'to the Marshalsea of a night, I was always delighted to 'hear from my mother what she knew about the histories

LONDON: 1822-4.

At Hunger.

' of the different debtors in the prison; and when I heard ford-stairs.

of this approaching ceremony, I was so anxious to see 'them all come in, one after another (though I knew the 'greater part of them already, to speak to, and they me), 'that I got leave of absence on purpose, and established 'myself in a corner, near the petition. It was stretched 'out, I recollect, on a great ironing-board, under the 'window, which in another part of the room made a 'bedstead at night. The internal regulations of the place, 'for cleanliness and order, and for the government of a 'common room in the ale-house; where hot water and some means of cooking, and a good fire, were provided 'for all who paid a very small subscription; were ex'cellently administered by a governing committee of 'debtors, of which my father was chairman for the time 'being. As many of the principal officers of this body as 'could be got into the small room without filling it up, 'supported him, in front of the petition; and my old friend Captain Porter (who had washed himself, to do 'honour to so solemn an occasion) stationed himself close 'to it, to read it to all who were unacquainted with its 'contents. The door was then thrown open, and they 'began to come in, in a long file; several waiting on the 'landing outside, while one entered, affixed his signature, 'and went out. To everybody in succession, Captain 'Porter said, "Would you like to hear it read?" If he 'weakly showed the least disposition to hear it, Captain • Porter, in a loud sonorous voice, gave him every word of

C. D. loq.

Last expe

rience in

Marshal

sea.

1822-4.

LONDON: 'it. I remember a certain luscious roll he gave to such 'words as "Majesty-gracious Majesty-your gracious

At Hungerford-stairs. C. D. log.

Early interest in observing people.

Materials for Fickwick.

Majesty's unfortunate subjects—your Majesty's well"known munificence,”—as if the words were something 'real in his mouth, and delicious to taste: my poor father 'meanwhile listening with a little of an author's vanity, 'and contemplating (not severely) the spikes on the ' opposite wall. Whatever was comical in this scene, and 'whatever was pathetic, I sincerely believe I perceived in my corner, whether I demonstrated or not, quite as 'well as I should perceive it now. I made out my own 'little character and story for every man who put his 'name to the sheet of paper. I might be able to do that 'now, more truly not more earnestly, or with a closer 'interest. Their different peculiarities of dress, of face, of 'gait, of manner, were written indelibly upon my memory. 'I would rather have seen it than the best play ever 'played; and I thought about it afterwards, over the pots. 'of paste-blacking, often and often. When I looked, with 'my mind's eye, into the Fleet-prison during Mr. Pick'wick's incarceration, I wonder whether half-a-dozen men 'were wanting from the Marshalsea crowd that came filing 'in again, to the sound of Captain Porter's voice!'

:

When the family left the Marshalsea they all went to lodge with the lady in Little-college-street, a Mrs. Roylance, who has obtained unexpected immortality as Mrs. Pipchin; and they afterwards occupied a small house in Somers-town. But, before this time, Charles was present with some of them in Tenterden-street to see his sister Fanny receive one of the prizes given to the pupils of the

royal academy of music.

1822-4.

At Hunger.

I could not bear to think of LONDON: 'myself-beyond the reach of all such honourable emula'tion and success. The tears ran down my face. I felt ford-stairs. 'as if my heart were rent. I prayed, when I went to bed C. D. log. 'that night, to be lifted out of the humiliation and neglect ' in which I was. I never had suffered so much before. There was no envy in this.' There was little need that he should say so. Extreme enjoyment in witnessing the exercise of her talents, the utmost pride in every success obtained by them, he manifested always to a degree otherwise quite unusual with him; and on the day of her His sister funeral, which we passed together, I had most affecting proof of his tender and grateful memory of her in these childish days. A few more sentences, certainly not less touching than any that have gone before, will bring the story of them to its close. They stand here exactly as written by him.

'I am not sure that it was before this time, or after it. 'that the blacking warehouse was removed to Chandos'street, Covent-garden. It is no matter. Next to the 'shop at the corner of Bedford-street in Chandos-street, 'are two rather old-fashioned houses and shops adjoining 'one another. They were one then, or thrown into one, 'for the blacking business; and had been a butter shop. 'Opposite to them was, and is, a public-house, where I 'got my ale, under these new circumstances. The stones in the street may be smoothed by my small feet going 'across to it at dinner-time, and back again. The esta'blishment was larger now, and we had one or two new 'boys. Bob Fagin and I had attained to great dexterity

Fanny.

The black. ing house removed. C. D. log.

1822-4.

At Chandos-street, Coventgarden.

LONDON: in tying up the pots. I forget how many we could do, in 'five minutes. We worked, for the light's sake, near the 'second window as you come from Bedford-street; and we 'were so brisk at it, that the people used to stop and look in. Sometimes there would be quite a little crowd there. 'I saw my father coming in at the door one day when we 'were very busy, and I wondered how he could bear it.

C. D. loq.

Solitary

street wan

derings.

Father's quarrel

with James

Lamert.

'Now, I generally had my dinner in the warehouse. 'Sometimes I brought it from home, so I was better off. 'I see myself coming across Russell-square from Somers'town, one morning, with some cold hotch-potch in a 'small basin tied up in a handkerchief. I had the same 'wanderings about the streets as I used to have, and was just as solitary and self-dependent as before; but I 'had not the same difficulty in merely living. I never 'however heard a word of being taken away, or of being 'otherwise than quite provided for.

'At last, one day, my father, and the relative so often ' mentioned, quarrelled; quarrelled by letter, for I took 'the letter from my father to him which caused the 'explosion, but quarrelled very fiercely. It was about me. 'It may have had some backward reference, in part, for anything I know, to my employment at the window. 'All I am certain of is, that, soon after I had given him 'the letter, my cousin (he was a sort of cousin, by 'marriage) told me he was very much insulted about me; 'and that it was impossible to keep me, after that. I 'cried very much, partly because it was so sudden, and 'partly because in his anger he was violent about my father, "though gentle to me. Thomas, the old soldier, comforted

1822-4.

At Chan

Covent

C. D. q.

warehouse.

'me, and said he was sure it was for the best. With a LONDON: 'relief so strange that it was like oppression, I went home. 'My mother set herself to accommodate the quarrel, dos-street, 'and did so next day. She brought home a request for garden. 'me to return next morning, and a high character of me, 'which I am very sure I deserved. My father said, I 'should go back no more, and should go to school. I do Quits the 'not write resentfully or angrily: for I know how all these 'things have worked together to make me what I am: but 'I never afterwards forgot, I never shall forget, I never can 'forget, that my mother was warm for my being sent back. 'From that hour until this at which I write, no word 'of that part of my childhood which I have now gladly 'brought to a close, has passed my lips to any human being. 'I have no idea how long it lasted; whether for a year, 'or much more, or less. From that hour, until this, my 'father and my mother have been stricken dumb upon it. 'I have never heard the least allusion to it, however far 'off and remote, from either of them. I have never, until broken by 'I now impart it to this paper, in any burst of confidence 'with any one, my own wife not excepted, raised the 'curtain I then dropped, thank God.

A silence of

a quarter of

a century:

no one.

'Until old Hungerford-market was pulled down, until 'old Hungerford-stairs were destroyed, and the very nature of the ground changed, I never had the courage to go back to the place where my servitude began. I 'never saw it. I could not endure to go near it. For 'many years, when I came near to Robert Warren's in Associa 'the Strand, I crossed over to the opposite side of the 'way, to avoid a certain smell of the cement they put

tions of

servitude.

VOL. I.