the notch on the ax and on being found out-第39章

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of　thy　disorders；　thou　art　still　friendly　to　the　scantiness　thou
hast　created；　with　all　thy　great　works　about　thee　little　hast　thou
left　to　give；　either　to　the　scythe　or　to　the　sickle；　but　to　that
little　thou　grantest　safety　and　protection；　and　sweet　are　the
dwellings　which　stand　so　sheltered！



William　Makepeace　Thackeray


On　Being　Found　Out


At　the　close　（let　us　say）　of　Queen　Anne's　reign；　when　I　was　a　boy
at　a　private　and　preparatory　school　for　young　gentlemen；　I　remember
the　wiseacre　of　a　master　ordering　us　all；　one　night；　to　march　into
a　little　garden　at　the　back　of　the　house；　and　thence　to　proceed　one
by　one　into　a　tool　or　hen　house　（I　was　but　a　tender　little　thing
just　put　into　short　clothes；　and　can't　exactly　say　whether　the
house　was　for　tools　or　hens）；　and　in　that　house　to　put　our　hands
into　a　sack　which　stood　on　a　bench；　a　candle　burning　beside　it。　　I
put　my　hand　into　the　sack。　　My　hand　came　out　quite　black。　　I　went
and　joined　the　other　boys　in　the　schoolroom；　and　all　their　hands
were　black　too。

By　reason　of　my　tender　age　（and　there　are　some　critics　who；　I　hope；
will　be　satisfied　by　my　acknowledging　that　I　am　a　hundred　and
fifty…six　next　birthday）　I　could　not　understand　what　was　the
meaning　of　this　night　excursionthis　candle；　this　tool　house；　this
bag　of　soot。　　I　think　we　little　boys　were　taken　out　of　our　sleep　to
be　brought　to　the　ordeal。　　We　came；　then；　and　showed　our　little
hands　to　the　master；　washed　them　or　notmost　probably；　I　should
say；　notand　so　went　bewildered　back　to　bed。

Something　had　been　stolen　in　the　school　that　day；　and　Mr。　Wiseacre
having　read　in　a　book　of　an　ingenious　method　of　finding　out　a　thief
by　making　him　put　his　hand　into　a　sack　（which；　if　guilty；　the　rogue
would　shirk　from　doing）；　all　we　boys　were　subjected　to　the　trial。
Goodness　knows　what　the　lost　object　was；　or　who　stole　it。　　We　all
had　black　hands　to　show　the　master。　　And　the　thief；　whoever　he　was；
was　not　Found　Out　that　time。

I　wonder　if　the　rascal　is　alivean　elderly　scoundrel　he　must　be　by
this　time；　and　a　hoary　old　hypocrite；　to　whom　an　old　schoolfellow
presents　his　kindest　regardsparenthetically　remarking　what　a
dreadful　place　that　private　school　was；　cold；　chilblains；　bad
dinners；　not　enough　victuals；　and　caning　awful！Are　you　alive
still；　I　say；　you　nameless　villain；　who　escaped　discovery　on　that
day　of　crime？　　I　hope　you　have　escaped　often　since；　old　sinner。
Ah；　what　a　lucky　thing　it　is；　for　you　and　me；　my　man；　that　we　are
NOT　found　out　in　all　our　peccadilloes；　and　that　our　backs　can　slip
away　from　the　master　and　the　cane！

Just　consider　what　life　would　be；　if　every　rogue　was　found　out；　and
flogged　coram　populo！　　What　a　butchery；　what　an　indecency；　what　an
endless　swishing　of　the　rod！　　Don't　cry　out　about　my　misanthropy。
My　good　friend　Mealymouth；　I　will　trouble　you　to　tell　me；　do　you　go
to　church？　　When　there；　do　you　say；　or　do　you　not；　that　you　are　a
miserable　sinner；　and　saying　so　do　you　believe　or　disbelieve　it？
If　you　are　a　M。　S。；　don't　you　deserve　correction；　and　aren't　you
grateful　if　you　are　to　be　let　off？　　I　say　again　what　a　blessed
thing　it　is　that　we　are　not　all　found　out！

Just　picture　to　yourself　everybody　who　does　wrong　being　found　out；
and　punished　accordingly。　　Fancy　all　the　boys　in　all　the　school
being　whipped；　and　then　the　assistants；　and　then　the　headmaster
（Dr。　Badford　let　us　call　him）。　　Fancy　the　provost　marshal　being
tied　up；　having　previously　superintended　the　correction　of　the
whole　army。　　After　the　young　gentlemen　have　had　their　turn　for　the
faulty　exercises；　fancy　Dr。　Lincolnsinn　being　taken　up　for　certain
faults　in　HIS　Essay　and　Review。　　After　the　clergyman　has　cried　his
peccavi；　suppose　we　hoist　up　a　bishop；　and　give　him　a　couple　of
dozen！　　（I　see　my　Lord　Bishop　of　Double…Gloucester　sitting　in　a
very　uneasy　posture　on　his　right　reverend　bench。）　　After　we　have
cast　off　the　bishop；　what　are　we　to　say　to　the　Minister　who
appointed　him？　　My　Lord　Cinqwarden；　it　is　painful　to　have　to　use
personal　correction　to　a　boy　of　your　age；　but　really　。　。　。　Siste
tandem　carnifex！　　The　butchery　is　too　horrible。　　The　hand　drops
powerless；　appalled　at　the　quantity　of　birch　which　it　must　cut　and
brandish。　　I　am　glad　we　are　not　all　found　out；　I　say　again；　and
protest；　my　dear　brethren；　against　our　having　our　deserts。

To　fancy　all　men　found　out　and　punished　is　bad　enough；　but　imagine
all　the　women　found　out　in　the　distinguished　social　circle　in　which
you　and　I　have　the　honor　to　move。　　Is　it　not　a　mercy　that　a　many　of
these　fair　criminals　remain　unpunished　and　undiscovered！　　There　is
Mrs。　Longbow；　who　is　forever　practicing；　and　who　shoots　poisoned
arrows；　too；　when　you　meet　her　you　don't　call　her　liar；　and　charge
her　with　the　wickedness　she　has　done　and　is　doing。　　There　is　Mrs。
Painter；　who　passes　for　a　most　respectable　woman；　and　a　model　in
society。　　There　is　no　use　in　saying　what　you　really　know　regarding
her　and　her　goings　on。　　There　is　Diana　Hunterwhat　a　little
haughty　prude　it　is；　and　yet　WE　know　stories　about　her　which　are
not　altogether　edifying。　　I　say　it　is　best　for　the　sake　of　the
good；　that　the　bad　should　not　all　be　found　out。　　You　don't　want
your　children　to　know　the　history　of　that　lady　in　the　next　box；　who
is　so　handsome；　and　whom　they　admire　so。　　Ah　me；　what　would　life　be
if　we　were　all　found　out　and　punished　for　all　our　faults？　　Jack
Ketch　would　be　in　permanence；　and　then　who　would　hang　Jack　Ketch？

They　talk　of　murderers　being　pretty　certainly　found　out。　　Psha！　　I
have　heard　an　authority　awfully　competent　vow　and　declare　that
scores　and　hundreds　of　murders　are　committed；　and　nobody　is　the
wiser。　　That　terrible　man　mentioned　one　or　two　ways　of　committing
murder；　which　he　maintained　were　quite　common；　and　were　scarcely
ever　found　out。　　A　man；　for　instance；　comes　home　to　his　wife；
and　。　。　。　but　I　pauseI　know　that　this　Magazine　has　a　very　large
circulation。*　　Hundreds　and　hundreds　of　thousandswhy　not　say　a
million　of　people　at　once？well；　say　a　million；　read　it。　　And
among　these　countless　readers；　I　might　be　teaching　some　monster　how
to　make　away　with　his　wife　without　being　found　out；　some　fiend　of　a
woman　how　to　destroy　her　dear　husband。　　I　will　NOT　then　tell　this
easy　and　simple　way　of　murder；　as　communicated　to　me　by　a　most
respectable　party　in　the　confidence　of　private　intercourse。
Suppose　some　gentle　reader　were　to　try　this　most　simple　and　easy
receiptit　seems　to　me　almost　infallibleand　come　to　grief　in
consequence；　and　be　found　out　and　hanged？　　Should　I　ever　pardon
myself　for　having　been　the　means　of　doing　injury　to　a　single　one　of
our　esteemed　subscribers？　　The　prescription　whereof　I　speakthat
is　to　say；　whereof　I　DON'T　speakshall　be　buried　in　this　bosom。
No；　I　am　a　humane　man。　　I　am　not　one　of　your　Bluebeards　to　go　and
say　to　my　wife；　〃My　dear！　I　am　going　away　for　a　few　days　to
Brighton。　　Here　are　all　the　keys　of　the　house。　　You　may　open　every
door　and　closet；　except　the　one　at　the　end　of　the　oak　room　opposite
the　fireplace；　with　the　little　bronze　Shakespeare　on　the
mantelpiece　（or　what　not）。〃　　I　don't　say　this　to　a　womanunless；
to　be　sure；　I　want　to　get　rid　of　herbecause；　after　such　a
caution；　I　know　she'll　peep　into　the　closet。　　I　say　nothing　about
the　closet　at　all。　　I　keep　the　key　in　my　pocket；　and　a　being　whom　I
love；　but　who；　as　I　know；　has　many　weaknesses；　out　of　harm's　way。
You　toss　up　your　head；　dear　angel；　drub　on　the　ground　with　your
lovely　little　feet；　on　the　table　with　your　sweet　rosy　fingers；　and
cry；　〃Oh；　sneerer！　　You　don't　know　the　depth　of　woman's　feeling；
the　lofty　scorn　of　all　deceit；　the　entire　absence　of　mean　curiosity
in　the　sex；　or　never；　never　would　you　libel　us　so！〃　　Ah；　Delia！
dear；　dear　Delia！　　It　is　because　I　fancy　I　DO　know　something　about
you　（not　all；　mindno；　no；　no　man　knows　that）。Ah；　my　bride；　my
ringdove；　my　rose；　my　poppetchoose；　in　fact；　whatever　name　you
likebulbul　of　my　grove；　fountain　of　my　desert；　sunshine　of　my
darkling　life；　and　joy　of　my　dungeoned　existence；　it　is　because　I
DO　know　a　little　about　you　that　I　conclude　to　say　nothing　of　that
private　closet；　and　keep　my　key　in　my　pocket。　　You　take　away　that
closet　key　then；　and　the　house　key。　　You　lock　Delia　in。　　You　keep
her　out　of　harm's　way　and　gadding；　and　so　she　never　CAN　be　found
out。


*　The　Cornhill。editor。


And　yet　by　little　strange　accidents　and　coincidents　how　we　are
being　found　out　every　day。　　You　remember　that　old　story　of　the　Abbe
Kakatoes；　who　told　the　company　at　supper　one　night　how　the　first
confession　he　ever　received　wasfrom　a　murderer；　let　us　say。
Presently　enters　to　supper　the　Marquis　de　Croquemitaine。
〃Palsambleu；　abbe！〃　says　the　brilliant　marquis；　taking　a　pinch　of
snuff；　〃are　you　here？　　Gentlemen　and　ladies！　　I　was　the　abbe's
first　penitent；　and　I　made　him　a　confession；　which　I　promise　you
astonished　him。〃

To　be　sure　how　queerly　things　are　found　out！　　Here　is　an　instance。
Only　the　other　day　I　was　writing　in　these　Roundabout　Papers　about　a
certain　man；　whom　I　facetiously　called　Baggs；　and　who　had　abused　me
to　my　friends；　who　of　course　told　me。　　Shortly　after　that　paper　was
published　another　friendSacks　let　us　call　himscowls　fiercely　at
me　as　I　am　sitting　in　perfect　good　humor　at　the　club；　and　passes　on
without　speaking。　　A　cut。　　A　quarrel。　　Sacks　thinks　it　is　about　him
that　I　was　writing：　whereas；　upon　my　honor　and　conscience；　I　never
had　him　once　in　my　mind；　and　was　pointing　my　moral　from　quite
another　man。　　But　don't　you　see；　by　this　wrath　of　the　guilty…
conscienced　Sacks；　that　he　had　been　abusing　me　too？　　He　has　owned
himself　guilty；　never　having　been　accused。　　He　has　winced　when
nobody　thought　of　hitting　him。　　I　did　but　put　the　cap　out；　and
madly　butting　and　chafing；　behold　my　friend　rushes　out　to　put　his
head　into　it！　　Never　mind；　Sacks；　you　are　found　out；　but　I　bear　you
no　malice；　my　man。

And　yet　to　be　found　out；　I　know　from　my　own　experience；　must　be
painful　and　odious；　and　cruelly　mortifying　to　the　inward　vanity。
Suppose　I　am　a　poltroon；　let　us　say。　　With　fierce　mustache；　loud
talk；　plentiful　oaths；　and　an　immense　stick；　I　keep　up　nevertheless
a　character　for　courage。　　I　swear　fearfully　at　cabmen　and　women；
brandish　my　bludgeon；　and　perhaps　knock　down　a　little　man　or　two
with　it：　brag　of　the　images　which　I　break　at　the　shooting　gallery；
and　pass　among　my　friends　for　a　whiskery　fire…eater；　afraid　of
neither　man　nor　dragon。　　Ah　me！　　Suppose　some　brisk　little　chap
steps　up　and　gives　me　a　caning　in　St。　James's　Street；　with　all　the
heads　of　my　friends　looking　out　of　all　the　club　windows。　　My
reputation　is　gone。　　I　frighten　no　man　more。　　My　nose　is　pulled　by
whipper…snappers；　who　jump　up　on　a　chair　to　reach　it。　　I　am　found
out。　　And　in　the　days　of　my　triumphs；　when　people　were　yet　afraid
of　me；　and　were　taken　in　by　my　swagger；　I　always　knew　that　I　was　a
lily　liver；　and　expected　that　I　should　be　found　out　some　day。

That　certainty　of　being　found　out　must　haunt　and　depress　many　a
bold　braggadocio　spirit。　　Let　us　say　it　is　a　clergyman；　who　can
pump　copious　floods　of　tears　out　of　his　own　eyes　and　those　of　his
audience。　　He　thinks　to　himself；　〃I　am　but　a　poor　swindling；
chattering　rogue。　　My　bills　are　unpaid。　　I　ha