Chapter 13: Great Drinkers Think Themselves Great Men

Chapter 13.
Great Drinkers Think Themselves Great Men

Wonderful men and white rats are not so scarce as most people think. Folks may talk as they like about Mr. Gladstone, and Prince Bismarck, but Jack, and Tom, and Harry, and scores more that I know of, could manage their business for them a fine sight better; at least, they think so, and are quite ready to try. Great men are as plentiful as mice in an old wheat-stack down our way. Every parish has one or two wonderful men—indeed, most saloons could show one at least, and generally two. I have heard that on Saturday nights, when our "Blue Dragon" is full, there may be seen as many as twenty of the greatest men in all the world in the tap-room, all making themselves greater by the help of pots of beer. When the jug has been filled and emptied a good many times, the blacksmith feels he ought to be prime minister; and Styles, the carter, sees the way to take off the taxes.

If you have a fancy to listen to these great men when they are talking, you need not go into the bar, for you can hear them outside the house; they generally speak four or five at a time, and every one in a Mitcham whisper, which is very like a shout. What a fine flow of words they have! There's no end to it, and it's a pity there was ever any beginning, for there's generally a mix-up of foul talk with their politics, and this sets them all roaring with laughter. A few evenings in such company would poison the mind of the best lad in the parish. I am happy to say that these great men have to be turned out at ten o'clock, for then our saloon closes; and none too soon, I'm sure. A precious little is enough to make a man famous in certain companies. One fellow knocked a man's eye out at a prize-fight. Another stowed away twice as much pudding as four pigs could have disposed of. Another stood on his head and drank a glass of beer. Another won a prize by grinning through a horse-collar. And for such things as these the sots of the village think mightily of them! Little things please little minds, and nasty things please dirty minds. If I were one of these wonderful fellows I would ask the nearest way to a place where nobody would know me.

Now I am at it I will notice a few other wonderful bodies who sometimes condescend to look down on a ploughman; but before I make them angry I would give them a verse from one of my old uncle's songs, which I have shaped a bit:

"I hope none will be offended with me for writing this, For it is not intended for anything amiss;

If you consider kindly my remarks you will allow, For what can you expect from one whose hand is on the plough?"

I used to feel quite staggered when I heard of an amazing clever man, but I've got used to it, as the rook did to the scarecrow when he found out that it was a stuffed nothing. Like the picture which looked best at a very long distance off, so do most clever fellows. They are swans a mile off, but geese when you get near them. Some men are too knowing to be wise; their boiler bursts because they have more steam than they can use. They know too much, and having gone over the top of the ladder they have gone down on the other side. The people who are really wise never think themselves so: one of them said to me the other day:

"All things I thought I knew; but now confess The more I know I know I know the less."

Simple Simon is in a sad plight in such a world as this, but on the whole he gets on better than a fellow who is too clever by half. Every mouse had need have its eyes open nowadays, for the cats are very many and uncommonly sharp; and yet—you mark my, word!—most of the mice that are caught are the knowing ones. Somehow or other, in an ordinary sort of a world like this, it does not answer to be so over and above clever. Those who are up to so many dodges, find the dodges come down on them before long. My neighbor Hinks was much too wise a man to follow the plough, like a poor, shallow-pated John Ploughman, and so he took to scheming and has schemed himself into one of the largest mansions in the country, where he will be provided with oakum to pick and a crank to turn during the next six calendar months. He had better have been a fool, for his cleverness has cost him his character. When a man is too clever to tell the truth he will bring himself into no end of trouble before long. When he is too clever to stick to his trade, he is like the dog that let the meat fall into the water through trying to catch at its shadow. Clever Jack can do everything and can do nothing. He intends to be rich all at once, and despises small gains, and therefore is likely to die a beggar. When puffing is trusted and honest trading is scoffed at, time will not take long to wind up the concern. Work is as needful now as ever it was, if a man would thrive. Catching birds by putting salt on their tails would be all very well, but the creatures will not hold their tails still, and so we had better catch them the usual way. The greatest trick for getting on in business is to work hard and to live hard. There's no making bread without flour, nor building houses without labor. I know the old saying is:

"No more mortar, no more brick, A cunning knave has a cunning trick";

but for all that, things go on much the same as ever, and bricks and mortar are still wanted.

I see in the papers, every now and then, that some of the clever gentlemen who blow up bubble companies are pulled up before the courts. Serve them right! May they go where my neighbor Hinks is, every one of them. How many a poor tradesman is over head and ears in difficulty through them! I hope in future all men will fight shy of these fine companies, and swell managers, and very clever men. Men are neither suddenly rich nor suddenly good. It is all a bag of moonshine when a man would persuade you that he knows a way of earning money by winking your eye. We have all heard of the scheme for making deal boards out of saw-dust, and getting butter out of mud, but we mean to go on with the saw-mill, and keep on milking the cows; for between" you and me and the blind mare, we have a notion that the plans of idiots and very clever men are like as two peas in a shell. The worst sort of clever men are those who know better than the Bible, and are so learned that they believe that the world had no Maker, and that men are only monkeys with their tails rubbed off. Dear, dear me, this is the sort of talk we used to expect from Tom of Bedlam, but now we get it from clever men. If things go on in this fashion a poor ploughman will not be able to tell which is the lunatic and which is the philosopher. As for me, the old Book seems to be a deal easier to believe than the new notions, and I mean to keep to it. Many a drop of good broth is made in an old pot, and many a sweet comfort comes out of the old doctrine. Many a dog has died since I first opened my eyes, and every one of these dogs has had his day, but in all the days put together they have never hunted out a real fault in the Bible, nor started anything better in its place. They may be very clever, but they will not find a surer truth than that which God teaches, nor a better salvation than that which Jesus brings; and so, finding my very life in the Gospel, I mean to live in it; and so ends this chapter.