Tracks Of A Rolling Stone, Henry J. Coke [kiss me liar novel english txt] 📗
- Author: Henry J. Coke
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Was Astir, I Went Out One Morning About Half-Past Eight.
Seeing What I Took To Be A Mausoleum, I Walked Up To It,
Found The Door Opened, And Peeped In. It Turned Out To Be A
Chapter 44 Pg 241Museum Of Roman Antiquities, And The Emperor Was Inside,
Arranging Them. I Immediately Withdrew, But He Called To Me
To Come In.
He Was At This Time Busy With His Life Of Caesar; And, In His
Enthusiasm, Seemed Pleased To Have A Listener To His
Instructive Explanations; He Even Encouraged The Curiosity
Which The Valuable Collection And His Own Remarks Could Not
Fail To Awaken.
Not Long Ago, I Saw Some Correspondence In The Times' And
Other Papers About What Heine Calls 'Das Kleine
Welthistorische Hutchen,' Which The Whole Of Europe Knew So
Well, To Its Cost. Some Six Or Seven Of The Buonaparte Hats,
So It Appears, Are Still In Existence. But I Noticed, That
Though All Were Located, No Mention Was Made Of The One In
The Luxembourg.
When We Left Compiegne For Paris We Were Magnificently
Furnished With Orders For Royal Boxes At Theatres, And For
Admission To Places Of Interest Not Open To The Public. Thus
Provided, We Had Access To Many Objects Of Historical
Interest And Of Art - Amongst The Former, The Relics Of The
Great Conqueror. In One Glass Case, Under Lock And Key, Was
The 'World-Historical Little Hat.' The Official Who
Accompanied Us, Having Stated That We Were The Emperor's
Guests, Requested The Keeper To Take It Out And Show It To
Us. I Hope No Frenchman Will Know It, But, I Put The Hat
Upon My Head. In One Sense It Was A 'Little' Hat - That Is
To Say, It Fitted A Man With A Moderate Sized Skull - But The
Flaps Were Much Larger Than Pictures Would Lead One To Think,
And Such Was The Weight That I Am Sure It Would Give Any
Ordinary Man Accustomed To Our Head-Gear A Still Neck To Wear
It For An Hour. What Has Become Of This Hat If It Is Not
Still In The Luxembourg?
Chapter 45 Pg 242
Some Few Years Later, While Travelling With My Family In
Switzerland, We Happened To Be Staying At Baveno On Lago
Maggiore At The Same Time, And In The Same Hotel, As The
Crown Prince And Princess Of Germany. Their Imperial
Highnesses Occupied A Suite Of Apartments On The First Floor.
Our Rooms Were Immediately Above Them. As My Wife Was Known
Chapter 45 Pg 243To The Princess, Occasional Greetings Passed From Balcony To
Balcony.
One Evening While Watching Two Lads Rowing From The Shore In
The Direction Of Isola Bella, I Was Aroused From My
Contemplation Of A Gathering Storm By Angry Vociferations
Beneath Me. These Were Addressed To The Youths In The Boat.
The Anxious Father Had Noted The Coming Tempest; And, With
Hands To His Mouth, Was Shouting Orders To The Young
Gentlemen To Return. Loud And Angry As Cracked The Thunder,
The Imperial Voice O'ertopped It. Commands Succeeded
Admonitions, And As The Only Effect On The Rowers Was Obvious
Recalcitrancy, Oaths Succeeded Both: All In Those Throat-
Clearing Tones To Which The German Language So Consonantly
Lends Itself. In A Few Minutes The Boat Was Immersed In The
Down-Pour Which Concealed It.
The Elder Of The Two Oarsmen Was No Other Than The Future
Firebrand Peacemaker, Miching Mallecho, Our Fierce Little
Tartarin De Berlin. One Wondered How He, Who Would Not Be
Ruled, Would Come In Turn To Rule? That Question Is A
Burning One; And May Yet Set The World In Flames To Solve It.
A Comic Little Incident Happened Here To My Own Children.
There Was But One Bathing-Machine. This, The Two - A
Schoolboy And His Sister - Used In The Early Morning. Being
Rather Late One Day, They Found It Engaged; And Growing
Impatient The Boy Banged At The Door Of The Machine, With A
Shout In Schoolboy's Vernacular: 'Come, Hurry Up; We Want To
Dip.' Much To The Surprise Of The Guilty Pair, An Answer,
Also In The Best Of English, Came From The Inside: 'Go Away,
You Naughty Boy.' The Occupant Was The Imperial Princess.
Needless To Say The Children Bolted With A Mingled Sense Of
Mischief And Alarm.
About This Time I Joined A Society For The Relief Of
Distress, Of Which Bromley Davenport Was The Nominal Leader.
The 'Managing Director,' So To Speak, Was Dr. Gilbert, Father
Of Mr. W. S. Gilbert. To Him I Went For Instructions. I
Told Him I Wanted To See The Worst. He Accordingly Sent Me
To Bethnal Green. For Two Winters And Part Of A Third I
Visited This District Twice A Week Regularly. What I Saw In
The Course Of Those Two Years Was Matter For A Thoughtful -
Ay, Or A Thoughtless - Man To Think Of For The Rest Of His
Days.
My System Was To Call First Upon The Clergyman Of The Parish,
And Obtain From Him A Guide To The Severest Cases Of
Destitution. The Guide Would Be A Scripture Reader, And, As
Far As I Remember, Always A Woman. I Do Not Know Whether The
Labours Of These Good Creatures Were Gratuitous - They
Themselves Were Certainly Poor, Yet Singularly Earnest And
Sympathetic. The Society Supplied Tickets For Coal,
Blankets, And Food. Needless To Say, Had These Supplies Been
Chapter 45 Pg 244A Thousand-Fold As Great, They Would Have Done As Little
Permanent Good As Those At My Command.
In Bethnal Green The Principal Industry Is, Or Was, Silk-
Weaving By Hand Looms. Nearly All The Houses Were Ancient
And Dilapidated. A Weaver And His Family Would Occupy Part
Of A Flat, Consisting Of Two Rooms Perhaps, One Of Which
Would Contain His Loom. The Room Might Be About Seven Feet
High, Nearly Dark, Lighted Only By A Lattice Window, Half Of
The Panes Of Which Would Be Replaced By Dirty Rags Or Old
Newspaper. As The Loom Was Placed Against The Window The
Light Was Practically Excluded. The Foulness Of The Air And
Filth Which This Entailed May Be Too Easily Imagined. A
Couple Of Cases, Taken Almost At Random, Will Sample Scores
As Bad.
It Is One Of The Darkest Days Of December. The Thames Is
Nearly Frozen At Waterloo Bridge. On The Second Floor Of An
Old House In - Lane, In An Unusually Spacious Room (Or Does
It Only Look Spacious Because There Is Nothing In It Save
Four Human Beings?) Are A Father, A Mother, And A Grown-Up
Son And Daughter. They Scowl At The Visitor As The Scripture
Reader Opens The Door. What Is The Meaning Of The Intrusion?
Is He Too Come With A Bible Instead Of Bread? The Four Are
Seated Side By Side On The Floor, Leaning Against The Wall,
Waiting For - Death. Bedsteads, Chairs, Table, And Looms
Have Been Burnt This Week Or More For Fuel. The Grate Is
Empty Now, And Lets The Freezing Draught Blow Down The
Chimney. The Temporary Relief Is Accepted, But Not With
Thanks. These Four Stubbornly Prefer Death To The Work-
House.
One Other Case. It Is The Same Hard Winter. The Scene: A
Small Garret In The Roof, A Low Slanting Little Skylight, Now
Covered Six Inches Deep In Snow. No Fireplace Here, No
Ventilation, So Put Your Scented Cambric To Your Nose, My
Noble Dives. The Only Furniture A Scanty Armful Of - What
Shall We Call It? It Was Straw Once. A Starving Woman And A
Baby Are Lying On It, Notwithstanding. The Baby Surely Will
Not Be There To-Morrow. It Has A Very Bad Cold - And The
Mucus, And The - Pah! The Woman In A Few Rags - Just A Few -
Is Gnawing A Raw Carrot. The Picture Is Complete. There's
Nothing More To Paint. The Rest - The Whole Indeed, That Is
The Consciousness Of It - Was, And Remains, With The Unseen.
You Will Say, 'Such Things Cannot Be'; You Will Say, 'There
Are Relieving Officers, Whose Duty, Etc., Etc.' May Be. I
Am Only Telling You What I Myself Have Seen. There Is More
Goes On In Big Cities Than Even Relieving Officers Can Cope
With. And Who Shall Grapple With The Causes? That's The
Point.
Here Is Something Else That I Have Seen. I Have Seen A
Family Of Six In One Room. Of These, Four Were Brothers And
Chapter 45 Pg 245Sisters, All Within, None Over, Their Teens. There Were
Three Beds Between The Six. When I Came Upon Them They Were
Out Of Work, - The Young Ones In Bed To Keep Warm. I Took
Them For Very Young Married Couples. It Was The Scripture
Reader Who Undeceived Me. This Is Not The Exception To The
Rule, Look You, But The Rule Itself. How Will You Deal With
It? It Is With Nature, Immoral Nature And Her Heedless
Instincts That You Have To Deal. With What Kind Of Fork Will
You Expel Her? It Is With Nature's Wretched Children, The
Betes Humaines,
Quos Venerem Incertam Rapientes More Ferarum,
That Your Account
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