Meet us on:
Welcome to Read Print! Sign in with
to get started!
Entire Site
    Try our fun game

    Dueling book covers…may the best design win!

    Random Quote
    "Perseverance is more prevailing than violence; and many things which cannot be overcome when they are together, yield themselves up when taken little by little."

    Subscribe to Our Newsletter

    Follow us on Twitter

    Never miss a good book again! Follow Read Print on Twitter

    The Lamplighter

    by Charles Dickens
    • Rate it:
    • 2 Favorites on Read Print
    Launch Reading Mode

    A Farce in One Act

    'If you talk of Murphy and Francis Moore, gentlemen,' said the
    lamplighter who was in the chair, 'I mean to say that neither of
    'em ever had any more to do with the stars than Tom Grig had.'

    'And what had HE to do with 'em?' asked the lamplighter who
    officiated as vice.

    'Nothing at all,' replied the other; 'just exactly nothing at all.'

    'Do you mean to say you don't believe in Murphy, then?' demanded
    the lamplighter who had opened the discussion.

    'I mean to say I believe in Tom Grig,' replied the chairman.
    'Whether I believe in Murphy, or not, is a matter between me and my
    conscience; and whether Murphy believes in himself, or not, is a
    matter between him and his conscience. Gentlemen, I drink your

    The lamplighter who did the company this honour, was seated in the
    chimney-corner of a certain tavern, which has been, time out of
    mind, the Lamplighters' House of Call. He sat in the midst of a
    circle of lamplighters, and was the cacique, or chief of the tribe.

    If any of our readers have had the good fortune to behold a
    lamplighter's funeral, they will not be surprised to learn that
    lamplighters are a strange and primitive people; that they rigidly
    adhere to old ceremonies and customs which have been handed down
    among them from father to son since the first public lamp was
    lighted out of doors; that they intermarry, and betroth their
    children in infancy; that they enter into no plots or conspiracies
    (for who ever heard of a traitorous lamplighter?); that they commit
    no crimes against the laws of their country (there being no
    instance of a murderous or burglarious lamplighter); that they are,
    in short, notwithstanding their apparently volatile and restless
    character, a highly moral and reflective people: having among
    themselves as many traditional observances as the Jews, and being,
    as a body, if not as old as the hills, at least as old as the
    streets. It is an article of their creed that the first faint
    glimmering of true civilisation shone in the first street-light
    maintained at the public expense. They trace their existence and
    high position in the public esteem, in a direct line to the heathen
    mythology; and hold that the history of Prometheus himself is but a
    pleasant fable, whereof the true hero is a lamplighter.

    'Gentlemen,' said the lamplighter in the chair, 'I drink your

    'And perhaps, Sir,' said the vice, holding up his glass, and rising
    a little way off his seat and sitting down again, in token that he
    recognised and returned the compliment, 'perhaps you will add to
    that condescension by telling us who Tom Grig was, and how he came
    to be connected in your mind with Francis Moore, Physician.'

    'Hear, hear, hear!' cried the lamplighters generally.

    'Tom Grig, gentlemen,' said the chairman, 'was one of us; and it
    happened to him, as it don't often happen to a public character in
    our line, that he had his what-you-may-call-it cast.'

    'His head?' said the vice.

    'No,' replied the chairman, 'not his head.'

    'His face, perhaps?' said the vice. 'No, not his face.' 'His
    legs?' 'No, not his legs.' Nor yet his arms, nor his hands, nor
    his feet, nor his chest, all of which were severally suggested.

    'His nativity, perhaps?'

    'That's it,' said the chairman, awakening from his thoughtful
    attitude at the suggestion. 'His nativity. That's what Tom had
    cast, gentlemen.'

    'In plaster?' asked the vice.

    'I don't rightly know how it's done,' returned the chairman. 'But
    I suppose it was.'

    And there he stopped as if that were all he had to say; whereupon
    there arose a murmur among the company, which at length resolved
    itself into a request, conveyed through the vice, that he would go
    on. This being exactly what the chairman wanted, he mused for a
    little time, performed that agreeable ceremony which is popularly
    termed wetting one's whistle, and went on thus:

    'Tom Grig, gentlemen, was, as I have said, one of us; and I may go
    further, and say he was an ornament to us, and such a one as only
    the good old times of oil and cotton could have produced. Tom's
    family, gentlemen, were all lamplighters.'

    'Not the ladies, I hope?' asked the vice.

    'They had talent enough for it, Sir,' rejoined the chairman, 'and
    would have been, but for the prejudices of society. Let women have
    their rights, Sir, and the females of Tom's family would have been
    every one of 'em in office. But that emancipation hasn't come yet,
    and hadn't then, and consequently they confined themselves to the
    bosoms of their families, cooked the dinners, mended the clothes,
    minded the children, comforted their husbands, and attended to the
    house-keeping generally. It's a hard thing upon the women,
    gentlemen, that they are limited to such a sphere of action as
    this; very hard.

    'I happen to know all about Tom, gentlemen, from the circumstance
    of his uncle by his mother's side, having been my particular
    friend. His (that's Tom's uncle's) fate was a melancholy one. Gas
    was the death of him. When it was first talked of, he laughed. He
    wasn't angry; he laughed at the credulity of human nature. "They
    might as well talk," he says, "of laying on an everlasting
    succession of glow-worms;" and then he laughed again, partly at his
    joke, and partly at poor humanity.

    'In course of time, however, the thing got ground, the experiment
    was made, and they lighted up Pall Mall. Tom's uncle went to see
    it. I've heard that he fell off his ladder fourteen times that
    night, from weakness, and that he would certainly have gone on
    falling till he killed himself, if his last tumble hadn't been into
    a wheelbarrow which was going his way, and humanely took him home.
    "I foresee in this," says Tom's uncle faintly, and taking to his
    bed as he spoke - "I foresee in this," he says, "the breaking up of
    our profession. There's no more going the rounds to trim by
    daylight, no more dribbling down of the oil on the hats and bonnets
    of ladies and gentlemen when one feels in spirits. Any low fellow
    can light a gas-lamp. And it's all up." In this state of mind, he
    petitioned the government for - I want a word again, gentlemen -
    what do you call that which they give to people when it's found
    out, at last, that they've never been of any use, and have been
    paid too much for doing nothing?'

    'Compensation?' suggested the vice.

    'That's it,' said the chairman. 'Compensation. They didn't give
    it him, though, and then he got very fond of his country all at
    once, and went about saying that gas was a death-blow to his native
    land, and that it was a plot of the radicals to ruin the country
    and destroy the oil and cotton trade for ever, and that the whales
    would go and kill themselves privately, out of sheer spite and
    vexation at not being caught. At last he got right-down cracked;
    called his tobacco-pipe a gas-pipe; thought his tears were lamp-
    oil; and went on with all manner of nonsense of that sort, till one
    night he hung himself on a lamp-iron in Saint Martin's Lane, and
    there was an end of HIM.

    'Tom loved him, gentlemen, but he survived it. He shed a tear over
    his grave, got very drunk, spoke a funeral oration that night in
    the watch-house, and was fined five shillings for it, in the
    morning. Some men are none the worse for this sort of thing. Tom
    was one of 'em. He went that very afternoon on a new beat: as
    clear in his head, and as free from fever as Father Mathew himself.

    'Tom's new beat, gentlemen, was - I can't exactly say where, for
    that he'd never tell; but I know it was in a quiet part of town,
    where there were some queer old houses. I have always had it in my
    head that it must have been somewhere near Canonbury Tower in
    Islington, but that's a matter of opinion. Wherever it was, he
    went upon it, with a bran-new ladder, a white hat, a brown holland
    jacket and trousers, a blue neck-kerchief, and a sprig of full-
    blown double wall-flower in his button-hole. Tom was always
    genteel in his appearance, and I have heard from the best judges,
    that if he had left his ladder at home that afternoon, you might
    have took him for a lord.

    'He was always merry, was Tom, and such a singer, that if there was
    any encouragement for native talent, he'd have been at the opera.
    He was on his ladder, lighting his first lamp, and singing to
    himself in a manner more easily to be conceived than described,
    when he hears the clock strike five, and suddenly sees an old
    gentleman with a telescope in his hand, throw up a window and look
    at him very hard.

    'Tom didn't know what could be passing in this old gentleman's
    mind. He thought it likely enough that he might be saying within
    himself, "Here's a new lamplighter - a good-looking young fellow -
    shall I stand something to drink?" Thinking this possible, he
    keeps quite still, pretending to be very particular about the wick,
    and looks at the old gentleman sideways, seeming to take no notice
    of him.

    'Gentlemen, he was one of the strangest and most mysterious-looking
    files that ever Tom clapped his eyes on. He was dressed all
    slovenly and untidy, in a great gown of a kind of bed-furniture
    pattern, with a cap of the same on his head; and a long old flapped
    waistcoat; with no braces, no strings, very few buttons - in short,
    with hardly any of those artificial contrivances that hold society
    together. Tom knew by these signs, and by his not being shaved,
    and by his not being over-clean, and by a sort of wisdom not quite
    awake, in his face, that he was a scientific old gentleman. He
    often told me that if he could have conceived the possibility of
    the whole Royal Society being boiled down into one man, he should
    have said the old gentleman's body was that Body.

    'The old gentleman claps the telescope to his eye, looks all round,
    sees nobody else in sight, stares at Tom again, and cries out very


    '"Halloa, Sir," says Tom from the ladder; "and halloa again, if you
    come to that."

    '"Here's an extraordinary fulfilment," says the old gentleman, "of
    a prediction of the planets."

    '"Is there?" says Tom. "I'm very glad to hear it."

    '"Young man," says the old gentleman, "you don't know me."

    '"Sir," says Tom, "I have not that honour; but I shall be happy to
    drink your health, notwithstanding."

    '"I read," cries the old gentleman, without taking any notice of
    this politeness on Tom's part - "I read what's going to happen, in
    the stars."

    'Tom thanked him for the information, and begged to know if
    anything particular was going to happen in the stars, in the course
    of a week or so; but the old gentleman, correcting him, explained
    that he read in the stars what was going to happen on dry land, and
    that he was acquainted with all the celestial bodies.

    '"I hope they're all well, Sir," says Tom, - "everybody."

    '"Hush!" cries the old gentleman. "I have consulted the book of
    Fate with rare and wonderful success. I am versed in the great
    sciences of astrology and astronomy. In my house here, I have
    every description of apparatus for observing the course and motion
    of the planets. Six months ago, I derived from this source, the
    knowledge that precisely as the clock struck five this afternoon a
    stranger would present himself - the destined husband of my young
    and lovely niece - in reality of illustrious and high descent, but
    whose birth would be enveloped in uncertainty and mystery. Don't
    tell me yours isn't," says the old gentleman, who was in such a
    hurry to speak that he couldn't get the words out fast enough, "for
    I know better."

    'Gentlemen, Tom was so astonished when he heard him say this, that
    he could hardly keep his footing on the ladder, and found it
    necessary to hold on by the lamp-post. There WAS a mystery about
    his birth. His mother had always admitted it. Tom had never known
    who was his father, and some people had gone so far as to say that
    even SHE was in doubt.

    'While he was in this state of amazement, the old gentleman leaves
    the window, bursts out of the house-door, shakes the ladder, and
    Tom, like a ripe pumpkin, comes sliding down into his arms.

    '"Let me embrace you," he says, folding his arms about him, and
    nearly lighting up his old bed-furniture gown at Tom's link.
    "You're a man of noble aspect. Everything combines to prove the
    accuracy of my observations. You have had mysterious promptings
    within you," he says; "I know you have had whisperings of
    greatness, eh?" he says.

    '"I think I have," says Tom - Tom was one of those who can persuade
    themselves to anything they like - "I've often thought I wasn't the
    small beer I was taken for."

    '"You were right," cries the old gentleman, hugging him again.
    "Come in. My niece awaits us."

    '"Is the young lady tolerable good-looking, Sir?" says Tom, hanging
    fire rather, as he thought of her playing the piano, and knowing
    French, and being up to all manner of accomplishments.

    '"She's beautiful!" cries the old gentleman, who was in such a
    terrible bustle that he was all in a perspiration. "She has a
    graceful carriage, an exquisite shape, a sweet voice, a countenance
    beaming with animation and expression; and the eye," he says,
    rubbing his hands, "of a startled fawn."

    'Tom supposed this might mean, what was called among his circle of
    acquaintance, "a game eye;" and, with a view to this defect,
    inquired whether the young lady had any cash.

    '"She has five thousand pounds," cries the old gentleman. "But
    what of that? what of that? A word in your ear. I'm in search of
    the philosopher's stone. I have very nearly found it - not quite.
    It turns everything to gold; that's its property."

    'Tom naturally thought it must have a deal of property; and said
    that when the old gentleman did get it, he hoped he'd be careful to
    keep it in the family.

    '"Certainly," he says, "of course. Five thousand pounds! What's
    five thousand pounds to us? What's five million?" he says.
    "What's five thousand million? Money will be nothing to us. We
    shall never be able to spend it fast enough."

    '"We'll try what we can do, Sir," says Tom.

    '"We will," says the old gentleman. "Your name?"

    '"Grig," says Tom.

    'The old gentleman embraced him again, very tight; and without
    speaking another word, dragged him into the house in such an
    excited manner, that it was as much as Tom could do to take his
    link and ladder with him, and put them down in the passage.

    'Gentlemen, if Tom hadn't been always remarkable for his love of
    truth, I think you would still have believed him when he said that
    all this was like a dream. There is no better way for a man to
    find out whether he is really asleep or awake, than calling for
    something to eat. If he's in a dream, gentlemen, he'll find
    something wanting in flavour, depend upon it.

    'Tom explained his doubts to the old gentleman, and said that if
    there was any cold meat in the house, it would ease his mind very
    much to test himself at once. The old gentleman ordered up a
    venison pie, a small ham, and a bottle of very old Madeira. At the
    first mouthful of pie and the first glass of wine, Tom smacks his
    lips and cries out, "I'm awake - wide awake;" and to prove that he
    was so, gentlemen, he made an end of 'em both.

    'When Tom had finished his meal (which he never spoke of afterwards
    without tears in his eyes), the old gentleman hugs him again, and
    says, "Noble stranger! let us visit my young and lovely niece."
    Tom, who was a little elevated with the wine, replies, "The noble
    stranger is agreeable!" At which words the old gentleman took him
    by the hand, and led him to the parlour; crying as he opened the
    door, "Here is Mr. Grig, the favourite of the planets!"

    'I will not attempt a description of female beauty, gentlemen, for
    every one of us has a model of his own that suits his own taste
    best. In this parlour that I'm speaking of, there were two young
    ladies; and if every gentleman present, will imagine two models of
    his own in their places, and will be kind enough to polish 'em up
    to the very highest pitch of perfection, he will then have a faint
    conception of their uncommon radiance.

    'Besides these two young ladies, there was their waiting-woman,
    that under any other circumstances Tom would have looked upon as a
    Venus; and besides her, there was a tall, thin, dismal-faced young
    gentleman, half man and half boy, dressed in a childish suit of
    clothes very much too short in the legs and arms; and looking,
    according to Tom's comparison, like one of the wax juveniles from a
    tailor's door, grown up and run to seed. Now, this youngster
    stamped his foot upon the ground and looked very fierce at Tom, and
    Tom looked fierce at him - for to tell the truth, gentlemen, Tom
    more than half suspected that when they entered the room he was
    kissing one of the young ladies; and for anything Tom knew, you
    observe, it might be HIS young lady - which was not pleasant.

    '"Sir," says Tom, "before we proceed any further, will you have the
    goodness to inform me who this young Salamander" - Tom called him
    that for aggravation, you perceive, gentlemen - "who this young
    Salamander may be?"

    '"That, Mr. Grig," says the old gentleman, "is my little boy. He
    was christened Galileo Isaac Newton Flamstead. Don't mind him.
    He's a mere child."

    '"And a very fine child too," says Tom - still aggravating, you'll
    observe - "of his age, and as good as fine, I have no doubt. How
    do you do, my man?" with which kind and patronising expressions,
    Tom reached up to pat him on the head, and quoted two lines about
    little boys, from Doctor Watts's Hymns, which he had learnt at a
    Sunday School.

    'It was very easy to see, gentlemen, by this youngster's frowning
    and by the waiting-maid's tossing her head and turning up her nose,
    and by the young ladies turning their backs and talking together at
    the other end of the room, that nobody but the old gentleman took
    very kindly to the noble stranger. Indeed, Tom plainly heard the
    waiting-woman say of her master, that so far from being able to
    read the stars as he pretended, she didn't believe he knew his
    letters in 'em, or at best that he had got further than words in
    one syllable; but Tom, not minding this (for he was in spirits
    after the Madeira), looks with an agreeable air towards the young
    ladies, and, kissing his hand to both, says to the old gentleman,
    "Which is which?"

    '"This," says the old gentleman, leading out the handsomest, if one
    of 'em could possibly be said to be handsomer than the other -
    "this is my niece, Miss Fanny Barker."

    '"If you'll permit me, Miss," says Tom, "being a noble stranger and
    a favourite of the planets, I will conduct myself as such." With
    these words, he kisses the young lady in a very affable way, turns
    to the old gentleman, slaps him on the back, and says, "When's it
    to come off, my buck?"

    'The young lady coloured so deep, and her lip trembled so much,
    gentlemen, that Tom really thought she was going to cry. But she
    kept her feelings down, and turning to the old gentleman, says,
    "Dear uncle, though you have the absolute disposal of my hand and
    fortune, and though you mean well in disposing of 'em thus, I ask
    you whether you don't think this is a mistake? Don't you think,
    dear uncle," she says, "that the stars must be in error? Is it not
    possible that the comet may have put 'em out?"

    '"The stars," says the old gentleman, "couldn't make a mistake if
    they tried. Emma," he says to the other young lady.

    '"Yes, papa," says she.

    '"The same day that makes your cousin Mrs. Grig will unite you to
    the gifted Mooney. No remonstrance - no tears. Now, Mr. Grig, let
    me conduct you to that hallowed ground, that philosophical retreat,
    where my friend and partner, the gifted Mooney of whom I have just
    now spoken, is even now pursuing those discoveries which shall
    enrich us with the precious metal, and make us masters of the
    world. Come, Mr. Grig," he says.

    '"With all my heart, Sir," replies Tom; "and luck to the gifted
    Mooney, say I - not so much on his account as for our worthy
    selves!" With this sentiment, Tom kissed his hand to the ladies
    again, and followed him out; having the gratification to perceive,
    as he looked back, that they were all hanging on by the arms and
    legs of Galileo Isaac Newton Flamstead, to prevent him from
    following the noble stranger, and tearing him to pieces.

    'Gentlemen, Tom's father-in-law that was to be, took him by the
    hand, and having lighted a little lamp, led him across a paved
    court-yard at the back of the house, into a very large, dark,
    gloomy room: filled with all manner of bottles, globes, books,
    telescopes, crocodiles, alligators, and other scientific
    instruments of every kind. In the centre of this room was a stove
    or furnace, with what Tom called a pot, but which in my opinion was
    a crucible, in full boil. In one corner was a sort of ladder
    leading through the roof; and up this ladder the old gentleman
    pointed, as he said in a whisper:

    '"The observatory. Mr. Mooney is even now watching for the precise
    time at which we are to come into all the riches of the earth. It
    will be necessary for he and I, alone in that silent place, to cast
    your nativity before the hour arrives. Put the day and minute of
    your birth on this piece of paper, and leave the rest to me."

    '"You don't mean to say," says Tom, doing as he was told and giving
    him back the paper, "that I'm to wait here long, do you? It's a
    precious dismal place."

    '"Hush!" says the old gentleman. "It's hallowed ground.

    '"Stop a minute," says Tom. "What a hurry you're in! What's in
    that large bottle yonder?"

    '"It's a child with three heads," says the old gentleman; "and
    everything else in proportion."

    '"Why don't you throw him away?" says Tom. "What do you keep such
    unpleasant things here for?"

    '"Throw him away!" cries the old gentleman. "We use him constantly
    in astrology. He's a charm."

    '"I shouldn't have thought it," says Tom, "from his appearance.
    MUST you go, I say?"

    'The old gentleman makes him no answer, but climbs up the ladder in
    a greater bustle than ever. Tom looked after his legs till there
    was nothing of him left, and then sat down to wait; feeling (so he
    used to say) as comfortable as if he was going to be made a
    freemason, and they were heating the pokers.

    'Tom waited so long, gentlemen, that he began to think it must be
    getting on for midnight at least, and felt more dismal and lonely
    than ever he had done in all his life. He tried every means of
    whiling away the time, but it never had seemed to move so slow.
    First, he took a nearer view of the child with three heads, and
    thought what a comfort it must have been to his parents. Then he
    looked up a long telescope which was pointed out of the window, but
    saw nothing particular, in consequence of the stopper being on at
    the other end. Then he came to a skeleton in a glass case,
    labelled, "Skeleton of a Gentleman - prepared by Mr. Mooney," -
    which made him hope that Mr. Mooney might not be in the habit of
    preparing gentlemen that way without their own consent. A hundred
    times, at least, he looked into the pot where they were boiling the
    philosopher's stone down to the proper consistency, and wondered
    whether it was nearly done. "When it is," thinks Tom, "I'll send
    out for six-penn'orth of sprats, and turn 'em into gold fish for a
    first experiment." Besides which, he made up his mind, gentlemen,
    to have a country-house and a park; and to plant a bit of it with a
    double row of gas-lamps a mile long, and go out every night with a
    French-polished mahogany ladder, and two servants in livery behind
    him, to light 'em for his own pleasure.

    'At length and at last, the old gentleman's legs appeared upon the
    steps leading through the roof, and he came slowly down: bringing
    along with him, the gifted Mooney. This Mooney, gentlemen, was
    even more scientific in appearance than his friend; and had, as Tom
    often declared upon his word and honour, the dirtiest face we can
    possibly know of, in this imperfect state of existence.

    'Gentlemen, you are all aware that if a scientific man isn't absent
    in his mind, he's of no good at all. Mr. Mooney was so absent,
    that when the old gentleman said to him, "Shake hands with Mr.
    Grig," he put out his leg. "Here's a mind, Mr. Grig!" cries the
    old gentleman in a rapture. "Here's philosophy! Here's
    rumination! Don't disturb him," he says, "for this is amazing!"

    'Tom had no wish to disturb him, having nothing particular to say;
    but he was so uncommonly amazing, that the old gentleman got
    impatient, and determined to give him an electric shock to bring
    him to - "for you must know, Mr. Grig," he says, "that we always
    keep a strongly charged battery, ready for that purpose." These
    means being resorted to, gentlemen, the gifted Mooney revived with
    a loud roar, and he no sooner came to himself than both he and the
    old gentleman looked at Tom with compassion, and shed tears

    '"My dear friend," says the old gentleman to the Gifted, "prepare

    '"I say," cries Tom, falling back, "none of that, you know. No
    preparing by Mr. Mooney if you please."

    '"Alas!" replies the old gentleman, "you don't understand us. My
    friend, inform him of his fate. - I can't."

    'The Gifted mustered up his voice, after many efforts, and informed
    Tom that his nativity had been carefully cast, and he would expire
    at exactly thirty-five minutes, twenty-seven seconds, and five-
    sixths of a second past nine o'clock, a.m., on that day two months.

    'Gentlemen, I leave you to judge what were Tom's feelings at this
    announcement, on the eve of matrimony and endless riches. "I
    think," he says in a trembling voice, "there must be a mistake in
    the working of that sum. Will you do me the favour to cast it up
    again?" - "There is no mistake," replies the old gentleman, "it is
    confirmed by Francis Moore, Physician. Here is the prediction for
    to-morrow two months." And he showed him the page, where sure
    enough were these words - "The decease of a great person may be
    looked for, about this time."

    '"Which," says the old gentleman, "is clearly you, Mr. Grig."

    '"Too clearly," cries Tom, sinking into a chair, and giving one
    hand to the old gentleman, and one to the Gifted. "The orb of day
    has set on Thomas Grig for ever!"

    'At this affecting remark, the Gifted shed tears again, and the
    other two mingled their tears with his, in a kind - if I may use
    the expression - of Mooney and Co.'s entire. But the old gentleman
    recovering first, observed that this was only a reason for
    hastening the marriage, in order that Tom's distinguished race
    might be transmitted to posterity; and requesting the Gifted to
    console Mr. Grig during his temporary absence, he withdrew to
    settle the preliminaries with his niece immediately.

    'And now, gentlemen, a very extraordinary and remarkable occurrence
    took place; for as Tom sat in a melancholy way in one chair, and
    the Gifted sat in a melancholy way in another, a couple of doors
    were thrown violently open, the two young ladies rushed in, and one
    knelt down in a loving attitude at Tom's feet, and the other at the
    Gifted's. So far, perhaps, as Tom was concerned - as he used to
    say - you will say there was nothing strange in this: but you will
    be of a different opinion when you understand that Tom's young lady
    was kneeling to the Gifted, and the Gifted's young lady was
    kneeling to Tom.

    '"Halloa! stop a minute!" cries Tom; "here's a mistake. I need
    condoling with by sympathising woman, under my afflicting
    circumstances; but we're out in the figure. Change partners,

    '"Monster!" cries Tom's young lady, clinging to the Gifted.

    '"Miss!" says Tom. "Is THAT your manners?"

    '"I abjure thee!" cries Tom's young lady. "I renounce thee. I
    never will be thine. Thou," she says to the Gifted, "art the
    object of my first and all-engrossing passion. Wrapt in thy
    sublime visions, thou hast not perceived my love; but, driven to
    despair, I now shake off the woman and avow it. Oh, cruel, cruel
    man!" With which reproach she laid her head upon the Gifted's
    breast, and put her arms about him in the tenderest manner
    possible, gentlemen.

    '"And I," says the other young lady, in a sort of ecstasy, that
    made Tom start - "I hereby abjure my chosen husband too. Hear me,
    Goblin!" - this was to the Gifted - "Hear me! I hold thee in the
    deepest detestation. The maddening interview of this one night has
    filled my soul with love - but not for thee. It is for thee, for
    thee, young man," she cries to Tom. "As Monk Lewis finely
    observes, Thomas, Thomas, I am thine, Thomas, Thomas, thou art
    mine: thine for ever, mine for ever!" with which words, she became
    very tender likewise.

    'Tom and the Gifted, gentlemen, as you may believe, looked at each
    other in a very awkward manner, and with thoughts not at all
    complimentary to the two young ladies. As to the Gifted, I have
    heard Tom say often, that he was certain he was in a fit, and had
    it inwardly.

    '"Speak to me! Oh, speak to me!" cries Tom's young lady to the

    '"I don't want to speak to anybody," he says, finding his voice at
    last, and trying to push her away. "I think I had better go. I'm
    - I'm frightened," he says, looking about as if he had lost

    '"Not one look of love!" she cries. "Hear me while I declare - "

    '"I don't know how to look a look of love," he says, all in a maze.
    "Don't declare anything. I don't want to hear anybody."

    '"That's right!" cries the old gentleman (who it seems had been
    listening). "That's right! Don't hear her. Emma shall marry you
    to-morrow, my friend, whether she likes it or not, and SHE shall
    marry Mr. Grig."

    'Gentlemen, these words were no sooner out of his mouth than
    Galileo Isaac Newton Flamstead (who it seems had been listening
    too) darts in, and spinning round and round, like a young giant's
    top, cries, "Let her. Let her. I'm fierce; I'm furious. I give
    her leave. I'll never marry anybody after this - never. It isn't
    safe. She is the falsest of the false," he cries, tearing his hair
    and gnashing his teeth; "and I'll live and die a bachelor!"

    '"The little boy," observed the Gifted gravely, "albeit of tender
    years, has spoken wisdom. I have been led to the contemplation of
    woman-kind, and will not adventure on the troubled waters of

    '"What!" says the old gentleman, "not marry my daughter! Won't
    you, Mooney? Not if I make her? Won't you? Won't you?"

    '"No," says Mooney, "I won't. And if anybody asks me any more,
    I'll run away, and never come back again."

    '"Mr. Grig," says the old gentleman, "the stars must be obeyed.
    You have not changed your mind because of a little girlish folly -
    eh, Mr. Grig?"

    'Tom, gentlemen, had had his eyes about him, and was pretty sure
    that all this was a device and trick of the waiting-maid, to put
    him off his inclination. He had seen her hiding and skipping about
    the two doors, and had observed that a very little whispering from
    her pacified the Salamander directly. "So," thinks Tom, "this is a
    plot - but it won't fit."

    '"Eh, Mr. Grig?" says the old gentleman.

    '"Why, Sir," says Tom, pointing to the crucible, "if the soup's
    nearly ready - "

    '"Another hour beholds the consummation of our labours," returned
    the old gentleman.

    '"Very good," says Tom, with a mournful air. "It's only for two
    months, but I may as well be the richest man in the world even for
    that time. I'm not particular, I'll take her, Sir. I'll take

    'The old gentleman was in a rapture to find Tom still in the same
    mind, and drawing the young lady towards him by little and little,
    was joining their hands by main force, when all of a sudden,
    gentlemen, the crucible blows up, with a great crash; everybody
    screams; the room is filled with smoke; and Tom, not knowing what
    may happen next, throws himself into a Fancy attitude, and says,
    "Come on, if you're a man!" without addressing himself to anybody
    in particular.

    '"The labours of fifteen years!" says the old gentleman, clasping
    his hands and looking down upon the Gifted, who was saving the
    pieces, "are destroyed in an instant!" - And I am told, gentlemen,
    by-the-bye, that this same philosopher's stone would have been
    discovered a hundred times at least, to speak within bounds, if it
    wasn't for the one unfortunate circumstance that the apparatus
    always blows up, when it's on the very point of succeeding.

    'Tom turns pale when he hears the old gentleman expressing himself
    to this unpleasant effect, and stammers out that if it's quite
    agreeable to all parties, he would like to know exactly what has
    happened, and what change has really taken place in the prospects
    of that company.

    '"We have failed for the present, Mr. Grig," says the old
    gentleman, wiping his forehead. "And I regret it the more, because
    I have in fact invested my niece's five thousand pounds in this
    glorious speculation. But don't be cast down," he says, anxiously
    - "in another fifteen years, Mr. Grig - "

    "Oh!" cries Tom, letting the young lady's hand fall. "Were the
    stars very positive about this union, Sir?"

    '"They were," says the old gentleman.

    '"I'm sorry to hear it," Tom makes answer, "for it's no go, Sir."

    '"No what!" cries the old gentleman.

    '"Go, Sir," says Tom, fiercely. "I forbid the banns." And with
    these words - which are the very words he used - he sat himself
    down in a chair, and, laying his head upon the table, thought with
    a secret grief of what was to come to pass on that day two months.

    'Tom always said, gentlemen, that that waiting-maid was the
    artfullest minx he had ever seen; and he left it in writing in this
    country when he went to colonize abroad, that he was certain in his
    own mind she and the Salamander had blown up the philosopher's
    stone on purpose, and to cut him out of his property. I believe
    Tom was in the right, gentlemen; but whether or no, she comes
    forward at this point, and says, "May I speak, Sir?" and the old
    gentleman answering, "Yes, you may," she goes on to say that "the
    stars are no doubt quite right in every respect, but Tom is not the
    man." And she says, "Don't you remember, Sir, that when the clock
    struck five this afternoon, you gave Master Galileo a rap on the
    head with your telescope, and told him to get out of the way?"
    "Yes, I do," says the old gentleman. "Then," says the waiting-
    maid, "I say he's the man, and the prophecy is fulfilled." The old
    gentleman staggers at this, as if somebody had hit him a blow on
    the chest, and cries, "He! why he's a boy!" Upon that, gentlemen,
    the Salamander cries out that he'll be twenty-one next Lady-day;
    and complains that his father has always been so busy with the sun
    round which the earth revolves, that he has never taken any notice
    of the son that revolves round him; and that he hasn't had a new
    suit of clothes since he was fourteen; and that he wasn't even
    taken out of nankeen frocks and trousers till he was quite
    unpleasant in 'em; and touches on a good many more family matters
    to the same purpose. To make short of a long story, gentlemen,
    they all talk together, and cry together, and remind the old
    gentleman that as to the noble family, his own grandfather would
    have been lord mayor if he hadn't died at a dinner the year before;
    and they show him by all kinds of arguments that if the cousins are
    married, the prediction comes true every way. At last, the old
    gentleman being quite convinced, gives in; and joins their hands;
    and leaves his daughter to marry anybody she likes; and they are
    all well pleased; and the Gifted as well as any of them.

    'In the middle of this little family party, gentlemen, sits Tom all
    the while, as miserable as you like. But, when everything else is
    arranged, the old gentleman's daughter says, that their strange
    conduct was a little device of the waiting-maid's to disgust the
    lovers he had chosen for 'em, and will he forgive her? and if he
    will, perhaps he might even find her a husband - and when she says
    that, she looks uncommon hard at Tom. Then the waiting-maid says
    that, oh dear! she couldn't abear Mr. Grig should think she wanted
    him to marry her; and that she had even gone so far as to refuse
    the last lamplighter, who was now a literary character (having set
    up as a bill-sticker); and that she hoped Mr. Grig would not
    suppose she was on her last legs by any means, for the baker was
    very strong in his attentions at that moment, and as to the
    butcher, he was frantic. And I don't know how much more she might
    have said, gentlemen (for, as you know, this kind of young women
    are rare ones to talk), if the old gentleman hadn't cut in
    suddenly, and asked Tom if he'd have her, with ten pounds to
    recompense him for his loss of time and disappointment, and as a
    kind of bribe to keep the story secret.

    '"It don't much matter, Sir," says Tom, "I ain't long for this
    world. Eight weeks of marriage, especially with this young woman,
    might reconcile me to my fate. I think," he says, "I could go off
    easy after that." With which he embraces her with a very dismal
    face, and groans in a way that might move a heart of stone - even
    of philosopher's stone.

    '"Egad," says the old gentleman, "that reminds me - this bustle put
    it out of my head - there was a figure wrong. He'll live to a
    green old age - eighty-seven at least!"

    '"How much, Sir?" cries Tom.

    '"Eighty-seven!" says the old gentleman.

    'Without another word, Tom flings himself on the old gentleman's
    neck; throws up his hat; cuts a caper; defies the waiting-maid; and
    refers her to the butcher.

    '"You won't marry her!" says the old gentleman, angrily.

    '"And live after it!" says Tom. "I'd sooner marry a mermaid with a
    small-tooth comb and looking-glass."

    '"Then take the consequences," says the other.

    'With those words - I beg your kind attention here, gentlemen, for
    it's worth your notice - the old gentleman wetted the forefinger of
    his right hand in some of the liquor from the crucible that was
    spilt on the floor, and drew a small triangle on Tom's forehead.
    The room swam before his eyes, and he found himself in the watch-

    'Found himself WHERE?' cried the vice, on behalf of the company

    'In the watch-house,' said the chairman. 'It was late at night,
    and he found himself in the very watch-house from which he had been
    let out that morning.'

    'Did he go home?' asked the vice.

    'The watch-house people rather objected to that,' said the
    chairman; 'so he stopped there that night, and went before the
    magistrate in the morning. "Why, you're here again, are you?" says
    the magistrate, adding insult to injury; "we'll trouble you for
    five shillings more, if you can conveniently spare the money." Tom
    told him he had been enchanted, but it was of no use. He told the
    contractors the same, but they wouldn't believe him. It was very
    hard upon him, gentlemen, as he often said, for was it likely he'd
    go and invent such a tale? They shook their heads and told him
    he'd say anything but his prayers - as indeed he would; there's no
    doubt about that. It was the only imputation on his moral
    character that ever I heard of.'
    If you're writing a The Lamplighter essay and need some advice, post your Charles Dickens essay question on our Facebook page where fellow bookworms are always glad to help!

    Top 5 Authors

    Top 5 Books

    Book Status
    Want to read

    Are you sure you want to leave this group?