Stokers and pokers — Story, Setting & Ideas

ON THE CONSTRUCTION OF A RAILWAY.

At the grand inauguration dinner eaten in Paris on the 28th of December, 1848, for the express purpose of celebrating the installation of the new President of the French Republic, it has been recorded by the reporters present, that among the numerous guests assembled, there was no one whose presence engrossed such universal attention as that of an erect emaciated member of “_La Vieille Garde_.”

The old soldier, it is stated, as he sat at table, scarcely noticed the constellations of bright, black, and hazel-coloured eyes that from all directions were concentrated upon him, but, addressing himself first to his own black bottle, and then with the utmost good humour to those of his neighbours, he drank and ate--drank--swigged--reflected,--and then, as if to refresh himself, drank again, again, and again, until, according to pre-arrangement, he stood up on the tribune to re-propose the health of “LOUIS NAPOLEON,” to which--coupling the meteor now shining in its zenith with the “sun of Austerlitz,” which, though sunk for ever below the horizon, still beamed as resplendently as ever within his heart--he added, with great naïveté, “MAIS SANS OUBLIER L’AUTRE!”

The French people, or rather the representatives of the French nation who were assembled, had received the consecutive orations of several of the most illustrious of their fellow-citizens with considerable marks of approbation; but when the veteran in question, who was about seventy years of age, with hair white as snow, rose to address to them a short speech that would scarcely have filled his empty wine-glass, the sight of the uniform so dear to Frenchmen--the tall bear-skin cap, the crimson feather, blue coat, red facings, red worsted epaulettes, white breast, white breeches, long black gaiters reaching over the knee, and, above all, buttons with an eagle supporting the imperial crown--created a storm of applause which it would be utterly impossible to describe. For nearly a quarter of an hour shouts and clappings of hands prevented the old warrior from opening his lips, and the applause if possible increased when the veteran, with the palm of his hand turned outwards, stiffly saluted the company in correct martial style: and yet, strange to record, at the very moment of all this military enthusiasm, so characteristic of a nation of whom it was lately very eloquently stated “that it had been its ambition to be the world’s guide and its destiny to be the world’s warning,” the French Government was not only without funds to protect public or private property, but, in fact, had nothing but the plunder of both to conciliate and feed the multitude of misguided and misguiding people who, by the ruin of commerce and by the stagnation of trade, were literally all over France starving from cold and hunger. Of their enthusiasm, therefore, as of that of the veteran standing up before them, it may truly be said or sung--

“Happy’s the soldier that lives on his pay, And spends half-a-crown out of sixpence a-day!”

Having related, or rather merely repeated, this curious little anecdote, we will now endeavour to explain in what manner it applies to the subject of our chapter, namely, “_the construction of a railway_.”

It has been justly observed that “England is bound over to keep the peace by a national debt, or penalty, of 800 millions.” During the glorious expenditure of all this money, the attention of the country was solely engrossed with the art, employment, occupation, and victories of war. Our great statesmen were war-ministers--our great men were naval and military warriors of all ranks, whose noble bearing and gallant feats were joyfully announced, and, by universal acclamation, as gratefully rewarded; and if every man who took a government contract, or who in any way came into contact with government, easily made a large fortune by war, he, generally speaking, as rapidly spent it; and thus an artificial circulation of wealth was kept up, which, like the schoolboy’s mode of warming himself, commonly called “beating the booby,” produced a temporary glow, estimated at the moment to be of as much value as if it had naturally proceeded from the heart.

The English people during the period in question drank hard. The rule had scarcely an exception. As regularly as four o’clock P.M. struck, our noblemen, magistrates, judges, hunting squires, and country gentlemen, began to look a little flushed--the colour gradually increasing, until in due time they all became, like their sun in a fog, red in the face. Before bedtime the semi-rulers of the nation were half inebriated--some of our leading statesmen being, alas! notoriously, very nearly in the same state.