THE HAUNTS OF
OLD COCKAIGNE
THE HAUNTS OF
OLD COCKAIGNE
BY
ALEX. M. THOMPSON
(DANGLE)
1898 . LONDON . THE CLARION OFFICE
72 FLEET STREET, E.C. . WALTER SCOTT
LTD., PATERNOSTER SQUARE, E.C.
AN EPISTLE DEDICATORY
My dear Will Ranstead,—
When, in our too infrequent talks,I have confessed my growing fondness forlife in London, your kindly countenancehas assumed an expression so piteous thatmy Conscience has turned upon what I ampleased to call my Mind, to demand explanationof a feeling so distressing to soexcellent a friend.
My Mind, at first, was disposed toapologise. It pleaded its notoriously easy-goingcharacter: it had never met man orwoman that it had not more or less admired,[8]nor remained long anywhere without comingto strike kinship with the people and todevelop pride in their activities.
In its infancy it had been as Badischas the Grossherzog of Baden, and haddeemed lilac-scented Carlsruhe the grandesttown in the world.
In blue-and-white Lutetia, it had grownas Parisian as an English dramatist.
When the fickle Fates moved it on toManchester, it had learned in a little whileto ogle Gaythorn and Oldham Road asenchanted Titania ogled her gentle joy, theloathly Bottom. It had looked with scornon the returned prodigals who had been toLondon—"to tahn," they called it—and whocame back to their more or less marblehalls in Salford with trousers turned up roundthe hems, shepherds' crooks to supporttheir elegantly languid totter, and words of[9]withering scorn for the streets of Peter andOxford, which my Mind had learned toregard as boulevards of dazzling light.
Mine had always been a pliant and affablemind. Perhaps if it lived in Widnes itmight prefer it to Heaven.
But the longer I remained in Londonthe more convinced I became that neveragain should I like Widnes, or Manchester,or Paris, or Carlsruhe, as well as thistantalising, fascinating, baffling city of mistylight—this stately, monstrous, grey, grimy,magnificent London.
Then I sought reason for my state, andthe following papers—one or two contributedto the Liverpool Post, one to theClarion, and the most part printed nowfor the first time—are the result of myinquiries.
One day I found cause for liking London,[10]another day the reverse. As the reasonscame to me I wrote them down, and withall their inconsistencies upon their heads,you have them here collected.
I have addressed the papers to you,because:—
As you had inspired the book, it wasonly fair you should share the blame.
By answering you publicly, I saved myselfthe trouble of separately answering manyother country friends who likewise lookedupon my love of London as a deplorablefalling f