THERE is a climax
to everything, to every state
of feeling as
well as to every position in
life. I turned this truism over
in my mind as, in the frosty
dawn of a January morning, I
hurried down the steep and now
icy street which descended from
Mrs. King's to the Close. The
factory workpeople had preceded
me by nearly an hour, and the
mill was all lighted up and in
full operation when I reached
it. I repaired to my post in
the counting-house as usual;
the fire there, but just lit,
as yet only smoked; Steighton
had not yet arrived. I shut the
door and sat down at the desk;
my hands, recently washed in
half-frozen water, were still
numb; I could not write till
they had regained vitality, so
I went on thinking, and still
the theme of my thoughts was
the "climax." Self-dissatisfaction
troubled exceedingly the current
of my meditations.
"Come, William Crimsworth," said
my conscience, or whatever it
is that within ourselves takes
ourselves to task--"come, get
a clear notion of what you would
have, or what you would not have.
You talk of a climax; pray has
your endurance reached its climax?
It is not four months old. What
a fine resolute fellow you imagined
yourself to be when you told
Tynedale you would tread in your
father's steps, and a pretty
treading you are likely to make
of it! How well you like X----!
Just at this moment how redolent
of pleasant associations are
its streets, its shops, its warehouses,
its factories! How the prospect
of this day cheers you! Letter-copying
till noon, solitary dinner at
your lodgings, letter-copying
till evening, solitude; for you
neither find pleasure in Brown's,
nor Smith's, nor Nicholl's, nor
Eccle's company; and as to Hunsden,
you fancied there was pleasure
to be derived from his society--he!
he! how did you like the taste
you had of him last night? was
it sweet? Yet he is a talented,
an original-minded man, and even
he does not like you; your self-respect
defies you to like him; he has
always seen you to disadvantage;
he always will see you to disadvantage;
your positions are unequal, and
were they on the same level your
minds could not; assimilate;
never hope, then, to gather the
honey of friendship out of that
thorn-guarded plant. Hello, Crimsworth!
where are your thoughts tending?
You leave the recollection of
Hunsden as a bee would a rock,
as a bird a desert; and your
aspirations spread eager wings
towards a land of visions where,
now in advancing daylight--in
X---- daylight--you dare to dream
of congeniality, repose, union.
Those three you will never meet
in this world; they are angels.
The souls of just men made perfect
may encounter them in heaven,
but your soul will never be made
perfect. Eight o'clock strikes!
your hands are thawed, get to
work!"
"Work? why should I work?" said
I sullenly: "I cannot please
though I toil like a slave." "Work,
work!" reiterated the inward
voice. "I may work, it will do
no good," I growled; but nevertheless
I drew out a packet of letters
and commenced my task--task thankless
and bitter as that of the Israelite
crawling over the sun-baked fields
of Egypt in search of straw and
stubble wherewith to accomplish
his tale of bricks.
About ten o'clock I heard Mr.
Crimsworth's gig turn into the
yard, and in a minute or two
he entered the counting-house.
It was his custom to glance his
eye at Steighton and myself,
to hang up his mackintosh, stand
a minute with his back to the
fire, and then walk out. Today
he did not deviate from his usual
habits; the only difference was
that when he looked at me, his
brow, instead of being merely
hard, was surly; his eye, instead
of being cold, was fierce. He
studied me a minute or two longer
than usual, but went out in silence.
Twelve o'clock arrived; the
bell rang for a suspension of
labour; the workpeople went off
to their dinners; Steighton,
too, departed, desiring me to
lock the counting-house door,
and take the key with me. I was
tying up a bundle of papers,
and putting them in their place,
preparatory to closing my desk,
when Crimsworth reappeared at
the door, and entering closed
it behind him.
"You'll stay here a minute," said
he, in a deep, brutal voice,
while his nostrils distended
and his eye shot a spark of sinister
fire.
Alone with Edward I remembered
our relationship, and remembering
that forgot the difference of
position; I put away deference
and careful forms of speech;
I answered with simple brevity.
"It is time to go home," I
said, turning the key in my desk.
"You'll stay here!" he reiterated. "And
take your hand off that key!
leave it in the lock!"
"Why?" asked I. "What
cause is there for changing
my usual
plans?"
"Do as I order," was the answer, "and
no questions! You are my servant,
obey me! What have you been about--?" He
was going on in the same breath,
when an abrupt pause announced
that rage had for the moment
got the better of articulation.
"You may look, if you wish
to know," I replied. "There is
the open desk, there are the
papers."
"Confound your
insolence! What have you been
about?"
"Your work,
and have done it well."
"Hypocrite and twaddler! Smooth-faced,
snivelling greasehorn!" (this
last term is, I believe, purely
---shire, and alludes to the
horn of black, rancid whale-oil,
usually to be seen suspended
to cart-wheels, and employed
for greasing the same.)
"Come, Edward
Crimsworth, enough of this.
It is time you and I
wound up accounts. I have now
given your service three months'
trial, and I find it the most
nauseous slavery under the sun.
Seek another clerk. I stay no
longer."
"What I do you dare to give
me notice? Stop at least for
your wages." He took down the
heavy gig whip hanging beside
his mackintosh.
I permitted myself to laugh
with a degree of scorn I took
no pains to temper or hide. His
fury boiled up, and when he had
sworn half-a-dozen vulgar, impious
oaths, without, however, venturing
to lift the whip, he continued
:-
"I've found
you out and know you thoroughly,
you mean, whining
lickspittle! What have you been
saying all over X---- about me?
answer me that!"
"You? I have
neither inclination nor temptation
to talk about
you."
"You lie! It
is your practice to talk about
me; it is your
constant habit to make public
complaint of the treatment you
receive at my hands. You have
gone and told it far and near
that I give you low wages and
knock you about like a dog. I
wish you were a dog! I'd set-to
this minute, and never stir from
the spot till I'd cut every strip
of flesh from your bones with
this whip.
He flourished his tool. The
end of the lash just touched
my forehead. A warm excited thrill
ran through my veins, my blood
seemed to give abound, and then
raced fast and hot along its
channels. I got up nimbly, came
round to where he stood, and
faced him.
"Down with your whip!" said
I, "and explain this instant
what you mean."
"Sirrah! to
whom are you speaking?"
"To you. There
is no one else present, I think.
You say I have
been calumniating you--complaining
of your low wages and bad treatment.
Give your grounds for these assertions."
Crimsworth had no dignity,
and when I sternly demanded an
explanation, he gave one in a
loud, scolding voice.
"Grounds I
you shall have them; and turn
to the light that I
may see your brazen face blush
black, when you hear yourself
proved to be a liar and a hypocrite.
At a public meeting in the Town-hall
yesterday, I had the pleasure
of hearing myself insulted by
the speaker opposed to me in
the question under discussion,
by allusions to my private affairs;
by cant about monsters without
natural affection, family despots,
and such trash; and when I rose
to answer, I was met by a shout
from the filthy mob, where the
mention of your name enabled
me at once to detect the quarter
in which this base attack had
originated. When I looked round,
I saw that treacherous villain,
Hunsden acting as fugleman. I
detected you in close conversation
with Hunsden at my house a month
ago, and I know that you were
at Hunsden's rooms last night.
Deny it if you dare."
"Oh, I shall
not deny it! And if Hunsden
hounded on the people
to hiss you, he did quite right.
You deserve popular execration;
for a worse man, a harder master,
a more brutal brother than you
are has seldom existed."
"Sirrah! sirrah!" reiterated
Crimsworth; and to complete his
apostrophe, he cracked the whip
straight over my head.
A minute sufficed to wrest
it from him, break it in two
pieces, and throw it under the
grate. He made a headlong rush
at me, which I evaded, and said--
"Touch me,
and I'll have you up before
the nearest magistrate."
Men like Crimsworth, if firmly
and calmly resisted, always abate
something of their exorbitant
insolence; he had no mind to
be brought before a magistrate,
and I suppose he saw I meant
what I said. After an odd and
long stare at me, at once bull-like
and amazed, he seemed to bethink
himself that, after all, his
money gave him sufficient superiority
over a beggar like me, and that
he had in his hands a surer and
more dignified mode of revenge
than the somewhat hazardous one
of personal chastisement.
"Take your hat," said he. "Take
what belongs to you, and go out
at that door; get away to your
parish, you pauper: beg, steal,
starve, get transported, do what
you like; but at your peril venture
again into my sight! If ever
I hear of your setting foot on
an inch of ground belonging to
me, I'll hire a man to cane you."
"It is not
likely you'll have the chance;
once off your premises,
what temptation can I have to
return to them? I leave a prison,
I leave a tyrant; I leave what
is worse than the worst that
can lie before me, so no fear
of my coming back."
"Go, or I'll make you!" exclaimed
Crimsworth.
I walked deliberately to my
desk, took out such of its contents
as were my own property, put
them in my pocket, locked the
desk, and placed the key on the
top.
"What are you abstracting from
that desk?" demanded the millowner. "Leave
all behind in its place, or I'll
send for a policeman to search
you."
"Look sharp about it, then," said
I, and I took down my hat, drew
on my gloves, and walked leisurely
out of the counting-house --walked
out of it to enter it no more.
I recollect that when the mill-bell
rang the dinner hour, before
Mr. Crimsworth entered, and the
scene above related took place,
I had had rather a sharp appetite,
and had been waiting somewhat
impatiently to hear the signal
of feeding time. I forgot it
now, however; the images of potatoes
and roast mutton were effaced
from my mind by the stir and
tumult which the transaction
of the last half-hour had there
excited. I only thought of walking,
that the action of my muscles
might harmonize with the action
of my nerves; and walk I did,
fast and far. How could I do
otherwise? A load was lifted
off my heart; I felt light and
liberated. I had got away from
Bigben Close without a breach
of resolution; without injury
to my self-respect. I had not
forced circumstances; circumstances
had freed me. Life was again
open to me; no longer was its
horizon limited by the high black
wall surrounding Crimsworth's
mill. Two hours had elapsed before
my sensations had so far subsided
as to leave me calm enough to
remark for what wider and clearer
boundaries I had exchanged that
sooty girdle. When I did look
up, lo! straight before me lay
Grovetown, a village of villas
about five miles out of X----.
The short winter day, as I perceived
from the far-declined sun, was
already approaching its close;
a chill frost-mist was rising
from the river on which X----
stands, and along whose banks
the road I had taken lay; it
dimmed the earth, but did not
obscure the clear icy blue of
the January sky. There was a
great stillness near and far;
the time of the day favoured
tranquillity, as the people were
all employed within-doors, the
hour of evening release from
the factories not being yet arrived;
a sound of full-flowing water
alone pervaded the air, for the
river was deep and abundant,
swelled by the melting of a late
snow. I stood awhile, leaning
over a wall; and looking down
at the current: I watched the
rapid rush of its waves. I desired
memory to take a clear and permanent
impression of the scene, and
treasure it for future years.
Grovetown church clock struck
four; looking up, I beheld the
last of that day's sun, glinting
red through the leafless boughs
of some very old oak trees surrounding
the church--its light coloured
and characterized the picture
as I wished. I paused yet a moment,
till the sweet, slow sound of
the bell had quite died out of
the air; then ear, eye and feeling
satisfied, I quitted the wall
and once more turned my face
towards X----.
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