Put Yourself in His Place

C >> Charles Reade >> Put Yourself in His Place


And the result was as admirable as the process. The very texture of the
ivory forehead began to come under those master-touches, executed with
perfect and various instruments: and, for the first time perhaps in the
history of this art, a bloom, more delicate far than that of a plum,
crept over the dimpled cheek. But, indeed, when love and skill work
together, expect a masterpiece.

Henry worked on it four afternoons, the happiest he had ever known.
There was the natural pleasure of creating, and the distinct glory and
delight of reproducing features so beloved; and to these joys were
added the pleasure of larger conversation. The model gave Grace
many opportunities of making remarks, or asking questions, and Henry
contrived to say so many things in answer to one. Sculptor and sitter
made acquaintance with each other's minds over the growing bust.

And then the young ladies and gentlemen dropped in, and gazed, and said
such wonderfully silly things, and thereby left their characters behind
them as fruitful themes for conversation. In short, topics were never
wanting now.

As for Jael, she worked, and beamed, and pondered every word her idol
uttered, but seldom ventured to say anything, till he was gone, and then
she prattled fast enough about him.

The work drew near completion. The hair, not in ropes, as heretofore,
but its silken threads boldly and accurately shown, yet not so as to
cord the mass, and unsatin it quite. The silk dress; the lace collar;
the blooming cheek, with its every dimple and incident; all these were
completed, and one eyebrow, a masterpiece in itself. This carved
eyebrow was a revelation, and made everybody who saw it wonder at the
conventional substitutes they had hitherto put up with in statuary of
all sorts, when the eyebrow itself was so beautiful, and might it seems
have been imitated, instead of libeled, all these centuries.

But beautiful works, and pleasant habits, seem particularly liable to
interruption. Just when the one eyebrow was finished, and when Jael
Dence had come to look on Saturday and Monday as the only real days in
the week, and when even Grace Carden was brighter on those days, and
gliding into a gentle complacent custom, suddenly a Saturday came and
went, but Little did not appear.

Jaet was restless.

Grace was disappointed, but contented to wait till Monday.

Monday came and went, but no Henry Little.

Jael began to fret and sigh; and, after two more blank weeks, she could
bear the mystery no longer. "If you please, miss," said she, "shall I go
to that place where he works?"

"Where who works?" inquired Grace, rather disingenuously.

"Why, the dark young man, miss," said Jael, blushing deeply.

Grace reflected and curiosity struggled with discretion; but discretion
got the better, being aided by self-respect. "No, Jael," said she; "he
is charming, when he is here; but, when he gets away, he is not always
so civil as he might be. I had to go twice after him. I shall not go nor
send a third time. It really is too bad of him."

"Dear heart," pleaded Jael, "mayhap he is not well."

"Then he ought to write and say so. No, no; he is a radical, and full
of conceit; and he has done this one eyebrow, and then gone off laughing
and saying, 'Now, let us see if the gentry can do the other amongst
them.' If he doesn't come soon, I'll do the other eyebrow myself."

"Mayhap he will never come again," said Jael.

"Oh, yes, he will," said Grace, mighty cunningly; "he is as fond of
coming here as we are of having him. Not that I'm at all surprised; for
the fact is, you are very pretty, extremely pretty, abominably pretty."

"I might pass in Cairnhope town," said Jael, modestly, "but not here.
The moon goes for naught when the sun is there. He don't come here for
me."

This sudden elegance of language, and Jael's tone of dignified
despondency, silenced Grace, somehow, and made her thoughtful. She
avoided the subject for several days. Indeed, when Saturday came, not a
word was said about the defaulter: it was only by her sending for Jael
to sit with her, and by certain looks, and occasional restlessness, she
betrayed the slightest curiosity or expectation.

Jael sat and sewed, and often looked quickly up at the window, as some
footstep passed, and then looked down again and sighed.

Young Little never came. He seemed to have disappeared from both their
lives; quietly disappeared.

Next day, Sunday, Jael came to Miss Carden, after morning church, and
said, meekly, "if you please, miss, may I go home?"

"Oh, certainly," said Grace, a little haughtily. "What for?"

Jael hung her head, and said she was not used to be long away. Then she
lifted her head, and her great candid eyes, and spoke more frankly. "I
feel to be drawed home. Something have been at me all the night to
that degree as I couldn't close my eyes. I could almost feel it, like a
child's hand, a pulling me East. I'm afeared father's ill, or may be
the calves are bleating for me, that is better acquaint with them than
sister Patty is. And Hillsborough air don't seem to 'gree with me now
not altogether as it did at first. If you please, miss, to let me go;
and then I'll come back when I'm better company than I be now. Oh dear!
oh dear!"

"Why, Jael, my poor girl, what IS the matter?"

"I don't know, miss. But I feel very unked."

"Are you not happy with me?"

"'Tis no fault of yourn, miss," said Jael, rustic, but womanly.

"Then you are NOT happy here."

No reply, but two clear eyes began to fill to the very brim.

Grace coaxed her, and said, "Speak to me like a friend. You know, after
all, you are not my servant. I can't possibly part with you altogether;
I have got to like you so: but, of course, you shall go home for a
little while, if you wish it very, very much."

"Indeed I do, miss," said Jael. "Please forgive me, but my heart feels
like lead in my bosom." And, with these words, the big tears ran over,
and chased one another down her cheeks.

Then Grace, who was very kind-hearted, begged her, in a very tearful
voice, not to cry: she should go home for a week, a fortnight, a month
even. "There, there, you shall go to-morrow, poor thing."


Now it is a curious fact, and looks like animal magnetism or something,
but the farm-house, to which Jael had felt so mysteriously drawn all
night, contained, at that moment, besides its usual inmates, one Henry
Little: and how he came there is an important part of this tale, which I
must deal with at once.


While Henry was still visiting Woodbine Villa, as related above, events
of a very different character from those soft scenes were taking place
at the works. His liberal offer to the Edge-Tool Forgers had been made
about a week, when, coming back one day from dinner to his forge, he
found the smoky wall written upon with chalk, in large letters, neatly
executed:--


"Why overlook the handlers?

"MARY."


He was not alarmed this time, but vexed. He went and complained to
Bayne; and that worthy came directly and contemplated the writing, in
silence, for about a minute. Then he gave a weary sigh, and said, with
doleful resignation, "Take the chalk, and write. There it is."

Henry took the chalk, and prepared to write Bayne's mind underneath
Mary's. Bayne dictated:


"I have offered the Handlers the same as the Forgers."


"But that is not true," objected Henry, turning round, with the chalk in
his hand.

"It will be true, in half an hour. We are going to Parkin, the Handlers'
Secretary."

"What, another L15! This is an infernal swindle."

"What isn't?" said Bayne, cynically.

Henry then wrote as desired; and they went together to Mr. Parkin.

Mr. Parkin was not at home. But they hunted him from pillar to post,
and caught him, at last, in the bar-parlor of "The Packsaddle." He knew
Bayne well, and received him kindly, and, on his asking for a private
interview, gave a wink to two persons who were with him: they got up
directly, and went out.

"What, is there any thing amiss between you and the trade?" inquired Mr.
Parkin, with an air of friendly interest.

Bayne smiled, not graciously, but sourly. "Come, come, sir, that is a
farce you and I have worn out this ten years. This is the London workman
himself, come to excuse himself to Mary and Co., for not applying to
them before: and the long and the short is, he offers the Handlers the
same as he has the Smiths, fifteen down, and to pay his natty money, but
draw no scale, unless disabled. What d'y say? Yes, or no?"

"I'll lay Mr. Little's proposal before the committee."

"Thank you, sir," said Little. "And, meantime, I suppose I may feel safe
against violence, from the members of your union?"

"Violence!" said Mr. Parkin, turning his eye inward, as if he was
interrogating the centuries. Then to Mr. Bayne, "Pray, sir, do you
remember any deed of darkness that our Union has ever committed, since
we have been together; and that is twelve years?"

"WELL, Mr. Parkin," said Bayne, "if you mean deeds of blood, and deeds
of gunpowder, et cetera--why, no, not one: and it is greatly to your
honor. But, mind you, if a master wants his tanks tapped and his
hardening-liquor run into the shore or his bellows to be ripped, his
axle-nuts to vanish, his wheel-bands to go and hide in a drain or a
church belfry, and his scythe-blades to dive into a wheel-dam, he has
only to be wrong with your Union, and he'll be accommodated as above. I
speak from experience."

"Oh, rattening!" said Mr Parkin. "That's is a mighty small matter."

"It is small to you, that are not in the oven, where the bread is baked,
or cooled, or burnt. But whatever parts the grindstones from the power,
and the bellows from the air, and the air from the fire, makes a hole
in the master's business to-day, and a hole in the workman's pocket
that day six months. So, for heaven's sake, let us be right with you.
Little's is the most friendly and liberal offer that any workman ever
made to any Union. Do, pray, close with it, and let us be at peace;
sweet--balmy--peace."

Parkin declared he shared that desire: but was not the committee. Then,
to Henry: "I shall put your case as favorably as my conscience will let
me. Meantime, of course, the matter rests as it is."

They then parted; and Henry, as he returned home, thanked Bayne
heartily. He said this second L15 had been a bitter pill at first; but
now he was glad he had offered it. "I would not leave Hillsborough for
fifteen hundred pounds."

Two days after this promising interview with Mr. Parkin, Henry received
a note, the envelope of which showed him it came from Mr. Jobson. He
opened it eagerly, and with a good hope that its object was to tell him
he was now a member of the Edge-Tool Forgers' Union.

The letter, however, ran thus:


"DEAR SIR,--I hear, with considerable surprise, that you continue to
forge blades and make handles for Mr. Cheetham. On receipt of this
information I went immediately to Mr. Parkin, and he assured me that he
came to the same terms with you as I did. He says he intimated politely,
but plainly, that he should expect you not to make any more carving-tool
handles for Mr. Cheetham, till his committee had received your proposal.
He now joins me in advising you to strike work for the present.
Hillsborough is surrounded by beautiful scenes, which it might gratify
an educated workman to inspect, during the unavoidable delay caused by
the new and very important questions your case has raised.

"Yours obediently,

"SAML. JOBSON.

"P.S.--A respectable workman was with me yesterday, and objected that
you receive from Mr. Cheetham a higher payment than the list price. Can
you furnish me with a reply to this, as it is sure to be urged at the
trade meeting."


When he read this, Little's blood boiled, especially at the cool advice
to lay down his livelihood, and take up scenery: and he dashed off a
letter of defiance. He showed it to Bayne, and it went into the fire
directly. "That is all right," said this worthy. "You have written
your mind, like a man. Now sit down, and give them treacle for their
honey--or you'll catch pepper."

Henry groaned, and writhed, but obeyed.

He had written his defiance in three minutes. It took him an hour to
produce the following:


"DEAR SIR,--I am sorry for the misunderstanding. I did not, for a
moment, attach that meaning to any thing that fell either from you or
Mr. Parkin.

"I must now remind you that, were I to strike work entirely, Mr.
Cheetham could discharge me, and even punish me, for breach of contract.
All I can do is to work fewer hours than I have done: and I am sure
you will be satisfied with that, if you consider that the delay in the
settlement of this matter rests with you, and not with me,

"I am yours respectfully, HENRY LITTLE.

"I furnish you, as requested, with two replies to the objection of a
respectable workman that I am paid above the list price.

"1.--To sell skilled labor below the statement price is a just offense,
and injury to trade. But to obtain above the statement price is to
benefit trade. The high price, that stands alone to-day, will not stand
alone forever. It gets quoted in bargains, and draws prices up to it.
That has been proved a thousand times.

"2.--It is not under any master's skin to pay a man more than he is
worth. It I get a high price, it is because I make a first-rate article.
If a man has got superior knowledge, he is not going to give it away to
gratify envious ignorance."


To this, in due course, he received from Jobson the following:


"DEAR SIR,--I advised you according to my judgment and experience: but,
doubtless, you are the best judge of your own affairs."


And that closed the correspondence with the Secretaries.


The gentle Jobson and the polite Parkin had retired from the
correspondence with their air of mild regret and placid resignation
just three days, when young Little found a dirty crumpled letter on his
anvil, written in pencil. It ran thus:


"Turn up or youl wish you had droped it. Youl be made so as youl never
do hands turn agin, an never know what hurt you.

"MOONRAKER." (Signed)


Henry swore.

When he had sworn (and, as a Briton, I think he had denied himself
that satisfaction long enough), he caught up a strip of steel with his
pincers, shoved it into the coals, heated it, and, in half a minute,
forged two long steel nails. He then nailed this letter to his wall, and
wrote under it in chalk, "I offer L10 reward to any one who will show
me the coward who wrote this, but was afraid to sign it. The writing is
peculiar, and can easily be identified."

He also took the knife that had been so ostentatiously fixed in his
door, and carried it about him night and day, with a firm resolve to use
it in self-defense, if necessary.

And now the plot thickened: the decent workmen in Cheetham's works were
passive; they said nothing offensive, but had no longer the inclination,
even if they had the power, to interfere and restrain the lower workmen
from venting their envy and malice. Scarcely a day passed without growls
and scowls. But Little went his way haughtily, and affected not to see,
nor hear them.

However, one day, at dinner-time, he happened, unluckily, to be detained
by Bayne in the yard, when the men came out: and two or three of the
roughs took this opportunity and began on him at once, in the Dash
Dialect, of course; they knew no other.

A great burly forger, whose red matted hair was powdered with coal-dust,
and his face bloated with habitual intemperance, planted himself
insolently before Henry, and said, in a very loud voice, "How many more
trade meetings are we to have for one ---- knobstick?"

Henry replied, in a moment, "Is it my fault if your shilly-shallying
committees can't say yes or no to L15? You'd say yes to it, wouldn't
you, sooner than go to bed sober?"

This sally raised a loud laugh at the notorious drunkard's expense, and
checked the storm, as a laugh generally does.

But men were gathering round, and a workman who had heard the raised
voices, and divined the row, ran out of the works, with his apron full
of blades, and his heart full of mischief. It was a grinder of a certain
low type, peculiar to Hillsborough, but quite common there, where
grinders are often the grandchildren of grinders. This degenerate
face was more canine than human; sharp as a hatchet, and with forehead
villainously low; hardly any chin; and--most characteristic trait of
all--the eyes, pale in color, and tiny in size, appeared to have come
close together, to consult, and then to have run back into the very
skull, to get away from the sparks, which their owner, and his sire, and
his grandsire, had been eternally creating.

This greyhound of a grinder flung down a lot of dull bluish blades, warm
from the forge, upon a condemned grindstone that was lying in the yard;
and they tinkled.

"---- me, if I grind cockney blades!" said he.

This challenge fired a sympathetic handle-maker. "Grinders are right,"
said he. "We must be a ---- mean lot and all, to handle his ---- work."

"He has been warned enough; but he heeds noane."

"Hustle him out o' works."

"Nay, hit him o'er th' head and fling him into shore."

With these menacing words, three or four roughs advanced on him, with
wicked eyes; and the respectable workmen stood, like stone statues,
in cold and terrible neutrality; and Henry, looking round, in great
anxiety, found that Bayne had withdrawn.

He ground his teeth, and stepped back to the wall, to have all the
assailants in the front. He was sternly resolute, though very pale, and,
by a natural impulse, put his hand into his side-pocket, to feel if
he had a weapon. The knife was there, the deadly blade with which his
enemies themselves had armed him; and, to those who could read faces,
there was death in the pale cheek and gleaming eye of this young man, so
sorely tried.

At this moment, a burly gentleman walked into the midst of them, as
smartly as Van Amburgh amongst his tigers, and said steadily, "What
is to do now, lads?" It was Cheetham himself, Bayne knew he was in the
office, and had run for him in mortal terror, and sent him to keep the
peace. "They insult me, sir," said Henry; "though I am always civil to
them; and that grinder refuses to grind my blades, there."

"Is that so? Step out, my lad. Did you refuse to grind those blades?"

"Ay," said the greyhound-man sullenly.

"Then put on your coat, and leave my premises this minute."

"He is entitled to a week's warning, Mr. Cheetham," said one of the
decent workmen, respectfully, but resolutely; speaking now for the first
time.

"You are mistaken, sir," replied Mr. Cheetham, in exactly the same tone.
(No stranger could have divined the speakers were master and man.) "He
has vitiated his contract by publicly refusing to do his work. He'll get
nothing from me but his wages up to noon this day. But YOU can have a
week's warning, if you want it."

"Nay, sir. I've naught against you, for my part. But they say it will
come to that, if you don't turn Little up."

"Why, what's his fault? Come now; you are a man. Speak up."

"Nay, I've no quarrel with the man. But he isn't straight with the
trade."

"That is the secretaries' fault, not mine," said Henry. "They can't see
I've brought a new trade in, that hurts no old trade, and will spread,
and bring money into the town."

"We are not so ---- soft as swallow that," said the bloated smith.
"Thou's just come t' Hillsborough to learn forging, and when thou'st
mastered that, off to London, and take thy ---- trade with thee."

Henry colored to the brow at the inferior workman's vanity and its
concomitant, detraction. But he governed himself, by a mighty effort,
and said, "Oh, that's your grievance now, is it? Mr. Cheetham--sir--will
you ask some respectable grinder to examine these blades of mine?"

"Certainly. You are right, Little. The man to judge a forger's work is
a grinder, and not another forger. Reynolds, just take a look at them,
will ye?"

A wet grinder of a thoroughly different type and race from the
greyhound, stepped forward. He was thick-set in body, fresh-colored,
and of a square manly countenance. He examined the blades carefully, and
with great interest.

"Well," said Henry, "were they forged by a smith, or a novice that is
come here to learn anvil work?"

Reynolds did not reply to him, nor to Mr. Cheetham: he turned to the
men. "Mates, I'm noane good at lying. Hand that forged these has naught
to learn in Hillsbro', nor any other shop."

"Thank you, Mr. Reynolds," said Henry, in a choking voice. "That is the
first gleam of justice that I--" He could say no more.

"Come, don't you turn soft for a word or two," said Cheetham. "You'll
wear all this out in time. Go to the office. I have something to say to
you."

The something was said. It amounted to this--"Stand by me and I'll stand
by you."

"Well, sir," said Henry, "I think I must leave you if the committees
refuse my offer. It is hard for one man to fight a couple of trades in
such a place as this. But I'm firm in one thing: until those that govern
the unions say 'no' to my offer, I shall go on working, and the scum of
the trades sha'n't frighten me away from my forge."

"That's right; let the blackguards bluster. Bayne tells me you have had
another anonymous."

"Yes, sir."

"Well, look here: you must take care of yourself, outside the works;
but, I'll take care of you inside. Here, Bayne, write a notice that, if
any man molests, intimidates, or affronts Mr. Little, in my works, I'll
take him myself to the town-hall, and get him two months directly. Have
somebody at the gate to put a printed copy of that into every man's hand
as he leaves."

"Thank you, sir!" said Henry, warmly. "But ought not the police to
afford me protection, outside?"

"The police! You might as well go to the beadle. No; change your
lodging, if you think they know it. Don't let them track you home. Buy a
brace of pistols, and, if they catch you in a dark place, and try to do
you, give them a barrel or two before they can strike a blow. No one of
THEM will ever tell the police, not if you shot his own brother dead at
that game. The law is a dead letter here, sir. You've nothing to expect
from it, and nothing to fear."

"Good heavens! Am I in England?"

"In England? No. You are in Hillsborough."

This epigram put Cheetham in good humor with himself, and, when Henry
told him he did not feel quite safe, even in his own forge, nor in his
handling-room, and gave his reasons, "Oh," said cheerful Cheetham, "that
is nothing. Yours is a box-lock; the blackguard will have hid in the
works at night, and taken the lock off, left his writing, and then
screwed the lock on again: that is nothing to any Hillsborough hand.
But I'll soon stop that game. Go you to Chestnut Street, and get two
first-class Bramah locks. There's a pocket knife forge upstairs, close
to your handling-room. I'll send the pocket-knife hand down-stairs, and
you fasten the Bramah locks on both doors, and keep the keys yourself.
See to that now at once: then your mind will be easy. And I shall be in
the works all day now, and every day: come to me directly, if there is
any thing fresh."

Henry's forge was cold, by this time; so he struck work, and spent the
afternoon in securing his two rooms with the Bramah locks. He also took
Cheetham's advice in another particular. Instead of walking home, he
took a cab, and got the man to drive rapidly to a certain alley. There
he left the cab, ran down the alley, and turned a corner, and went home
round about. He doubled like a hare, and dodged like a criminal evading
justice.

But the next morning he felt a pleasing sense of security when he opened
his forge-room with the Bramah key, and found no letters nor threats of
any kind had been able to penetrate.

Moreover, all this time you will understand he was visiting "Woodbine
Cottage" twice a week, and carving Grace Carden's bust.

Those delightful hours did much to compensate him for his troubles in
the town, and were even of some service to him in training him to fence
with the trades of Hillsborough: for at "Woodbine Villa" he had to keep
an ardent passion within the strict bounds of reverence, and in the town
he had constantly to curb another passion, wrath, and keep it within the
bounds of prudence. These were kindred exercises of self-restraint, and
taught him self-government beyond his years. But what he benefited
most by, after all, was the direct and calming effect upon his agitated
heart, and irritated nerves, that preceded, and accompanied, and
followed these sweet, tranquilizing visits. They were soft, solacing,
and soothing; they were periodical and certain, he could count on
leaving his cares and worries, twice every week, at the door of that
dear villa; and, when he took them up again, they were no longer the
same; heavenly balm had been shed over them, and over his boiling blood.

One Saturday he heard, by a side-wind, that the Unions at a general
meeting had debated his case, and there had been some violent speeches,
and no decision come to; but the majority adverse to him. This
discouraged him sadly, and his yearning heart turned all the more toward
his haven of rest, and the hours, few but blissful, that awaited him.