Part 20 (1/2)
She was deaf as any tradesman's dummy, Or as Pharaoh's mother's mother's mummy; Whose organs, for fear of modern sceptics, Were plugged with gums and antiseptics.
She was deaf as a nail--that you cannot hammer A meaning into for all your clamour - There never WAS such a deaf old Gammer!
So formed to worry Both Lindley and Murray, By having no ear for Music or Grammar!
Deaf to sounds, as a s.h.i.+p out of soundings, Deaf to verbs, and all their compoundings, Adjective, noun, and adverb, and particle, Deaf to even the definite article - No verbal message was worth a pin, Though you hired an earwig to carry it in!
In short, she was twice as deaf as Deaf Burke, Or all the Deafness in Yearsley's work, Who in spite of his skill in hardness of hearing, Boring, blasting, and pioneering, To give the dunny organ a clearing, Could never have cured Dame Eleanor Spearing.
Of course the loss was a great privation, For one of her s.e.x--whatever her station - And none the less that the dame had a turn For making all families one concern, And learning whatever there was to learn In the prattling, tattling village of Tringham - As, who wore silk? and who wore gingham?
And what the Atkins's shop might bring 'em?
How the Smiths contrived to live? and whether The fourteen Murphys all pigged together?
The wages per week of the Weavers and Skinners, And what they boiled for their Sunday dinners?
What plates the Bugsbys had on the shelf, Crockery, china, wooden, or delf?
And if the parlour of Mrs. O'Grady Had a wicked French print, or Death and the Lady?
Did Snip and his wife continue to jangle?
Had Mrs. Wilkinson sold her mangle?
What liquor was drunk by Jones and Brown?
And the weekly score they ran up at the Crown?
If the cobbler could read, and believed in the Pope?
And how the Grubbs were off for soap?
If the Sn.o.bbs had furnished their room upstairs, And how they managed for tables and chairs, Beds, and other household affairs, Iron, wooden, and Staffords.h.i.+re wares?
And if they could muster a whole pair of bellows?
In fact she had much of the spirit that lies Perdu in a notable set of Paul Prys, By courtesy called Statistical Fellows - A prying, spying, inquisitive clan, Who have gone upon much of the self-same plan, Jotting the labouring cla.s.s's riches; And after poking in pot and pan, And routing garments in want of st.i.tches, Have ascertained that a working man Wears a pair and a quarter of average breeches!
But this, alas! from her loss of hearing, Was all a sealed book to Dame Eleanor Spearing; And often her tears would rise to their founts - Supposing a little scandal at play 'Twixt Mrs. O'Fie and Mrs. Au Fait - That she couldn't audit the gossips' accounts.
'Tis true, to her cottage still they came, And ate her m.u.f.fins just the same, And drank the tea of the widowed dame, And never swallowed a thimble the less Of something the reader is left to guess, For all the deafness of Mrs. S.
Who SAW them talk, and chuckle, and cough, But to SEE and not share in the social flow, She might as well have lived, you know, In one of the houses in Owen's Row, Near the New River Head, with its water cut off!
And yet the almond oil she had tried, And fifty infallible things beside, Hot, and cold, and thick, and thin, Dabbed, and dribbled, and squirted in: But all remedies failed; and though some it was clear, Like the brandy and salt We now exalt, Had made a noise in the public ear, She was just as deaf as ever, poor dear!
At last--one very fine day in June - Suppose her sitting, Busily knitting, And humming she didn't quite know what tune; For nothing she heard but a sort of whizz, Which, unless the sound of circulation, Or of thoughts in the process of fabrication, By a spinning-jennyish operation, It's hard to say what buzzing it is.
However, except that ghost of a sound, She sat in a silence most profound - The cat was purring about the mat, But her mistress heard no more of that Than if it had been a boatswain's cat; And as for the clock the moments nicking, The dame only gave it credit for ticking.
The bark of her dog she did not catch; Nor yet the click of the lifted latch; Nor yet the creak of the opening door; Nor yet the fall of a foot on the floor - But she saw the shadow that crept on her gown And turned its skirt of a darker brown.
And lo! a man! a Pedlar! ay, marry, With the little back-shop that such tradesmen carry, Stocked with brooches, ribbons, and rings, Spectacles, razors, and other odd things For lad and la.s.s, as Autolycus sings; A chapman for goodness and cheapness of ware, Held a fair dealer enough at a fair, But deemed a piratical sort of invader By him we dub the ”regular trader,”
Who--luring the pa.s.sengers in as they pa.s.s By lamps, gay panels, and mouldings of bra.s.s, And windows with only one huge pane of gla.s.s, And his name in gilt characters, German or Roman - If he isn't a Pedlar, at least he's a Showman!
However, in the stranger came, And, the moment he met the eyes of the Dame, Threw her as knowing a nod as though He had known her fifty long years ago: And presto! before she could utter ”Jack” - Much less ”Robinson”--opened his pack - And then from amongst his portable gear, With even more than a Pedlar's tact, - (Slick himself might have envied the act) - Before she had time to be deaf, in fact - Popped a Trumpet into her ear.
”There, Ma'am! try it!
You needn't buy it - The last New Patent, and nothing comes nigh it For affording the deaf, at a little expense, The sense of hearing, and hearing of sense!
A Real Blessing--and no mistake, Invented for poor Humanity's sake: For what can be a greater privation Than playing Dumby to all creation, And only looking at conversation - Great philosophers talking like Platos, And Members of Parliament moral as Catos, And your ears as dull as waxy potatoes!
Not to name the mischievous quizzers, Sharp as knives, but double as scissors, Who get you to answer quite by guess Yes for No, and No for Yes.”
(”That's very true,” says Dame Eleanor S.)
”Try it again! No harm in trying - I'm sure you'll find it worth your buying.
A little practice--that is all - And you'll hear a whisper, however small, Through an Act of Parliament party-wall, - Every syllable clear as day, And even what people are going to say - I wouldn't tell a lie, I wouldn't, But my Trumpets have heard what Solomon's couldn't; And as for Scott he promises fine, But can he warrant his horns like mine, Never to hear what a lady shouldn't - Only a guinea--and can't take less.”
(”That's very dear,” said Dame Eleanor S.)
”Dear!--Oh dear, to call it dear!
Why, it isn't a horn you buy, but an ear; Only think, and you'll find on reflection You're bargaining, ma'am, for the Voice of Affection; For the language of Wisdom, and Virtue, and Truth, And the sweet little innocent prattle of Youth: Not to mention the striking of clocks - Cackle of hens--crowing of c.o.c.ks - Lowing of cow, and bull, and ox - Bleating of pretty pastoral flocks - Murmur of waterfall over the rocks - Every sound that Echo mocks - Vocals, fiddles, and musical-box - And zounds! to call such a concert dear!