The Life of John Clare | Page 7

some sort of trembling, mixed with a strong feeling of homesickness,
that he inquired his way to Peterborough. His confusion was great
when he found that the people stared at him on the road; and stared the
more the nearer he approached the episcopal city. No doubt, a thin, pale,
little boy, stuck in a threadbare coat which he had long outgrown, and
the sleeves of which were at his elbows; with a pair of breeches a world
too large for his slender legs; with a many-coloured waistcoat, an
immense pair of woollen gloves, a white necktie, and a hat half a
century old, was a rare sight, even in the fen country. Poor John,
therefore, had to march into Peterborough followed by the curious eyes
of a hundred male and female idlers, who opened doors and windows to
see him pass along. Happily the trial was not a long one, for, having
discovered his way to the Wisbeach boat, he ran to it as fast as his legs
would carry him, and, fairly on board, ensconced himself behind a bale
of goods. Oh, how he repented having ever left Helpston, in the fatal
ambition of becoming a lawyer's clerk!
The journey from Peterborough to Wisbeach, in those days, was by a

Dutch canal boat--a long narrow kind of barge, drawn by one horse,
with a large saloon in front for common passengers, and a little room
for a possible select company behind, near the steersman. The boat only
ran once a week, on Friday, from Peterborough to Wisbeach, returning
the following Sunday; and, as far as it went, the passage was cheap as
well as convenient--the charge for the whole distance of twenty-one
miles being but eighteen-pence. But John Clare, fond though he was of
water, and trees, and green fields, did not much enjoy the river journey,
his heart being big with thoughts of the future. What the great lawyer to
whom he was going would say, and what replies he should make, were
matters uppermost in his mind. To prepare for the dreaded interview
John at last set himself to compose an elaborate speech, on the model
of one which he had seen in the 'Royal Magazine' at Mr. Merrishaw's
school. The speech, however, was not quite ready when the boat
stopped at Wisbeach, landing John Clare, together with the other
passengers. One more source of trouble had to be overcome here. When
the young traveller inquired for the house of Mr. Councillor Bellamy,
the people, instead of replying, stared at him. 'Mr. Councillor Bellamy?
You are not going to Mr. Bellamy's house?' said more than one of the
Wisbeach citizens, until poor John got fairly frightened. He was still
more frightened when he at last arrived before the house of Mr.
Councillor, and found that it was a stately building, bigger and
nobler-looking than any he had ever entered in his life. He had not
courage enough to ring the bell or knock at the door, but stood
irresolute at the threshold. At last John ventured a faint tap at the door;
and, luckily, Uncle Morris appeared in answer to the summons, and
welcomed the visitor by leading him down into the kitchen, where the
board was spread. 'I have told master about your arrival,' said Uncle
Morris; 'and meanwhile sit down to a cup of tea. Do not hang your head,
but look up boldly, and tell him what you can do.' John sat down to the
table, yet was unable to eat anything, in fear and trembling of the things
to come. It was not long before Mr. Councillor Bellamy made his
appearance. Poor John tried hard to keep his head erect as ordered, and
made a convulsive effort to deliver himself of the first sentences of his
prepared speech. But the words stuck in his throat. 'Aye, aye; so this is
your nephew, Morris?' now said Mr. Councillor Bellamy, addressing
his footman. 'Yes, sir,' replied the faithful servant; 'and a capital scholar

he is, sir.' Mr. Councillor glanced at the 'scholar' from the country--at
his white necktie, his little coat, and his large breeches. 'Aye, aye; so
this is your nephew,' Mr. Councillor repeated, rubbing his hands; 'well,
I may see him again.' With this Uncle Morris's master left the room. He
left it not to return; and John Clare had never in his life the honour of
seeing Mr. Councillor Bellamy again. There next came an order from
the upper regions to make Morris's nephew comfortable till Sunday
morning, and to put him, at that time, on board the Peterborough boat
for the return journey. The behest of Mr. Councillor was duly executed,
and John Clare, on the following Sunday evening, after three days'
absence, again walked into his father's cottage at Helpston, a