the uncommercial traveller-第57章

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had　just　got　her　out；　and　the　passing　costermonger　who　had　helped

him；　were　standing　near　the　body；　the　latter　with　that　stare　at　it

which　I　have　likened　to　being　at　a　waxwork　exhibition　without　a

catalogue；　the　former；　looking　over　his　stock；　with　professional

stiffness　and　coolness；　in　the　direction　in　which　the　bearers　he

had　sent　for　were　expected。　　So　dreadfully　forlorn；　so　dreadfully

sad；　so　dreadfully　mysterious；　this　spectacle　of　our　dear　sister

here　departed！　　A　barge　came　up；　breaking　the　floating　ice　and　the

silence；　and　a　woman　steered　it。　　The　man　with　the　horse　that　towed

it；　cared　so　little　for　the　body；　that　the　stumbling　hoofs　had　been

among　the　hair；　and　the　tow…rope　had　caught　and　turned　the　head；

before　our　cry　of　horror　took　him　to　the　bridle。　　At　which　sound

the　steering　woman　looked　up　at　us　on　the　bridge；　with　contempt

unutterable；　and　then　looking　down　at　the　body　with　a　similar

expression　…　as　if　it　were　made　in　another　likeness　from　herself；

had　been　informed　with　other　passions；　had　been　lost　by　other

chances；　had　had　another　nature　dragged　down　to　perdition　…　steered

a　spurning　streak　of　mud　at　it；　and　passed　on。



A　better　experience；　but　also　of　the　Morgue　kind；　in　which　chance

happily　made　me　useful　in　a　slight　degree；　arose　to　my　remembrance

as　I　took　my　way　by　the　Boulevard　de　Sebastopol　to　the　brighter

scenes　of　Paris。



The　thing　happened；　say　five…and…twenty　years　ago。　　I　was　a　modest

young　uncommercial　then；　and　timid　and　inexperienced。　　Many　suns

and　winds　have　browned　me　in　the　line；　but　those　were　my　pale　days。

Having　newly　taken　the　lease　of　a　house　in　a　certain　distinguished

metropolitan　parish　…　a　house　which　then　appeared　to　me　to　be　a

frightfully　first…class　Family　Mansion；　involving　awful

responsibilities　…　I　became　the　prey　of　a　Beadle。　　I　think　the

Beadle　must　have　seen　me　going　in　or　coming　out；　and　must　have

observed　that　I　tottered　under　the　weight　of　my　grandeur。　　Or　he

may　have　been　in　hiding　under　straw　when　I　bought　my　first　horse

（in　the　desirable　stable…yard　attached　to　the　first…class　Family

Mansion）；　and　when　the　vendor　remarked　to　me；　in　an　original

manner；　on　bringing　him　for　approval；　taking　his　cloth　off　and

smacking　him；　'There；　Sir！　　THERE'S　a　Orse！'　　And　when　I　said

gallantly；　'How　much　do　you　want　for　him？'　and　when　the　vendor

said；　'No　more　than　sixty　guineas；　from　you；'　and　when　I　said

smartly；　'Why　not　more　than　sixty　from　ME？'　　And　when　he　said

crushingly；　'Because　upon　my　soul　and　body　he'd　be　considered　cheap

at　seventy；　by　one　who　understood　the　subject　…　but　you　don't。'　…　I

say；　the　Beadle　may　have　been　in　hiding　under　straw；　when　this

disgrace　befell　me；　or　he　may　have　noted　that　I　was　too　raw　and

young　an　Atlas　to　carry　the　first…class　Family　Mansion　in　a　knowing

manner。　　Be　this　as　it　may；　the　Beadle　did　what　Melancholy　did　to

the　youth　in　Gray's　Elegy　…　he　marked　me　for　his　own。　　And　the　way

in　which　the　Beadle　did　it；　was　this：　　he　summoned　me　as　a　Juryman

on　his　Coroner's　Inquests。



In　my　first　feverish　alarm　I　repaired　'for　safety　and　for　succour'

…　like　those　sagacious　Northern　shepherds　who；　having　had　no

previous　reason　whatever　to　believe　in　young　Norval；　very　prudently

did　not　originate　the　hazardous　idea　of　believing　in　him　…　to　a

deep　householder。　　This　profound　man　informed　me　that　the　Beadle

counted　on　my　buying　him　off；　on　my　bribing　him　not　to　summon　me；

and　that　if　I　would　attend　an　Inquest　with　a　cheerful　countenance；

and　profess　alacrity　in　that　branch　of　my　country's　service；　the

Beadle　would　be　disheartened；　and　would　give　up　the　game。



I　roused　my　energies；　and　the　next　time　the　wily　Beadle　summoned

me；　I　went。　　The　Beadle　was　the　blankest　Beadle　I　have　ever　looked

on　when　I　answered　to　my　name；　and　his　discomfiture　gave　me　courage

to　go　through　with　it。



We　were　impanelled　to　inquire　concerning　the　death　of　a　very　little

mite　of　a　child。　　It　was　the　old　miserable　story。　　Whether　the

mother　had　committed　the　minor　offence　of　concealing　the　birth；　or

whether　she　had　committed　the　major　offence　of　killing　the　child；

was　the　question　on　which　we　were　wanted。　　We　must　commit　her　on

one　of　the　two　issues。



The　Inquest　came　off　in　the　parish　workhouse；　and　I　have　yet　a

lively　impression　that　I　was　unanimously　received　by　my　brother

Jurymen　as　a　brother　of　the　utmost　conceivable　insignificance。

Also；　that　before　we　began；　a　broker　who　had　lately　cheated　me

fearfully　in　the　matter　of　a　pair　of　card…tables；　was　for　the

utmost　rigour　of　the　law。　　I　remember　that　we　sat　in　a　sort　of

board…room；　on　such　very　large　square　horse…hair　chairs　that　I

wondered　what　race　of　Patagonians　they　were　made　for；　and　further；

that　an　undertaker　gave　me　his　card　when　we　were　in　the　full　moral

freshness　of　having　just　been　sworn；　as　'an　inhabitant　that　was

newly　come　into　the　parish；　and　was　likely　to　have　a　young　family。'

The　case　was　then　stated　to　us　by　the　Coroner；　and　then　we　went

down…stairs　…　led　by　the　plotting　Beadle　…　to　view　the　body。　　From

that　day　to　this；　the　poor　little　figure；　on　which　that　sounding

legal　appellation　was　bestowed；　has　lain　in　the　same　place　and　with

the　same　surroundings；　to　my　thinking。　　In　a　kind　of　crypt　devoted

to　the　warehousing　of　the　parochial　coffins；　and　in　the　midst　of　a

perfect　Panorama　of　coffins　of　all　sizes；　it　was　stretched　on　a

box；　the　mother　had　put　it　in　her　box　…　this　box　…　almost　as　soon

as　it　was　born；　and　it　had　been　presently　found　there。　　It　had　been

opened；　and　neatly　sewn　up；　and　regarded　from　that　point　of　view；

it　looked　like　a　stuffed　creature。　　It　rested　on　a　clean　white

cloth；　with　a　surgical　instrument　or　so　at　hand；　and　regarded　from

that　point　of　view；　it　looked　as　if　the　cloth　were　'laid；'　and　the

Giant　were　coming　to　dinner。　　There　was　nothing　repellent　about　the

poor　piece　of　innocence；　and　it　demanded　a　mere　form　of　looking　at。

So；　we　looked　at　an　old　pauper　who　was　going　about　among　the

coffins　with　a　foot　rule；　as　if　he　were　a　case　of　Self…Measurement；

and　we　looked　at　one　another；　and　we　said　the　place　was　well

whitewashed　anyhow；　and　then　our　conversational　powers　as　a　British

Jury　flagged；　and　the　foreman　said；　'All　right；　gentlemen？　　Back

again；　Mr。　Beadle！'



The　miserable　young　creature　who　had　given　birth　to　this　child

within　a　very　few　days；　and　who　had　cleaned　the　cold　wet　door…steps

immediately　afterwards；　was　brought　before　us　when　we　resumed　our

horse…hair　chairs；　and　was　present　during　the　proceedings。　　She　had

a　horse…hair　chair　herself；　being　very　weak　and　ill；　and　I　remember

how　she　turned　to　the　unsympathetic　nurse　who　attended　her；　and　who

might　have　been　the　figure…head　of　a　pauper…ship；　and　how　she　hid

her　face　and　sobs　and　tears　upon　that　wooden　shoulder。　　I　remember；

too；　how　hard　her　mistress　was　upon　her　（she　was　a　servant…of…all…

work）；　and　with　what　a　cruel　pertinacity　that　piece　of　Virtue　spun

her　thread　of　evidence　double；　by　intertwisting　it　with　the

sternest　thread　of　construction。　　Smitten　hard　by　the　terrible　low

wail　from　the　utterly　friendless　orphan　girl；　which　never　ceased

during　the　whole　inquiry；　I　took　heart　to　ask　this　witness　a

question　or　two；　which　hopefully　admitted　of　an　answer　that　might

give　a　favourable　turn　to　the　case。　　She　made　the　turn　as　little

favourable　as　it　could　be；　but　it　did　some　good；　and　the　Coroner；

who　was　nobly　patient　and　humane　（he　was　the　late　Mr。　Wakley）；　cast

a　look　of　strong　encouragement　in　my　direction。　　Then；　we　had　the

doctor　who　had　made　the　examination；　and　the　usual　tests　as　to

whether　the　child　was　born　alive；　but　he　was　a　timid；　muddle…headed

doctor；　and　got　confused　and　contradictory；　and　wouldn't　say　this；

and　couldn't　answer　for　that；　and　the　immaculate　broker　was　too

much　for　him；　and　our　side　slid　back　again。　　However；　I　tried

again；　and　the　Coroner　backed　me　again；　for　which　I　ever　afterwards

felt　grateful　to　him　as　I　do　no