Contributions to_ All The Year Round(一年到头)

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Contributions to All The Year Round

Contributions to All The

Year Round

by Charles Dickens

Contributions to All The Year Round

ANNOUNCEMENT IN "HOUSEHOLD WORDS"

After the appearance of the present concluding Number of Household

Words, this publication will merge into the new weekly publication, All

the Year Round, and the title, Household Words, will form a part of the

title-page of All the Year Round.

The Prospectus of the latter Journal describes it in these words:

"ADDRESS

"Nine years of Household Words, are the best practical assurance that

can be offered to the public, of the spirit and objects of All the Year

Round.

"In transferring myself, and my strongest energies, from the

publication that is about to be discontinued, to the publication that is about

to be begun, I have the happiness of taking with me the staff of writers

with whom I have laboured, and all the literary and business co-operation

that can make my work a pleasure. In some important respects, I am now

free greatly to advance on past arrangements. Those, I leave to testify for

themselves in due course.

"That fusion of the graces of the imagination with the realities of life,

which is vital to the welfare of any community, and for which I have

striven from week to week as honestly as I could during the last nine years,

will continue to be striven for "all the year round". The old weekly cares

and duties become things of the Past, merely to be assumed, with an

increased love for them and brighter hopes springing out of them, in the

Present and the Future.

"I look, and plan, for a very much wider circle of readers, and yet

again for a steadily expanding circle of readers, in the projects I hope to

carry through "all the year round". And I feel confident that this

expectation will be realized, if it deserve realization.

"The task of my new journal is set, and it will steadily try to work the

task out. Its pages shall show to what good purpose their motto is

remembered in them, and with how much of fidelity and earnestness they

tell

Contributions to All The Year Round

"the story of our lives from year to year.

"CHARLES DICKENS."

Since this was issued, the Journal itself has come into existence, and

has spoken for itself five weeks. Its fifth Number is published to-day,

and its circulation, moderately stated, trebles that now relinquished in

Household Words.

In referring our readers, henceforth, to All the Year Round, we can but

assure them afresh, of our unwearying and faithful service, in what is at

once the work and the chief pleasure of our life. Through all that we are

doing, and through all that we design to do, our aim is to do our best in

sincerity of purpose, and true devotion of spirit.

We do not for a moment suppose that we may lean on the character of

these pages, and rest contented at the point where they stop. We see in

that point but a starting-place for our new journey; and on that journey,

with new prospects opening out before us everywhere, we joyfully

proceed, entreating our readers--without any of the pain of leave-taking

incidental to most journeys--to bear us company All the year round.

Saturday, May 28, 1859.

THE POOR MAN AND HIS BEER

My friend Philosewers and I, contemplating a farm-labourer the other

day, who was drinking his mug of beer on a settle at a roadside ale- house

door, we fell to humming the fag-end of an old ditty, of which the poor

man and his beer, and the sin of parting them, form the doleful burden.

Philosewers then mentioned to me that a friend of his in an agricultural

county--say a Hertfordshire friend--had, for two years last past,

endeavoured to reconcile the poor man and his beer to public morality, by

making it a point of honour between himself and the poor man that the

latter should use his beer and not abuse it. Interested in an effort of so

unobtrusive and unspeechifying a nature, "O Philosewers," said I, after the

manner of the dreary sages in Eastern apologues, "Show me, I pray, the

man who deems that temperance can be attained without a medal, an

Contributions to All The Year Round

oration, a banner, and a denunciation of half the world, and who has at

once the head and heart to set about it!"

Philosewers expressing, in reply, his willingness to gratify the dreary

sage, an appointment was made for the purpose. And on the day fixed, I,

the Dreary one, accompanied by Philosewers, went down Nor'-West per

railway, in search of temperate temperance. It was a thunderous day; and

the clouds were so immoderately watery, and so very much disposed to

sour all the beer in Hertfordshire, that they seemed to have taken the

pledge.

But, the sun burst forth gaily in the afternoon, and gilded the old

gables, and old mullioned windows, and old weathercock and old clock-

face, of the quaint old house which is the dwelling of the man we sought.

How shall I describe him? As one of the most famous practical chemists

of the age? That designation will do as well as another--better, perhaps,

than most others. And his name? Friar Bacon.

"Though, take notice, Philosewers," said I, behind my hand, "that the

first Friar Bacon had not that handsome lady-wife beside him. Wherein, O

Philosewers, he was a chemist, wretched and forlorn, compared with his

successor. Young Romeo bade the holy father Lawrence hang up

philosophy, unless philosophy could make a Juliet. Chemistry would

infallibly be hanged if its life were staked on making anything half so

pleasant as this Juliet." The gentle Philosewers smiled assent.

The foregoing whisper from myself, the Dreary one, tickled the ear of

Philosewers, as we walked on the trim garden terrace before dinner,

among the early leaves and blossoms; two peacocks, apparently in very

tight new boots, occasionally crossing the gravel at a distance. The sun,

shining through the old house-windows, now and then flashed out some

brilliant piece of colour from bright hangings within, or upon the old oak

panelling; similarly, Friar Bacon, as we paced to and fro, revealed little

glimpses of his good work.

"It is not much," said he. "It is no wonderful thing. There used to

be a great deal of drunkenness here, and I wanted to make it better if I

could. The people are very ignorant, and have been much neglected, and

I wanted to make THAT better, if I could. My utmost object was, to help

Contributions to All The Year Round

them to a little self-government and a little homely pleasure. I only show

the way to better things, and advise them. I never act for them; I never

interfere; above all, I never patronise."

I had said to Philosewers as we came along Nor'-West that patronage

was one of the curses of England; I appeared to rise in the estimation of

Philosewers when thus confirmed.

"And so," said Friar Bacon, "I established my Allotment-club, and my

pig-clubs, and those little Concerts by the ladies of my own family, of

which we have the last of the season this evening. They are a great

success, for the people here are amazingly fond of music. But there is

the early dinner-bell, and I have no need to talk of my endeavours when

you will soon see them in their working dress".

Dinner done, behold the Friar, Philosewers, and myself the Dreary one,

walking, at six o'clock, across the fields, to the "Club- house."

As we swung open the last field-gate and entered the Allotment-

grounds, many members were already on their way to the Club, which

stands in the midst of the allotments. Who could help thinking of the

wonderful contrast between these club-men and the club-men of St.

James's Street, or Pall Mall, in London! Look at yonder prematurely old

man, doubled up with work, and leaning on a rude stick more crooked

than himself, slowly trudging to the club-house, in a shapeless hat like an

Italian harlequin's, or an old brown- paper bag, leathern leggings, and dull

green smock-frock, looking as though duck-weed had accumulated on it--

the result of its stagnant life--or as if it were a vegetable production,

originally meant to blow into something better, but stopped somehow.

Compare him with Old Cousin Feenix, ambling along St. James's Street,

got up in the style of a couple of generations ago, and with a head of hair,

a complexion, and a set of teeth, profoundly impossible to be believed in

by the widest stretch of human credulity. Can they both be men and

brothers? Verily they are. And although Cousin Feenix has lived so fast

that he will die at Baden-Baden, and although this club-man in the frock

has lived, ever since he came to man's estate, on nine shillings a week, and

is sure to die in the Union if he die in bed, yet he brought as much into the

world as Cousin Feenix, and will take as much out--more, for more of him

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is real.

A pretty, simple building, the club-house, with a rustic colonnade

outside, under which the members can sit on wet evenings, looking at the

patches of ground they cultivate for themselves; within, a well- ventilated

room, large and lofty, cheerful pavement of coloured tiles, a bar for

serving out the beer, good supply of forms and chairs, and a brave big

chimney-corner, where the fire burns cheerfully. Adjoining this room,

another:

"Built for a reading-room," said Friar Bacon; "but not much used--

yet."

The dreary sage, looking in through the window, perceiving a fixed

reading-desk within, and inquiring its use:

"I have Service there," said Friar Bacon. "They never went anywhere

to hear prayers, and of course it would be hopeless to help them to be

happier and better, if they had no religious feeling at all."

"The whole place is very pretty." Thus the sage.

"I am glad you think so. I built it for the holders of the Allotment-

grounds, and gave it them: only requiring them to manage it by a

committee of their own appointing, and never to get drunk there. They

never have got drunk there."

"Yet they have their beer freely?"

"O yes. As much as they choose to buy. The club gets its beer

direct from the brewer, by the barrel. So they get it good; at once much

cheaper, and much better, than at the public-house. The members take it

in turns to be steward, and serve out the beer: if a man should decline to

serve when his turn came, he would pay a fine of twopence. The steward

lasts, as long as the barrel lasts. When there is a new barrel, there is a new

steward."

"What a noble fire is roaring up that chimney!"

"Yes, a capital fire. Every member pays a halfpenny a week."

"Every member must be the holder of an Allotment-garden?"

"Yes; for which he pays five shillings a year. The Allotments you see

about us, occupy some sixteen or eighteen acres, and each garden is as

large as experience shows one man to be able to manage. You see how

Contributions to All The Year Round

admirably they are tilled, and how much they get off them. They are

always working in them in their spare hours; and when a man wants a mug

of beer, instead of going off to the village and the public-house, he puts

down his spade or his hoe, comes to the club- house and gets it, and goes

back to his work. When he has done work, he likes to have his beer at

the club, still, and to sit and look at his little crops as they thrive."

"They seem to manage the club very well."

"Perfectly well. Here are their own rules. They made them. I

never interfere with them, except to advise them when they ask me."

RULES AND REGULATIONS MADE BY THE COMMITTEE

From the 21st September, 1857

One half-penny per week to be paid to the club by each member

1.--Each member to draw the beer in order, according to the number of

his allotment; on failing, a forfeit of twopence to be paid to the club.

2.--The member that draws the beer to pay for the same, and bring his

ticket up receipted when the subscriptions are paid; on failing to do so, a

penalty of sixpence to be forfeited and paid to the club.

3.--The subscriptions and forfeits to be paid at the club-room on the

last Saturday night of each month.

4.--The subscriptions and forfeits to be cleared up every quarter; if not,

a penalty of sixpence to be paid to the club.

5.--The member that draws the beer to be at the club-room by six

o'clock every evening, and stay till ten; but in the event of no member

being there, he may leave at nine; on failing so to attend, a penalty of

sixpence to be paid to the club.

6.--Any member giving beer to a stranger in this club-room, excepting

to his wife or family, shall be liable to the penalty of one shilling.

7.--Any member lifting his hand to strike another in this club-room

shall be liable to the penalty of sixpence.

8.--Any member swearing in this club-room shall be liable to a penalty

of twopence each time.

9.--Any member selling beer shall be expelled from the club.

10.--Any member wishing to give up his allotment, may apply to the

committee, and they shall value the crop and the condition of the ground.

Contributions to All The Year Round

The amount of the valuation shall be paid by the succeeding tenant, who

shall be allowed to enter on any part of the allotment which is uncropped

at the time of notice of the leaving tenant.

11.--Any member not keeping his allotment-garden clear from seed-

weeds, or otherwise injuring his neighbours, may be turned out of his

garden by the votes of two-thirds of the committee, one month's notice

being given to him.

12.--Any member carelessly breaking a mug, is to pay the cost of

replacing the same.

I was soliciting the attention of Philosewers to some old old bonnets

hanging in the Allotment-gardens to frighten the birds, and the fashion of

which I should think would terrify a French bird to death at any distance,

when Philosewers solicited my attention to the scrapers at the club-house

door. The amount of the soil of England which every member brought

there on his feet, was indeed surprising; and even I, who am professedly a

salad-eater, could have grown a salad for my dinner, in the earth on any

member's frock or hat.

"Now," said Friar Bacon, looking at his watch, "for the Pig-clubs!"

The dreary Sage entreated explanation.

"Why, a pig is so very valuable to a poor labouring man, and it is so

very difficult for him at this time of the year to get money enough to buy

one, that I lend him a pound for the purpose. But, I do it in this way. I

leave such of the club members as choose it and desire it, to form

themselves into parties of five. To every man in each company of five, I

lend a pound, to buy a pig. But, each man of the five becomes bound for

every other man, as to the repayment of his money. Consequently, they

look after one another, and pick out their partners with care; selecting men

in whom they have confidence."

"They repay the money, I suppose, when the pig is fattened, killed, and

sold?"

"Yes. Then they repay the money. And they do repay it. I had one

man, last year, who was a little tardy (he was in the habit of going to the

public-house); but even he did pay. It is an immense Advantage to one of

these poor fellows to have a pig. The pig consumes the refuse from the

Contributions to All The Year Round

man's cottage and allotment-garden, and the pig's refuse enriches the

man's garden besides. The pig is the poor man's friend. Come into the

club-house again."

The poor man's friend. Yes. I have often wondered who really was

the poor man's friend among a great number of competitors, and I now

clearly perceive him to be the pig. HE never makes any flourishes about

the poor man. HE never gammons the poor man--except to his manifest

advantage in the article of bacon. HE never comes down to this house, or

goes down to his constituents. He openly declares to the poor man, "I

want my sty because I am a Pig. I desire to have as much to eat as you

can by any means stuff me with, because I am a Pig." HE never gives the

poor man a sovereign for bringing up a family. HE never grunts the poor

man's name in vain. And when he dies in the odour of Porkity, he cuts up,

a highly useful creature and a blessing to the poor man, from the ring in

his snout to the curl in his tail. Which of the poor man's other friends can

say as much? Where is the M.P. who means Mere Pork?

The dreary Sage had glided into these reflections, when he found

himself sitting by the club-house fire, surrounded by green smock- frocks

and shapeless hats: with Friar Bacon lively, busy, and expert, at a little

table near him.

"Now, then, come. The first five!" said Friar Bacon. "Where are

you?"

"Order!" cried a merry-faced little man, who had brought his young

daughter with him to see life, and who always modestly hid his face in his

beer-mug after he had thus assisted the business.

"John Nightingale, William Thrush, Joseph Blackbird, Cecil Robin,

and Thomas Linnet!" cried Friar Bacon.

"Here, sir!" and "Here, sir!" And Linnet, Robin, Blackbird, Thrush,

and Nightingale, stood confessed.

We, the undersigned, declare, in effect, by this written paper, that each

of us is responsible for the repayment of this pig-money by each of the

other. "Sure you understand, Nightingale?"

"Ees, sur."

"Can you write your name, Nightingale?"

Contributions to All The Year Round

"Na, sur."

Nightingale's eye upon his name, as Friar Bacon wrote it, was a sight

to consider in after years. Rather incredulous was Nightingale, with a

hand at the corner of his mouth, and his head on one side, as to those

drawings really meaning him. Doubtful was Nightingale whether any

virtue had gone out of him in that committal to paper. Meditative was

Nightingale as to what would come of young Nightingale's growing up to

the acquisition of that art. Suspended was the interest of Nightingale,

when his name was done--as if he thought the letters were only sown, to

come up presently in some other form. Prodigious, and wrong-handed

was the cross made by Nightingale on much encouragement--the strokes

directed from him instead of towards him; and most patient and sweet-

humoured was the smile of Nightingale as he stepped back into a general

laugh.

"Order!" cried the little man. Immediately disappearing into his mug.

"Ralph Mangel, Roger Wurzel, Edward Vetches, Matthew Carrot, and

Charles Taters!" said Friar Bacon.

"All here, sir."

"You understand it, Mangel?"

"Iss, sir, I unnerstaans it."

"Can you write your name, Mangel?"

"Iss, sir."

Breathless interest. A dense background of smock-frocks

accumulated behind Mangel, and many eyes in it looked doubtfully at

Friar Bacon, as who should say, "Can he really though?" Mangel put

down his hat, retired a little to get a good look at the paper, wetted his

right hand thoroughly by drawing it slowly across his mouth, approached

the paper with great determination, flattened it, sat down at it, and got well

to his work. Circuitous and sea-serpent-like, were the movements of the

tongue of Mangel while he formed the letters; elevated were the eyebrows

of Mangel and sidelong the eyes, as, with his left whisker reposing on his

left arm, they followed his performance; many were the misgivings of

Mangel, and slow was his retrospective meditation touching the junction

of the letter p with h; something too active was the big forefinger of

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ContributionstoAllTheYearRound1ContributionstoAllTheYearRoundbyCharlesDickensContributionstoAllTheYearRound2ANNOUNCEMENTIN"HOUSEHOLDWORDS"AftertheappearanceofthepresentconcludingNumberofHouseholdWords,thispublicationwillmergeintothenewweeklypublication,AlltheYearRound,andthetitle,HouseholdWords,will...

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