In Which Mr Headstone Goes To the Theatre

Gaining the street Mr Headstone lost no time in hailing a cabriolet and pressing Messrs Pyke and Pluck into its interior. The pedagogue settled himself beside them and gave the driver instructions to take them to the Strand, silently congratulating himself all the while on the adroit stratagem he had employed in preventing his visitors from entering his rooms and discovering his recently acquired riches. He was confident that the distractions of the theatre would engage the two gentlemen's attentions - which he knew to be of a most impermanent nature - and that the additional application of spirits would succeed in befuddling what little wits they possessed.

The playbill outside the Adelphi Theatre announced in very large letters that the entertainment to be performed upon the boards was 'Positively the last appearance of Mr Vincent Crummles of Provincial Celebrity!!', and that - in addition to this legendary thespian - there would also be appearances by Miss Ninetta Crummles (otherwise known as the Infant Phenomenon), the African Swallower, Mr Snittle Timberry, and Henrietta Petowker. The reader will no doubt have already anticipated the interest engendered by such a concentration of theatrical genius on a single stage, and - like the audience who sat waiting for the rise of the curtain - will be in a fervour of excitement to behold the spectacle - an emotion which must be kept in check until our next communication.

In Which Mr Headstone Is Guilty Of A Breach Of Etiquette

On gaining the attic floor where Mr Headstone's rooms were situated, Messrs Pyke and Pluck were disappointed to find their ingress prevented by the not uncommon occurrence of the door being closed against them. Having been assured by a short woman in yellow curl papers whom they had encountered on the upper landing that the pedagogue was at home, these two gentlemen were astounded at this breach of etiquette. For whilst a man might reasonably be allowed to close his door when he was abroad, it was a matter of delicacy and honour to leave it ajar whenever he sojourned within as both a sign of welcome and a mark of respect to any friend or acquaintance who might grant him the honour of a visit. Undeterred, and schooled in the polite ways of society, Messrs Pyke and Pluck rapped on the panels with the tops of their canes and accompanied this percussive performance with a harmonious chant of Mr Headstone's name, which they inserted quite ingeniously into the words of a song then popular in inns and taverns.

The commotion without was soon matched by a cacophony from within. The noise was that of a quantity of ironmongery being rattled and jostled together as might be occasioned by the endeavours of a desperate individual attempting to stow a number of lock boxes in a cupboard of dimensions inadequate to the purpose - or, at least, that is what it sounded like to Mr Pyke, who had put his ear to the door, and what it looked like to Mr Pluck, who had put his eye to the keyhole. After an interval the door was opened and Mr Headstone,smelling faintly of oysters and holding a stuffed owl under his arm, presented himself to his guests, and, apologising for the appearance of confusion and neglect that marked the interior of his apartments, suggested at once that they repair to the theatre for an evening's entertainment.

On The Vagaries Of Chance

At the very same moment that Mr Headstone - for want of a set of keys - was taking a poker to the lock boxes, two gentlemen of his (and the reader's) acquaintance were ascending the stairs to his rooms in the hope of finding the pedagogue 'at home'. Messrs Pyke and Pluck had spent the afternoon at the race-course at Hampton, and, having indulged themselves in sherry cobblers and glasses of champagne at a young lord's expense, had repaired to the rouge-et-noir table where they had lost a great deal of that same lord's ready cash. This service they had performed through an ineffable system of alternating their stakes between the red and the black in direct opposition to the outcome of every roll of the ball, and had done it with a perseverance that would have amazed even Monsieurs de Fermat and Pascal, two French gentleman who had once - like Messrs Pyke and Pluck - shared an interest in games of chance. When there were no more sovereigns to wager, and all the crowns had been raked across the baize by the officer presiding over the entertainment, and the last cigars had been smoked, Messrs Pyke and Pluck took their leave of the young lord - who, by this time, was asleep under a table - and returned to town. Having worked up an appetite by their labours, these two worthy gentlemen were in need of refreshment, and, as it was their custom always to dine at other men's tables rather than their own, they made a resolution to renew their acquaintance with Mr Headstone, and determined to do it at once, it being close to the hour at which the pedagogue was wont to dine.

In Which Mr Headstone Wrestles With His Conscience

Having gained the safety of his rooms, Mr Headstone was most anxious to preclude any unwanted interruptions from Mrs Raddle whilst he examined the collection of lock boxes that he had carried all the way from Threadneedle Street; and with this purpose in mind he piled against the door an elbow chair, an old mattress, a coal scuttle, a stuffed owl, a fire dog, and a quantity of oyster shells wrapped up in newspaper. Satisfied that this redoubt was proof against any intrusion from the enemy, the pedagogue turned his attention to the contents of the sack, and laid out on the table five rusty boxes. He took up each one in turn and - like a midwife reviving a somnolent infant - gave it a sustained and vigorous shake so that - like an agitated infant - it made a noise. The sounds (the chink of coin, the rustle of paper, the clatter of precious stones) were enough to excite the pedagogue's curiosity to such a pitch that he had to restrain himself from immediately taking up the poker and smashing the padlocks. What stayed his hand was the legend engraved on a small brass plate on the lid of each box - Property of Arthur Gride Esq - and beneath it an address in Golden Square.

Before his very eyes, Mr Headstone had the means of returning the lock boxes and their precious contents to their rightful owner. For all right thinking men there could be only one course of action, and yet the pedagogue hesitated. Whenever a man is called upon to wrestle with his conscience, he would do well to remember the accepted rules of combat in that noble and ancient sport; for conscience, possessing a delicate constitution, will never resort to kicking or gouging. Mr Headstone knew the stratagems well and, being of a more robust nature, was not averse to using them; and so it was not long before he had pinned his adversary to the ground, and was reaching out for the fire iron.

In Which Mr Headstone Arouses His Landlady's Suspicions

Anxious to learn of the contents of the old gentleman's sack, which had come into his possession by pure chance, Mr Headstone hurried back to his lodgings as fast as the weight of his new burden would allow him. Climbing to his rooms, the pedagogue encountered his landlady Mrs Raddle, who was carrying a saucer of milk and bending over obscure corners of the stairway whilst making a soft clucking sound with her tongue. She paused in this singular performance to allow her tenant to pass by, and eyed him rather narrowly as he endeavoured to keep the sack from her inquisitor's gaze by holding it behind his back and shuffling across the landing in the manner of a crab. Whenever a man imitates the motions of a beast, his actions are sure to come under suspicion, and before the pedagogue could gain the next flight of stairs, his landlady had interposed herself between him and the first step. The saucer of milk prevented her from assuming her customary stance of defiance with arms akimbo, but, as a token to the act, she placed one hand on her hip. Feeling that this posture was something of a half measure, she jutted out her chin by way of compensation, and enquired what the pedagogue had in his sack.

Mr Headstone momentarily considered the possibility of denying the existence of the article in question, but, even as he tried to conceal it behind his back, the sound of the contents rearranging themselves in a cacophonous and most inharmonious manner gave an immediate lie to the endeavour. He drew the sack out from under his coat tails and, loosening the cord from around its neck, emptied a number of rusty strong boxes at his landlady's feet. Mrs Raddle gave this collection of ancient ironmongery a look of disdain and, with a toss of her head, marched down the stairs, muttering that she thought she had caught the pedagogue in the act of abducting her beloved tom with the purpose of selling him for cat meat - to which suspicion Mr Headstone laughed most heartily as he gathered up the strong boxes and stuffed them back into the sack.

In Which Mr Headstone Makes An Unexpected Trade

Being in need of money and having none of that particular commodity of his own, Mr Headstone resolved to pay a visit to the Old Lady of Threadneedle Street on the expectation that she might introduce him to company who would be willing to relieve him of his pecuniary difficulties. There are men whose whole scope of ideas is limited to Lloyd's, the Exchange, the India House, and the Bank; men who devote their entire lives to the accumulation and veneration of wealth, which devotion finally bestows upon them the largest and the noblest of tombs; men who scorn acts of charity that give no return on investment as instances of bad business; men who remember and record every transaction - no matter how slight - and would sooner cut off a limb than lose a farthing; men - in short - who believe in only two forms of interest - their own, and the compound variety.

Surely amongst these men Mr Headstone would find at least one gentleman who, in the twilight of his years, had become cognisant of the fact that treasures stored up on earth are subject to the attentions of moths and thieves, and that acts of kindness bring far greater rewards. Indeed, on arriving in the City and taking up a position of advantage directly opposite the bank, the pedagogue soon spied such a one. The person in question was a little old man, of about seventy or seventy-five years of age, of a very lean figure, much bent, and slightly twisted. His nose and chin were sharp and prominent, his jaws had fallen inwards from loss of teeth, his face was shrivelled and yellow, save where the cheeks were streaked with the colour of a dry winter apple, and concentrated in a wrinkled leer. This striking septuagenarian was coming down the steps of the bank, carrying a sack, and, judging by the manner in which his accoutrement impeded his progress, it must have been a particularly heavy one.

Observing the gentleman's difficulties, Mr Headstone rushed forward to offer assistance, but, as the eagerness of his desire was expressed in an outward show of precipitousness, he succeeded only in knocking the old man to the ground. An exchange of sharp oaths and profuse apologies were proffered by both parties according to their due, and, before the pedagogue was given the opportunity to state his case, the crooked old gentleman had picked up his sack and hobbled away. Like a thirsty man who has a cup of water pressed to his lips only to have it dashed away in the same instant, Mr Headstone felt the loss of relief more keenly than he would have done had it never presented itself. With a heavy heart he bent down to retrieve his own burden, which he had dropped in the excitement of the moment, and as he felt its weight he realised that in the confusion the old gentleman had mistaken the pedagogue's sack for his own, and had made off with his tom cat. Whether this accidental exchange would prove to be in Mr Headstone's favour is a point that will be addressed in our next communication.

In Which Mr Headstone Enquires Within

After pausing irresolutely several times before the door of the General Agency Office, Mr Headstone made up his mind to step in, and, upon the actualisation of his resolution, found himself in a little floor-clothed room, with a high desk railed off in one corner, behind which sat a lean youth with cunning eyes and a protruding chin. This perceptive gentleman had a thick ledger lying open before him wherein he was busy inscribing in capital text the latest catalogue of vacant situations, pausing from time to time in his labours only to insert the end of his pen into his mouth as if to ascertain the esculent qualities of said instrument.

Mr Headstone approached the desk and enquired if there were any situation that would suit an educated gentleman temporarily in need of some light employment. The clerk turned to the letter E in his ledger, but found nothing there except an advertisement for an ecclesiastical position in a distant cathedral town; whilst under the letter G there was a position for a gravedigger (with no previous experience required and tools provided) at the Drury Lane Burial Grounds. Being averse to outward expressions of piety and hard labour, Mr Headstone was obliged to decline both offers, and, rejecting the third proposition of an opening at Warren's Blacking Factory as an example of the clerk's ready wit, the pedagogue left the office in as much the same spirit of disappointment as he had entered it.

In Which Mr Headstone Looks For A Situation

As he was making his way along one of the great public thoroughfares of London and reflecting on his lot, Mr Headstone chanced to raise his eyes to a blue board, whereon was inscribed in characters of gold, 'General Agency Office; for situations of all kinds inquire within.' The sign was placed above a shop-front, and in the window hung a long array of written placards, announcing vacant places of every grade, from a lord's factotum to a footboy. Running his eyes over the terms displayed, the pedagogue could find no description that answered to his own particular notion of what constituted an acceptable situation, and indeed it would have been a matter of astonishment if he had. Mr Headstone's opinion was that the quantity of remuneration received should always be greater than the quantity of labour provided, but, as this was not a view generally subscribed to by social philosophers, it had not been adopted as common practice.

On The Nature Of Reputation

Of all the stains in the world - wine-stains, fruit-stains, beer-stains, water-stains, paint-stains, pitch-stains, and even blood-stains - none are more difficult to eradicate than the stains of a soiled reputation, and there is no infallible compound that can make good a man's name once it has been dragged through the mud. The story of Mr Headstone's misadventure in Pentonville and his subsequent incarceration had been widely reported in the newspapers, and in such lurid terms that any reader not wholly acquainted with the pedagogue would have believed his character to be of a most reprobate nature. A cut-throat, a highwayman, a cracksman or a magsman might profit from such a badge of infamy, but, as a practitioner of pedagogy, Mr Headstone soon discovered the rumours of his villainy were not entirely conducive to his continued success as a private tutor to the young children of the mercantile class.

Walking through the noisy, bustling streets of London, Mr Headstone noticed that, as he passed amongst the jostling crowds, fingers pointed at him and marked his progress. Heads turned to watch him go by, and bowed together in whispered remarks. Was it the mark of Cain impressed upon the pedagogue's frowning brow that attracted the attention of the populace? Was there some dark aura of guilt that drew the eyes of the curious upon him? Or were they simply alarmed by the commotion of an enraged tom cat struggling to escape from the hessian sack thrown over his shoulder?

In Which Mr Headstone Acquires A New Companion

It is an unfortunate and iniquitous fact of life that it is easier for a gentleman to divest himself of a fortune than acquire one, and the universal operation of this principle is inclined to make pockets lighter rather than heavier. Having rashly invested his modest wealth in the United Metropolitan Improved Hot Muffin and Crumpet Baking and Punctual Delivery Company and lost it all on the inauguration of the same, Mr Headstone found that the receptacles of his trousers  - conveniently provided by his tailor for the stowage of ready cash - were relieved of carrying any burden greater than a small quantity of lint.

Looking around for some means of placing himself at a pecuniary advantage to society in general without the necessity of exerting himself to any great degree, Mr Headstone determined to remain at his lodgings for several days in the expectation that a letter might arrive at any moment from the country with news of an inheritance. Had the pedagogue been tied by blood to any personages of wealth, who were either in their dotage or of a frail disposition, this strategem would have been applauded as an eminently sensible one. However, as no letters were delivered (with the exception of a few outstanding bills, which went into the fire), the pedgogue was at last obliged to go abroad, and - like Dick Whittington - seek his fortune in the streets of London. Recalling the story of that famous gentleman, the pedagogue was reminded of the fact that his rise to great office and wealth had been materially assisted by a cat. Reasoning that a feline companion might be an advantage in acquiring a situation, Mr Headstone took hold of a very fat and very heavy tom that he encountered on the stairs, stuffed it into a hessian sack, and betook himself to the streets, and mingled with the crowd which thronged them.

In Which Mr Headstone Makes An Investment

Having come into possession of a quantity of ready money courtesy of a charitable contribution from an elderly benefactor, Mr Headstone naturally enough began to look around for opportunities to improve upon his capital by investing it in a venture. In this he was most readily assisted by Mr Bonney, a pale gentleman, who, with his hair standing up in great disorder all over his head, and a very narrow white cravat tied loosely around his throat, looked as if he had been knocked up in the night and had not dressed himself since. Mr Bonney was a speculator and had an eye for business. Were ocular proficiency not sufficient to secure his most deserving reputation, Mr Bonney could also claim that he had a nose for business. In addition to any olfactory prowess he was wont to demonstrate in monetary matters, the gentleman also had an ear for business; and, indeed, depending as he did so very much upon gossip and rumour, he was perhaps most indebted to this particular sense in providing his clients with sound financial advice.

Sniffing out the scent of fresh twenty pound notes with his finely tuned proboscis, Mr Bonney called upon the pedagogue at breakfast time and urged that gentleman to dress himself without any delay. A cab was waiting at the door ready to carry them to Bishopgate Street Within, where a public meeting was to take place for the petitioning to parliament in favour of the United Metropolitan Improved Hot Muffin and Crumpet Baking and Punctual Delivery Company, capital five millions, in five hundred thousand shares of ten pounds each. Why the very name alone - which Mr Bonney delivered all together as if he were squeezing a concertina - was enough to guarantee that the shares would reach a premium within a week.

Mr Headstone, never having done business with the gentleman before, had no good reason to doubt this prediction, and Mr Bonney pressed home his point as he always did by employing a great many number of fiscal and business-like phrases, which left his client in such a confusion that he had no recourse but to surrender his entire capital into the speculator's grasping hands. Mr Bonney promised Mr Headstone such a return on his investment that the latter gentleman could hardly believe it; which, indeed, he was right to do, for the United Metropolitan Improved Hot Muffin and Crumpet Baking and Punctual Delivery Company (capital five millions, in five hundred thousand shares of ten pounds each) collapsed within a week, making many men the poorer, and only a few the richer.

In Which Mr Headstone Surprises His Landlady

Of Mr Headstone's many acquaintances, none was more gratified by his return to society than his landlady, who was most prompt in her attendance on that gentleman in order to express her satisfaction at his release from Newgate prison and to remind him of his financial obligations with regard to the settlement of a little bill pertaining to his rent. Mrs Raddle, having announced herself in her customary fashion by throwing open the door of the pedagogue's rooms and standing on the threshold with her arms akimbo, showed no signs of relinquishing her position, and by the crossing of her arms and the inclination of her head gave notice that she was not to be dislodged from the spot until the transference of the aforementioned funds had been affected.

It was unfortunate that at the very moment of his landlady's appearance, Mr Headstone had been counting out the twenty pound notes he had received from Mr Brownlow (won fair and square during a number of drinking games at The Saracen's Head), and so he was unable to resort to his frequent plea of financial embarrassment. The lady took what was her due and departed, leaving the gentleman a little sadder, and perhaps a little wiser.