Walking-Stick Papers Part 13
exclaimed the cataloguer, what commonwealth? A study of the list of candidates on this ballot, giving their places of residence, however, fortified one's natural supposition--"of Worcester, of Lynn, of Haverhill, of Amherst, of Pittsfield" (ah!), "of Boston." It is a reasonable surmise that this Ballot pertains to the commonwealth of Ma.s.sachusetts.
It is not here stated that the name of its native State is never discovered in the whole of any American munic.i.p.al doc.u.ment. Often, in some indirect allusion, somewhere in the text it may be found.
Frequently, too, it is true, the State seal is printed upon the t.i.tle page or cover of the volume. And in instances the name of the State stands out clearly enough upon the page of t.i.tle. But in case after case, in the occupation giving rise to this paper, the only expedient was recourse to a file of city directories, collating names of streets in these with those mentioned in the doc.u.ments.
Another curious idiosyncrasy of one branch of public doc.u.ment--which informs the labour of cataloguing them with something of the alluring fascination of putting together jig-saw picture puzzles ("spoke," in the words of Artemas Ward, "sarcastic") is the extraordinary variety of names that can be found by munic.i.p.alities to ent.i.tle the Mayor's annual eloquence. This versatile character may deliver himself of an Annual Address, Message, Communication, Statement, or of "Remarks."
A cataloguer was surprised to discover, in "An Act to Incorporate and Vest Certain Powers in the Freeholders and Inhabitants of the village of Brooklyn, in the County of Kings," the prophetic enlightenment of the Inhabitants of that village in the year 1816. The voice of Andrew Carnegie, Colonel Roosevelt, and Prof. Brander Matthews speaks in the following pa.s.sage: "That the section of the town of Brooklyn, commonly known as 'The Fire District,' and contained within the following bounds, viz.: Beginning at the public landing south of Pierpont's distillery, formerly the property of Philip Livingston, deceased, on the East River, thence running along the public road leading from said landing to its intersection with Redhook lane, thence along Redhook lane to where it intersects Jamaica turnpike road, thence a North East course to the head of the Wallabaght mill-pond, thence thro the centre of said mill pond to the East river, and thence down the East river to the place of beginning, shall continue to be known and distinguished by the Name of the Village of Brooklyn." "Thro" certainly is phonetic spelling.
It was the sterling character of these villagers that then laid the foundation for the better half of a mighty city to come. The "act"
concludes: "And then and there proceed to elect Five discreet freeholders, resident within said village, to be trustees thereof." So witness is borne to this vernacular quality of discretion in the twilight of Brooklyn history.
The aesthetic consideration of munic.i.p.al doc.u.ments has not received much attention. The format of a munic.i.p.al doc.u.ment, however, is in itself a delightful essay in unconscious self-characterisation. Those of the United States express a plain democratic people. They have, in fact, all the commonness of the job printer. "Printed at the _Journal_ Office,"
is, indeed, their physical character.
The munic.i.p.al doc.u.ments of Great Britain are usually bound, in good English book-cloth, that peculiar fabric to which the connoisseur of books is so sensitive, and which, for some inexplicable reason, it is, apparently, impossible to manufacture in this country; or in neat boards, with cloth backs. Or if in paper it is of an interesting colour and texture. A n.o.ble heraldic device, the coat of arms of the city or borough, is stamped in gold above, or below, the t.i.tle. This is repeated upon the t.i.tle-page, the typography of which is not without distinction.
The paper has more refinement than that used in such American publications. The effect, in fine, is of something aristocratic. The "Mayoral Minutes" of Kensington is rather a handsome quarto volume.
An added touch of distinction is given these British volumes by the presentation card, tipped in after the front cover. A really exquisite little thing is this one: it bears, placed with great nicety, its coat of arms above, delicately reduced in size; across the middle, in beautiful sensitive type, it reads: "With the City Accountant's Compliments"; in the lower left corner, in two lines, "Guildhall, Gloucester."
The munic.i.p.al doc.u.ments of Germany are very German. Verwaltungsbericht is one of those extraordinary words which are so long that when you look at one end of the word you cannot see the other end. These volumes sometimes might possibly be mistaken, by a foreigner, for "gift books."
Often they are bound, in p.r.o.nounced German taste, in several strong colours in a striking combination. b.u.t.tressing the decorative German letters, on cover and t.i.tle page, appears some one of various conventionalisations of the German eagle, made very black, and wearing a crown and carrying a sceptre. In "Verwaltungsbericht des Magistrats der Koniglichen Haupt- und Residenzstadt Hanover, 1906-7," the frontispiece, the armorial bearings, "Wappen der Koniglichen" and so forth is a powerfully coloured lithograph, a very ornate affair, of lions (of egg-yolk yellow), armour, and leaves and castles. These German publications are filled with excellent photographs of public places and buildings, and extensive unfolding coloured maps and diagrams. A gentleman with a taste for art viewed with much admiration a handsome plate of "des Dresdener Wa.s.senwerks." They contain, too, these volumes, mult.i.tudes of pictures of distinguished citizens, often photogravures from official paintings; these gentlemen sometimes appear decorated with ma.s.sive orders, or again decorated simply with very German expressions of countenance. The "Chronik der Haupt- und Reisdenzstadt Stuttgart, 1902,"
somewhat suggests bound volumes of "Jugend," with its heavy pen and ink head and tail pieces, of women marketing, of a bride and groom kneeling at the altar, and one, an excellent little drawing of a horse mounting with a heavily laden wagon a rise of ground, the driver beside him, and a street lamp behind protruding from below (remember this is a munic.i.p.al doc.u.ment).
A quaint little duodecimo is the "Jaarbockie voor de Stad Delft," with little headpieces pictorially representing the seasons and a curiously wood-cut astrologer introducing "den Almanak." A rather square-toed kind of a little volume, neatly bound in grey boards, and very nicely printed, having altogether an effect of housewifely cleanliness, is the "Verslag van den Toestand der Gemeente Haarlem over het jaar 1894. Door Burgemeester en Wethouders Uitgebracht aan den Gemeenteraad; imprint Gedrukt bij Gebr n.o.bels, te Haarlem."
The language of Great Britain's munic.i.p.al doc.u.ments is lofty: "The Royal Burrough of Kensington, Minute of His Worship the Mayor (Sir H. Seymour King, K.C.I.E., M.P.) for the year ending November, 1901." (Here is imprinted the design of a quartered shield containing a crown, a Papal hat, and two crosses, and, beneath, the motto: "Quid n.o.bis Ardui.") "Printed" (continues the reading) "by order of the Council, 30th, October, 1901. Jas. Truscott and Son, Printer, Suffolk Lane, E.C." And in the following there is something of the rumble of the history of England:
"Addresses Presented from the Court of Common Council to the King.
On his Majesty's Accession to the Throne, And on various other Occasions, and his Answers, Resolutions of the Court, Granting the Freedom of the City to several n.o.ble Personages; with their Answers, Instructions at different Times to the Representatives of the City in Parliament.
Pet.i.tions to Parliament for different Purposes, Resolutions of the Court, On the Memorial of the Livery, to request the Lord Mayor to call a Common Hall; For returning Thanks to Lord Chatham, And his Answer; For erecting a Statue in Guildhall, to William Beckford, Esq.; late Lord Mayor, Agreed to between the 23d October, 1760, and the 13th. October, 1770 Printed by Henry Fenwick, Printer to the Honorable City of London."
Henry Fenwick, Esq., takes himself with dignity.
But to turn from the pomp of state, to peep for a moment at the intimate life of the people of England a couple of centuries ago, few things could be better than "The Constable's Accounts of the Manor of Manchester,"
from which a few items of "Disburs.e.m.e.nts" are cited;
"Pd. Expences apprehending two Felons.... -/1/- "Pd. Expences maintaining them two Nights in the Dungeon ...................... -/2/- "To Ann Duncan very ill to take her over into Ireland ............................. -/4/- "To Straw for the Dungeon ............... -/4/- "To Belman sundry public Cries .......... -/7/6 "To three pair of Stockings and dying for the Beedle .............................. -/9/- "To Wine drinking Royal healths the Prince's birthday at his full age ............ 3/16/6 "To a distressed Sailor to Leverpoole ... -/1/- "Pd. Boonfire on King's Coronation Day .. -/6/6 "Gave Nancy Mackeen a Stroller .......... -/-/6 "Pd. Musicians at rejoicing for good news from Germany, and on birth of the Prince of Wales ............................ 2/7/- "Pd. for a Cat with nine Tails .......... -/3/- "To a lame Stranger ..................... -/1/- "Pd. lighting Lamps last Dark ........... -/2/6 "Several Fortune Tellers Indicted, etc... -/12/- "Pd. Lawyer Nagave advising Roger Blomely's Case bringing Actions agt. the Constable for putting him in the Dungeon for being drunk on Sunday in time of divine Service .............................. l/l/-"
It is interesting to note in this connection that on August 16, 1762, was "Pd." one "Barnard Shaw maintenance of Rioters and Evidence, 1-11-6."
A circ.u.mstance of considerable human interest, too, and one possibly little known, is the great aversion to the sight of bears held by the inhabitants of the Isle of Wight, at least in the year 1891. A copy of the "Bye-Laws" of the "Administrative County of the Isle of Wight,"
issued that year, contains, following articles relating to "Regulating the Sale of Coal" and "Spitting," this:
"As to Bears.
"1. No bear shall be taken along or allowed to be upon any highway, unless such bear shall be securely confined in a vehicle closed so as to completely hide such bear from view.
"2. Any person who shall offend against this Bye-law shall be liable to a fine not exceeding in any case five pounds."
"Atti del Munic.i.p.ale! Atti del Consiglio Comunale di Siena. Bollettino Degli atti Pubblicati Dalla Giunta Munic.i.p.ale di Roma." It is fitting that quartos of such t.i.tles as these, containing addresses beginning Signori Consiglieri and Onorevoli Signori, should look something like Italian opera, and be bound in vellum, t.i.tle and date stamped in gold on bright red and purple labels, with sides of mottled purple boards, and imprints such as "Bologna. Regia Tipografia Fratelli Merlani," and of typography the best. And on genuine paper, far from the woodpulp of American munic.i.p.al graft contracts.
Once, indeed, munic.i.p.al doc.u.ments were august pages. Some of the early Italian and German are on paper that will last as long as the law. And in these times the t.i.tle pages of munic.i.p.al doc.u.ments were Piranesiesque: ma.s.sive architectural scroll work framing stone tablets, hung with garlands of fruit and grain, and decorated with carved lions, human heads, and histrionic masks. And initial letters throughout to correspond.
Now who but France would bind her munic.i.p.al doc.u.ments in heavily tooled, full levant morocco, with grained silk inside covers?
XVIII
AS TO PEOPLE
It is a very pleasant thing to go about in the world and see all the people.
Among the finest people in the world to talk with are scrubwomen.
Bartenders, particularly those in very low places, are not without considerable merit in this respect. Policemen and trolley-car conductors have great social value. Rustic ferry-men are very attractive intellectually. But for a feast of reason and a flow of soul I know of no society at all comparable to that of scrubwomen.
It is possible that you do not cultivate scrubwomen. That is your misfortune. Let me tell you about my scrubwoman. I know only this one, I regret to say, but she, I take it, is representative.
Her name--ah, what does it matter, her name? The thing beyond price is her mind. There is stored, in opulence, all the ready-made language, the tag-ends of expression, coined by modern man. But she does not use this rich dross as others do. She touches nothing that she does not adorn.
She turns the familiar into the unexpected, which is precisely what great writers do. To employ her own expression, she's "a hot sketch, all right."
She did not like the former occupant of my office. No; she told me that she "could not bear a hair of his head." It seems that some altercation occurred between them. And whatever it was she had to say, she declares that she "told it to him in black and white." This gentleman, it seems, was "the very Old Boy." Though my scrubwoman admits that she herself is "a sarcastic piece of goods." By way of emphasis she invariably adds to her a.s.sertions, "Believe _me_!"
Her son--she has a son--has much trouble with his feet. His mother says that if he has gone to one "shoeopodist" he has gone to a dozen. My scrubwoman tells me that she is "the only fair one" of her family. Her people, it appears, "are all olive." My scrubwoman is a widow. She has told me a number of times of the last days of her husband. It is a touching story. She realised that the end was near, and humoured him in his idea of returning before it was too late to "the old country." One day when he had asked her again if she had got the tickets, and then turned his face to the wall to cough, she said to herself, "_Good_-night--shirt."
But most of the discourse of my scrubwoman is cheerful. She is a valiant figure, a brave being very fond of the society of her friends (of whom I hold myself to be one), who works late at night, and talks continually.
I know that if you would contrive to find favour with your scrubwoman you would often be like that person told of by mine who "laughed until she thought his heart would break."
The most brotherly car-conductors, naturally, are those with not over much business, those on lines in remote places. I remember the loss I suffered not long ago on a suburban car, which results, I am sorry to say, in your loss also.
The bell signalling to stop rang, and a vivaciously got-up woman with an extremely broad-at-the-base, pear-shaped torse, arose and got herself carefully off the car. The conductor went forward to a.s.sist her. When he returned aft he came inside the car and sat on the last seat with two of us who were his pa.s.sengers. The restlessness was in him which betrays that a man will presently unbosom himself of something. This finally culminated in his remarking, as if simply for something to say to be friendly, "You noticed that lady that just got off back there? Well," he continued, leaning forward, having received a look intended to be not discouraging, "that's the mother of Cora Splitts, the little actress;--that lady's the mother of Cora Splitts, the little actress."
"Is that so!" exclaimed one who was his pa.s.senger, not wishing to deny him the pleasure he expected of having excited astonishment. A car conductor leads a hard life, poor fellow, and one should not begrudge him a little pleasure like that.
The conductor twisted away his face for an instant while he spat tobacco-juice. Thus cleared for action, he returned to the subject of his thoughts. "That's the mother of Cora Splitts," he repeated again.
"She's at White Plains tonight, Cora is. Cora and me," he said, as one that says, "ah, me, what a world it is!"--"Cora and me was chums once.
Yes, sir; we was chums and went to school together." Some valuable reminiscences of the distinguished woman, dating back to days before the world dreamed of what she would become, by one who played with her as a child, doubtless would have been told, but the conductor was interrupted; a great many people got off, some others got on the car just then, and he went forward to collect fares from these, and the thread was broken.
At my journey's end, I recollect, I went into a public-house. There was a person there whose presence made a deep impression upon my memory. A fine stocky lad, with a great square jaw, heavy beery jowls, and a blue-black, bearded chin; in a blue striped collar. He put both hands firmly on the bar-rail at a good distance apart; straightened his arms taut and his body at right angles with them, so that he resembled a huge carpenter's square; then curled his back finely in, and said, with a significant look at the man behind the bar, "Gimme one o' them sh.e.l.ls."
A thin gla.s.s of beer was set before him; he relaxed, straightened up, and drank off its contents. Then, apparently, feeling that he was observed, he looked very unconcernedly all about the room and appeared to be bored.
He then examined very attentively a picture on the wall, and his neck seemed to be temporarily stiff. I can see him now, I am happy to say, as plain as print.
One's mind is, indeed, a grand photograph alb.u.m. How precious to one it will be when one is old and may sit all day in a house by the sea and, so to say, turn the leaves. That is why one should be going about all the while in one's vigour with an alert and an open mind.
Wives are picturesque characters, too. I mind me of my friend Billy Henderson's new wife. Billy Henderson's wife looks like a balloon.
She's so fat that she has busted down the arches of her feet. In order to "fight flesh" she walks a great deal. She walks a mile every day, and then takes a car back home. Her father comes over from Philadelphia once every week to see her, because she is so homesick. For months after she was married she just cried all the time, she was so homesick. She never goes to the movies. The movies make her cry. One time she saw at the movies a hospital scene. It horrified her for days. A friend of hers is about to be married. But she has told her friend that she cannot go to the wedding. Weddings always make her cry so. She just can't read the war news; it is too terrible; it affects her so that she can't sleep a bit. She hasn't read any of it at all, and, she says, she has no idea who is winning the war. She takes some kind of capsules to reduce flesh, which cost six dollars for fifty. She has taken twenty-five. The extension of the draft age being spoken of, she said to Billy: