“When this helpless aristocrat had praised cleanliness in the body and
convention in the soul to people who could hardly keep body and soul
together, the stampede against our platform began. I took part in his
undeserved rescue, I followed his obscure deliverer, until (as I have
said) we stood together on the wall above the dim gardens, already
clouding with fog. Then I looked at the curate and at the burglar, and
decided, in a spasm of inspiration, that the burglar was the better man
of the two. The burglar seemed quite as kind and human as the curate
was— and he was also brave and self-reliant, which the curate was not.
I knew there was no virtue in the upper class, for I belong to it
myself; I knew there was not so very much in the lower class, for I had
lived with it a long time. Many old texts about the despised and
persecuted came back to my mind, and I thought that the saints might
well be hidden in the criminal class. About the time Hawkins let
himself down the ladder I was crawling up a low, sloping, blue-slate
roof after the large man, who went leaping in front of me like a
gorilla.
“This upward scramble was short, and we soon found ourselves tramping
along a broad road of flat roofs, broader than many big thoroughfares,
with chimney-pots here and there that seemed in the haze as bulky as
small forts. The asphyxiation of the fog seemed to increase the
somewhat swollen and morbid anger under which my brain and body
laboured. The sky and all those things that are commonly clear seemed
overpowered by sinister spirits. Tall spectres with turbans of vapour
seemed to stand higher than the sun or moon, eclipsing both. I thought
dimly of illustrations to the ‘Arabian Nights’ on brown paper with rich
but sombre tints, showing genii gathering round the Seal of Solomon. By
the way, what was the Seal of Solomon? Nothing to do with sealing-wax
really, I suppose; but my muddled fancy felt the thick clouds as being
of that heavy and clinging substance, of strong opaque colour, poured
out of boiling pots and stamped into monstrous emblems.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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