The Strange Affair of Spring Heeled Jack - Mark Hodder [70]
"I want to improve! I want to be a great poet or I am nothing, Richard! To do that I must truly live. And a man can only truly live when Death is his permanent companion. Did I ever tell you about the time I climbed Culver Cliff on the Isle of Wight?"
Burton shook his head. Swinburne stopped his bizarre hopping and they crossed to the door, went out, and started down the stairs.
"It was Christmas, 1854," said his friend. "I was seventeen and my father had refused to buy me a commission as a cavalry officer. Denied a role in the war, how could I tell whether I possessed courage or not? It was all very well to dream of forlorn hopes and cavalry charges but for all I knew, when faced with the reality of war, I might be a coward! I had to test myself, Richard; so that Christmas I walked to the eastern headland of the island."
They exited the house and turned up their collars. It was getting colder.
"Where are we going?" asked Swinburne.
"Battersea."
"Battersea? Why, what's there?"
"The Tremors."
"Is that an affliction?"
"It's a public house. This way. I want to find my local paperboy first."
"Why all the way to Battersea just for a drink?"
"I'll tell you when we get there! Continue your story."
"You know Culver Cliff? It's a great face of chalk cut through with bands of flint. Very sheer. So I decided to climb it as a test of my mettle. On the first attempt, I came to an impassable overhang and had to make my way down again to choose a different route. I started back up, setting my teeth and swearing to myself that I would not come down alive again-if I did return to the foot of that blessed cliff, it would be in a fragmentary condition! So I edged my way up and the wind blew into the crevasses and hollows and made a sound like an anthem from the Eton Chapel organ. Then, as I edged ever higher, a cloud of seagulls burst from a cave and wheeled around me and for a moment I feared they would peck my eyes out. But still I ascended, though every muscle complained. I had almost reached the top when the chalk beneath my footholds crumbled away and I was left dangling by my hands from a ledge which just gave my fingers room enough to cling and hold on while I swung my feet sideways until I found purchase. I was able to pull myself up and over the lip of the cliff and there I lay so exhausted that I began to lose consciousness. It was only the thought that I might roll back over the edge that roused me."
"And thus you proved your courage to your satisfaction?" asked Burton.
"Yes, but I learned more than that. I learned that I can only truly live when Death threatens, and I can only write great poems when I feel Life coursing through my veins. My enemy is ennui, Richard. It will kill me more surely and more foully than either alcohol or opium, of that I am certain."
Burton pondered this until, a few minutes later, they caught up with young Oscar in Portman Square.
"I say, Quips!"
"What ho, Captain! You'll be taking an evening edition?" The youngster smiled.
"No, lad-I need information that I won't find in the newspaper. It's worth a bob or two."
"A couple of years ago, Captain, I thought that money was the most important thing in life; now that I'm older, I know that it is! You have yourself a deal. What is it that you're after knowing?"
"I need to meet with the Beetle, the president of the League of Chimney Sweeps."
Algernon Swinburne looked up at Burton in astonishment.
"Oofl" exclaimed Oscar. "That's a tall order! He's a secretive sort!"
Burton's reply was lost as a diligence thundered past, pulled by four horses. He waited until it had disappeared into Wigmore Street then repeated, "But you can find him? Is it possible?"
"I'll knock on your door tomorrow morning, sir. One thing: if you want to talk with the Beetle, you'll have to take