Barrie, J M - When A Man's Single

by When A Man's Single

  " Did you ever discover who he was?"

  " I did. He lives at 42 Lavender Crescent, Shep- herd's Bush, and his name is Henry Gilding."

  MR. NOBLE SIMMS. 157

  "Well?" said Rob, seeing Simms pause, as if this was all.

  " I am afraid, Mr. Angus," the author murmured in reply, " that you did not read the powerful and harrowing tale very carefully, or you would remem- ber that my hero's name was also Henry Gilding."

  " Well, but what of that?"

  "There is everything in that. It is what made the Shepherd's Bush gentleman my admirer for life. He considers it the strangest and most diverting thing in his experience, and every night, I believe, after dinner, his eldest daughter has to read out to him the passages in which the Henry Gildings are thickest. He chuckles over the extraordinary coin- cidence still. He could take that joke with him to the seaside for a month, and it would keep him in humor all the time."

  "Have done, Simms, have done," said Rorrison; " Angus is one of us, or wants to be, at all events. The Minotaur is printing one of his things, and I have been giving him some sage advice."

  "Any man," said Simms, "will do well on the Press if he is stupid enough ; even Rorrison has done well."

  "I have just been telling him," responded Rorri- son, "that the stupid men fail."

  "I don't consider you a failure, Rorrison," said Simms in mild surprise. " What stock in trade a literary hand requires, Mr. Angus, is a fire to dry his

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  writing at, jam or honey with which to gum old stamps on to envelopes, and an antimacassar."

  " An antimacassar?" Rob repeated.

  "Yes; you pluck the thread with which to sew your copy together out of the antimacassar. When my antimacassars are at the wash I have to have a holiday."

  "Well, well, Simms," said Rorrison, "I like you best when you are taciturn."

  "So do I," said Simms.

  "You might give Angus some advice about the likeliest paper for which to write. Loudon is new to him."

  "The fact is, Mr. Angus," said Simms, more se- riously, " that advice in such a matter is merely talk thrown away. If you have the journalistic instinct, which includes a determination not to be beaten as well as an aptitude for selecting the proper subjects, you will by-and-bye find an editor who believes in you. Many men of genuine literary ability have failed on the Press because they did not have that instinct, and they have attacked journalism in their books in consequence."

  " I am not sure that I know what the journalis- tic instinct precisely is," Rob said, "and still less whether I possess it."

  "Ah, just let me put you through your paces," replied Simms. " Suppose yourself up for an exam, in journalism, and that I am your examiner. Ques-

  MR. NOBLE SIMMS. 159

  tionOne: 'The house was soon on fire; much sym- pathy is expressed with the sufferers,' Can you translate that in to newspaper English?"

  "Let me see," answered Rob, entering into the spirit of the examination. "How would this do: 'In a moment the edifice was enveloped in shooting tongues of flame ; the appalling catastrophe has plunged the whole street into the gloom of night'?"

  "Good. Question Two: A man hangs himself; what is the technical heading for this?"

  "Either 'Shocking Occurrence' or 'Rash Act.'"

  " Question Three : l Pabulum, ' ' Cela va sans dire, ' 'Par excellence,' 'Neplus ultra.' What are these? Are there any more of them?"

  "They are scholarship," replied Rob, "and there are two more, namely, 'tour de force' and 'terra finna.' ''

  " Question Four : A. (a soldier) dies at 6 P. M. with his back to the foe. B. (a philanthropist) dies at 1 A. M. : which of these, speaking technically, would you call a creditable death?"

  " The soldier's, because time was given to set it."

  " Quite right. Question Five : Have you ever known a newspaper which did not have the largest circulation in its district, and was not the most in- fluential advertising medium?"

  "Never."

  " Question Six : Mr. Gladstone rises to speak in the House of Commons at 2 A. M. What would be the

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  sub-editor's probable remark on receiving the open- ing words of the speech, and how would he break the news to the editor? How would the editor be likely to take it?"

  "I prefer," said Rob, "not to answer that ques- tion."

  "Well, Mr. Angus," said Simms, tiring of the examination, "you have passed with honors."

  The conversation turned to Rorrison's coming work in Egypt, and by-and-bye Simms rose to go.

  "Your stick, I suppose, Mr. Angus?" he said, tak- ing Rob's thick staff from a corner.

  "Yes," answered Rob, " it has only a heavy knob, you see, for a handle, and a doctor once told me that if I continued to press so heavily on it I might suffer from some disease in the palm of the hand."

  "I never heard of that," said Simms, looking up for the first time since he entered the room. Then he added, " You should get a stick like Rorrison's, It has a screw-handle which he keeps loose, so that the slightest touch knocks it off. It is called the compliment-stick, because if Rorrison is in the com- pany of ladies he contrives to get them to hold it. This is in the hope that they will knock the handle off, when Rorrison bows and remarks exultingly that the stick is like its owner when it came near them it lost its head. He has said that to fifteen ladies now, and has a great reputation for gallantry in con- sequence. Good-night."

  MR. NOBLE SIMMS. 161

  "Well, he did not get any copy out of me," said Rob.

  " Simms is a curious fellow," Rorrison answered. " Though you might not expect it, he has written some of the most pathetic things I ever read, but he wears his heart out of sight. Despite what he says, too, he is very jealous for the Press' good name. He seemed to take to you, so I should not wonder though he were to look you up here some night."

  " Here? How do you mean?"

  " Why, this. I shall probably be away from Lon- don for some months, and as I must keep on my rooms, I don't see why you should not occupy them. The furniture is mine, and you would be rent free, except that the housekeeper expects a few shillings a week for looking after things. What do you think?"

  Rob could have only one thought as he compared these comfortable chambers to his own bare room, and as Rorrison, who seemed to have taken a warm liking to him, pressed the point, arguing that as the rent must be paid at any rate the chambers were bet- ter occupied, he at last consented on the understand- ing that they could come to some arrangement on Rorrison's return.

  "It will please my father, too," Rorrison added, "to know that you are here. I always remember that had it not been for him you might never have gone on to the Press."

  They sat so late talking this matter over that

  162 WHEN A MAN'S SINGLE.

  Rob eventually stayed all night, Rorrison having in his bedroom a couch which many journalists had slept on.

  Next morning the paper whose nickname is the Scalping Knife was served up with breakfast, and the first thing Rob saw in it was a leaderette about a disease generated in the palm of the hand by walk- ing-sticks with heavy knobs for handles.

  "I told you," said Rorrison, "that Simms would make his half -guinea out of you."

  When Rorrison went down to Simms' chambers later in the day, however, to say that he was leaving Rob tenant of his rooms, he was laughing at some- thing else.

  "All during breakfast," he said to Simms, "I no- ticed that Angus was preoccupied, and anxious to say something that he did not like to say. At last he blurted it out, with a white face, and what do you think it was?"

  Simms shook his head.

  " Well," said Rorrison, " it was this. He has been accustomed to go down on his knees every night to say his prayers, as we used to do at school, but when he saw that I did not do it he did not like to do it either. I believe it troubled him all night, for he looked haggard when he rose. "

  " He told you this?"

  "
Yes; he said he felt ashamed of himself," said

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  Rorrison, smiling. "You must remember he is country-bred. "

  "You are a good fellow, Rorrison," said Simms gravely, "to put him into your rooms, but I don't see what you are laughing at."

  "Why," said Rorrison, taken aback, "I thought you would see it in the same light."

  "Not I," said Simms; "but let me tell you this, I shall do what I can for him. I like your Angus."

  CHAPTER X.

  THE WIGWAM.

  ROB had a tussle for it, but he managed to live down his first winter in London, and May-day saw him sufficiently prosperous and brazen to be able to go into restaurants and shout out "Waiter." After that nothing frightened him but barmaids.

  For a time his chief struggle had been with his appetite, which tortured him when he went out in the afternoons. He wanted to dine out of a paper bag, but his legs were reluctant to carry him past a grill-room. At last a compromise was agreed upon. If he got a proof over-night, he dined in state next day ; if it was only his manuscript that was returned to him, he thought of dining later in the week. For a long time his appetite had the worst of it. It was then that he became so great an authority on penny buns. His striking appearance always brought the saleswomen to him promptly, and sometimes he blushed, and often he glared, as he gave his order. When they smiled he changed his shop.

  There was one terrible month when he wrote from

  morning to night and did not make sixpence. He 164

  THE WIGWAM. 165

  lived by selling his books, half a dozen at a time. Even on the last day of that black month he did not despair. When he wound up his watch at night before going hungry to bed, he never remembered that it could be pawned. The very idea of entering a pawnshop never struck him. Many a time when his rejected articles came back he shook his fist in imagination at all the editors in London, and saw himself twisting their necks one by one. To think of a different death for each of them exercised his imagination and calmed his passion, and he won- dered whether the murder of an editor was an indict- able offence. When he did not have ten shillings, " I will get on," cried Rob to himself. " I'm not go- ing to be starved out of a big town like this. I'll make my mark yet. Yes," he roared, while the housekeeper, at the other side of the door, quaked to hear him, " I will get on ; I'm not going to be beaten. " He was waving his arms fiercely when the housekeeper knocked. "Come in," said Rob, sub- siding meekly into his chair. Before company he seemed to be without passion, but they should have seen him when he was alone. One night he dreamed that he saw all the editors in London being conveyed (in a row) to the hospital on stretchers. A gratified smile lit up his face as he slept, and his arm, going out suddenly to tip one of the stretchers over, hit against a chair. Rob jumped out of bed and kicked the chair round the room. By-and-bye, when his

  166 WHEN A MAN'S SINGLE.

  articles were occasionally used, he told his proofs that the editors were capital fellows.

  The only acquaintances he made were with jour- nalists who came to his chambers to see Rorrison, who was now in India. They seemed just as pleased to see Rob, and a few of them, who spoke largely of their connection with literature, borrowed five shillings from him. To his disappointment Noble Simms did not call, though he sometimes sent up notes to Rob suggesting likely articles, and the proper papers to which to send them. "I would gladly say 'Use my name,'" Simms wrote, "but it is the glory of anonymous journalism that names are nothing and good stuff everything. I assure you that on the Press it is the men who have it in them that succeed, and the best of them become the edi- tors." He advised Rob to go to the annual supper given by a philanthropic body to discharged crimi- nals, and write an account of the proceedings ; and told him that when anything remarkable happened in London he should at once do an article (in the British Museum) on the times the same thing had happened before. "Don't neglect eclipses," he said, " nor heavy scoring at cricket matches any more than what look like signs of the times, and always try to be first in the field." He recommended Rob to gather statistics of all kinds, from the number of grandchildren the crowned heads of Europe had to the jockeys who had ridden the D erby winner more

  THE WIGWAM. 167

  than once, and suggested the collecting of anecdotes about celebrities, which everybody would want to read if his celebrities chanced to die, as they must do some day ; and he assured him that there was a public who liked to be told every year what the poets had said about May. Rob was advised never to let a historic house disappear from London without compiling an article about its associations, and to be ready to run after the fire brigade. He was told that an article on flagstone artists could be made interest- ing. " But always be sure of your facts," Simms said. " Write your articles over again and again, avoid fine writing as much as dishonest writing, and never spoil a leaderette by drawing it out into a leader. By-and-bye you may be able to choose the kind of subject that interests yourself, but at present put your best work into what experienced editors be- lieve interests the general public."

  Rob found these suggestions valuable, and often thought, as he passed Simms' door, of going in to thank him, but he had an uncomfortable feeling that Simms did not want him. Of course Rob was wrong. Simms had feared at first to saddle himself with a man who might prove incapable, and, besides, he generally liked those persons best whom he saw least frequently.

  For the great part of the spring Simms was out of town ; but one day after his return he met Rob on the stair, and took him into his chambers. The sitting-

  168 WHEN A MAN'S SINGLE.

  room had been originally furnished with newspaper articles ; Simms, in his younger days, when he wanted a new chair or an etching having written an article to pay for it, and then pasted the article on the back. He had paid a series on wild birds for his piano, and at one time leaderettes had even been found in the inside of his hats. Odd books and mag- azines lay about his table, but they would not in all have filled a library shelf ; and there were no news- papers visible. The blank wall opposite the fireplace showed in dust that a large picture had recently hung there. It was an oil-painting which a month earlier had given way in the cord and fallen behind the piano, where Simms was letting it lie.

  "I wonder," said Rob, who had heard from many quarters of Simms' reputation, "that you are con- tent to put your best work into newspapers."

  "Ah," answered Simms, "I was ambitious once, but, as I told you, the grand book was a failure. Nowadays I gratify myself with the reflection that I am not stupid enough ever to be a gceat man."

  " I wish you would begin something really big," said Rob earnestly.

  "I feel safer," replied Simms, "finishing some- thing really little."

  He turned the talk to Rob's affairs, as if his own wearied him, and, after hesitating, offered to " place " a political article by Rob with the editor of the Morning Wire.

  THE WIGWAM. 169

  " I don't say he'll use it, though," he added.

  This was so much the work Rob hungered for that he could have run upstairs and begun it at once.

  " Why, you surely don't work on Saturday nights?" said his host, who was putting on an overcoat.

  "Yes," said Rob, "there is nothing else to do. I know no one well enough to go to him. Of course I do nothing on the Sab I mean on Sundays."

  " No?" Then how do you pass your Sundays?

  " I go to church, and take a long walk, or read."

  " And you never break this principle when a cap- ital idea for an article strikes you on Sunday even- ing, for instance?"

  "Well," said Rob, "when that happens I wait un- til twelve o'clock strikes, and then begin."

  Perceiving nothing curious in this, Bob did not look up to see Simms' mouth twitching.

  "On those occasions," asked Simms, "when you are waiting for twelve o'clock, does the evening not seem to pass very slowly?"

  Then Rob blushed.

  "At all events, come with me to-night," said
Simms, " to my club. I am going now to the Wigwam, and we may meet men there worth your knowing."

  The Wigwam is one of the best-known literary clubs in London, and as they rattled to it in a han- som, the driver of which was the broken son of a peer, Rob remarked that its fame had even travelled to his saw-mill,

  170 WHEN A MAN'S SINGLE.

  "It has such a name," said Simms in reply, "that I feel sorry for any one who is taken for the first time. The best way to admire the Wigwam is not to go to it."

  " I always thought it was considered the pleasant- est club in London," Rob said.

  " So it is," said Simms, who was a member of half a dozen ; " most of the others are only meant for sit- ting in on padded chairs and calling out 'sh-sh' when any other body speaks."

  At the Wigwam there is a special dinner every Saturday evening, but it was over before Simms and Rob arrived, and the members were crowding into the room where great poets have sat beating time with churchwardens, while great artists or coming Cab- inet ministers sang songs that were not of the draw- ing-room. A popular novelist, on whom Rob gazed with a veneration that did not spread to his compan- ion's face, was in the chair when they entered, and the room was full of literary men, actors, and artists, of whom, though many were noted, many were also needy. Here was an actor who had separated from his wife because her notices were better than his; and another gentleman of the same profession took Rob aside to say that he was the greatest tragedian on earth if he could only get a chance. Rob did not know what to reply when the eminent cartoonist sit- ting next him, whom he had looked up to for half a dozen years, told him, by way of opening a conver-

  THE WIGWAM. 171

  sation, that he had just pawned his watch. They seemed so pleased with poverty that they made as much of a little of it as they could, and the wisest conclusion Rob came to that night was not to take them too seriously. It was, however, a novel world, to find one's self in all of a sudden, one in which every body was a wit at his own expense. Even Simms, who always upheld the Press when any outsider ran it down, sang with applause some verses whose point lay in their being directed against himself. They began: