Then, without another word, he stalked from the room, and presently there was heard a crash, he had flung a chambermaid downstairs. Humbly asked why, he replied in effect, “It is my humour; let no one question me.” Now this is obviously only a caricature, yet I have heard tales which I could not refuse to credit of public men retiring to bed after luncheon with a bottle of whisky; this in a temperance family too! And of a man who is an exceedingly prominent Nonconformist minister who treated his host and hostess with far less courtesy than was due to any hotel-keeper, refusing to eat with them or associate with anybody during his stay, save his secretary, who was accommodated in the same house.
It hardly seems credible that such practices should, not to say endear a man to his hosts, but admit of his being ever entertained again, yet so strangely are people constituted, that behaviour of that kind is condoned and excused as being the hall-mark of genius. On the same principle I suppose as the being possessed of the poetical faculty is held by some to excuse a man from behaving with either cleanliness, decency, sobriety or honesty. Perhaps then it was because I always felt grateful to my hosts and endeavoured to give them as little trouble as possible, while making myself as agreeable as I knew how to be, that I have so many happy recollections of hospitality received.
Once, indeed, my host failed me through no fault of his own, I am sure, although the letter he wrote telling me of his sudden forced departure for London did not reach me until some time after the trouble. The lecture was at Abergwynfi, South Wales, and I arrived there in the gloom of a winter evening, amid a drizzling rain. A less inviting place I have never seen, for the station seemed to end in a black wall of rock, and nothing could be seen around but the grimy cañon along which we had come. Enquiry at the station whether anyone was waiting for anybody only elicited a stare and a curt “no.” Further enquiries presently as to whether I could find a hotel and where, brought the stationmaster, who told me of two, and directed me to them.
So I climbed the steep, muddy stairs into the black, foul road, and after a tiring drag, with my heavy bag, of a few hundred yards, I reached a public-house, crammed with drunken miners, who were making a tremendous noise. This surprised me, for I had always thought of the Welsh miner as a quiet man, except in religious fervour, and certainly given to temperance. However, I pushed through the reeking crowd, and enquired at the bar if I could have a room. No! they had no rooms to let, used to have two, but there was no call for them now. Disheartened, I begged the landlord to let me know where the nearest place was that I could get a room, and he directed me still farther up that hopeless thoroughfare to another place, where they did have rooms.
I trudged up there, very wearily, noting as I went the fine Workmen’s Institute, where I was to lecture, because of the posters displayed outside and bearing my name. Alas, when I reached the hostelry, which was even more dreary and deplorable looking than the first, but had not so many drunken men in it, I was told that their two spare beds were occupied by two young women with the smallpox, a daughter of the landlord’s and a sewing-maid. Of course I lost no time in retreating, and being thus driven, took refuge in the Institute, where I was received by the caretaker with open arms.
I felt at once as if I had accidentally touched the right spring, for my new friend summoned a myrmidon from below, giving him some orders in fluent Welsh, which resulted in the appearance in a very few minutes of a robust man whom I took to be a superior workman or foreman of sorts, but who could not do enough for me. He took me to his home, apologising volubly all the way, and in a very short time his good wife had loaded the little kitchen table with tea, toast, cake, jam and sardines, to all of which I did as much justice, I hope, as was reasonable.
At my suggestion of changing into dress clothes he turned a puzzled, appealing look upon his wife, and a brief colloquy in Welsh passed between them. Then he said that he hoped I would not trouble to change, for as it was the first time they had ventured upon a lecture or address in English, nobody would expect it. And would I please come along to the Institute and meet the committee? I rose with alacrity, and together we marched up the muddy street towards that building.
The strains of a brass band in the distance saluting my ears, I made some trivial remark about it, to which he replied:
“Oh, yes. I quite forgot to ask you, do you mind the band playing for a few minutes before you begin—by way of introduction like? You see, they’ve offered, and they’re very keen—they do it all for love, and we don’t like to discourage them.”
Well, what could I do but acquiesce with as much appearance of heartiness as I could muster, though I did begin to wonder whither this affair was tending. But we now met the committee, all working men, who greeted me with enthusiasm, and did their best to make me feel welcome, although the English that some of them spoke was quaint; and we chatted on until that band played itself in and stopped all conversation. The leader ranged his merry men on the stage behind the sheet, and as the clock struck eight the band burst into a triumphal march. Merciful powers, may I never have such an experience again! Every executant, especially big drum, was determined that his instrument should be heard, no matter what happened, and there were thirty of them! I felt as if the drums of my ears would burst, but feared to offend by going out.