Transcribed from the 1905 Chapman and Hall “Hard Timesand Reprinted Pieces” edition , email
Most of us see some romances inlife. In my capacity as Chief Manager of a Life AssuranceOffice, I think I have within the last thirty years seen moreromances than the generality of men, however unpromising theopportunity may, at first sight, seem.
As I have retired, and live at my ease, I possess the meansthat I used to want, of considering what I have seen, atleisure. My experiences have a more remarkable aspect, soreviewed, than they had when they were in progress. I havecome home from the Play now, and can recall the scenes of theDrama upon which the curtain has fallen, free from the glare,bewilderment, and bustle of the Theatre.
Let me recall one of these Romances of the real world.
There is nothing truer than physiognomy, taken in connectionwith manner. The art of reading that book of which EternalWisdom obliges every human creature to present his or her ownpage with the individual character written on it, is a difficultone, perhaps, and is little studied. It may require somenatural aptitude, and it must require (for everything does) somepatience and some pains. That these are not usually givento it,—that numbers of people accept a few stockcommonplace expressions of the face as the whole list ofcharacteristics, and neither seek nor know the refinements thatare truest,—that You, for instance, give a great deal oftime and attention to the reading of music, Greek, Latin, French,Italian, Hebrew, if you please, and do not qualify yourself toread the face of the master or mistress looking over yourshoulder teaching it to you,—I assume to be five hundredtimes more probable than improbable. Perhaps a littleself-sufficiency may be at the bottom of this; facial expressionrequires no study from you, you think; it comes by nature to youto know enough about it, and you are not to be taken in.
I confess, for my part, that I have been taken in, overand over again. I have been taken in by acquaintances, andI have been taken in (of course) by friends; far oftener byfriends than by any other class of persons. How came I tobe so deceived? Had I quite misread their faces?
No. Believe me, my first impression of those people,founded on face and manner alone, was invariably true. Mymistake was in suffering them to come nearer to me and explainthemselves away.
The partition which separated myown office from our general outer office in the City was of thickplate-glass. I could see through it what passed in theouter office, without hearing a word. I had it put up inplace of a wall that had been there for years,—ever sincethe house was built. It is no matter whether I did or didnot make the change in order that I might derive my firstimpression of strangers, who came to us on business, from theirfaces alone, without being influenced by anything theysaid. Enough to mention that I turned my glass partition tothat account, and that a Life Assurance Office is at all timesexposed to be practised upon by the most crafty and cruel of thehuman race.
It was through my glass partition that I first saw thegentleman whose story I am going to tell.
He had come in without my observing it, and had put his hatand umbrella on the broad counter, and was bending over it totake some papers from one of the clerks. He was about fortyor so, dark, exceedingly well dressed in black,—being inmourning,—and the hand he extended with a polite air, had aparticularly well-fitting black-kid glove upon it. Hishair, which was elaborately brushed and oiled, was partedstraight up the middle; and he presented this parting to theclerk, exactly (to my thinking) a