CharlesDickens1812-1870.—Novelist,bornatLandport,nearPortsmouth,wherehisfatherwasaclerkintheNavyPay-Office.Thehardshipsandmortificationsofhisearlylife,hiswantofregularschooling,andhismiserabletimeintheblackingfactory,whichformthebasisoftheearlychaptersofDavidCopperfield,arelargelyaccountedforbythefactthathisfatherwastoaconsiderableextenttheprototypeoftheimmortalMr.Micawber;butpartlybyhisbeingadelicateandsensitivechild,unusuallysusceptibletosufferingbothinbodyandmind.Hehad,however,muchtimeforreading,andhadaccesstotheoldernovelists,Fielding,Smollett,andothers.
Akindlyrelationalsotookhimfrequentlytothetheatre,whereheacquiredhislife-longinterestin,andloveof,thestage.Afterafewyears’residenceinChatham,thefamilyremovedtoLondon,andsoonthereafterhisfatherbecameaninmateoftheMarshalsea,inwhichby-and-bythewholefamilyjoinedhim,apassageinhislifewhichfurnishesthematerialforpartsofLittleDorrit.Thisperiodoffamilyobscurationhappilylastedbutashorttime:theelderD.managedtosatisfyhiscreditors,andsoonafterretiredfromhisofficialdutiesonapension.
AboutthesametimeD.hadtwoyearsofcontinuousschooling,andshortlyafterwardsheenteredalawoffice.Hisleisurehedevotedtoreadingandlearningshorthand,inwhichhebecameveryexpert.
Hethenactedasparliamentaryreporter,firstforTheTrueSun,andfrom1835fortheMorningChronicle.MeanwhilehehadbeencontributingtotheMonthlyMagazineandtheEveningChroniclethepaperswhich,in1836,appearedinacollectedformasSketchesbyBoz;andhehadalsoproducedoneortwocomicburlettas.InthesameyearhemarriedCatherineHogarth;andinthefollowingyearoccurredtheopportunityofhislife.
HewasaskedbyChapmanandHalltowritetheletterpressforaseriesofsportingplatestobedonebyRobertSeymourwho,however,diedshortlyafter,andwassucceededbyHablotBrownePhiz,whobecametheillustratorofmostofD.’snovels.InthehandsofD.theoriginalplanwasentirelyaltered,andbecamethePickwickPaperswhich,appearinginmonthlypartsduring1837-39,tookthecountrybystorm.SimultaneouslyOliverTwistwascomingoutinBentley’sMiscellany.ThenceforwardD.’sliterarycareerwasacontinuedsuccess,andthealmostyearlypublicationofhisworksconstitutedthemaineventsofhislife.NicholasNicklebyappearedinserialform1838-39.
NextyearheprojectedMasterHumphrey’sClock,intendedtobeaseriesofmiscellaneousstoriesandsketches.Itwas,however,soonabandoned,TheOldCuriosityShopandBarnabyRudgetakingitsplace.Thelatter,dealingwiththeGordonRiots,is,withthepartialexceptionoftheTaleofTwoCities,theauthor’sonlyexcursionintothehistoricalnovel.In1841D.wenttoAmerica,andwasreceivedwithgreatenthusiasm,which,however,thepublicationofAmericanNotesconsiderablydamped,andtheappearanceofMartinChuzzlewitin1843,withitscausticcriticismsofcertainfeaturesofAmericanlife,convertedintoextreme,thoughtemporary,unpopularity.ThefirstoftheChristmasbooks—theChristmasCarol—appearedin1843,andinthefollowingyearD.wenttoItaly,whereatGenoahewroteTheChimes,followedbyTheCricketontheHearth,TheBattleofLife,andTheHauntedMan.InJanuary,1846,hewasappointedfirsteditionofTheDailyNews,butresignedinafewweeks.ThesameyearhewenttoSwitzerland,andwhiletherewroteDombeyandSon,whichwaspublishedin1848,andwasimmediatelyfollowedbyhismasterpiece,DavidCopperfield1849-50.
Shortlybeforethishehadbecomemanagerofatheatricalcompany,whichperformedintheprovinces,andhehadin1849startedhismagazine,HouseholdWords.BleakHouseappearedin1852-53,HardTimesin1854,andLittleDorrit1856-57.In1856heboughtGadshillPlace,which,in1860,becamehispermanenthome.In1858hebeganhispublicreadingsfromhisworks,which,whileeminentlysuccessfulfromafinancialpointofview,fromthenervousstraintheyentailedonhimgraduallybrokedownhisconstitution,andhastenedhisdeath.Inthesameyearheseparatedfromhiswife,andconsequentuponthecontroversywhicharosethereuponhebroughtHouseholdWordstoanend,andstartedAlltheYearRound,inwhichappearedATaleofTwoCities1859,andGreatExpectations1860-61.OurMutualFriendcameoutinnumbers1864-65.D.wasnowinthefulltideofhisreadings,anddecidedtogiveacourseoftheminAmerica.Thitheraccordinglyhewentintheendof1867,returninginthefollowingMay.Hehadamagnificentreception,andhisprofitsamountedto￡20,000;buttheeffectonhishealthwassuchthathewasobliged,onmedicaladvice,finallytoabandonallappearancesofthekind.In1869hebeganhislastwork,TheMysteryofEdwinDrood,whichwasinterruptedbyhisdeathfromanapoplecticseizureonJune8,1870.
OneofDicken’smostmarkedcharacteristicsistheextraordinarywealthofhisinventionasexhibitedinthenumberandvarietyofthecharactersintroducedintohisnovels.Another,especially,ofcourse,inhisearlierworks,ishisboundlessflowofanimalspirits.Othersarehismarvellouskeennessofobservationandhisdescriptivepower.AndtheEnglishracemaywell,withThackeray,be“gratefulfortheinnocentlaughter,andthesweetandunsulliedpageswhichtheauthorofDavidCopperfieldgivesto[its]children.”
Ontheotherhand,hisfaultsareobvious,atendencytocaricature,amannerismthatoftentires,andalmostdisgusts,funoftenforced,andpathosnotseldomdegeneratingintomawkishness.Butathisbesthowrichandgenialisthehumour,howtenderoftenthepathos.Andwhenalldeductionsaremade,hehadthelaughterandtearsoftheEnglish-speakingworldatcommandforafullgenerationwhilehelived,andthathisspellstillworksisprovedbyacontinuoussuccessionofneweditions.
Summary.—Born1812,parliamentaryreportercirca1835,publishedSketchesbyBoz1836,Pickwick1837-39,andhisothernovelsalmostcontinuouslyuntilhisdeath,visitedAmerica1841,startedHouseholdWords1849,andAlltheYearRound1858,whenalsohebeganhispublicreadings,visitingAmericaagainin1867,died1870.
LifebyJohnFoster1872,LetterseditedbyMissHogarth1880-82.NumerousLivesandMonographsbySala,F.T.MarzialsGreatWritersSeries,A.W.WardMenofLettersSeries,F.G.Kitton,G.K.Chesterton,etc.
BOOKTHEFIRST
RECALLEDTOLIFE
CHAPTERI
ThePeriod
Itwasthebestoftimes,itwastheworstoftimes,itwastheageofwisdom,itwastheageoffoolishness,itwastheepochofbelief,itwastheepochofincredulity,itwastheseasonofLight,itwastheseasonofDarkness,itwasthespringofhope,itwasthewinterofdespair,wehadeverythingbeforeus,wehadnothingbeforeus,wewereallgoingdirecttoHeaven,wewereallgoingdirecttheotherway——inshort,theperiodwassofarlikethepresentperiod,thatsomeofitsnoisiestauthoritiesinsistedonitsbeingreceived,forgoodorforevil,inthesuperlativedegreeofcomparisononly.
Therewereakingwithalargejawandaqueenwithaplainface,onthethroneofEngland;therewereakingwithalargejawandaqueenwithafairface,onthethroneofFrance.InbothcountriesitwasclearerthancrystaltothelordsoftheStatepreservesofloavesandfishes,thatthingsingeneralweresettledforever.
ItwastheyearofOurLordonethousandsevenhundredandseventy-five.SpiritualrevelationswereconcededtoEnglandatthatfavouredperiod,asatthis.Mrs.Southcotthadrecentlyattainedherfive-and-twentiethblessedbirthday,ofwhomapropheticprivateintheLifeGuardshadheraldedthesublimeappearancebyannouncingthatarrangementsweremadefortheswallowingupofLondonandWestminster.EventheCock-laneghosthadbeenlaidonlyarounddozenofyears,afterrappingoutitsmessages,asthespiritsofthisveryyearlastpastsupernaturallydeficientinoriginalityrappedouttheirs.MeremessagesintheearthlyorderofeventshadlatelycometotheEnglishCrownandPeople,fromacongressofBritishsubjectsinAmerica:which,strangetorelate,haveprovedmoreimportanttothehumanracethananycommunicationsyetreceivedthroughanyofthechickensoftheCock-lanebrood.
France,lessfavouredonthewholeastomattersspiritualthanhersisteroftheshieldandtrident,rolledwithexceedingsmoothnessdownhill,makingpapermoneyandspendingit.UndertheguidanceofherChristianpastors,sheentertainedherselfbesides,withsuchhumaneachievementsassentencingayouthtohavehishandscutoff,histonguetornoutwithpincers,andhisbodyburnedalive,becausehehadnotkneeleddownintheraintodohonourtoadirtyprocessionofmonkswhichpassedwithinhisview,atadistanceofsomefiftyorsixtyyards.Itislikelyenoughthat,rootedinthewoodsofFranceandNorway,thereweregrowingtrees,whenthatsuffererwasputtodeath,alreadymarkedbytheWoodman,Fate,tocomedownandbesawnintoboards,tomakeacertainmovableframeworkwithasackandaknifeinit,terribleinhistory.ItislikelyenoughthatintheroughouthousesoldsometillersoftheheavylandsadjacenttoParis,therewereshelteredfromtheweatherthatveryday,rudecarts,bespatteredwithrusticmire,snuffedaboutbypigs,androostedinbypoultry,whichtheFarmer,Death,hadalreadysetaparttobehistumbrilsoftheRevolution.ButthatWoodmanandthatFarmer,thoughtheyworkunceasingly,worksilently,andnooneheardthemastheywentaboutwithmuffledtread:therather,forasmuchastoentertainanysuspicionthattheywereawake,wastobeatheisticalandtraitorous.
InEngland,therewasscarcelyanamountoforderandprotectiontojustifymuchnationalboasting.Daringburglariesbyarmedmen,andhighwayrobberies,tookplaceinthecapitalitselfeverynight;familieswerepubliclycautionednottogooutoftownwithoutremovingtheirfurnituretoupholsterers'warehousesforsecurity;thehighwaymaninthedarkwasaCitytradesmaninthelight,and,beingrecognisedandchallengedbyhisfellow-tradesmanwhomhestoppedinhischaracterof`theCaptain,'gallantlyshothimthroughtheheadandrodeaway;themailwaswaylaidbysevenrobbers,andtheguardshotthreedead,andthengotshotdeadhimselfbytheotherfour,`inconsequenceofthefailureofhisammunition:'afterwhichthemailwasrobbedinPeace;thatmagnificentpotentate,theLordMayorofLondon,wasmadetostandanddeliveronTurnhamGreen,byonehighwayman,whodespoiledtheillustriouscreatureinsightofallhisretinue;prisonersinLondongaolsfoughtbattleswiththeirturnkeys,andthemajestyofthelawfiredblunderbussesinamongthem,loadedwithroundsofshotandball;thievessnippedoffdiamondcrossesfromthenecksofnoblelordsatCourtdrawing-rooms;musketeerswentintoSt.Giles's,tosearchforcontrabandgoods,andthemobfiredonthemusketeers,andthemusketeersfiredonthemob,andnobodythoughtanyoftheseoccurrencesmuchoutofthecommonway.Inthemidstofthem,thehangman,everbusyandeverworsethanuseless,wasinconstantrequisition;now,stringinguplongrowsofmiscellaneouscriminals;now,hangingahouse-breakeronSaturdaywhohadbeentakenonTuesday;now,burningpeopleinthehandatNewgatebythedozen,andnowburningpamphletsatthedoorofWestminsterHall;to-day,takingthelifeofanatrociousmurderer,andto-morrowofawretchedpilfererwhohadrobbedafarmer'sboyofsixpence.
Allthesethings,andathousandlikethem,cametopassinandcloseuponthedearoldyearonethousandsevenhundredandseventy-five.Environedbythem,whiletheWoodmanandtheFarmerworkedunheeded,thosetwoofthelargejaws,andthoseothertwooftheplainandthefairlaces,trodwithstirenough,andcarriedtheirdivinerightswithahighhand.Thusdidtheyearonethousandsevenhundredandseventy-fiveconducttheirGreatnesses,andmyriadsofsmallcreatures——thecreaturesofthischronicleamongtherest——alongtheroadsthatlaybeforethem.
CHAPTERII
TheMail
ItwastheDoverroadthatlay,onaFridaynightlateinNovember,beforethefirstofthepersonswithwhomthishistoryhasbusiness.TheDoverroadlay,astohim,beyondtheDovermail,asitlumberedupShooter'sHill.Hewalkeduphillinthemirebythesideofthemail,astherestofthepassengersdid;notbecausetheyhadtheleastrelishforwalkingexercise,underthecircumstances,butbecausethehill,andtheharness,andthemud,andthemail,wereallsoheavythatthehorseshadthreetimesalreadycometoastop,besideoncedrawingthecoachacrosstheroad,withthemutinousintentoftakingitbacktoBlackheath.Reinsandwhipandcoachmanandguard,however,incombination,hadreadthatarticleofwarwhichforbadapurposeotherwisestronglyinfavouroftheargument,thatsomebruteanimalsareenduedwithReason;andtheteamhadcapitulatedandreturnedtotheirduty.
Withdroopingheadsandtremuloustails,theymashedtheirwaythroughthethickmud,flounderingandstumblinghebetweenwhiles,asiftheywerefallingtopiecesatthelargejoints.Asoftenasthedriverrestedthemandbroughtthemtoastand,withawary`Wo-ho!so-hothen!'thenearleaderviolentlyshookhisheadandeverythinguponit——likeanunusuallyemphatichorse,denyingthatthecoachcouldbegotupthehill.Whenevertheleadermadethisrattle,thepassengerstarted,asanervouspassengermight,andwasdisturbedinmind.
Therewasasteamingmistinallthehollows,andithadroamedinitsforlornnessupthehill,likeanevilspirit,seekingrestandfindingnone.Aclammyandintenselycoldmist,madeitsslowwaythroughtheairinripplesthatvisiblyfollowedandoverspreadoneanother,asthewavesofanunwholesomeseamightdo.Itwasdenseenoughtoshutouteverythingfromthelightofthecoach-lampsbuttheseitsownworkingsandafewyardsofroad;andthereekofthelabouringhorsesteamedintoit,asiftheyhadmadeitall.
Twootherpassengers,besidestheone,wereploddingupthehillbythesideofthemail.Allthreewerewrappedtothecheek-bonesandovertheears,andworejack-boots.Notoneofthethreecouldhavesaid,fromanythinghesaw,whateitheroftheothertwowaslike;andeachwashiddenunderalmostasmanywrappersfromtheeyesofthemind,asfromtheeyesofthebody,ofhistwocompanions.Inthosedays,travellerswereveryshyofbeingconfidentialonshortnotice,foranybodyontheroadmightbearobberorinleaguewithrobbers.Astothelatter,wheneveryposting-houseandale-housecouldproducesomebodyin`theCaptain's'pay,rangingfromthelandlordtotheloweststablenondescript,itwasthelikeliestthinguponthecards.SotheguardoftheDovermailthoughttohimself,thatFridaynightinNovember,onethousandsevenhundredandseventy-five,lumberingupShooter'sHill,ashestoodonhisownparticularperchbehindthemail,beatinghisfeet,andkeepinganeyeandahandonthearm-chestbeforehim,wherealoadedblunderbusslayatthetopofsixoreightloadedhorse-pistols,depositedonasubstratumofcutlass.
TheDovermailwasinitsusualgenialpositionthattheguardsuspectedthepassengers,thepassengerssuspectedoneanotherandtheguard,theyallsuspectedeverybodyelse,andthecoachmanwassureofnothingbutthehorses;astowhichcattlehecouldwithaclearconsciencehavetakenhisoathonthetwoTestamentsthattheywerenotfitforthejourney.
`Wo-ho!'saidthecoachman.`So,thenOnemorepullandyou'reatthetopandbedamnedtoyou,forIhavehadtroubleenoughtogetyoutoit——Joe!'
`Halloa'theguardreplied.
`Whato'clockdoyoumakeit,Joe?'
`Tenminutes,good,pasteleven.'
`Myblood'ejaculatedthevexedcoachman,`andnotatopofShooter'syet!Tst!Yah!Getonwithyou!'
Theemphatichorse,cutshortbythewhipinamostdecidednegative,madeadecidedscrambleforit,andthethreeotherhorsesfollowedsuit.Oncemore,theDovermailstruggledon,withthejack-bootsofitspassengerssquashingalongbyitsside.Theyhadstoppedwhenthecoachstopped,andtheykeptclosecompanywithit.Ifanyoneofthethreehadhadthehardihoodtoproposetoanothertowalkonalittleaheadintothemistanddarkness,hewouldhaveputhimselfinafairwayofgettingshotinstantlyasahighwayman.
Thelastburstcarriedthemailtothesummitofthehill.Thehorsesstoppedtobreatheagain,andtheguardgotdowntoskidthewheelforthedescent,andopenthecoach-doortoletthepassengersin.
`TstJoe!'criedthecoachmaninawarningvoice,lookingdownfromhisbox.
Whatdoyousay,Tom?'
Theybothlistened.
`Isayahorseatacantercomingup,Joe.'
`Isayahorseatagallop,Tom,'returnedtheguard,leavinghisholdofthedoor,andmountingnimblytohisplace.`Gentlemen!Intheking'sname,allofyou!'
Withthishurriedadjuration,hecockedhisblunderbuss,andstoodontheoffensive.
Thepassengerbookedbythishistory,wasonthecoach-step:gettingin;thetwootherpassengerswereclosebehindhim,andabouttofollow.Heremainedonthestep,halfinthecoachandhalfoutofit;theyremainedintheroadbelowhim.Theyalllookedfromthecoachmantotheguard,andfromtheguardtothecoachman,andlistened.Thecoachmanlookedbackandtheguardlookedback,andeventheemphaticleaderprickeduphisearsandlookedback,withoutcontradicting.
Thestillnessconsequentonthecessationoftherumblingandlabouringofthecoach,addedtothestillnessofhenightmadeitveryquietindeed.Thepantingofthehorsescommunicatedatremulousmotiontothecoach,asifitwereinastateo]agitation.Theheartsofthepassengersbeatloudenoughperhapstobeheard;butatanyrate,thequietpausewasaudiblyexpressiveofpeopleoutofbreath,andholdingthebreath,an'havingthepulsesquickenedbyexpectation.
Thesoundofahorseatagallopcamefastandfuriouslyupthehill.
`So-ho!'theguardsangout,asloudashecouldroar.`Yothere!Stand!Ishallfire!'
Thepacewassuddenlychecked,and,withmuchsplashingandfloundering,aman'svoicecalledfromthemist,`IsthattheDovermail?'
`Neveryoumindwhatitis?'theguardretorted.`Whamareyou?'
`IsthattheDovermail?'
`Whydoyouwanttoknow?'
`Iwantapassenger,ifitis.'
`Whatpassenger?',
`Mr.JarvisLorry.'
Ourbookedpassengershowedinamomentthatitwashisname.Theguard,thecoachman,andthetwootherpassengerseyedhimdistrustfully.
`Keepwhereyouare,'theguardcalledtothevoiceinthemist,`because,ifIshouldmakeamistake,itcouldneverbesetrightinyourlifetime.GentlemanofthenameofLorryanswerstraight.'
`Whatisthematter?'askedthepassenger,then,withmildlyquaveringspeech.`Whowantsme?IsitJerry?'
`Idon'tlikeJerry'svoice,ifitisJerry,'growledtheguardtohimself.`He'shoarserthansuitsme,isJerry.'
`Yes,Mr.Lorry.'
`Whatisthematter?'
`Adespatchsentafteryoufromoveryonder.T.andCo.'
`Iknowthismessenger,guard,'saidMr.Lorry,gettingdownintotheroad——assistedfrombehindmoreswiftlythanpolitelybytheothertwopassengers,whoimmediatelyscrambledintohecoach,shutthedoor,andpulled,upthewindow.`Hemaycomeclose;there'snothingwrong.'
`Ihopethereain't,butIcan'tmakeso`Nationsureofthat,'saidtheguard,ingruffsoliloquy.`Halloyou!'
`Well!Andhalloyou!'saidJerry,morehoarselythanbefore.
`Comeonatafootpace!d'yemindme?Andifyou'vegotholsterstothatsaddleo'yourn,don'tletmeseeyourhandgonigh'em.ForI'madevilataquickmistake,andwhenImakeoneittakestheformofLead.Sonowlet'slookatyou.'
Thefiguresofahorseandridercameslowlythroughtheeddyingmist,andcametothesideofthemail,wherethepassengerstood.Theriderstooped,and,castinguphiseyesattheguard,handedthepassengerasmallfoldedpaper.Therider'shorsewasblown,andbothhorseandriderwerecoveredwithmud,fromthehoofsofthehorsetothehatoftheman.
`Guard!'saidthepassenger,inatoneofquietbusinessconfidence.
Thewatchfulguard,withhisrighthandatthestockofhisraisedblunderbuss,hisleftatthebarrel,andhiseyeOnthehorseman,answeredcurtly,`Sir.'
`Thereisnothingtoapprehend.IbelongtoTellson'sBank.YoumustknowTellson'sBankinLondon.IamgoingtoParisonbusiness.Acrowntodrink.Imayreadthis?'
`Ifsobeasyou'requick,sir.'
Heopeneditinthelightofthecoach-lamponthatside,andread——firsttohimselfandthenaloud:`"WaitatDoorforMam'selle."It'snotlong,yousee,guard.Jerry,saythatmyanswerwas,RECALLEDTOLIFE.'
Jerrystartedinhissaddle.`That`saBlazingstrangeanswer,too,'saidhe,athishoarsest.
`Takethatmessageback,andtheywillknowthatIreceivedthis,aswellasifIwrote.Makethebestofyourway.Goodnight.'
Withthosewordsthepassengeropenedtilecoach-doorandgotin;notatallassistedbyhisfellow-passengers,whohadexpeditiouslysecretedtheirwatchesandpursesintheirboots,andwerenowmakingageneralpretenceofbeingasleep.Withnomoredefinitepurposethantoescapethehazardoforiginatinganyotherkindofaction.
Thecoachlumberedonagain,withheavierwreathsofmistclosingrounditasitbeganthedescent.Theguardsoonreplacedhisblunderbussinhisarm-chest,and,havinglookedtotherestofitscontents,andhavinglookedtothesupplementarypistolsthatheworeinhisbelt,lookedtoasmallerchestbeneathhisseat,inwhichtherewereafewsmith'stools,acoupleoftorches,andatinder-box.Forhewasfurnishedwiththatcompletenessthatifthecoach-lampshadbeenblownandstormedout,whichdidoccasionallyhappen,hehadonlytoshuthimselfupinside,keeptheflintandsteelsparkswelloffthestraw,andgetalightwithtolerablesafetyandeaseifhewereluckyinfiveminutes.
`Tom!'softlyoverthecoach-roof.
`Hallo,Joe.'
`Didyouhearthemessage?'
`Idid,Joe.'
`Whatdidyoumakeofit,Tom?'
`Nothingatall,Joe.'
`That'sacoincidence,too,'theguardmused,`forImadethesameofitmyselfJerry,leftaloneinthemistanddarkness,dismountedmeanwhile,notonlytoeasehisspenthorse,buttowipethemudfromhisface,andshakethewetoutofhishat-brim,whichmightbecapableofholdingabouthalfagallon.Afterstandingwiththebridleoverhisheavily-splashedarm,untilthewheelsofthemailwerenolongerwithinhearingandthenightwasquitestillagain,heturnedtowalkdownthehill.
`AfterthattheregallopfromTempleBar,oldlady,Iwon'ttrustyourfore-legstillIgetyouonthelevel,'saidthishoarsemessenger,glancingathismare.`"Recalledtolife."That'saBlazingstrangemessage.Muchofthatwouldn'tdoforyouJerry!Isay,Jerry!You'dbeinaBlazingbadway,ifrecallingtolifewastocomeintofashion,Jerry!'
CHAPTERIII
TheNightShadows
Wonderfulfacttoreflectupon,thateveryhumancreatureisconstitutedtobethatprofoundsecretandmysterytoeveryother.Asolemnconsideration,whenenteragreatcitybynight,thateveryoneofthosedarklyclusteredhousesenclosesitsownsecret;thateveryroomineveryoneofthemenclosesitsownsecret;thateverybeatingheartinthehundredsofthousandsofbreaststhere,is,ifsomeofitsimaginings,asecrettotheheartnearestit!Somethingoftheawfulness,evenofDeathitself,isreferabletothis.NomorecanIturntheleavesofthisdearbookthatloved,andvainlyhopeintimetoreaditall.NomorecanIlookintothedepthsofthisunfathomablewater,whereinasmomentarylightsglancedintoit,Ihavehadglimpsesofburiedtreasureandotherthingssubmerged.Itwasappointedthatthebookshouldshutwithaspring,foreverandforever,whenIhadreadbutapage.Itwasappointedthatthewatershouldbelockedinaneternalfrost,whenthelightwasplayingonitssurface,andIstoodinignoranceontheshore.Myfriendisdead,myneighbourisdead,mylovethedarlingofmysoul,isdead;itistheinexorableconsolidationandperpetuationofthesecretthatwasalwaysinthatindividuality,andwhichIshallcarryinminetomylife'send.Inanyoftheburial-placesofthiscitythroughwhichIpass,isthereasleepermoreinscrutablethanitbusyinhabitantsare,intheirinnermostpersonality,tomeorthanIamtothem?
Astothis,hisnaturalandnottobealienatedinheritancethemessengeronhorsebackhadexactlythesamepossessionastheKing,thefirstMinisterofState,ortherichestmerchantinLondon.Sowiththethreepassengersshutupi'thenarrowcompassofonelumberingoldmail-coach;theweremysteriestooneanother,ascompleteasifeachhabeeninhisowncoachandsix,orhisowncoachandsixty,withthebreadthofacountybetweenhimandthenext.
Themessengerrodebackataneasytrot,stoppingprettyoftenatale-housesbythewaytodrink,butevincingtendencytokeephisowncounsel,andtokeephishatcockedoverhiseyes.Hehadeyesthatassortedverywellwiththatdecoration,beingofasurfaceblack,withnodepthinthecolourorform,andmuchtooneartogether——asiftheywereafraidofbeingfoundoutinsomething,singly,iftheykepttoofarapart.Theyhadasinisterexpression,underanoldcocked-hatlikeathree-corneredspittoon,andoveragreatmufflerforthechinandthroat,whichdescendednearlytothewearer'sknees.Whenhestoppedfordrink,hemovedthismufflerwithhislefthand,onlywhilehepouredhisliquorinwithhisright;assoonasthatwasdone,hemuffledagain.
No,Jerry,no!'saidthemessenger,harpingononethemeasherode.`Itwouldn'tdoforyou,Jerry.Jerry,youhonesttradesman,itwouldn'tsuityourlineofbusiness!Recalled——!BustmeifIdon'tthinkhe'dbeenadrinking!'
Hismessageperplexedhismindtothatdegreethathewasfain,severaltimes,totakeoffhishattoscratchhishead.Exceptonthecrown,whichwasraggedlybald,hehadstiffblackhair,standingjaggedlyalloverit,andgrowingdownhillalmosttohisbroad,bluntnose.Itwassolikesmith'swork,somuchmorelikethetopofastronglyspikedwallthanaheadofhair,thatthebestofplayersatleap-frogmighthavedeclinedhim,asthemostdangerousmanintheworldtogoover.
WhilehetrottedbackwiththemessagehewastodelivertothenightwatchmaninhisboxatthedoorofTellson'sBank,byTempleBar,whowastodeliverittogreaterauthoritieswithin,theshadowsofthenighttooksuchshapestohimasaroseoutofthemessage,andtooksuchshapestothemareasaroseoutofherprivatetopicsofuneasiness.Theyseemedtobenumerous,forsheshiedateveryshadowontheroad.
Whattime,themail-coachlumbered,jolted,rattled,andbumpeduponitstediousway,withitsthreefellow-inscrutablesinside.Towhom,likewise,theshadowsofthenightrevealedthemselves,intheformstheirdozingeyesandwanderingthoughtssuggested.
Tellson'sBankhadarunuponitinthemail.Asthebankpassenger——withanarmdrawnthroughtheleathernstrap,whichdidwhatlayinittokeephimfrompoundingagainstthenextpassenger,anddrivinghimintohiscomer,wheneverthecoachgotaspecialjolt——noddedinhisplace,withhalf-shuteyes,thelittlecoach-windows,andthecoach-lampdimlygleamingthroughthem,andthebulkybundleofoppositepassenger,becamethebank,anddidagreatstrokeofbusiness.Therattleoftheharnesswasthechinkofmoney,andmoredraftswerehonouredinfiveminutesthanevenTellson's,withallitsforeignandhomeconnexion,everpaidinthricethetime.Thenthestrong-roomsunderground,atTellson's,withsuchoftheirvaluablestoresandsecretsaswereknowntothepassengeranditwasnotalittlethatheknewaboutthem,openedbeforehim,andhewentinamongthemwiththegreatkeysandthefeebly-burningcandle,andfoundthemsafe,andstrong,andsound,andstill,justashehadlastseenthem.
But,thoughthebankwasalmostalwayswithhim,andthoughthecoachinaconfusedway,likethepresenceofpainunderanopiatewasalwayswithhim,therewasanothercurrentofimpressionthatneverceasedtorun,allthroughthenight.Hewasonhiswaytodigsomeoneoutofagrave.
Now,whichofthemultitudeoffacesthatshowedthemselvesbeforehimwasthetruefaceoftheburiedperson,theshadowsofthenightdidnotindicate;buttheywereallthefacesofamanoffive-and-fortybyyears,andtheydifferedprincipallyinthepassionstheyexpressed,andintheghastlinessoftheirwornandwastedstate.Pride,contempt,defiance,stubbornness,submission,lamentation,succeededoneanother;sodidvarietiesofsunkencheek,cadaverouscolour,emaciatedhandsandfigures.Butthefacewasinthemainoneface,andeveryheadwasprematurelywhite.Ahundredtimesthedozingpassengerinquiredofthisspectre:
`Buriedhowlong?'
Theanswerwasalwaysthesame:`Almosteighteenyears.'
`Youhadabandonedallhopeofbeingdugout?'
`Longago.'
`Youknowthatyouarerecalledtolife?'
`Theytellmeso.
`Ihopeyoucaretolive?'
`Ican'tsay.'
`ShallIshowhertoyou?Willyoucomeandseehe''
Theanswerstothisquestionwerevariousandcontradictory.Sometimesthebrokenreplywas,`Wait!ItwouldkillmeifIsawhertoosoon.'Sometimes,itwasgiveninatenderrainoftears,andthenitwas`Takemetoher.'Sometimesitwasstaringandbewildered,andthenitwas,`Idon'tknowher.Idon'tunderstand.'
Aftersuchimaginarydiscourse,thepassengerinhisfancywoulddig,anddig,dig——now,withaspade,nowwithagreatkey,nowwithhishands——todigthiswretchedcreatureout.Gotoutatlast,withearthhangingabouthisfaceandhair,hewouldsuddenlyfallawaytodust.Thepassengerwouldthenstarttohimselfandlowerthewindow,togettherealityofmistandrainonhischeek.
Yetevenwhenhiseyeswereopenedonthemistandrain,onthemovingpatchoflightfromthelamps,andthehedgeattheroadsideretreatingbyjerks,thenightshadow'soutsidethecoachwouldfallintothetrainofthenightshadowswithin.TherealBanking-housebyTempleBar,therealbusinessofthepastday,therealstrong-rooms,therealexpresssentafterhim,andtherealmessagereturned,wouldallbethere.Outofthemidstofthem,theghostlyfacewouldrise,andhewouldaccostitagain.
`Buriedhowlong?'
`Almosteighteenyears.
`Ihopeyoucaretolive?'
`Ican'tsay.'
Dig——dig——dig——untilanimpatientmovementfromoneofthetwopassengerswouldadmonishhimtopullupthewindow,drawhisarmsecurelythroughtheleathernstrap,andspeculateuponthetwoslumberingforms,untilhismindlostitsholdofthem,andtheyagainslidawayintothebankandthegrave.
`Buriedhowlong?'
`Almosteighteenyears.'
`Youhadabandonedallhopeofbeingdugout?'
`Longago.'
Thewordswerestillinhishearingasjustspoken——distinctlyinhishearingaseverspokenwordshadbeeninhislife——whenthewearypassengerstartedtotheconsciousnessofdaylight,andfoundthattheshadowsofthenightweregone.
Heloweredthewindow,andlookedoutattherisingsun.Therewasaridgeofploughedland,withaploughuponitwhereithadbeenleftlastnightwhenthehorseswereunyoked;beyond,aquietcoppice-wood,inwhichmanyleavesofburningredandgoldenyellowstillremaineduponthetrees.Thoughtheearthwascoldandwet,theskywasclear,andthesunrosebright,placid,andbeautiful.
`Eighteenyears!'saidthepassenger,lookingatthesun.`GraciousCreatorofday!Tobeburiedaliveforeighteenyears!'
CHAPTERIV
ThePreparation
WHENthemailgotsuccessfullytoDover,inthecourseoftheforenoon,theheaddrawerattheRoyalGeorgeHotelopenedthecoach-doorashiscustomwas.Hediditwithsomeflourishofceremony,foramailjourneyfromLondoninwinterwasanachievementtocongratulateanadventuroustravellerupon.
Bythattime,therewasonlyoneadventuroustravellerlefttobecongratulated;forthetwoothershadbeensetdownattheirrespectiveroadsidedestinations.Themildewyinsideofthecoach,withitsdampanddirtystraw,itsdisagreeablesmell,anditsobscurity,wasratherlikealargerdog-kennel.Mr.Lorry,thepassenger,shakinghimselfoutofitinchainsofstraw,atangleofshaggywrapper,flappinghat,andmuddylegs,wasratherlikealargersortofdog.
`TherewillbeapackettoCalais,to-morrow,drawer?'
`Yes,sir,iftheweatherholdsandthewindsetstolerablefair.Thetidewillserveprettynicelyatabouttwointheafternoon,sir.Bed,sir?'
`Ishallnotgotobedtillnight;butIwantabedroomandabarber.'
`Andthenbreakfast,sir?Yes,sir.Thatway,sir,ifyouplease.ShowConcord!Gentleman'svaliseandhotwatertoConcord.Pulloffgentleman'sbootsinConcord.Youwillfindafinesea-coalfire,sir.FetchbarbertoConcord.Stiraboutthere,now,forConcord!'