This, therefore, might be called a political position of the Bleeding
Hearts; but they entertained other objections to having foreigners
in the Yard. They believed that foreigners were always badly off; and
though they were as ill off themselves as they could desire to be,
that did not diminish the force of the objection. They believed that
foreigners were dragooned and bayoneted; and though they certainly got
their own skulls promptly fractured if they showed any ill-humour, still
it was with a blunt instrument, and that didn't count. They believed
that foreigners were always immoral; and though they had an occasional
assize at home, and now and then a divorce case or so, that had nothing
to do with it.
They believed that foreigners had no independent spirit,
as never being escorted to the poll in droves by Lord Decimus Tite
Barnacle, with colours flying and the tune of Rule Britannia playing.
Not to be tedious, they had many other beliefs of a similar kind.
Against these obstacles, the lame foreigner with the stick had to make
head as well as he could; not absolutely single-handed, because Mr
Arthur Clennam had recommended him to the Plornishes (he lived at the
top of the same house), but still at heavy odds. However, the Bleeding
Hearts were kind hearts; and when they saw the little fellow cheerily
limping about with a good-humoured face, doing no harm, drawing no
knives, committing no outrageous immoralities, living chiefly on
farinaceous and milk diet, and playing with Mrs Plornish's children of
an evening, they began to think that although he could never hope to be
an Englishman, still it would be hard to visit that affliction on his
head.
They began to accommodate themselves to his level, calling him 'Mr
Baptist,' but treating him like a baby, and laughing immoderately at his
lively gestures and his childish English--more, because he didn't mind
it, and laughed too. They spoke to him in very loud voices as if he
were stone deaf.
They constructed sentences, by way of teaching him the
language in its purity, such as were addressed by the savages to Captain
Cook, or by Friday to Robinson Crusoe. Mrs Plornish was particularly
ingenious in this art; and attained so much celebrity for saying 'Me ope
you leg well soon,' that it was considered in the Yard but a very short
remove indeed from speaking Italian. Even Mrs Plornish herself began to
think that she had a natural call towards that language. As he became
more popular, household objects were brought into requisition for his
instruction in a copious vocabulary; and whenever he appeared in the
Yard ladies would fly out at their doors crying 'Mr Baptist--tea-pot!'
'Mr Baptist--dust-pan!' 'Mr Baptist--flour-dredger!' 'Mr
Baptist--coffee-biggin!' At the same time exhibiting those articles,
and penetrating him with a sense of the appalling difficulties of the
Anglo-Saxon tongue.