CHAPTER IX

THE FOUNTAIN IN FOUNTAIN COURT, WHERE RUTH PINCH MET HER LOVER, JOHN WESTLOCK

KNEW the Temple fairly well and its several Courts, having studied them the year before in my search for Mr. Thackeray's haunts and those of his characters: Lamb Court, in which Pendennis and Warrington had their chambers; the façade of the building covered with vines and flowering creepers; Hare Court, where Mr. Thackeray began the study of law under Mr. Taprell - the room is on the first floor and the house is as old and mouldy as it was in his days; Brick Court, where Goldsmith lived and died and where Mr. Thackeray once had lodgings; Pump Court, where he located the "Hon. Algernon Percy Deuceace," the prototype of the card-sharper who robbed him of his patrimony and sent him out into the world to earn his bread the luckiest thing that ever happened to the great novelist and the luckiest thing that ever hap

pened to the reading world — all these I knew; but, somehow, although I had peeped in and wondered at the beauty of its surroundings, I had never seen the fountain at Fountain Court.

Tom Pinch's office had been pointed out to me, where the lovable fellow worked all day sorting and bringing into shape the chaotic mass that old Chuzzlewit had put him in charge of, and I had followed him in my mind out of the Court and across the narrow road which leads to Fleet Street and so on past Brick Court corner (Goldsmith's house) until I had lost him in the dense foliage. But I never pursued him any further, being more occupied that year with Mr. Thackeray than with Mr. Dickens.

"There was a little plot between Tom Pinch and his sister," says the latter, "that Tom should always come out of the Temple by one way; and that was, past the fountain coming through Fountain Court, he was just to glance down the steps leading into Garden Court, and to look once all round him, and if Ruth had come to meet him, then he would see her

. . coming briskly up, with the best little laugh upon her face that ever played in opposition to the fountain, and beat it all to nothing."

No Bobby, on this June day, helped me in my search to find the fountain in Fountain Court. The law of the metropolis and the tramp of its guardians stop just outside the arched gate giving on Fleet Street, and A Person in Serviceable Livery looks after you the moment you put foot within the confines of the Temple. Nor are half-crowns of the slightest use; even cigars go a-begging; and friendly conversation, when attempted, ends in a "move-on" gesture. Certain high officials must be approached and with due form; you must have references good ones, accompanied by a certificate that you are of a sane mind neither a lunatic, a vagrant, a beggar, or a painter: the latter being especially undesirable by reason of an ungovernable desire to open ham sandwiches and white umbrellas.

Fortunately, my blameless life—how often has it saved me!-brought me the necessary permit, and the Emblazoned Flunkey was satisfied and I unlimbered my trap on the edge of the great stone curb framing the basin in which were mirrored the overbending sky and gently waving trees. The E. F., now that the regulations had been conformed to, was then gracious enough to extend the non-gushing interim of the geyser's activity until 2 P. M.,

the water being always turned on again at 1 P. M. (two shillings and six again), but then, of course, everything in the season comes high in London - including fountains.

This done, he took himself off and left me alone to revive the memories of my youthmore especially the two love stories of Mr. Dickens which ring as true to me to-day as they did in the days of my boyhood:- The love of Dot Peerybingle for her husband John, the carman, in that exquisite prose poem, "The Cricket on the Hearth," which comes back to me in the tones of my father's voice, who read it with consummate skill and feeling; and the romance of Ruth Pinch and John Westlock.

Dickens had all London in which to set the scene of Ruth's wooing. There were benches tucked away under sheltering trees in many a park and garden; there were Vaux Hall, Richmond, Greenwich; unfrequented paths leading to the river; John Westlock's chambers in Furnival's Inn when Tom had stepped out for a moment: but none of these would do; there must be the warmth of the sunshine, the joy of laughing water, the caress of tender branches, long vistas of bending foliage, and an infinite perspective of still greater beauty beyond. So he chose a garden in the Temple and in

choosing laid the scenes around the fountain of Fountain Court.

The description written in 1843 will answer to-day as foot-lines to my sketch:

'Brilliantly the Temple Fountain sparkled in the sun, and laughingly its liquid music played, and merrily the idle drops of water danced and danced, and peeping out in sport among the trees, plunged lightly down to hide themselves, as little Ruth and her companion came towards it.

And the love-scene is worthy of the setting. "And why they came towards the Fountain at all is a mystery; for they had no business there. It was not in their way. It was quite out of their way. They had no more to do with the Fountain, bless you, than they had with with Love, or any out of the way thing of that sort.

"It was all very well for Tom and his sister to make appointments by the Fountain, but that was quite another affair. . . .

...

"However, there they found themselves. And another extraordinary part of the matter was, that they seemed to have come there, by a silent understanding. Yet when they got there, they were a little confused by being there, which was the strangest part of all;