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    The Uncommercial Traveller

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      whirling it round and round, stripping its bark away, dashing it

      against pointed corners, driving it out of the course, and roaring

      and flying at the peasants who steered it back again from the bank

      with long stout poles. Alas! concurrent streams of time and water

      carried ME down fast, and I came, on an exquisitely clear day, to

      the Lausanne shore of the Lake of Geneva, where I stood looking at

      the bright blue water, the flushed white mountains opposite, and

      the boats at my feet with their furled Mediterranean sails, showing

      like enormous magnifications of this goose-quill pen that is now in

      my hand.

      - The sky became overcast without any notice; a wind very like the

      March east wind of England, blew across me; and a voice said, 'How

      do you like it? Will it do?'

      I had merely shut myself, for half a minute, in a German travelling

      chariot that stood for sale in the Carriage Department of the

      London Pantechnicon. I had a commission to buy it, for a friend

      who was going abroad; and the look and manner of the chariot, as I

      tried the cushions and the springs, brought all these hints of

      travelling remembrance before me.

      'It will do very well,' said I, rather sorrowfully, as I got out at

      the other door, and shut the carriage up.

      CHAPTER VIII - THE GREAT TASMANIA'S CARGO

      I travel constantly, up and down a certain line of railway that has

      a terminus in London. It is the railway for a large military

      depot, and for other large barracks. To the best of my serious

      belief, I have never been on that railway by daylight, without

      seeing some handcuffed deserters in the train.

      It is in the nature of things that such an institution as our

      English army should have many bad and troublesome characters in it.

      But, this is a reason for, and not against, its being made as

      acceptable as possible to well-disposed men of decent behaviour.

      Such men are assuredly not tempted into the ranks, by the beastly

      inversion of natural laws, and the compulsion to live in worse than

      swinish foulness. Accordingly, when any such Circumlocutional

      embellishments of the soldier's condition have of late been brought

      to notice, we civilians, seated in outer darkness cheerfully

      meditating on an Income Tax, have considered the matter as being

      our business, and have shown a tendency to declare that we would

      rather not have it misregulated, if such declaration may, without

      violence to the Church Catechism, be hinted to those who are put in

      authority over us.

      Any animated description of a modern battle, any private soldier's

      letter published in the newspapers, any page of the records of the

      Victoria Cross, will show that in the ranks of the army, there

      exists under all disadvantages as fine a sense of duty as is to be

      found in any station on earth. Who doubts that if we all did our

      duty as faithfully as the soldier does his, this world would be a

      better place? There may be greater difficulties in our way than in

      the soldier's. Not disputed. But, let us at least do our duty

      towards HIM.

      I had got back again to that rich and beautiful port where I had

      looked after Mercantile Jack, and I was walking up a hill there, on

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      Dickens, Charles - The Uncommercial Traveller

      a wild March morning. My conversation with my official friend

      Pangloss, by whom I was accidentally accompanied, took this

      direction as we took the up-hill direction, because the object of

      my uncommercial journey was to see some discharged soldiers who had

      recently come home from India. There were men of HAVELOCK's among

      them; there were men who had been in many of the great battles of

      the great Indian campaign, among them; and I was curious to note

      what our discharged soldiers looked like, when they were done with.

      I was not the less interested (as I mentioned to my official friend

      Pangloss) because these men had claimed to be discharged, when

      their right to be discharged was not admitted. They had behaved

      with unblemished fidelity and bravery; but, a change of

      circumstances had arisen, which, as they considered, put an end to

      their compact and entitled them to enter on a new one. Their

      demand had been blunderingly resisted by the authorities in India:

      but, it is to be presumed that the men were not far wrong, inasmuch

      as the bungle had ended in their being sent home discharged, in

      pursuance of orders from home. (There was an immense waste of

      money, of course.)

      Under these circumstances - thought I, as I walked up the hill, on

      which I accidentally encountered my official friend - under these

      circumstances of the men having successfully opposed themselves to

      the Pagoda Department of that great Circumlocution Office on which

      the sun never sets and the light of reason never rises, the Pagoda

      Department will have been particularly careful of the national

      honour. It will have shown these men, in the scrupulous good

      faith, not to say the generosity, of its dealing with them, that

      great national authorities can have no small retaliations and

      revenges. It will have made every provision for their health on

      the passage home, and will have landed them, restored from their

      campaigning fatigues by a sea-voyage, pure air, sound food, and

      good medicines. And I pleased myself with dwelling beforehand, on

      the great accounts of their personal treatment which these men

      would carry into their various towns and villages, and on the

      increasing popularity of the service that would insensibly follow.

      I almost began to hope that the hitherto-never-failing deserters on

      my railroad would by-and-by become a phenomenon.

      In this agreeable frame of mind I entered the workhouse of

      Liverpool. - For, the cultivation of laurels in a sandy soil, had

      brought the soldiers in question to THAT abode of Glory.

      Before going into their wards to visit them, I inquired how they

      had made their triumphant entry there? They had been brought

      through the rain in carts it seemed, from the landing-place to the

      gate, and had then been carried up-stairs on the backs of paupers.

      Their groans and pains during the performance of this glorious

      pageant, had been so distressing, as to bring tears into the eyes

      of spectators but too well accustomed to scenes of suffering. The

      men were so dreadfully cold, that those who could get near the

      fires were hard to be restrained from thrusting their feet in among

      the blazing coals. They were so horribly reduced, that they were

      awful to look upon. Racked with dysentery and blackened with

      scurvy, one hundred and forty wretched soldiers had been revived

      with brandy and laid in bed.

      My official friend Pangloss is lineally descended from a learned

      doctor of that name, who was once tutor to Candide, an ingenious

      young gentleman of some celebrity. In his personal character, he

      is as humane and worthy a gentleman as any I know; in his official

      capacity, he unfortunately preaches the doctrines of his renowned

      ancestor, by demonstrating on a
    ll occasions that we live in the

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      Dickens, Charles - The Uncommercial Traveller

      best of all possible official worlds.

      'In the name of Humanity,' said I, 'how did the men fall into this

      deplorable state? Was the ship well found in stores?'

      'I am not here to asseverate that I know the fact, of my own

      knowledge,' answered Pangloss, 'but I have grounds for asserting

      that the stores were the best of all possible stores.'

      A medical officer laid before us, a handful of rotten biscuit, and

      a handful of split peas. The biscuit was a honeycombed heap of

      maggots, and the excrement of maggots. The peas were even harder

      than this filth. A similar handful had been experimentally boiled

      six hours, and had shown no signs of softening. These were the

      stores on which the soldiers had been fed.

      'The beef - ' I began, when Pangloss cut me short.

      'Was the best of all possible beef,' said he.

      But, behold, there was laid before us certain evidence given at the

      Coroner's Inquest, holden on some of the men (who had obstinately

      died of their treatment), and from that evidence it appeared that

      the beef was the worst of possible beef!

      'Then I lay my hand upon my heart, and take my stand,' said

      Pangloss, 'by the pork, which was the best of all possible pork.'

      'But look at this food before our eyes, if one may so misuse the

      word,' said I. 'Would any Inspector who did his duty, pass such

      abomination?'

      'It ought not to have been passed,' Pangloss admitted.

      'Then the authorities out there - ' I began, when Pangloss cut me

      short again.

      'There would certainly seem to have been something wrong

      somewhere,' said he; 'but I am prepared to prove that the

      authorities out there, are the best of all possible authorities.'

      I never heard of any impeached public authority in my life, who was

      not the best public authority in existence.

      'We are told of these unfortunate men being laid low by scurvy,'

      said I. 'Since lime-juice has been regularly stored and served out

      in our navy, surely that disease, which used to devastate it, has

      almost disappeared? Was there lime-juice aboard this transport?'

      My official friend was beginning 'the best of all possible - ' when

      an inconvenient medical forefinger pointed out another passage in

      the evidence, from which it appeared that the lime-juice had been

      bad too. Not to mention that the vinegar had been bad too, the

      vegetables bad too, the cooking accommodation insufficient (if

      there had been anything worth mentioning to cook), the water supply

      exceedingly inadequate, and the beer sour.

      'Then the men,' said Pangloss, a little irritated, 'Were the worst

      of all possible men.'

      'In what respect?' I asked.

      'Oh! Habitual drunkards,' said Pangloss.

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      Dickens, Charles - The Uncommercial Traveller

      But, again the same incorrigible medical forefinger pointed out

      another passage in the evidence, showing that the dead men had been

      examined after death, and that they, at least, could not possibly

      have been habitual drunkards, because the organs within them which

      must have shown traces of that habit, were perfectly sound.

      'And besides,' said the three doctors present, 'one and all,

      habitual drunkards brought as low as these men have been, could not

      recover under care and food, as the great majority of these men are

      recovering. They would not have strength of constitution to do

      it.'

      'Reckless and improvident dogs, then,' said Pangloss. 'Always are

      - nine times out of ten.'

      I turned to the master of the workhouse, and asked him whether the

      men had any money?

      'Money?' said he. 'I have in my iron safe, nearly four hundred

      pounds of theirs; the agents have nearly a hundred pounds more and

      many of them have left money in Indian banks besides.'

      'Hah!' said I to myself, as we went up-stairs, 'this is not the

      best of all possible stories, I doubt!'

      We went into a large ward, containing some twenty or five-andtwenty

      beds. We went into several such wards, one after another.

      I find it very difficult to indicate what a shocking sight I saw in

      them, without frightening the reader from the perusal of these

      lines, and defeating my object of making it known.

      O the sunken eyes that turned to me as I walked between the rows of

      beds, or - worse still - that glazedly looked at the white ceiling,

      and saw nothing and cared for nothing! Here, lay the skeleton of a

      man, so lightly covered with a thin unwholesome skin, that not a

      bone in the anatomy was clothed, and I could clasp the arm above

      the elbow, in my finger and thumb. Here, lay a man with the black

      scurvy eating his legs away, his gums gone, and his teeth all gaunt

      and bare. This bed was empty, because gangrene had set in, and the

      patient had died but yesterday. That bed was a hopeless one,

      because its occupant was sinking fast, and could only be roused to

      turn the poor pinched mask of face upon the pillow, with a feeble

      moan. The awful thinness of the fallen cheeks, the awful

      brightness of the deep set eyes, the lips of lead, the hands of

      ivory, the recumbent human images lying in the shadow of death with

      a kind of solemn twilight on them, like the sixty who had died

      aboard the ship and were lying at the bottom of the sea, O

      Pangloss, GOD forgive you!

      In one bed, lay a man whose life had been saved (as it was hoped)

      by deep incisions in the feet and legs. While I was speaking to

      him, a nurse came up to change the poultices which this operation

      had rendered necessary, and I had an instinctive feeling that it

      was not well to turn away, merely to spare myself. He was sorely

      wasted and keenly susceptible, but the efforts he made to subdue

      any expression of impatience or suffering, were quite heroic. It

      was easy to see, in the shrinking of the figure, and the drawing of

      the bed-clothes over the head, how acute the endurance was, and it

      made me shrink too, as if I were in pain; but, when the new

      bandages were on, and the poor feet were composed again, he made an

      apology for himself (though he had not uttered a word), and said

      plaintively, 'I am so tender and weak, you see, sir!' Neither from

      him nor from any one sufferer of the whole ghastly number, did I

      hear a complaint. Of thankfulness for present solicitude and care,

      Page 50

      Dickens, Charles - The Uncommercial Traveller

      I heard much; of complaint, not a word.

      I think I could have recognised in the dismalest skeleton there,

      the ghost of a soldier. Something of the old air was still latent

      in the palest shadow of life I talked to. One emaciated creature,

      in the strictest literality worn to the bone, lay stretched on his

      back, looking so like death that I asked one of the doctors if he

      were not dying, or dead? A few kind words from the doctor, in his

      ear, and he opened his eyes, and smiled - looked, in a moment, as

      if he would have made a salute, if he could. 'We shall pull him


      through, please God,' said the Doctor. 'Plase God, surr, and

      thankye,' said the patient. 'You are much better to-day; are you

      not?' said the Doctor. 'Plase God, surr; 'tis the slape I want,

      surr; 'tis my breathin' makes the nights so long.' 'He is a

      careful fellow this, you must know,' said the Doctor, cheerfully;

      'it was raining hard when they put him in the open cart to bring

      him here, and he had the presence of mind to ask to have a

      sovereign taken out of his pocket that he had there, and a cab

      engaged. Probably it saved his life.' The patient rattled out the

      skeleton of a laugh, and said, proud of the story, ''Deed, surr, an

      open cairt was a comical means o' bringin' a dyin' man here, and a

      clever way to kill him.' You might have sworn to him for a soldier

      when he said it.

      One thing had perplexed me very much in going from bed to bed. A

      very significant and cruel thing. I could find no young man but

      one. He had attracted my notice, by having got up and dressed

      himself in his soldier's jacket and trousers, with the intention of

      sitting by the fire; but he had found himself too weak, and had

      crept back to his bed and laid himself down on the outside of it.

      I could have pronounced him, alone, to be a young man aged by

      famine and sickness. As we were standing by the Irish soldier's

      bed, I mentioned my perplexity to the Doctor. He took a board with

      an inscription on it from the head of the Irishman's bed, and asked

      me what age I supposed that man to be? I had observed him with

      attention while talking to him, and answered, confidently, 'Fifty.'

      The Doctor, with a pitying glance at the patient, who had dropped

      into a stupor again, put the board back, and said, 'Twenty-four.'

      All the arrangements of the wards were excellent. They could not

      have been more humane, sympathising, gentle, attentive, or

      wholesome. The owners of the ship, too, had done all they could,

      liberally. There were bright fires in every room, and the

      convalescent men were sitting round them, reading various papers

      and periodicals. I took the liberty of inviting my official friend

      Pangloss to look at those convalescent men, and to tell me whether

      their faces and bearing were or were not, generally, the faces and

      bearing of steady respectable soldiers? The master of the

      workhouse, overhearing me, said he had had a pretty large

      experience of troops, and that better conducted men than these, he

     


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