CHAP. XII. A Glance at the Metropolis.

It was finally arranged that I should go to Town with the groom, who had orders to set off early next morning. An unusual melancholy took possession of me, as I reflected, that this was, perhaps, my last appearance in genteel life. I was less sanguine respecting London and its wonders; and indeed, as my fate was already carved out, there was nothing like incident or adventure attached to my migration, a circumstance peculiarly disappointing to an Ass of a romantic turn of mind. Matthew, who was a good-humoured, giddy young man, cheerfully undertook the charge of me, and it was on our way towards Deptford, I learned something of my destined mistress.

“So you are off I see,” said a man in livery, addressing my conductor; “but what will you do with the Donkey in Town?”

“Master intends giving him to a pensioner of his,” replied Matthew.

“Well, that’s good, but I do think there isn’t a better man than your master.”

“It is a good family altogether,” continued Matthew. “I wouldn’t change,—no, not to live with the Prince Regent!—Yes, and not only the Donkey, but a new cart is to be got for the poor old woman; and all the children are as pleased at it, as if they had the finest present given to themselves.”

“Well, such people deserve money, I say,” resumed the man; “I only hope they may never meet a bad return, for that sometimes makes even the best hard-hearted.”

“They are not likely to be imposed on, because they go about and seek into things,” said Matthew. “Why the old woman that’s to have this Donkey, goes about London with garden-stuff: well, she fell down just opposite our door in Russel Square—one of the children saw her, and sent out somebody to assist her: it was in the hard frost last winter—the poor creature was almost froze—we had her in, and the maids rubbed her ancle. Mistress came down to inquire into her story—ordered her to have some victuals—gave her a pound note, and advised her to go home for that day at least. Well, next morning mistress walks to Somer’s Town, where this woman lives—hears a good character of her—that she brought up a nephew that had been her ruin, and forced her to take to her present business. So then she gave her our custom, which is something—sent her in some coals, and almost kept her all the winter; and master brought home word last night, that her horse is dead—so she is to have this Donkey and a new cart.”

This recital met the entire approbation of our detainer; who, wishing the Turner family a hundred guineas for every one they now possessed, suffered us to depart. You may be sure I did justice to these really good friends, and though I might not actually fall in love with the occupation of my appointed mistress, I hoped every thing from her gratitude. We trotted along the road, and, to my great disappointment, each step that brought me nearer to the metropolis, increased the unpleasantness of my feelings. You will ask,—what I could expect, at such a season of the year, but dirt and fog? Now a fog was a luxury to which I had hitherto been a stranger; consequently its effects rather surprised me. My breath seemed impeded by this extraordinary quality of the atmosphere, and I began to think that blinkers must be a superfluous appendage in London, where it seemed almost impossible to find one’s way in broad day-light. As we crossed Blackfriars-bridge, the sun cast a partial gleam, and exhibited a view I was well disposed to admire. I shall never forget the delight with which the Thames inspired me as an object. We, as I have before observed, are epicures in water; and though as an element we have our fears and prejudices when in too close contact with it, so much of our comfort depends upon the pure state in which we get this beverage, that I trust I shall be pardoned for the warmth with which I express myself on this subject.

I was not so silly as to expect to find London paved with gold, but I certainly thought it would be whole—complete in every part. Great, therefore, was my vexation, when I found myself less equal to preserve my paces, according to my ideas of grace, than in many mean villages through which I had passed. Matthew had frequent occasion to pull my reins, in order to save me from falling. It is true, the thick mud which filled up the interstices between the stones, might help to retard my progress; but I really think, if abstemiousness were not an acknowledged property of the Ass, any person who had seen me stagger into London, would have called me a most immoral Donkey.

Our route lay through a part of Fleet Street, Chancery Lane, across Holborn to Russel Square. What a scene it was altogether! What bustle and noise! The splendour of gay carriages contrasted by loaded carts, waggons! &c. &c. and, to add to my astonishment, men carried loads that appeared to require the strength of a horse. I was beginning to think we really were a proscribed animal in this world of business, when a strange sensation in my nose, something like what you would call sneezing, occasioned me to look about for the cause that could produce such a nouvelle effect on my olfactory nerves. I soon discovered a miserably fragile-looking Donkey, dragging a small railed cart laden with bags of soot. I have since learned, that any sudden surprise checks the emotion called sneezing with your genus. Such a specific was at hand. Hear it, O ye neglected, uncombed Donkeys! a human being—yes, a man—drove this cart, whose black face and hands were only rivalled by his sable garb! They call this description of person a chimney-sweeper; but as it never has proved to me, that these people have an antipathy to water, I cannot reconcile myself to the idea of their invariably dirty appearance. My poor fellow-donkey excited my compassion: his drooping frame seemed little able to drag his load, yet he was young. Two lines I had heard Mr. George Manton repeat, occurred to my mind:—

Under such circumstances, I really thought shame would have bowed my head.

How super-eminently fortunate did my lot appear! There was something invigorating in the idea of carrying fresh garden plants! and I was actually calculating the chance of a few stray cabbage leaves occasionally falling to my share, when a completely trimmed vegetable cart, drawn by a Donkey, obstructed our path. It was in vain I strove to inhale the freshness of its contents; every thing looked dry and impoverished, so unlike all I had ever seen, that I knew not how to believe such trash could meet purchasers. The wretched Donkey was nearly knee-deep in mud. I shuddered at these specimens of the estimation in which we were held in London, and scarcely raising my eyes least I should encounter some new object to pain my sensibility, we reached Russel Square.

“Would I had been born at Grand Cairo!” sighed I, as I saw Matthew cleanse his horses after their journey. What though I partook of the shelter of an elegant stable in a spacious mews; the weight of my limbs seemed insupportable! and on the instant that I might be called an inhabitant of the great metropolis, I would have given worlds to have been transported to the fields of Tunbridge, or any other fields in which I could have indulged in a roll on the grass. You will think me a dissatisfied Ass, and perhaps wonder that at such a time my mind could be occupied by such seeming trifles. Cleanliness is a half virtue, and it had ever been my habit to practice it to the utmost of my power. I cannot describe all I thought and felt on this important day.—Ignorant as I was respecting London habits, I waited, with great anxiety, the arrival of the family, fully expecting they would visit me in my new abode. But the carriage was put up, night closed in, and my hopes were disappointed.

On the ensuing morning brought master Turner to the mews:—he was a fine boy, full of vivacity, but perfectly conciliating in his manner. He did me the honour of mounting my back, and expressed himself highly pleased with me:—only regretting that Donkeys were not rode in London, or he should have enjoyed an airing in the New Road.

On the subsequent morning a light, compact cart was brought to the stables, and my harness being fitted, I was led forth by Matthew, who had orders to take me into the Square, that the young ladies might see me before I departed. I saw them all standing at the drawing-room windows; they looked pleased, but by no means gay: I rather think I was honoured by their mutual regrets at this moment; for as Matthew received his final directions, the sash was gently raised, and the words,—“Good bye, poor fellow!” “I declare he looks very nicely,” and “Pray Matthew tell Mrs. Arnot he is remarkably good-natured, and seldom requires the whip,” were pronounced. These compassionate sentences fell on my ears with a sweet but melancholy sound: I scarcely dared raise my eyes to take a parting glance, so powerfully did the certainty of my separation affect my spirits.

I was soon called to witness a more pleasing scene:—on our arrival at a small house, rather agreeably situated in a lane leading out from the road called Somer’s Town, Matthew (who was highly pleased with his errand) stopped, and rapping with his whip, Mrs. Arnot answered the summons.

“Well, old lady, how are ye?” said Matthew. The poor woman replied to his question by stating her recent loss.

“I know your good young ladies will pity me,” said she; “indeed master was quite grieved when I told him Dobbin was dead; it is, as I may say, losing the very bread out of one’s mouth.”

“Why so it would be,” replied Matthew, “if there wasn’t good people in the world, to help them that can’t help themselves: but what say you to going partners with me?” laughing. “I think this cart is big enough for us, in all conscience.”

“You are always merry; but it’s fit you should be, you are young. That’s a convenient little cart, sure enough, Mr. Matthew, but I hope you’re not going to leave your place; I should be sorry to hear that.”

“I hope I’m settled for some time,” resumed Matthew: “but I forgot, I have a bit of paper for you, which will explain my errand;” and presenting a note to Mrs. Arnot, he waited the effect of her surprise.

“I’m in such a tremble—and I don’t know where I’ve laid my spectacles,” said she; “your eyes are younger than mine, Matthew, read it for me.”

“Matthew took the note, and read as follows:—

“Mrs. Arnot,

“We were very sorry to hear of your loss in the poor old horse; we hope, however, that the cart and Donkey which Matthew has the pleasure of conveying to you, will answer your purpose, and prevent your feeling any serious inconvenience. Papa and mama think a lighter cart will be better for your health and strength. You will call for orders as usual; and if you find any difficulty in disposing of the old cart, papa bids us say, he will speak to a person with whom he has lately had some dealing, and who perhaps may be desirous to oblige him. Wishing you every success, we are your sincere friends,

“Maria Turner, “Emma Turner, “Charlotte Turner.”

“Sincere friends!” exclaimed Mrs. Arnot, “they are angels! O, what children! Mr. Matthew. But let me not forget their dear parents;—it is they that have trained them up to goodness, and God will reward them:—they are rewarded, for their children are humble and dutiful, and will live to repay them for all their cares.” The poor woman seemed oppressed while paying this tribute to my late patrons. Matthew kindly drew her attention to her new property, and as he unharnessed me, and led me to a respectable patch of pasture at the back of the house, I was gratified by the unfeigned approbation Mrs. Arnot bestowed upon me.

“It will indeed be better suited to my strength,” said she, following us; “yes master was quite right; if Dobbin had lived, I should ha’ gone on in the old way. Make my duty to the dear young ladies—you know what to say as well as I do—tell them I’ve no eyes for writing, or I would answer their pretty letter, but I’ll keep it as long as I live. You wont forget, Matthew, to tell ’em how happy they’ve made me. And about the old cart—pr’aps as master will take the trouble, he would make a better hand of it than I should. And be sure and say, I will call in Russel Square the first thing to-morrow. I shall be off to market early in the morning.”

“Master George guessed as much,” smiled Matthew, taking a bit of paper from his pocket; “so, as he had no share in the young ladies’ present, he sent you this one pound note to go to market with.”

My mistress actually shed tears at this proof of Master Turner’s liberality, and I have no doubt I should have joined her, had she remained any longer.

She retired with Matthew, and I fell to and made a very tolerable meal considering the season of the year, and the extent of Mrs. Arnot’s demesne.

It may argue little in favour of my gentility, when I add, that I really preferred Somer’s Town to Russel Square. Vaulted stables, and neatly paved mews, could not reconcile me to the want of herbage; there is something refreshing to the eye (putting the taste out of the question) in that universal colour with which providence has clothed the earth. I was absurdly going to say, that no other colour could prove so acceptable to the senses, when the very circumstance of its being a provision of nature makes the fact incontrovertible. We want neither the sanction of the Poet, nor any conviction but our own unbiassed judgment to convince us, that in nature’s plan,

The next morning initiated me into the bustle of a market; I have heard that many Asses have made their debût in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden, but I really think few if any were ever better received than I was on my first appearance.

A little audience was collected around me, and though their applause, was not uniformly expressed in a language to which my ears were accustomed, Donkeys as well as other animals, can discern what is intended as compliment, and vice versâ.

A very singular looking old lady, who was sitting on an inverted basket, with a tube in her mouth from which she whiffed a gale by no means aromatic; this extraordinary personage certainly excited my surprise, and in retreating a few steps, in order to avoid suffocation, I forgot an appendage the cart, and coming in contact with a passenger, had nearly done mischief, when the old lady started from her seat a flame issuing from her mouth, an seizing my bridle exclaimed,

“Can’t ye be asy now! Sure y’re a great big blockhead, that ye can’t see y’re killing the craters behind ye.”

It would seem that her reproof sounded equally ludicrous to the by-standers as myself, laughter ensued, but the good humour of my reprover did not forsake her; she resumed her seat, until a man summoned her to carry a load, which it astonished me to see a woman able to bear. She however went off cheerfully, and I felt something like a twinge of conscience when I recollected how frequently I had made a difficulty of trifles; though I could not bring myself to think of the fair sex, while recurring to the features and person of this portress. It was sufficient she was a woman, and I grieved at the necessity which placed her in such a situation.

My mistress was evidently superior to most of the persons assembled in this place; every body seemed willing to serve her. But though she received their civilities gratefully, I perceived she was by no means familiar;—regulating my conduct by her’s, I kept a respectful distance, not making the least approach to acquaintanceship with any of the Donkeys in waiting.

Indeed, they were for the most part, of the very lowest order of Donkeys:—you will ask how I ascertained this? Rest assured gentle readers, that, as in your species there are orders and degrees in society, so amongst us, there are well-bred Donkeys, vulgar Donkeys, and Donkeys that neither ease nor indulgences could render elegant. But I will never lend a foot (the scribbling member in all Assinine literature,) to publish what could not edify the public. Indeed, I am of opinion, that were we indifferent to the failings of our immediate class, there is danger in delineating vices too faithfully;—in setting forth the consequences of error, an Author may hope to do some good, and even should he fail, he retains the consolation of knowing his own moral taste cannot be questioned.

Upon the honour of a Donkey, who is most solicitous of being considered an ingenuous Ass, I am literally surprised to find myself thus wandering from Covent-garden market, to Authorship and its moral effects.—

Jemmy’s—“himself again.”

Our marketing turned out well; a great proportion of this morning’s purchase was left in Russel Square, where I looked anxiously for my good friends—they were out in the carriage, and I saw nothing of them that day. To dwell on this period of my history would be tedious, suffice it to say, my days were uniformly quiet and comfortable, no more labour being required of me than what I could with ease perform. The Turner family continued to be our best customers, and the sale of the old cart producing a tolerable sum, my mistress looked forward to the approach of spring with a satisfaction to which she had for some years been a stranger. I cannot omit one remark respecting my feeding, if but to do honour to my mistress: considering me as a sort of partner in her toils, she never forgot to place fresh water in an old tub set aside for my use; and many a stale cabbage, aye, and many a fresh leaf fell to my share when in our journeys she thought I had fasted too long. Excellent, woman! you deserved a better——What was I going to say? My gratitude had nearly led me to anticipate what you will find in the next Chapter.