If it did not sound so
learned, and if I did not feel that it must have been said before,
it is so apt, I should quote Horace, and say, 'Omnibus hoc vitium
est.' There is no 'bus unseized by the Napoleonic Lipton. Do not
ascend one of them supposing for a moment that by paying fourpence
and going to the very end of the route you will come to a neat tea
station, where you will be served with the cheering cup. Never; nor
with a draught of Cadbury's cocoa or Nestle's milk, although you
have jostled along for nine weary miles in company with their
blatant recommendations to drink nothing else, and though you may
have passed other 'buses with the same highly-coloured names glaring
at you until they are burned into the grey matter of your brain, to
remain there as long as the copy-book maxims you penned when you
were a child.
These pictorial methods doubtless prove a source of great financial
gain; of course it must be so, or they would never be prosecuted;
but although they may allure millions of customers, they will lose
two in our modest persons. When Salemina and I go into a cafe for
tea we ask the young woman if they serve Lipton's, and if they say
yes, we take coffee. This is self-punishment indeed (in London!),
yet we feel that it may have a moral effect; perhaps not
commensurate with the physical effect of the coffee upon us, but
these delicate matters can never be adjusted with absolute
exactitude.
Sometimes when we are to travel on a Pears' Soap 'bus we buy
beforehand a bit of pure white Castile, cut from a shrinking,
reserved, exclusive bar with no name upon it, and present it to some
poor woman when we arrive at our journey's end. We do not suppose
that so insignificant a protest does much good, but at least it
preserves one's individuality and self-respect.
Chapter IX. A Table of Kindred and Affinity.
On one of our excursions Hilda Mellifica accompanied us, and we
alighted to see the place where the Smithfield martyrs were
executed, and to visit some of the very old churches in that
vicinity. We found hanging in the vestibule of one of them
something quite familiar to Hilda, but very strange to our American
eyes: 'A Table of Kindred and Affinity, wherein whosoever are
related are forbidden in Scripture and our Laws to Marry Together.'
Salemina was very quiet that afternoon, and we accused her
afterwards of being depressed because she had discovered that, added
to the battalions of men in England who had not thus far urged her
to marry them, there were thirty persons whom she could not legally
espouse even if they did ask her!
I cannot explain it, but it really seemed in some way that our
chances of a 'sweet, safe corner of the household fire' had
materially decreased when we had read the table.
"It only goes to prove what Salemina remarked yesterday," I said:
"that we can go on doing a thing quite properly until we have seen
the rule for it printed in black and white. The moment we read the
formula we fail to see how we could ever have followed it; we are
confused by its complexities, and we do not feel the slightest
confidence in our ability to do consciously the thing we have done
all our lives unconsciously."
"Like the centipede," quoted Salemina:-
"'The centipede was happy quite
Until the toad, for fun,
Said, "Pray, which leg goes after which?"
Which wrought his mind to such a pitch,
He lay distracted in a ditch
Considering how to run!'"
"The Table of Kindred and Affinity is all too familiar to me,"
sighed Hilda, "because we had a governess who made us learn it as a
punishment. I suppose I could recite it now, although I haven't
looked at it for ten years. We used to chant it in the nursery
schoolroom on wet afternoons. I well remember that the vicar called
one day to see us, and the governess, hearing our voices uplifted in
a pious measure, drew him under the window to listen. This is what
he heard - you will see how admirably it goes! And do not imagine it
is wicked: it is merely the Law, not the Gospel, and we framed our
own musical settings, so that we had no associations with the Prayer
Book."
Here Hilda chanted softly, there being no one in the old
churchyard:-
"A woman may not marry with her Grandfather . Grandmother's Husband,
Husband's Grandfather .. Father's Brother . Mother's Brother .
Father's Sister's Husband .. Mother's Sister's Husband . Husband's
Father's Brother . Husband's Mother's Brother .. Father . Step-
Father . Husband's Father .. Son . Husband's Son . Daughter's
Husband .. Brother . Husband's Brother . Sister's Husband .. Son's
Son . Daughter's Son . Son's Daughter's Husband .. Daughter's
Daughter's Husband . Husband's Son's Son . Husband's Daughter's Son
.. Brother's Son . Sister's Son . Brother's Daughter's Husband ..
Sister's Daughter's Husband . Husband's Brother's Son . Husband's
Sister's Son."
"It seems as if there were nobody left," I said disconsolately,
"save perhaps your Second Cousin's Uncle, or your Enemy's Dearest
Friend."
"That's just the effect it has on one," answered Hilda. "We always
used to conclude our chant with the advice:-
"And if there is anybody, after this, in the universe . left to .
marry .. marry him as expeditiously . as you . possibly . can ..
Because there are very few husbands omitted from this table of .
Kindred and . Affinity .. And it behoveth a maiden to snap them up
without any delay . willing or unwilling . whenever and . wherever
found."
"We were also required to learn by heart the form of Prayer with
Thanksgiving to be used Yearly upon the Fifth Day of November for
the happy deliverance of King James I. and the Three Estates of
England from the most traitorous and bloody-intended Massacre by
Gunpowder; also the prayers for Charles the Martyr and the
Thanksgiving for having put an end to the Great Rebellion by the
Restitution of the King and Royal Family after many Years'
interruption which unspeakable Mercies were wonderfully completed
upon the 29th of May in the year 1660!"
"1660!
