. Swithin’s day![602]Do you hear it against the window?
2. Nonsense: you don’t impose upon me; you can’t be asleep with such a shower as that! Do you hear it, I say? O, youdohear it! Well, that’s a pretty flood, I think, to last for six weeks; and no stirring all the time out of the house. Pooh! don’t think me a fool, Mr. Caudle; don’t insult me!hereturn the umbrella! Any body would think you were born yesterday. As if any body ever did return an umbrella!
3. There: do you hear it? Worse and worse. Cats and dogs, and for six weeks: always six weeks; and no umbrella! I should like to know how the children are to go to school to-morrow. They shan’t go through such weather, I am determined. No; they shall stop at home, and never learn any thing, the blessed creatures! sooner than go and get wet! And when they grow up, I wonder who they’ll have to thank for knowing nothing; who, indeed, but their father! People who can’t feel for their own children ought never to be fathers.
4. But I know why you lent the umbrella: O, yes, I know very well. I was going out to tea at dear mother’s to-morrow: you knew that, and you did it on purpose. Don’t tell me; you hate to have me go there, and take every mean advantage to hinder me. But don’t you think it, Mr. Caudle; no, sir: if it comes down in buckets’ full, I’ll go all the more.
5. No; and I won’t have a cab![603]Where do you think the money’s to come from? A cab indeed!—Cost me sixteen-pence, at least: sixteen-pence! two-and-eight-pence; for there’s back again. Cabs, indeed! I should like to know who’s to pay for ’em; for I’m sure you can’t, if you go on as you do, throwing away your property, and beggaring your children, buying umbrellas.
6. Do you hear the rain, Mr. Caudle? I say, do you hear it? But I don’t care; I’ll go to mother’s to-morrow—I will; and what’s more, I’ll walk every step of the way; and you know that will give me my death. Don’t call me a foolish woman; it’s you that’s the foolish man. You know I can’t wear clogs[604]; and with no umbrella, the wet’s sure to give me a cold—it always does. But what do you care for that? Nothing at all. I may be laid up for all you care, as I dare say I shall; and a pretty doctor’s bill there’ll be. I hope there will. It will teach you to lend your umbrellas again. I shouldn’t wonder if I caught my death. Yes, and that’s what you lent the umbrella for. Of course.
7. Nice clothes I get, too, traipsing[605]through weather like this! My gown and bonnet will be spoiled quite. I needn’t wear ’em then. Indeed, Mr. Caudle, Ishallwear ’em. No, sir; I am not going out a dowdy to please you or any body else. Gracious knows! it isn’t often that I step over the threshold; indeed, I might as well be a slave at once: better, I should say; but when I do go out, Mr. Caudle, I choose to go as a lady. O, that rain! if it isn’t enough to break in the windows.
8. Ugh! I look forward with dread to to-morrow!How I am to go to mother’s, I am sure I can’t tell, but if I die, I’ll do it.—No, sir, I won’t borrow an umbrella: no; and you shan’tbuyone. (With great emphasis.) Mr. Caudle, if you bring home another umbrella, I’ll throw it into the street.
9. Ha! and it was only last week I had a new nozzle put to that umbrella. I’m sure if I’d have known as much as I do now, it might have gone without one. Paying for new nozzles for other people to laugh at you! O, it’s all very well for you; you can go to sleep. You’ve no thought of your poor patient wife, and your own dear children: you think of nothing but lending umbrellas!
10. Men, indeed! Call themselves lords of creation! pretty lords, when they can’t even take care of an umbrella!
11. I know that walk to-morrow will be the death of me, but that’s what you want: then you may go to your club, and do as you like; and then nicely my poor dear children will be used; but then, sir, then you’ll be happy. O, don’t tell me! I know you will! else you’d never have lent the umbrella!
12. The children, dear things! they’ll be sopping wet; for they shan’t stay at home; they shan’t lose their learning; it’s ill their father will leave them, I’m sure.—But theyshallgo to school. Don’t tell me they needn’t: you are so aggravating[606], Caudle, you’d spoil the temper of an angel; theyshallgo to school! mark that: and if they get their deaths of cold, it’s not my fault; I didn’t lend the umbrella.
13. “Here,” says Caudle, in his manuscript, “I fell asleep, and dreamed that the sky was turned intogreen calico, with whalebone ribs: that, in fact, the whole world revolved under a tremendous umbrella!”
[602]There is an old superstition in England that if it rains on St. Swithin’s day (15th July), not one of the next forty days will be wholly without rain.[603]Cab, a kind of carriage, with two or four wheels, drawn by one horse.[604]Clogs, a kind of overshoes worn to keep the feet dry.[605]Traipsˊ-ing, a colloquial or low word,meaning, running about idly or carelessly.[606]Agˊ-gra-vat-ing, making worse;also colloquially, provoking; irritating.
[602]There is an old superstition in England that if it rains on St. Swithin’s day (15th July), not one of the next forty days will be wholly without rain.
[602]There is an old superstition in England that if it rains on St. Swithin’s day (15th July), not one of the next forty days will be wholly without rain.
[603]Cab, a kind of carriage, with two or four wheels, drawn by one horse.
[603]Cab, a kind of carriage, with two or four wheels, drawn by one horse.
[604]Clogs, a kind of overshoes worn to keep the feet dry.
[604]Clogs, a kind of overshoes worn to keep the feet dry.
[605]Traipsˊ-ing, a colloquial or low word,meaning, running about idly or carelessly.
[605]Traipsˊ-ing, a colloquial or low word,meaning, running about idly or carelessly.
[606]Agˊ-gra-vat-ing, making worse;also colloquially, provoking; irritating.
[606]Agˊ-gra-vat-ing, making worse;also colloquially, provoking; irritating.