Penelopes English Experiences | Page 9

said that perhaps I ought to be
willing to lower myself a trifle for the sake of elevating Punch! This
home-thrust so delighted the Honourable Arthur that it remained his
favourite joke for days, and the overworked goat was permitted to
enjoy that oblivion from which Salemina insists it should never have
emerged.
Chapter V.
A Hyde Park Sunday.

The Honourable Arthur, Salemina, and I took a stroll in Hyde Park one
Sunday afternoon, not for the purpose of joining the fashionable throng
of 'pretty people' at Stanhope Gate, but to mingle with the common
herd in its special precincts,--precincts not set apart, indeed, by any
legal formula, but by a natural law of classification which seems to be
inherent in the universe. It was a curious and motley crowd--a little dull,
perhaps, but orderly, well-behaved, and self-respecting, with here and

there part of the flotsam and jetsam of a great city, a ragged, sodden,
hopeless wretch wending his way about with the rest, thankful for any
diversion.
Under the trees, each in the centre of his group, large or small
according to his magnetism and eloquence, stood the park 'shouter,'
airing his special grievance, playing his special part, preaching his
special creed, pleading his special cause,--anything, probably, for the
sake of shouting. We were plainly dressed, and did not attract
observation as we joined the outside circle of one of these groups after
another. It was as interesting to watch the listeners as the speakers. I
wished I might paint the sea of faces, eager, anxious, stolid, attentive,
happy, and unhappy: histories written on many of them; others blank,
unmarked by any thought or aspiration. I stole a sidelong look at the
Honourable Arthur. He is an Englishman first, and a man afterwards (I
prefer it the other way), but he does not realise it; he thinks he is just
like all other good fellows, although he is mistaken. He and Willie
Beresford speak the same language, but they are as different as Malay
and Eskimo. He is an extreme type, but he is very likeable and very
well worth looking at, with his long coat, his silk hat, and the white
Malmaison in his buttonhole. He is always so radiantly, fascinatingly
clean, the Honourable Arthur, simple, frank, direct, sensible, and he
bores me almost to tears.
The first orator was edifying his hearers with an explanation of the
drama of The Corsican Brothers, and his eloquence, unlike that of the
other speakers, was largely inspired by the hope of pennies. It was a
novel idea, and his interpretation was rendered very amusing to us by
the wholly original Yorkshire accent which he gave to the French
personages and places in the play.
An Irishman in black clerical garb held the next group together. He was
in some trouble, owing to a pig-headed and quarrelsome Scotchman in
the front rank, who objected to each statement that fell from his lips,
thus interfering seriously with the effect of his peroration. If the
Irishman had been more convincing, I suppose the crowd would have
silenced the scoffer, for these little matters of discipline are always

attended to by the audience; but the Scotchman's points were too well
taken; he was so trenchant, in fact, at times, that a voice would cry,
'Coom up, Sandy, an' 'ave it all your own w'y, boy!' The discussion
continued as long as we were within hearing distance, for the Irishman,
though amiable and ignorant, was firm, the 'unconquered Scot' was on
his native heath of argument, and the listeners were willing to give
them both a hearing.
Under the next tree a fluent Cockney lad of sixteen or eighteen years
was declaiming his bitter experiences with the Salvation Army. He had
been sheltered in one of its beds which was not to his taste, and it had
found employment for him which he had to walk twenty-two miles to
get, and which was not to his liking when he did get it. A meeting of
the Salvation Army at a little distance rendered his speech more
interesting, as its points were repeated and denied as fast as made.
Of course there were religious groups and temperance groups, and
groups devoted to the tearing down or raising up of most things except
the Government; for on that day there were no Anarchist or Socialist
shouters, as is ordinarily the case.
As we strolled down one of the broad roads under the shade of the
noble trees, we saw the sun setting in a red-gold haze; a glory of vivid
colour made indescribably tender and opalescent by the kind of
luminous mist that veils it; a wholly English sunset, and an altogether
lovely one. And quite away from the other knots of people, there leaned
against a bit