The Mysteries of London, Vol. IV — page 169: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ed rr re ee ee ta ee Ee THE MYSTERIAS OF LONDON, happy under most circumstances. But when I am akone here of an evening, and listen to the curfew-bell, J—yes, J also am seized with a cold shuddering, and my blood creeps with an ice-chill in my veins. And if I hear the strokes stop at seventy-nine, it suddenly appears to me that a shape, dim, shadowy, and wrapped in a shroud, flits past me;—and I cast my eyes around—almost dreading lest the pale and ghastly spectre of the deceased Brother should be standing behind my chair. And, when there 7s one lying dead in the Charter House, I feel afraid at night —and sleep visits not my pillow. I do not believe in ghosts—at least, Ido not believe in them when it is day-time: but in the deep, silent, and dark night,— yes, then I believe in them—and Itremble! Oh! you can form no idea of the horrors endured in this place while the curferr-bell tolls: for if it give forth a single note less than theeighty, then every one shudderingly says within himself—aye, and in the solitude of his own chamber— JVho knows but that tt may be my turn next?’ Ts it not cruel, then, to maintain that monastic custom of ringing the nightly bell,—to alarm weak and trembling old men whose intellects are attenvated by the weight of years, and whose imaginations are so susceptidle of all influences likely to engender the gloomiest forebodings: for such is the case with the great majority of the Poor Brothers of the Charter House.” The captain made a brief remark to show that he was listening with deep attention—as indeed he was; and Mr. Scales proceeded in the following manner :— “ Yes—the greater portion of the Poor Brothers are very infirm old men, who need companionship to en- liven them, and little attentions to cheer them, and indulgences to render their existence tolerable. But every morning,—summer and winter-—hot or cold— sunshine above, or snow knee-deep below,—they must all turn out at an early hour from their warm beds; and while still fasting, must repair to the chapel to attend prayers. And in the performance of this duty, which is rigidly enforced by fine, we are compeiled to wear long, dark cloaks, so that when thus mutiled up we appear to be a procession of monks, each wrapped in his cowl! Here again you may observe that there is no harm in the custom ;—but you must remember that there is a vast difference between what one does spontaneously, and what he is forced by a rigid, inex- orable discipline todo. The fact that these poor old men are thus compelled to wear the badge of monastic pauperism is the iron that enters into their souls. They have been compelled by their necessities to accept an asylum in this place—and they -feel that they are treated as paupers. Their old age, which the world without believes to be passing in a serene and tranquil happiness here, unruffled by mundane cares, is ren- dered miserable and wretched by a thousand little vexatious points of discipline which make up an dg- gregate sum of tremendous ecclesiastical oppression In the deep silence of the night—the awful silence that reiens throughout this pile——and in the solitude of his gloomy apartment,—each of those poor old crea- tures broods upon what he deems to be his wrongs ;— and you need not be surprised when I tell you that they are often driven to the very verge of despair—or to the threshold of madness! Ah! and it is not only the curfew-bell—nor the compulsory attendance at chapel—nor the long, dark cowls,—it is not all this alone,” continued the Brother, now speaking with solemn earnestness :—“ but it is that we are watched by spies—watched in ail oxr movements within or it never so lightly—in order that we may be punishea -——or perhaps expelled, to maka room for some one whom the Master or any other authority is anxious to provide for. porter is a spy upon us—all the nurses are spies upon us; and what is worse,” added Mr. Scales, now sink- ing his voice to an ominous whisper, and bending his head forward so as almost to reach the captain’s ear with his lips,—‘ and what is worse,” he repeated, bit- terly but still in that low tone,—“ we are spies upon each other!” The surgeon is a spy upon us—the Captain O’Blunderbuss started, and surveyed his new friend’ with astonishment. without the walls,—watched to be caught tripping, bo | “TI do not mean to say that I am aspy upon the rest —nor will I assert that we are all spies with regard to each other,” resumed Mr. Scales: “but this I de- clare-—that there are many inmates of the place who do enact the part of spies against their fellows. Some wish to curry favour with the Master, Arch- deacon Hale—others carry their tittle-tattle to the surgeon ;—-some gossip of their Brethren to the man- ciple, or steward—others endeavour to xsorm them- selves into the good graces of even the cook;—-and ali the nurses, with scarcely an exception, are the spies of the matron. monstrous system of supervision and espionnage in existence within these walls;—and one Brother can- not talk as a friend to another—because he is afraid that he may be all the time making revelations fo an individual who will betray him! dence in enoh other—we are all afraid of one another, There is not such a thing as a gocd-natured chat and harmless conversation in the Charter House. I tell you, sir, that there is a We have no confi- Tf you make the most common-place observation upon things the most indifferent, Brother Gray, or Brother Jones, or Brother Jenkins will shake his head Knovingly, as if he saw something covert and mysteriously significant at the bottom of the remark. But wherefore does such a state of things prevail in the Charter House, you will enquire ;—and perhaps you will observe that if the Brethren enact the part of spies upon each other, they alone are to blame for making themselves miserable. Pause, however--and reflect that it is all the fault of the authorities, Zhey encourage this contemptible tittle-tattle—they show favour to the poor silly old dotards who carry them tidings of nll the complaints, expressions of discontent, or occasional instances of convivial excess which occur on the part of the rest. These spies are favoured by the authorities: the others know it, and become spies themselves ;—and thus they all spy upon each other, even as the Jesuits doin - obedience to the rules of their Order. Oh! the mean and contemptible littleness of mind which such a state of things engenders! Jam sick—disgusted, Captain O’Blunderbuss, when I think of it.” “Be Jasus! and well you may be, my dear frind!” cried the gallant gentleman. “ But who is the gover- nor, d’ ye say ?” “ Archdeacon Hale is the Master, as he is called— Archdeacon Hale, the notorious pluralist who fattens _ upon the loaves and fishes of the Church, without evert7] : haying done a single thing to render him deserving of. such fine preferment and such large emoluments, He it is who presides over this Protestant monkery,—who enforces in the nineteenth century the grinding disci- pline of the sixteenth,—trho moves the whole machi- nery of eapionnage, and rules us as a mitred abbot was wont to sway his Romish brotherhood. Tf a gentleman, reduced by adversity, onea enters these econmlelooolks (SO)