A STUDY FROM THE LIFE.
(Prophetically communicated by an Interviewer of the Future.)
Having to describe the person and abode of the Poet PODGERS, I cannot do better than jot down in my note-book what I know about those objects on my road to the abode of genius—otherwise, 126, Bolingbroke Square, South Belgravia. That useful work, Men of the Time, tells me that the Poet was educated at Westminster and Christ Church—facts that in themselves suggest a column of copy about Football at Vincent Square, the mysteries of Seniors, Juniors, and Second Election, and the glories and humours of Tom's Quad. Not much trouble about that. So far, plain sailing. Bolingbroke Square, too, helps one along. Historical reminiscences, Pimlico in time of Romans, ditto Normans, ditto when ELIZABETH was Queen. All this can be worked up comfortably and conveniently in the Reading Room of the British Museum. Then the PODGERS' family history should give a good third. Father made a fortune in blacking, so daresay he recollects his grandfather. No doubt latter settled in London with the employment of junior office-sweeper, and the capital of an eleemosynary half-crown. Need not trouble about the Heraldic Visitations, or the coat and crest. Keep those items for an interview characterised more by "blood" than "brains." Suppose he has received presentation copies of works of poetical rivals. This will give an opportunity for introducing contemporary biographical sketches, varying from three lines to half a column. Know his house, too—once occupied by a foreign fiddler, next a Cabinet Minister, lastly, a successful artist, hints (if required) for scenes on the Continent, in Parliament, and the Royal Academy. Wife and children. Domestic scene—good for two-thirds. Wife playing piano as the children spin their tops, or gambol with Collie dog. There now, I think I have got enough material for the present. And here we are at Bolingbroke Square, South Kensington.
What's this! PODGERS' servant says PODGERS declines to see literary gents! He won't be interviewed!
Won't he! With my materials, soon arrange about that! After all, seeing him was only an empty form!
Tell Cabman to drive back to my house—Butterfly Gardens. He doesn't know it! On second thoughts, he says he supposes I mean "the place that used to be called Grub Street?" Yes, I do!