Why the Milkman Shudders When He Perceives the Dawn
In the Hall of the Ancient Company of Milkmen round the greatfireplace at the end, when the winter logs are burning and all thecraft are assembled they tell to-day, as their grandfathers toldbefore them, why the milkman shudders when he perceives the dawn.
When dawn comes creeping over the edges of hills, peers through thetree-trunks making wonderful shadows, touches the tops of tall columnsof smoke going up from awakening cottages in the valleys, and breaksall golden over Kentish fields, when going on tip-toe thence it comesto the walls of London and slips all shyly up those gloomy streets themilkman perceives it and shudders.
A man may be a Milkman's Working Apprentice, may know what borax isand how to mix it, yet not for that is the story told to him. Thereare five men alone that tell that story, five men appointed by theMaster of the Company, by whom each place is filled as it fallsvacant, and if you do not hear it from one of them you hear the storyfrom no one and so can never know why the milkman shudders when heperceives the dawn.
It is the way of one of these five men, greybeards all and milkmenfrom infancy, to rub his hands by the fire when the great logs burn,and to settle himself more easily in his chair, perhaps to sip somedrink far other than milk, then to look round to see that none arethere to whom it would not be fitting the tale should be told and,looking from face to face and seeing none but the men of the AncientCompany, and questioning mutely the rest of the five with his eyes, ifsome of the five be there, and receiving their permission, to coughand to tell the tale. And a great hush falls in the Hall of theAncient Company, and something about the shape of the roof and therafters makes the tale resonant all down the hall so that the youngesthears it far away from the fire and knows, and dreams of the day whenperhaps he will tell himself why the milkman shudders when heperceives the dawn.
Not as one tells some casual fact is it told, nor is it commented onfrom man to man, but it is told by that great fire only and when theoccasion and the stillness of the room and the merit of the wine andthe profit of all seem to warrant it in the opinion of the fivedeputed men: then does one of them tell it, as I have said, notheralded by any master of ceremonies but as though it arose out of thewarmth of the fire before which his knotted hands would chance to be;not a thing learned by rote, but told differently by each teller, anddifferently according to his mood, yet never has one of them dared toalter its salient points, there is none so base among the Company ofMilkmen. The Company of Powderers for the Face know of this story andhave envied it, the Worthy Company of Chin-Barbers, and the Company ofWhiskerers; but none have heard it in the Milkmen's Hall, throughwhose wall no rumour of the secret goes, and though they have inventedtales of their own Antiquity mocks them.
This mellow story was ripe with honourable years when milkmen worebeaver hats, its origin was still mysterious when smocks were thevogue, men asked one another when Stuarts were on the throne (and onlythe Ancient Company knew the answer) why the milkman shudders when heperceives the dawn. It is all for envy of this tale's reputation thatthe Company of Powderers for the Face have invented the tale that theytoo tell of an evening, "Why the Dog Barks when he hears the step ofthe Baker"; and because probably all men know that tale the Company ofthe Powderers for the Face have dared to consider it famous. Yet itlacks mystery and is not ancient, is not fortified with classicalallusion, has no secret lore, is common to all who care for an idletale, and shares with "The Wars of the Elves," the Calf-butcher'stale, and "The Story of the Unicorn and the Rose," which is the taleof the Company of Horse-drivers, their obvious inferiority.
But unlike all these tales so new to time, and many another that thelast two centuries tell, the tale that the milkmen tell ripples wiselyon, so full of quotation from the profoundest writers, so full ofrecondite allusion, so deeply tinged with all the wisdom of man andinstructive with the experience of all times that they that hear it inthe Milkmen's Hall as they interpret allusion after allusion and traceobscure quotation lose idle curiosity and forget to question why themilkman shudders when he perceives the dawn.
You also, O my reader, give not yourself up to curiosity. Consider ofhow many it is the bane. Would you to gratify this tear away themystery from the Milkmen's Hall and wrong the Ancient Company ofMilkmen? Would they if all the world knew it and it became a commonthing to tell that tale any more that they have told for the last fourhundred years? Rather a silence would settle upon their hall and auniversal regret for the ancient tale and the ancient winter evenings.And though curiosity were a proper consideration yet even then this isnot the proper place nor this the proper occasion for the Tale. Forthe proper place is only the Milkmen's Hall and the proper occasiononly when logs burn well and when wine has been deeply drunken, thenwhen the candles were burning well in long rows down to the dimness,down to the darkness and mystery that lie at the end of the hall, thenwere you one of the Company, and were I one of the five, would I risefrom my seat by the fireside and tell you with all the embellishmentsthat it has gleaned from the ages that story that is the heirloom ofthe milkmen. And the long candles would burn lower and lower andgutter and gutter away till they liquefied in their sockets, anddraughts would blow from the shadowy end of the hall stronger andstronger till the shadows came after them, and still I would hold youwith that treasured story, not by any wit of mine but all for the sakeof its glamour and the times out of which it came; one by one thecandles would flare and die and, when all were gone, by the light ofominous sparks when each milkman's face looks fearful to his fellow,you would know, as now you cannot, why the milkman shudders when heperceives the dawn.