Chapter I
With what unequal tempers are we form'd! One day the soul, elate and satisfied, Revels secure, and fondly tells herself The hour of evil can return no more: The next, the spirit, pall'd and sick of riot, Turns all to discord, and we hate our being, Curse our past joys, and think them folly all.
~1~~MATTER and motion, say Philosophers, are inseparable, and the doctrine appears equally applicable to the human mind. Our country Squire, anxious to testify a grateful sense of the attentions paid him during his London visit, had assiduously exerted himself since his return, in contributing to the pleasures and amusements of his visitors; and Belville Hall presented a scene of festive hospitality, at once creditable to its liberal owner, and gratifying to the numerous gentry of the surrounding neighbourhood.
But however varied and numerous the sports and recreations of rural life, however refined and select the circle of its society, they possessed not the endless round of metropolitan amusement, nor those ever-varying delights produced amid “the busy hum of men,” where every street is replete with incident and character, and every hour fraught with adventure.
Satiety had now evidently obtruded itself amid the party, and its attendants, lassitude and restlessness, were not long in bringing up the rear. The impression already made upon the mind of Bob by the cursory view he had taken of Life in London was indelible, and it required little persuasion on the part of his cousin, the Hon. Tom Dashall, to induce him again to return to scenes of so much delight, and which afforded such inexhaustible stores of amusement to an ardent and youthful curiosity.
~2~~A return to the Metropolis having therefore been mutually agreed upon, and every previous arrangement being completed, the Squire once more abdicated for a season his paternal domains, and accompanied by his cousin Dashall, and the whole ci-devant party of Belville Hall, arrived safe at the elegant mansion of the latter, where they planned a new system of perambulation, having for its object a further investigation of manners, characters, objects, and incidents, connected with Real Life in London.
“Come,” cried Dashall, one fine morning, starting up immediately after breakfast--
“----rouse for fresh game, and away let us haste, The regions to roam of wit, fashion, and taste; Like Quixote in quest of adventures set out, And learn what the crowds in the streets are about; And laugh when we must, and approve when we can, Where London displays ev'ry feature of man.”
“The numerous hotels, bagnios, taverns, inns, coffee-houses, eating-houses, lodging-houses, &c. in endless variety, which meet the eye in all parts of the metropolis, afford an immediate choice of accommodation, as well to the temporary sojourner as the permanent resident; where may be obtained the necessaries and luxuries of life, commensurate with your means of payment, from one shilling to a guinea for a dinner, and from sixpence to thirty shillings a night for a lodging!
“The stranger recommended to one of these hotels, who regales himself after the fatigues of a journey with moderate refreshment, and retires to rest, and preparing to depart in the morning, is frequently surprised at the longitudinal appearance and sum total of his bill, wherein every item is individually stated, and at a rate enormously extravagant. Remonstrance is unavailable; the charges are those common to the house, and in failure of payment your luggage is under detention, without the means of redress; ultimately the bill must be paid, and the only consolation left is, that you have acquired a useful, though expensive lesson, how to guard in future against similar exaction and inconvenience.”{1}
1 Marlborough Street.--Yesterday, Mrs. Hickinbottom, the wife of Mr. Hickinbottom, the keeper of the St. Petersburgh Hotel in Dover Street, Piccadilly, appeared to a summons to answer the complaint of a gentleman for unlawfully detaining his luggage under the following circumstances: The complainant stated, that on Thursday evening last, on his arrival in town from Aberdeen, he went to the White Horse Cellar, Piccadilly; but the house being full, he was recommended to the St. Petersburgh Hotel in Dover Street; where, having taken some refreshment and wrote a letter, he went to bed, and on the following morning after break-fast, he desired the waiter to bring him his bill, which he did, and the first item that presented itself was the moderate charge of one pound ten shillings for his bed; and then followed, amongst many others, sixpence for a pen, a shilling for wax, a shilling for the light, and two and sixpence for other lights; so that the bill amounted in the whole to the sum of two pounds one shilling for his night's lodging! To this very exorbitant charge he had refused to submit; in consequence of which he had been put to great inconvenience by the detention of his luggage. The magistrate animadverted with much severity on such extravagant charges on the part of the tavern-keeper, and advised that upon the gentleman paying fifteen shillings, the things might be immediately delivered up. To these terms, however, Mrs. Hickinbottom refused to accede, adding at the same time, that the gentleman had only been charged the regular prices of the house, and that she should insist upon the whole amount of the bill being paid, for that the persons who were in the habit of coming to their house never objected to such, the regular price of their lodgings being ten guineas per week! The magistrate lamented that he had no power to enforce the things being given up, but he recommended the complainant to bring an action against the tavern-keeper for the detention.
~3~~ These were the observations directed by Dashall to his friend, as they passed, one morning, the Hotel de la Sabloniere in Leicester Square.
“Doubtless,” he continued, “in those places of affluent resort, the accommodations are in the first style of excellence; yet with reference to comfort and sociability, were I a country gentleman in the habit of occasionally visiting London, my temporary domicile should be the snug domesticated Coffee-house, economical in its charges and pleasurable in the variety of its visitors, where I might, at will, extend or abridge my evening intercourse, and in the retirement of my own apartment feel myself more at home than in the vacuum of an hotel.”
The attention of our perambulators, in passing through the Square, was attracted by a fine boy, apparently about eight years of age, dressed in mourning, who, at the door of Brunet's Hotel, was endeavouring with all his little strength and influence to oppose the egress of a large Newfoundland dog, that, indignant of restraint, seemed desirous in a strange land of introducing himself to ~4~~ canine good fellowship. The boy, whose large dark eyes were full of animation, and his countenance, though bronzed, interestingly expressive, remonstrated with the dog in the French language. “The animal does not understand you,” exclaimed Tallyho, in the vernacular idiom of the youth, “Speak to him in English.” “He must be a clever dog,” answered the boy, “to know English so soon, for neither him nor I have been in England above a week, and for the first time in our lives.”--“And how is it,” asked Tallyho, “that you speak the English language so fluently?” “O,” said the little fellow, “my mother taught it me; she is an English woman, and for that reason I love the English, and am much fonder of talking their language than my own.” There was something extremely captivating in the boy. The dog now struggling for freedom was nearly effecting his release, when the two friends interposed their assistance, and secured the pre-meditating fugitive at the moment when, to inquire the cause of the bustle, the father of the child made his appearance in the person of Field Marshal Count Bertrand. The Count, possessing all the characteristics of a gentleman, acknowledged politely the kind attention of the strangers to his son, while, on the other hand, they returned his obeisance with the due respect excited by his uniform friendship and undeviating attachment to greatness in adversity. The discerning eye of Field Marshal Bertrand justly appreciated the superior rank of the strangers, to whom he observed, that during the short period he had then been in England, he had experienced much courtesy, of which he should always retain a grateful recollection. This accidental interview was creative of reciprocal satisfaction, and the parties separated, not without an invitation on the part of the boy, that his newly found acquaintances would again visit the “friends of the Emperor.”{1}~5~~
1 LINES SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN WRITTEN BY THE EX-EMPEROR NAPOLEON IN HIS LAST ILLNESS.
Too slowly the tide of existence recedes For him in captivity destined to languish, The Exile, abandon'd of fortune, who needs The friendship of Death to obliviate his anguish. Yet, even his last moments unmet by a sigh, Napoleon the Great uncomplaining shall die!
Though doom'd on thy rock, St. Helena, to close My life, that once presag'd ineffable glory, Unvisited here though my ashes repose, No tablet to tell the lone Exile's sad story,-- Napoleon Buonaparte--still shall the name Exist on the records immortal of Fame!
Posterity, tracing the annals of France, The merits will own of her potent defender; Her greatness pre-eminent skill'd to advance, Creating, sustaining, her zenith of splendour; Who patroniz'd arts, and averted alarms, Till crush'd by the union of nations in arms!
I yield to my fate! nor should memory bring One moment of fruitless and painful reflection Of what I was lately--an Emperor and King, Unless for the bitter, yet fond recollection Of those, who my heart's best endearments have won, Remote from my death-bed--my Consort and SON!
Denied in their arms even to breathe my last sigh, No relatives' solace my exit attending; With strangers sojourning, 'midst strangers I die, No tear of regret with the last duties blending. To him, the lorn Exile, no obsequies paid, Whose fiat a Universe lately obey'd!
Make there then my tomb, where the willow trees wave, And, far in the Island, the streamlet meanders; If ever, by stealth, to my green grassy grave Some kind musing spirit of sympathy wanders-- “Here rests,” he will say, “from Adversity's pains, Napoleon Buonaparte's mortal remains!”
We have no disposition to enter into the character of the deceased Ex-Emperor; history will not fail to do justice alike to the merits and the crimes of one, who is inevitably destined to fill so portentous a page on its records. At the present time, to speak of the good of which he may have been either the intentional or the involuntary instrument, without some bias of party feeling would be impossible.
“Hard is his fate, on whom the public gaze Is fix'd for ever, to condemn or praise; Repose denies her requiem to his name, And folly loves the martyrdom of fame.”
At all events, he is now no more; and “An English spirit wars not with the dead.”
“The Count,” said Dashall to his Cousin, as they pursued their walk, “remains in England until he obtain ~6~~ permission from the King of France to return to his native country: that such leave will be given, there is little doubt; the meritorious fidelity which the Count has uniformly exemplified to his late unfortunate and exiled Master, has obtained for him universal esteem, and the King of France is too generous to withhold, amidst the general feeling, his approbation.”
Passing through Long Acre in their progress towards the British Museum, to which national establishment they had cards of admission, the two friends were intercepted in their way by a concourse at a coach-maker's shop, fronting which stood a chariot carefully matted round the body, firmly sewed together, and the wheels enveloped in hay-bands, preparatory to its being sent into the country. Scarcely had these precautionary measures of safety been completed, when a shrill cry, as if by a child inside the vehicle, was heard, loud and continuative, which, after the lapse of some minutes, broke out into the urgent and reiterated exclamation of--“Let me out!--I shall be suffocated!--pray let me out!”
The workmen, who had packed up the carriage, stared at each other in mute and appalling astonishment; they felt conscious that no child was within the vehicle; and when at last they recovered from the stupor of amazement, they resisted the importunity of the multitude to strip the chariot, and manfully swore, that if any one was inside, it must be the Devil himself, or one of his imps, and no human or visible being whatsoever.
Some, of the multitude were inclined to a similar opinion. The crowd increased, and the most intense interest was depicted in every countenance, when the cry of “Let me out!--I shall die!--For heaven's sake let me out!” was audibly and vehemently again and again repeated.
The impatient multitude now began to cut away the matting; when the workmen, apprehensive that the carriage might sustain some damage from the impetuosity of their proceedings, took upon themselves the act of dismantling the mysterious machine; during which operation, the cry of “Let me out!” became more and more clamorously importunate. At last the vehicle was laid bare, and its door thrown open; when, to the utter amazement of the crowd, no child was there--no trace was to be seen of aught, human or super-human! The ~7~~ assemblage gazed on the vacant space from whence the sounds had emanated, in confusion and dismay. During this momentary suspense, in which the country 'Squire participated, a voice from some invisible agent, as if descending the steps of the carriage, exclaimed--“Thank you, my good friends, I am very much obliged to you--I shall now go home, and where my home is you will all know by-and-by!”
With the exception of Dashall and Tallyho, the minds of the spectators, previously impressed with the legends of superstition and diablerie, gave way under the dread of the actual presence of his satanic majesty; and the congregated auditors of his ominous denunciation instantaneously dispersed themselves from the scene of witchery, and, re-assembling in groupes on distant parts of the street, cogitated and surmised on the Devil's visit to the Coachmakers of Long Acre!
Tallyho now turned an inquisitive eye on his Cousin, who answered the silent and anxious enquiry with an immoderate fit of laughter, declaring that this was the best and most ingenious hoax of any he had ever witnessed, and that he would not have missed, on any consideration whatsoever, the pleasure of enjoying it. “The Devil in Long Acre!--I shall never forget it,” exclaimed the animated Cousin of the staring and discomfited 'Squire.
“Explain, explain,” reiterated the 'Squire, impatiently.
“You shall have it in one word,” answered Dashall--“Ventriloquism!”{1}
1 This hoax was actually practised by a Ventriloquist in the manner described. It certainly is of a less offensive nature than that of many others which have been successfully brought for-ward in the Metropolis, the offspring of folly and idleness.--“A fellow,” some years ago, certainly not “of infinite humour,” considering an elderly maiden lady of Berner Street a “fit and proper subject” on whom to exercise his wit, was at the trouble of writing a vast number of letters to tradesmen and others, magistrates and professional men, ordering from the former various goods, and requiring the advice, in a case of emergency, of the latter, appointing the same hour, to all, of attendance; so that, in fact, at the time mentioned, the street, to the annoy-ance and astonishment of its inhabitants, was crowded with a motley group of visitants, equestrian and pedestrian, all eagerly pressing forward to their destination, the old lady's place of residence. In the heterogeneous assemblage there were seen Tradesmen of all denominations, accompanied by their Porters, bearing various articles of household furniture; Counsellors anticipating fees; Lawyers engaged to execute the last will and testament of the heroine of the drama, and, not the least conspicuous, an Undertaker preceded by his man with a coffin; and to crown the whole, “though last not least in our esteem,” the then Lord Mayor of London, who, at the eager desire of the old Lady, had, with a commendable feeling of humanity, left his civic dominions, in order to administer, in a case of danger and difficulty, his consolation and assistance. When, behold! the clue was unravelled, the whole turn'd out an hoax, and the Author still remains in nubibus!!!
~8~~ “And who could have been the artist?” enquired Tallyho.
“Nay,” answered his friend, “that is impossible to say; some one in the crowd, but the secret must remain with himself; neither do I think it would have been altogether prudent his revealing it to his alarmed and credulous auditory.”
“A Ventriloquist,” observed the 'Squire, “is so little known in the country, that I had lost all reminiscence of his surprising powers; however, I shall in future, from the occurrence of to-day, resist the obtrusion of superstition, and in all cases of 'doubtful dilemma' remember the Devil in Long Acre!”{l}
“Well resolved,” answered Dashall; and in a few minutes they gained Great Russel Street, Bloomsbury, without further incident or interruption.
1 The child in the hat.--Not long since, a Waggoner coming to town with a load of hay, was overtaken by a stranger, who entered into familiar conversation with him. They had not pro-ceeded far, when, to the great terror of Giles Jolt, a plaintive cry, apparently that of a child, issued from the waggon. “Didst hear that, mon?” exclaimed Giles. The cry was renewed--“Luord! Luord! an there be na a babe aneath the hay, I'se be hanged; lend us a hand, mon, to get un out, for God's sake!” The stranger very promptly assisted in unloading the waggon, but no child was found. The hay now lay in a heap on the road, from whence the cry was once more long and loudly reiterated! In eager research, Giles next proceeded to scatter the hay over the road, the cry still continuing; but when, at last, he ascertained that the assumed infantine plaint was all a delusion, his hair stood erect with horror, and, running rapidly from his companion, announced that he had been associated on the road by the Devil, for that none else could play him such a trick! It was not without great difficulty that the people to whom he told this strange story prevailed on him to return, at last, to his waggon and horses; he did so with manifest reluctance. To his indescribable relief, his infernal companion hail vanished in the person of the Ventriloquist, and Jolt still believes in the supernatural visitation!
~9~~ Amongst the literary and scientific institutions of the Metropolis, the British Museum, situated in Great Russel Street, Bloomsbury, stands pre-eminent.
Entering the spacious court, our two friends found a party in waiting for the Conductor. Of the individuals composing this party, the reconnoitering eye of Dashall observed a trio, from whence he anticipated considerable amusement. It was a family triumvirate, formed of an old Bachelor, whose cent per cent ideas predominated over every other, wheresoever situated or howsoever employed; his maiden Sister, prim, starch and antiquated; and their hopeful Nephew, a complete coxcomb, that is, in full possession of the requisite concomitants--ignorance and impudence, and arrayed in the first style of the most exquisite dandyism. This delectable triumviri had emerged from their chaotic recess in Bearbinder-lane; the Exquisite, to exhibit his sweet person along with the other curiosities of the Museum; his maiden Aunt, to see, as she expressed it, the “He-gipsyian munhuments, kivered with kerry-glee-fix;” and her Brother, to ascertain whether, independent of outlandish baubles, gimcracks and gewgaws, there was any thing of substantiality with which to enhance the per contra side in the Account Current between the British Museum and the Public!
Attaching themselves to this respectable trio, Dashall and Tallyho followed, with the other visitants, the Guide, whose duty it that day was to point out the various curiosities of this great national institution.
The British Museum was established by act of parliament, in 1753, in pursuance of the will of Sir Hans Sloane, who left his museum to the nation, on condition that Parliament should pay 20,000L. to his Executors, and purchase a house sufficiently commodious for it. The parliament acted with great liberality on the occasion; several other valuable collections were united to that of Sir Hans Sloane, and the whole establishment was completed for the sum of 85,000L. raised by lottery. At the institution of this grand treasury of learning, it was proposed that a competent part of 1800L. the annual sum granted by parliament for the support of the house, should be appropriated for the purchase of new books; but the salaries necessary for the officers, together with the contingent expenses, have always exceeded the allowance; so that the Trustees have been repeatedly ~10~~ obliged to make application to defray the necessary charges.
Mr. Timothy Surety, the before mentioned Bearbinder-lane resident, of cent per cent rumination; his accomplished sister, Tabitha; his exquisite nephew, Jasper; and the redoubtable heroes of our eventful history, were now associated in one party, and the remaining visitants were sociably amalgamated in another; and each having its separate Conductor, both proceeded to the inspection of the first and most valuable collection in the universe.
On entering the gate, the first objects which attracted attention were two large sheds, defending from the inclemency of the seasons a collection of Egyptian monuments, the whole of which were taken from the French at Alexandria, in the last war. The most curious of these, perhaps, is the large Sarcophagus beneath the shed to the left, which has been considered as the exterior coffin of Alexander the Great, used at his final interment. It is formed of variegated marble, and, as Mrs. Tabitha Surety observed, was “kivered with Kerry-glee-fix.”
“Nephew Jasper,” said his Uncle, “you are better acquainted with the nomenclature, I think you call it, of them there thing-um-bobs than I am--what is the name of this here?”
“My dear Sir,” rejoined the Exquisite, “this here is called a Sark o' Fegus, implying the domicile, or rather, the winding-sheet of the dead, as the sark or chemise wound itself round the fair forms of the daughters of O'Fegus, a highland Chieftain, from whom descended Philip of Macedon, father of Alexander the Great; and thence originated the name subsequently given by the highland laird's successors, to the dormitory of the dead, the Sark o' Fegus, or in the corruption of modern orthography, Sarcophagus.”
Timothy Surety cast an approving glance towards his Nephew, and whispering Dashall, “My Nephew, Sir, apparently a puppy, Sir, but well informed, nevertheless--what think you of his definition of that hard word? Is he not, I mean my Nephew Jaz, a most extraordinary young man?”
“Superlatively so,” answered Dashall, “and I think you are happy in bearing affinity to a young man of such transcendent acquirements.”
~11~~“D--n his acquirements!” exclaimed Timothy; “would you think it, they are of no use in the way of trade, and though I have given him many an opportunity of doing well, he knows no more of keeping a set of books by double-entry, than Timothy Surety does of keeping a pack of hounds, who was never twenty miles beyond the hearing of Bow bells in all his lifetime!”
This important communication, having been made apart from the recognition of the Aunt and Nephew, passed on their approach, unanswered; and Dashall and his friend remained in doubt whether or not the Nephew, in his late definition of the word Sarcophagus, was in jest or earnest: Tallyho inclined to think that he was hoaxing the old gentleman; on the other hand, his Cousin bethought himself, that the apparent ingenuity of Jaz's definition was attributable entirely to his ignorance.
Here also were two statues of Roman workmanship, supposed to be those of Marcus Aurelius and Severus, ancient, but evidently of provincial sculpture.
Mrs. Tabitha, shading her eyes with her fan, and casting a glance askew at the two naked figures, which exhibited the perfection of symmetry, enquired of her Nephew who they were meant to represent.
His answer was equally eccentric with that accorded to his Uncle on the subject of the Sarcophagus.
“My dear Madam!” said Jaz, “these two figures are consanguineous to those of Gog and Magog in Guildhall, being the lineal descendants of these mighty associates of the Livery of London!”
“But, Jaz” rejoined the antique dame, “I always understood that Messieurs Gog and Magog derived their origin from quite a different family.”
“Aunt of mine,” responded Jaz, “the lofty rubicunded Civic Baronet shall not be 'shorn of his beams;' he claims the same honour with his brainless brothers before us-he is a scion of the same tree; Sir W*ll**m, the twin brothers of Guildhall, and these two sedate Gentlemen of stone, all boast the honour of the same extraction!”
Behind them, on the right, was a ram's head of very curious workmanship, from Thebes.
“Perhaps, Sir,” said Mrs. Tabitha, graciously addressing herself to 'Squire Tallyho, “you can inform us what may be the import of this singular exhibition?”
“On my honour, Madam,” answered the 'Squire, “I cannot satisfactorily resolve the enquiry; I am a country ~12~~ gentleman, and though conversant with rains and rams' horns in my own neighbourhood, have no knowledge of them with reference to the connexion of the latter with the Citizens of London or Westminster!”
Jaz again assumed the office of expositor.--“My very reverend Aunt,” said Jaz, “I must prolegomenize the required explanation with a simple anecdote:--
“When Charles the Second returned from one of his northern tours, accompanied by the Earl of Rochester, he passed through Shoreditch. On each side the road was a huge pile of rams' horns, for what purpose tradition saith not. 'What is the meaning of all this?' asked the King, pointing towards the symbolics. 'I know not,' rejoined Rochester, 'unless it implies that the Citizens of London have laid their heads together, to welcome your Majesty's return!' In commemoration of this witticism, the ram's head is to the Citizens of London a prominent feature of exhibition in the British Museum.”
This interpretation raised a laugh at the expense of Timothy Surety, who, nevertheless, bore it with great good humour, being a bachelor, and consequently not within the scope of that ridicule on the basis of which was founded the present sarcastic fabric.
It was now obvious to Dash all and his friend, that this young man, Jasper Surety, was not altogether the ignoramus at first presumed. They had already been entertained by his remarks, and his annotations were of a description to warrant the expectancy of further amusement in the progress of their inspection.
From the hall the visitors were led through an iron gateway to the great staircase, opposite the bottom of which is preserved a model in mahogany, exhibiting the method used by Mr. Milne in constructing the works of Blackfriars' Bridge; and beneath it are some curious fragments from the Giant's Causeway in Ireland.
These fragments, however highly estimated by the naturalist and the antiquary, were held in derision by the worldly-minded Tim. Surety, who exclaimed against the folly of expending money in the purchase of articles of no intrinsic value, calculated only to gratify the curiosity of those inquisitive idlers who affect their admiration of every uninteresting production of Nature, and neglect the pursuit of the main chance, so necessary in realizing the comforts of life.
~13~~ These sordid ideas were opposed by Dashall and the 'Squire, to whom they seemed particularly directed. Mrs. Tabitha smiled a gracious acquiescence in the sentiments of the two strangers, and Jasper expressed his regret that Nuncle was not gifted and fated as Midas of ancient times, who transformed every thing that he touched into gold!
The Egyptian and Etruscan antiquities next attracted the attention of the visitors. Over a doorway in this room is a fine portrait of Sir William Hamilton, painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds. Dashall and Tallyho remarked with enthusiasm on these beautiful relics of the sculpture of former ages, several of which were mutilated and disfigured by the dilapidations of time and accident. Of the company present, there stood on the left a diminutive elderly gentleman in the act of contemplating the fragment of a statue in a posterior position, and which certainly exhibited somewhat of a ludicrous appearance; on the right, the exquisite Jasper pointed out, with the self-sufficiency of an amateur, the masculine symmetry of a Colossian statue to his Aunt of antiquated virginity, whose maiden purity recoiling from the view of nudation, seemed to say, “Jaz, wrap an apron round him!” while in the foreground stood the rotunditive form of Timothy Surety, who declared, after a cursory and contemptuous glance at the venerable representatives of mythology, “That with the exception of the portrait of Sir William Hamilton, there was not in the room an object worth looking at; and as for them there ancient statutes,” (such was his vernacular idiom and Bearbinder barbarism) “I would not give twopence for the whole of this here collection, if it was never for nothing else than to set them up as scare-crows in the garden of my country house at Edmonton!”
Jasper whispered his aunt, that nuncks was a vile bore; and the sacrilegious declaration gave great offence to the diminutive gentleman aforesaid, who hesitated not in pronouncing Timothy Surety destitute of taste and vertu; to which accusation Timothy, rearing his squat form to its utmost altitude, indignantly replied, “that there was not an alderman in the City of London of better taste than himself in the qualities of callipash and callipee, and that if the little gemmen presumed again to asperse his vartue, he would bring an action against him tor slander and defamation of character.” The minikin man gave Timothy a glance of ineffable disdain, and left the room. Mrs. ~14~~ Tabitha, in the full consciousness of her superior acquirements, now directed a lecture of edification to her brother, who, however, manfully resisted her interference, and swore, that “where his taste and vartue were called in question he would not submit to any she in the universe.”
Mrs. Tabitha, finding that on the present occasion her usual success would not predominate, suspended, like a skilful manoeuvreist, unavailable attack, and, turning to her nephew, required to know what personage the tall figure before them was meant to represent. Jasper felt not qualified correctly to answer this enquiry, yet unwilling to acknowledge his ignorance, unhesitatingly replied, “One of the ancient race of architects who built the Giant's Causeway in the north of Ireland.” This sapient remark excited a smile from the two friends, who shortly afterwards took an opportunity of withdrawing from further intercourse with the Bearbinder triumviri, and enjoyed with a more congenial party the remaining gratification which this splendid national institution is so well calculated to inspire.
Extending their observations to the various interesting objects of this magnificent establishment, the two prominent heroes of our eventful history derived a pleasure only known to minds of superior intelligence, to whom the wonders of art and nature impart the acmé of intellectual enjoyment.
Having been conducted through all the different apartments, the two friends, preparing to depart, the 'Squire tendered a pecuniary compliment to the Guide, in return for his politeness, but which, to the surprise of the donor, was refused; the regulations of the institution strictly prohibiting the acceptance by any of its servants of fee or reward from a visitor, under the penalty of dismissal.{1}
1 Although the limits of this work admit not a minute detail of the rarities of the British Museum, yet a succinct enumeration of a few particulars may not prove unacceptable to our Readers.
In the first room, which we have already noticed, besides the Egyptian and Etruscan antiquities, is a stand filled with reliques of ancient Egypt, amongst which are numerous small representatives of mummies that were used as patterns for those who chose and could afford to be embalmed at their decease.
The second apartment is principally devoted to works of art, be-ginning with Mexican curiosities. The corners opposite the light are occupied by two Egyptian mummies, richly painted, which were both brought from the catacombs of Sakkara, near Grand Cairo.
The third room exhibits a rich collection of curiosities from the South Pacific Ocean, brought by Capt. Cook. In the left corner is the mourning dress of an Otaheitean lady, in which taste and barbarity are curiously blended. Opposite are the rich cloaks and helmets of feathers from the Sandwich Islands.
The visitor next enters the manuscript department, the first room of which is small, and appropriated chiefly to the collections of Sir Hans Sloane. The next room is completely filled with Sir Robert Harley's manuscripts, afterwards Earl of Oxford, one of the most curious of which is a volume of royal letters, from 1437 to the time of Charles I.. The next and last room of the manuscript department is appropriated to the ancient royal library of manuscripts, and Sir Robert Cotton's, with a few-later donations. On the table, in the middle of the room, is the famous Magna Charta of King John; it is written on a large roll of parchment, and was much damaged in the year 1738, when the Cotton library took fire at Westminster, but a part of the broad seal is yet annexed.
We next reach the great saloon, which is finely ornamented with fresco paintings by Baptiste. Here are a variety of Roman remains, such as dice, tickets for the Roman theatres, mirrors, seals for the wine casks, lamps, &c. and a beautiful bronze head of Homer, which was found near Constantinople.
The mineral room is the next object of attention. Here are fossils of a thousand kinds, and precious stones, of various colours and splendours, composing a collection of astonishing beauty and magnificence.
Next follows the bird room; and the last apartment contains animals in spirits, in endless variety. And here the usual exhibition of the house closes.
~15~~ Issuing from the portals of the Museum, “Apropos,” said Dashall, “we are in the vicinity of Russell-square, the residence of my stock-broker; I have business of a few moments continuance to transact with him--let us proceed to his residence.”
A lackey, whose habiliment, neat but not gaudy, indicated the unostentatious disposition of his master,, answered the summons of the knocker: “Mr. C. was gone to his office at the Royal Exchange.”
“The gentleman who occupies this mansion,” observed Dashall to his friend, as they retired from the door, “illustrates by his success in life, the truth of the maxim so frequently impressed on the mind of the school-boy, that perseverance conquers all difficulties. Mr. C, unaided by any other recommendation than that of his own unassuming modest merit, entered the very ~16~~ respectable office of which he is now the distinguished principal, in the situation of a young man who has no other prospect of advancement than such as may accrue from rectitude of conduct, and the consequent approbation and patronage of his employer. By a long exemplary series of diligence and fidelity, he acquired the confidence of, and ultimately became a partner in the firm. His strictly conscientious integrity and uniform gentlemanly urbanity have thus gained him a preference in his profession, and an ample competency is now the well-merited meed of his industry.”
“Combining with its enjoyment,” responded the 'Squire, “the exercise of benevolent propensities.”
“Exactly so much so, that his name appears as an annual subscriber to nearly all the philanthropic institutions of the metropolis, and his private charities besides are numerous and reiterated.”
“This, then, is one of the few instances (said the 'Squire) of Real Life in London, where private fortune is so liberally applied in relief of suffering humanity--it is worthy of indelible record.”
Circumambulating the square, the two observers paused opposite the fine statue of the late Francis Duke of Bedford.
The graceful proportion, imposing elevation, and commanding attitude of the figure, together with the happy combination of skill and judgment by the artist, in the display on the pedestal of various agricultural implements, indicating the favourite and useful pursuits of this estimable nobleman, give to the whole an interesting appearance, and strongly excite those feelings of regret which attend the recollection of departed worth and genius. Proceeding down the spacious new street directly facing the statue, our perambulators were presently in Bedford-square, in which is the effigy of the late eminent statesman Charles James Fox: the figure is in à sitting posture, unfavourable to our reminiscences of the first orator of any age or country, and is arrayed in the Roman toga: the face is a striking likeness, but the effect on the whole is not remarkable. The two statues face each other, as if still in friendly recognition; but the sombre reflections of Dashall and his friend were broke in upon by a countryman with, “Beant that Measter Fox, zur?” “His effigy, my ~17~~friend.” “Aye, aye, but what the dickens ha've they wrapt a blanket round un vor?”
Proceeding along Charlotte Street, Bloomsbury, the associates in search of Real Life were accosted by a decent looking countryman in a smock-frock, who, approaching them in true clod-hopping style, with a strong provincial accent, detailed an unaffectedly simple, yet deep tale of distress:
“----Oppression fore'd from his cot, His cattle died, and blighted was his corn!”
The story which he told was most pathetic, the tears the while coursing each other down his cheeks; and Dashall and his friend were about to administer liberally to his relief, the former observing, “There can be no deception here,” when the applicant was suddenly pounced upon by an officer, as one of the greatest impostors in the Metropolis, who, with the eyes of Argus, could transform themselves into a greater variety of shapes than Proteus, and that he had been only fifty times, if not more, confined in different houses of correction as an incorrigible rogue and vagabond, from one of which he had recently contrived to effect his escape. The officer now bore off his prize in triumph, while Dashall, hitherto “the most observant of all observers,” sustained the laugh of his Cousin at the knowing one deceived, with great good humour, and Dashall, adverting to his opinion so confidently expressed, “There can be no deception here,” declared that in London it was impossible to guard in every instance against fraud, where it is frequently practised with so little appearance of imposition.
The two friends now bent their course towards Covent Garden, which, reaching without additional incident, they wiled away an hour at Robins's much to their satisfaction. That gentleman, in his professional capacity, generally attracts in an eminent degree the attention of his visitors by his professional politeness, so that he seldom fails to put off an article to advantage; and yet he rarely resorts to the puff direct, and never indulges in the puff figurative, so much practised by his renowned predecessor, the late knight of the hammer, Christie, the elder, who by the superabundancy of his rhetorical ~18~~flurishes, was accustomed from his elevated rostrum to edify and amuse his admiring auditory.{1}
Of the immense revenues accruing to his Grace the Duke of Bedford, not the least important is that derived from Covent Garden market. As proprietor of the ground, from every possessor of a shed or stall, and from all who take their station as venders in the market, a rent is payable to his Grace, and collected weekly; considering, therefore, the vast number of occupants, the aggregate rental must be of the first magnitude. His Grace is a humane landlord, and his numerous tenantry of Covent Garden are always ready to join in general eulogium on his private worth, as is the nation at large on the patriotism of his public character.
Dashall conducted his friend through every part of the Market, amidst a redundancy of fruit, flowers, roots and vegetables, native and exotic, in variety and profusion, exciting the merited admiration of the Squire, who observed, and perhaps justly, that this celebrated emporium unquestionably is not excelled by any other of a similar description in the universe.
1 The late Mr. Christie having at one time a small tract of land under the hammer, expatiated at great length on its highly improved state, the exuberant beauties with which Nature had adorned this terrestrial Paradise, and more particularly specified a delightful hanging wood.
A gentleman, unacquainted with Mr. Christie's happy talent at exaggerated description, became the highest bidder, paid his deposit, and posted down into Essex to examine his new purchase, when, to his great surprise and disappointment, he found no part of the description realized, the promised Paradise having faded into an airy vision, “and left not a wreck behind!” The irritated purchaser immediately returned to town, and warmly expostulated with the auctioneer on the injury he had sustained by unfounded representation; “and as to a hanging wood, Sir, there is not the shadow of a tree on the spot!” “I beg your pardon, Sir,” said the pertinacious eulogist, “you must certainly have overlooked the gibbet on the common, and if that is not a hanging wood, I know not what it is!”
Another of Mr. Christie's flights of fancy may not unaptly be termed the puff poetical. At an auction of pictures, dwelling in his usual strain of eulogium on the unparalleled excellence of a full-length portrait, without his producing the desired effect, “Gentlemen,” said he, “1 cannot, in justice to this sublime art, permit this most invaluable painting to pass from under the hammer, without again soliciting the honour of your attention to its manifold beauties. Gentlemen, it only wants the touch of Prometheus to start from the canvass and fall abidding!”
~19~~ Proceeding into Leicester Square, the very extraordinary production of female genius, Miss Linwood's Gallery of Needlework promised a gratification to the Squire exceeding in novelty any thing which he had hitherto witnessed in the Metropolis. The two friends accordingly entered, and the anticipations of Tallyho were superabundantly realized.
This exhibition consists of seventy-five exquisite copies in needlework, of the finest pictures of the English and foreign schools, possessing all the correct drawing, just colouring, light and shade of the original pictures from whence they are taken, and to which in point of effect they are in no degree inferior.
From the door in Leicester Square the visitants entered the principal room, a fine gallery of excellent proportions, hung with scarlet broad-cloth, gold bullion tassels, and Greek borders. The appearance thus given to the room is pleasing, and indicated to the Squire a still more superior attraction. His Cousin Dashall had frequently inspected this celebrated exhibition, but' to Tallyho it was entirely new.
On one side of this room the pictures are hung, and have a guard in front to keep the company at the requisite distance, and for preserving them.
Turning to the left, a long and obscure passage prepares the mind, and leads to the cell of a prison, on looking into which is seen the beautiful Lady Jane Gray, visited by the Abbot and keeper of the Tower the night before her execution.
This scene particularly elicited the Squire's admiration; the deception of the whole, he observed, was most beautiful, and not exceeded by any work from the pencil of the painter, that he had ever witnessed. A little farther on is a cottage, the casement of which opens, and the hatch at the door is closed; and, on looking in at either, our visitants perceived a fine and exquisitely finished copy of Gainsborough's Cottage Children standing by the fire, with chimney-piece and cottage furniture compleat. Near to this is Gainsborough's Woodman, exhibited in the same scenic manner.
Having enjoyed an intellectual treat, which perhaps in originality as an exhibition of needlework is no where else to be met with, our perambulators retired, and reached home without the occurrence of any other remarkable incident.~20~~
Chapter II
“Look round thee, young Astolpho; here's the place Which men (for being poor) are sent to starve in;-- Rude remedy, I trow, for sore disease. Within these walls, stifled by damp and stench, Doth Hope's fair torch expire, and at the snuff, Ere yet 'tis quite extinct, rude, wild, and wayward, The desperate revelries of fell Despair, Kindling their hell-born cressets, light to deeds That the poor Captive would have died ere practised, Till bondage sunk his soul to his condition.”
The Prison.--Act I. Scene III.
TRAVERSING the streets, without having in view any particular object, other than the observance of Real Life in London, such as might occur from fortuitous incident; our two perambulators skirted the Metropolis one fine morning, till finding themselves in the vicinity of Tothill-fields Bridewell, a place of confinement to which the Magistrates of Westminster provisionally commit those who are supposed to be guilty of crimes. Ingress was without much difficulty obtained, and the two friends proceeded to a survey of human nature in its most degraded state, where, amidst the consciousness of infamy and the miseries of privation, apathy seemed the predominant feeling with these outcasts of society, and reflection on the past, or anticipation of the future, was absorbed in the vacuum of insensibility. Reckless of his destiny, here the manacled felon wore, with his gyves, the semblance of the most perfect indifference; and the seriousness of useful retrospection was lost in the levity of frivolous amusement. Apart from the other prisoners was seated a recluse, whose appearance excited the attention of the two visitants; a deep cloud of dejection overshadowed his features, and he seemed studiously to keep aloof from the obstreperous revelry of his fellow-captives. There was in his manner a something inducing a feeling of commiseration which could not be extended to his callous ~21~~ companions in adversity. His decayed habiliment indicated, from its formation and texture, that he had seen better days, and his voluntary seclusion confirmed the idea that he had not been accustomed to his present humiliating intercourse. His intenseness of thought precluded the knowledge of approximation on his privacy, until our two friends stood before him; he immediately rose, made his obeisance, and was about to retire, when Mr. Dashall, with his characteristic benevolence, begged the favour of a few moments conversation.
“I am gratified,” he observed, “in perceiving one exception to the general torpitude of feeling which seems to pervade this place; and I trust that your case of distress is not of a nature to preclude the influence of hope in sustaining your mind against the pressure of despondency.”
“The cause of my confinement,” answered the prisoner, “is originally that of debt, although perverted into crime by an unprincipled, relentless creditor. Destined to the misery of losing a beloved wife and child, and subsequently assailed by the minor calamity of pecuniary embarrassment, I inevitably contracted a few weeks arrears of rent to the rigid occupant of the house wherein I held my humble apartment, when, returned one night to my cheerless domicil, my irascible landlord, in the plenitude of ignorance and malevolence, gave me in charge of a sapient guardian of the night, who, without any enquiry into the nature of my offence, conducted me to the watch-house, where I was presently confronted with my creditor, who accused me of the heinous crime of getting into his debt. The constable very properly refused to take cognizance of a charge so ridiculous; but unluckily observing, that had I been brought there on complaint of an assault, he would in that case have felt warranted in my detention, my persecutor seized on the idea with avidity, and made a declaration to that effect, although evidently no such thought had in the first instance occurred to him, well knowing the accusation to be grossly unfounded. This happened on a Saturday night, and I remained in duresse and without sustenance until the following Monday, when I was held before a Magistrate; the alleged assault was positively sworn to, and, maugre my statement of the suspicious, inconsistent conduct of my prosecutor, I was immured in the lock-up house for the remainder of the day, on the affidavit of ~22~~ perjury, and in the evening placed under the friendly care of the Governor of Tothill-fields Bridewell, to abide the issue at the next Westminster sessions.”
“This is a most extraordinary affair,” said the Squire; “and what do you conjecture may be the result?”
“The pertinacity of my respectable prosecutor,” said the Captive, “might probably induce him to procure the aid of some of his conscientious Israelitish brethren, whom 1 never saw, towards substantiating the aforesaid assault, by manfully swearing to the fact; but as I have no desire of exhibiting myself through the streets, linked to a chain of felons on our way to the Sessions House, I believe I shall contrive to pay the debt due to the perjured scoundrel, which will ensure my enlargement, and let the devil in due season take his own!”
“May we enquire,” said Dashall, “without the imputation of impertinent inquisitiveness, what has been the nature of your pursuits in life?”
“Multitudinous,” replied the other; “my life has been so replete with adventure and adversity in all its varieties, and in its future prospects so unpropitious of happiness, that existence has long ceased to be desirable; and had I not possessed a more than common portion of philosophic resignation, I must have yielded to despair; but,
“When all the blandishments of life are gone, The coward sneaks to death,--the brave live on!”
“Thirty years ago I came to London, buoyant of youth and hope, to realize a competency, although I knew not by what means the grand object was to be attained; yet it occurred to me that I might be equally successful with others of my country, who, unaided by recommendation and ungifted with the means of speculation, had accumulated fortunes in this fruitful Metropolis, and of whom, fifteen years ago, one eminently fortunate adventurer from the north filled the civic chair with commensurate political zeal and ability.
“Some are born great; others achieve greatness, And some have greatness thrust upon them!”
“Well, Sir, what can be said of it? I was without the pale of fortune, although several of my school-mates, who had established themselves in London, acquired, by dint of perseverance, parsimony and servility, affluent ~23~~circumstances; convinced, however, that I was not destined to acquire wealth and honour, and being unsolaced even with the necessaries of life, I abandoned in London all hope of success, and emigrated to Ireland, where I held for several years the situation of clerk to a respectable Justice of the Quorum. In this situation I lived well, and the perquisites of office, which were regularly productive on the return of every fair and market day, for taking examinations of the peace, and filling up warrants of apprehension against the perpetrators of broken heads and bloody noses, consoled me in my voluntary exile from Real Life in London. I was in all respects regarded as one of the family; had a horse at my command, visited in friendly intimacy the neighbouring gentry; and, above all, enjoyed the eccentricities of the lower Irish; most particularly so when before his honour, detailing, to his great annoyance, a story of an hour long about a tester (sixpence), and if he grew impatient, attributing it to some secret prejudice which he entertained against them.{1}
1 Their method is to get a story completely by heart, and to tell it, as they call it, out of the face, that is, from the beginning to the end without interruption.
“Well, my good friend, I have seen you lounging about these three hours in the yard, what is your business?”
“Plase your honour, it is what I want to speak one word to your honour.”
“Speak then, but be quick. What is the matter?”
“The matter, plase your honour, is nothing at all at all, only just about the grazing of a horse, plase your honour, that this man here sold me at the fair of Gurtishannon last Shrove fair, which lay down three times with myself, plase your honour, and kilt me; not to be telling your honour of how, no later back than yesterday night, he lay down in the house there within, and all the children standing round, and it was God's mercy he did not fall a-top of them, or into the fire to burn himself. So, plase your honour, to-day I took him back to this man, which owned him, and after a great deal to do I got the mare again I swopped (exchanged) him for; but he won't pay the grazing of the horse for the time I had him, though he promised to pay the grazing in case the horse didn't answer; and he never did a day's work, good or bad, plase your honour, all the time he was with me, and I had the doctor to him five times, any how. And so, plase your honour, it is what I expect your honour will stand my friend, for I'd sooner come to your honour for justice than to any other in all Ireland. And so I brought him here before your honour, and expect your honour will make him pay me the grazing, or tell me, can I process him for it at the next assizes, plase your honour?”
The defendant now, turning a quid of tobacco with his tongue into some secret cavern in his mouth, begins his defence with
“Plase your honour, under favour, and saving your honour's presence, there's not a word of truth in all this man has been saying from beginning to end, upon my conscience, and I would not for the value of the horse itself, grazing and all, be after telling your honour a lie. For, plase your honour, I have a dependance upon your honour that you'll do me justice, and not be listening to him or the like of him. Plase your honour, it is what he has brought me before your honour, because he had a spite against me about some oats I sold your honour, which he was jealous of, and a shawl his wife got at my shister's shop there without, and never paid for, so I offered to set the shawl against the grazing, and give him a receipt in full of all demands, but he wouldn't, out of spite, plase your honour; so he brought me before your honour, expecting your honour was mad with me for cutting down the tree in the horse park, which was none of my doing, plase your honour;--ill luck to them that went and belied me to your honour behind my back. So if your honour is plasing, I'll tell you the whole truth about the horse that he swopped against my mare, out of the face:-- Last Shrove fair I met this man, Jemmy Duffy, plase your honour, just at the corner of the road where the bridge is broke down, that your honour is to have the present for this year--long life to you for it! And he was at that time coming from the fair of Gurtishannon, and 1 the same way: 'How are you, Jemmy?' says I. 'Very well, I thank you, Bryan,' says he: 'shall we turn back to Paddy Salmon's, and take a naggin of whiskey to our better acquaintance?' 'I don't care if I did, Jemmy,' says I, 'only it is what I can't take the whiskey, because I'm under an oath against it for a month.' Ever since, plase your honour, the day your honour met me on the road, and observed to me I could hardly stand, I had taken so much--though upon my conscience your honour wronged me greatly that same time--ill luck to them that belied me behind my back to your honour! Well, plase your honour, as I was telling you, as he was taking the whiskey, and we talking of one thing or t'other, he makes me an offer to swop his mare that he couldn't sell at the fair of Gurtishannou, because nobody would be troubled with the beast, plase your honour, against my horse; and to oblige him I took the mare--sorrow take her, and him along with her! She kicked me a new car, that was worth three pounds ten, to tatters, the first time I ever put her into it, and I expect your honour will make him pay me the price of the car, any how, before I pay the grazing, which I have no right to pay at all at all, only to oblige him. But I leave it all to your honour; and the whole grazing he ought to be charging for the beast is but two and eight pence halfpenny, any how, plase your honour. So I'll abide by what your honour says, good or bad; I'll leave it all to your honour.”
I'll leave it all to your honour, literally means, I'll leave all the trouble to your honour.
~25~~But this pleasant life was not decreed much longer to endure, the insurrection broke out, during which an incident occurred that had nearly terminated all my then cares in this life, past, present, and to come.
“In my capacity as clerk or secretary, I had written one morning for the worthy magistrate, two letters, both containing remittances, the one 150L. and the other 100L. in bank of Ireland bills. We were situated at the distance of fifteen miles from the nearest market town, and as the times were perilous and my employer unwilling to entrust property to the precarious conveyance of subordinate agency, he requested that I would take a morning ride, and with my own hands deliver these letters at the post-office. Accordingly I set out, and had arrived to within three miles of my destination, when my further progress was opposed by two men in green uniform, who, with supported arms and fixed bayonets, were pacing the road to and fro as sentinels, in a very steady and soldier-like manner. On the challenge of one of these fellows, with arms at port demanding the countersign, I answered that I had none to give, that I was travelling on lawful business to the next town, and required to know by what authority he stopt me on the King's highway, “By the powers,” he exclaimed, “this is my authority then,” and immediately brought his musket to the charge against the chest of my horse. I now learnt that the town had been taken possession of that morning by a division of the army of the people, for so the insurgents had styled themselves. “You may turn your nag homewards if you choose,” said the sentry; “but if you persist in going into the town, I must pass you, by the different out-posts, to the officer on duty.” The business in which I was engaged not admitting of delay, I preferred advancing, and was ushered, ultimately, to the notice of the captain of the guard, who very kindly informed me, that his general would certainly order me to be hanged as a spy, unless I could exhibit good proof of the contrary. With this comfortable assurance, I was forthwith introduced into the presence of the rebel general. He was a portly good-looking man, apparently about the age of forty, not more; wore a green uniform, with gold embroidery, and was engaged in signing dispatches, which his secretary successively sealed and superscribed; his staff were in attendance, and a provost-marshal in waiting to perform the office of summary execution on those to whom the general might attach suspicion. The insurgent leader ~26~~now enquiring, with much austerity, my name, profession, from whence I came, the object of my coming, and lastly, whether or not I was previously aware of the town being in possession of the army of the people, I answered these interrogatories by propounding the question, who the gentleman was to whom I had the honour of addressing myself, and under what authority I was considered amenable to his inquisition. “Answer my enquiries, Sir,” he replied, “without the impertinency of idle circumlocution, otherwise I shall consider you as a spy, and my provost-marshal shall instantly perform on your person the duties of his office!” I now resorted to my letters; I had no other alternative between existence and annihilation. Explaining, therefore, who I was, and by whom employed, “These letters,” I added, “are each in my hand-writing, and both contain remittances; I came to this town for the sole purpose of putting them into the post-office, and I was not aware, until informed by your scouts, that the place was in the occupation of an enemy.” He deigned not a reply farther than pointing to one of the letters, and demanding to know the amount of the bill which it enveloped; I answered, “One hundred and fifty pounds.” He immediately broke the seal, examined the bill, and found that it was correct. “Now, Sir,” he continued, “sit down, and write from my dictation.” He dictated from the letter which he had opened, and when I had finished the copy, compared it next with the original characters, expressed his satisfaction at their identity, and returning the letters, licensed my departure, when and to where I list, observing, that I was fortunate in having had with me those testimonials of business, “Otherwise,” said he, “your appearance, under circumstances of suspicion, might have led to a fatal result.”--“You may be assured, gentlemen,” continued the narrator, “that I did not prolong my stay in the town beyond the shortest requisite period; two mounted dragoons, by order of their general, escorted me past the outposts, and I reached home in safety. These occurrences took place on a Saturday. The triumph of the insurgent troops was of short duration; they were attacked that same night by the King's forces, discomfited, and their daring chieftain taken prisoner. On the Monday following his head, stuck upon a pike, surmounted the market-house of Belfast. The scenes of anarchy and desperation in which that ~27~~ unfortunate country became now involved, rendered it no very desirable residence. I therefore procured a passport, bid adieu to the Emerald Isle, Erin ma vorneen slan leet go bragh! and once more returned to London, to experience a renewal of that misfortune by which I have, with little interval, been hitherto accompanied, during the whole period of my eventful life.”
The two strangers had listened to the narrative with mingled sensations of compassion and surprise, the one feeling excited by the peculiarity, the other by the pertinacity of his misfortunes, when their cogitations were interrupted by a dissonant clamour amongst the prisoners, who, it appeared, had united in enmity against an unlucky individual, whom they were dragging towards the discipline of the pump with all the eagerness of inflexible vengeance.
On enquiry into the origin of this uproar, it was ascertained that one of the prisoners under a charge of slight assault, had been visited by this fellow, who, affecting to commiserate his situation, proposed to arrange matters with his prosecutor for his immediate release, with other offers of gratuitous assistance. This pretended friend was recognised by one of the prisoners as a kidnapper.
A kidnapper, or crimp, is one of those fellows of abandoned principles, who enter into the pay of the East India Company in order to recruit their army, and when a guinea or two is advertised to be given to any person that brings a proper man of five feet eight or nine inches high, lie in wait to entrap men for the money. Some of these gentry assume the character of officers, others of Serjeants, drummers, and recruits, without the least shadow of commission among them. They have many ways of inveigling the artless and unthinking. One or two of these kidnappers, dressed as countrymen, go five or six miles out of town to meet the waggons and stages, and enquire if John Such-a-one is come up, which is answered in the negative, no such person being known; they then enter into discourse with the countrymen, and being perfectly complaisant, engage attention, and by the time they get to London, learn their occupations and business to town; whether they are in search of places, trades, or intend to return home again, which intelligence they in general profit by. Coming to the place of rendezvous, the ~28~~ kidnappers propose a pint of porter, which being agreed on, they enter the house where their companions are in waiting, enjoy themselves over flowing bowls, and exhilirating their spirits with loyal toasts and songs, begin their business by enquiring who is willing to serve His Majesty. The countryman, if inclined thereto, is generally deceived; if his desire is for the guards, or any other particular regiment, there are at hand mock Serjeants and privates, who will swear they belong to the corps, and the dupe is trepanned for the East Indies, hurried on board a ship, or kept in some dismal place of security till a sufficient number is collected, and an opportunity serves to send them away.
On the other hand, should the countryman be averse to enlisting, and talk of going away, these crimps will swear that he has received a shilling or more of the bounty-money, insisting that they saw him put the money into such and such a pocket; it is in vain that the countryman denies having received it, search is made, money found, and he is compelled to submit or pay the smart.
Others again, of these prowlers, frequent the places of confinement, and learning the particular case of some prisoner for small debt or slight assault, kindly otter to mediate with the prosecutor or creditor in effecting liberation. The pretended friend assumes the most disinterested feeling of sympathy, ingratiates himself into confidence, and generally terminates his machinations with success; accomplishes the prisoner's release, and sends him ultimately from temporary duresse to perpetual exile.
Such was the character of the fellow now placed in the ominous guidance of an exasperated multitude; they urged him forward to the place of punishment; but the tumultuary assemblage were disappointed in their anticipated vengeance, by the interposition of the turnkeys, and the pretended friend escaped the meditated castigation.
“Observe, again,” said the narrator, “that dashing young fellow, arrayed in the first style of dandyism.”
“My good fellow,” interrupted Bob, “he is not, I should think, one of the community; he has, apparently, the manners of the well bred and accomplished gentleman.” “And for that very reason, Sir, is the better qualified to ~29~~ carry on his profession with impunity; he whom you dignify with the appellation of a well bred and accomplished gentleman, is all that you have expressed of him, with the exception of one word, that is, substitute for gentleman, swindler, and the character is justly delineated. This fellow, of desperate enterprize, is one of the numerous practitioners of knavery, who set themselves up for men of property and integrity, the more easily to defraud the unwary and ignorant out of their substance and effects. This Spark, connecting himself with several others of similar pursuit, they took a genteel house in a respectable part of the town, and dividing themselves into classes of masters, clerks, out-riders, shopmen, porters, and servants, and thus making a show of opulence, they easily obtained credit, and laid in goods of every kind, which they sent into the country and sold, or bartered for other commodities; these commodities they brought up to London, and sold for ready money, generally taking in exchange double the quantity, and paying for the same with notes of their own drawing, indorsing, and fabricating, for the purpose of cheating the poor deluded farmer, shopkeeper, and tradesman in the interior of the country. With respect to tradesmen in town, the goods they took of them on trust they disposed of to Jews, and other receivers of stolen goods, at about thirty per cent under value, for ready money, nay, forty per cent rather than not have the cash; and as their stay in one place could not safely exceed five months, on account of their creditors calling in their debts, and their country notes becoming due, they used to make all possible dispatch to dispose of the various articles, and evacuate the premises before detection. This done, they played the same game elsewhere, when, Proteus like, they changed shapes, and disguised themselves so as not to be known, and carried on business in another house, but in a different name; the master became the rider, the rider the master, the clerks descended to footmen and porters, the footmen to porters and clerks, and so on throughout, until they had drained many parts of the town and country, to the ruin of several worthy and honest families. However, the co-partnership is now dissolved, the establishment is broke up, and the different individuals of this nefarious gang of depredators, of whom the well bred and accomplished gentleman, the subject of our remarks, is one of the principals, are consigned to ~30~~ different gaols for further examination and final commitment.”
Dashall expressed thanks for the interesting communication, and the Squire his astonishment that the credulity of man could warrant the hope of success to such a combination, however systematically arranged; and where so many were concerned (and the distribution of plunder perhaps by no means equalized,) that some dissatisfied individual did not renounce the dangerous connection in the hope of impunity and reward.
“We know not that there is any subordinate division of spoil,” said the other; “but if such there be, it may in this union of interests be the maxim as with other co-partnership concerns, that he, by whatsoever means, who contributes the most to the general stock, shall participate the most in the general benefit.
“Swindlers have other means of cheating and tricking the public, such as answering the advertisements of tradesmen who are in want of a sum to make good a payment, and offering, in consideration of a small premium, to get them the money required, on their note of hand, which they premise must be first given, and the money will be immediately advanced; the necessitated person agrees to the terms, and unthinkingly gives his note, which one of the Swindlers carries away, with a promise of a speedy return with the money wanted, but neither Swindler nor note is forthcoming until it becomes due, after having passed through many different hands, some of whom can ascertain giving a valuable consideration for the same, and fix the drawer to the payment, whose consolation for his credulity is, paying the money or going to prison.
“In case of a stagnation of trade, the Swindlers advertise themselves to borrow or lend upon good security. If they borrow, they have sham deeds, and make false conveyance of estates in nubibus, nobody knows where; if they lend, they artfully inveigle the borrower out of his security, which they take up money upon and convert to their own use, without the deluded person's knowledge; and by absconding, leave him to the mortification of descanting on their roguery, and his own want of foresight.”
~31~~ The triumvirate were once more interrupted; a newcomer had arrived, and the prisoners hailed his initiation with the first stanza of an old song:--
“Welcome, welcome, brother debtor, To this poor, but merry place, Where no Bailiff, Dun, nor Setter,{1} Dares to shew his frightful face: But, kind Sir, as you're a stranger, Down your garnish you must lay, Else your coat will be in danger,-- You must either strip or pay!”
1 Setters--This appellation is applicable to others than those-alluded to in the above stanza, as connected with Duns and Bailiffs. They are a dangerous set of wretches, who are capable of committing any villany, as well by trepanning a rich heir into matrimony with a cast-off mistress or common prostitute, as by coupling a young heiress with a notorious sharper, down to the lowest scene of setting debtors for the bailiff and his followers. Smitten with the first glance of the lady, you resign your heart, the conjugal knot is tied, and, like the Copper Captain, you find the promised land, houses, and furniture, the property of another, and not of yourself.
The novitiate, neither surprised at his reception, nor adverse to the custom of the place, seemed quite at home, paid his garnish without hesitation, and entered at once into the vacuum of indifference with his new associates.
The attention of Dashall and Tallyho was attracted by the clank of fetters, as one of the prisoners squatted himself on the pavement of the yard. Leaning his back against the wall, he commenced darning an old stocking, chanting at same time an old song from the Beggar's Opera, as if predicting his own fate, yet with a manner indicating the most callous indifference--
“Since laws were made for every degree, To curb vice in others as well as in me, I wonder we ha'n't better company Upon Tyburn tree.----
But gold from law can take out the sting, And if rich men like us were to swing, 'Twould thin the land, such numbers would string Upon Tyburn tree.----
The irreclaimable depravity of this man could not excite any urgent feeling of sympathy in his behalf, and our two friends took no further notice of him.
~32~~ Their Intelligencer, who in the meanwhile had gone forth for information, now advancing,--“I thought,” said he, “that I had seen elsewhere this Johnny Newcome; he is a sharper, another precious addition to our respectable community.”{1}
“Respectable, indeed,” exclaimed Tallyho, as he detected an urchin thief in the act of picking his pocket of his handkerchief. This hopeful imp, though young in years, was experienced in iniquity, had served an active apprenticeship to the art of picking pockets with impunity,
1 The Sharper, who has generally had a genteel education, is a person of good address and conversation, has more the power of delusion at will than the unlettered cheat, devoid of address and other requisites to complete the pretended gentleman, and therefore should be more carefully avoided. These villains, having run through their fortunes at an early period of life by associating with professed gamblers and sharpers, (who having eased them of their money, in return complete them for the profession by which they have been ruined) set up for themselves, throw aside honour and conscience, and quote the lex talionis for deceiving others, as they themselves have been deceived. These gentry are to be met with at horse-races, cock-fights, the billiard and hazard tables, and at all public places of diversion. On your entering the coffee-house, tavern, or gaming-house, the Sharper views you with attention, and is not long before he becomes acquainted and very intimate with you; if you agree to his proposal to play, if he cannot beat you by fair, he will by foul means. Rather than lose, he will elude your attention, and raise your passion sufficiently to put you off your guard, while he plays his underhand game, and cheats you before your face; and though you are sensible of being cheated, yet you shall not be able to discover by what means it is effected. The various methods sharpers have to cheat and deceive are so many and unaccountable, that it would exceed the limits of our publication to detail even the tenth-part of them; their study is to supply their exigencies by means within their power, however wicked or villanous. If you associate with sharpers, you must not only expect, but deserve to be cheated by them for your credulity; for who would go with his eyes open into a den of thieves, but in expectation of being robbed? Or, who would herd with sharpers, and not expect to be cheated? We would therefore advise the stranger in London to shun these reptiles of the creation, fraught with guile, and artful as the serpent to delude. Beware of their conversation, avoid their company, take no notice of their tricks, nor be caught by their wheedling professions of friendship; listen not to any of their enticements, if you would preserve your peace and property; be not fond of making new acquaintance with persons you do not know, however genteel in appearance and behaviour, for many a villain lurks under the disguise of a modern fine gentle-man; and if any stranger asks you to play with him for money, set him down in your mind as a Sharper,” and leave the room immediately.
~33~~and at last became so great an adept in the profession, that at the early age of thirteen years he was unanimously elected captain of an organized band of juvenile depredators, some much younger, none older than himself, who for a considerable length of time set at defiance the vigilance of the police. These young fry carried on a long protracted successful war of extermination against ladies' reticules. One urchin, watching her approach, would lay himself across the path she must pass, and it frequently happened that she tumbled over him; a grab was then made at the reticule, the watch, and the shawl, with which the young villains generally got clear off. Others, in detachments of two or three, would hover about the door or window of a tradesman's shop, cut out a pane of glass, and abstract some valuable trinket; or watch the retirement of the shopkeeper into his back-room, when one of the most enterprizing would enter on hands and knees, crawl round the counter with the stillness of death, draw out the till with its contents, and bear off the spoil with impunity. One night, however, luckily for the public, the whole gang was made prisoners of, and dispersed to various gaols, each delinquent being ordered a severe flogging and solitary confinement. Availing himself of this indulgence, the Captain had watched the opportunity of approximating towards Tallyho, and was detected, as we said before, in the exercise of his former propensities; so difficult it is to eradicate vice from the human mind, even though in this instance so early implanted. Lenity in this case would have been equally misplaced as unjust, although the Squire humanely pressed his intercession; the incorrigible pilferer was therefore handed over to the custody of one of the turnkeys, until the Governor might award a punishment suitable to the heinousness of the offence.
The two friends had been here above an hour--it was an hour they thought not idly spent. And now leaving a small donation for distribution amongst such as appeared deserving objects, they returned home gratified by the additional knowledge acquired of Real Life in London.~34~~
Chapter III
“......Would you see The Debtors' world, confide yourself to me. Come; safely shall you pass the fatal door, Nor fear it shuts you in, to ope no more. See, frowning grimly o'er the Borough Road, The crossing spikes that crown the dark abode! O! how that iron seems to pierce the soul Of him, whom hurrying wheels to prison roll, What time from Serjeants' Inn some Debtor pale The Tipstaff renders in default of bail. Black shows that grisly ridge against the sky, As near he draws and lifts an anxious eye: Then on his bosom each peculiar spike, Arm'd with its proper ill, appears to strike.”
THE recollection of past enjoyments in the vivacious company of Merry well, could not fail to be revived in the minds of Dashall and his Cousin; and as some persons, with due attention to his safety, had manifested their interest and regard for him by obtaining his admission to the Priory, where he was at this moment pursuing his studies, and could not quite so conveniently call on them, an early visit was determined on.
“We shall,” said Tom, “by a call on Merrywell after six weeks residence among the gay blades that inhabit the walls of the King's Bench, have all the benefit of his previous observation. He will be able to delineate the characters, consciences, and conduct of his neighbours. He will describe all the comforts and advantages of a college life, introduce us to the Bloods and the Blacks, and, in short, there are few persons I know, except Sparkle himself, more able to conduct us through the intricacies of the Building, to point out the beauty and excellence of the establishment, its uses and abuses, than Merrywell.”
“Do they charge any thing on admittance?” enquired Bob.
“O yes,” was the reply, “they charge you, by a public ~35~~ notice in the lobby, not to convey into the interior any spirituous liquors, on pain of being yourself discharged from thence, and confined elsewhere. Bless your soul, why the King's Bench is a little world within itself, a sort of epitome of London; it is in a healthy situation, and the space which it occupies is extensive. There are in all 224 rooms, and they measure each about 14 or 16 feet by 12 or 13; of these, eight are called State-rooms, are much larger than the rest, and more commodious; and a well-breech'd customer may have almost any accommodation. It is the prison most immediately belonging to the Court of King's Bench, and, exclusive of debtors there sued, all persons standing in contempt of that Court, and most of those committed under its sentence, are confined.”
“And pretty generally all inhabited?” interrogated Tallyho.
“Yes, and frequently it is difficult to obtain a place to sleep in even as a chum.”
Bob found himself at fault, and required an explanation of the word chum.
“The chum,” replied Dashall, “is a partner or bed-fellow, a person who has an equal right to all the comforts and conveniences of a room, previously wholly in the possession of one.”
“I understand,” said Bob; “then when every room has already one occupant, they accommodate him with a companion.”
“Exactly so, and he may prove friend or foe. This, however, may be avoided, if the student is in possession of the rubbish, by an escape into the Rules, which extend for three miles round the priory. These Rules are purchaseable after the following rate, viz. Ten guineas for the first hundred pounds, and about half that sum for every hundred pounds afterwards; day-rules, of which three may be obtained in every term, may be purchased for 4s. 2d. for the first day, and 3s. 10d. for the rest. Each also must give good security to the Marshal.~36~~
“----The fiction of the law supposes, That every prisoner, with means to pay, (For he that has not this advantage loses,) Either has business in the courts, or may; Bond, fee, and sureties fresh prepare the way And Mister Broothoft's manual sign declares 'That Mister such-a-one, on such a day, 'Hath got a rule of Court, and so repairs 'To town, or elsewhere, call'd by his affairs.'
This little Talisman of strange effect, (Four shillings just and sixpence is the price) From Bailiff's power the wearer will protect, And nullify a Capias in a trice: It bears a royal head in quaint device, At least as true as that which Wellesley Pole, With taste for English artists much too nice, Stamp'd by Pistrucci's aid (Heaven rest his soul! And shield henceforth the Mint from his controul.)
In various ways the various purchasers That sally forth with this protecting spell, Employ the privilege this grant confers: Some, like myself, their lawyer's citadel Besiege, his speed long striving to impel; To take a dinner with a friend some go; In fashion's haunts some for an hour to swell; Some strive, what creditors intend, to know; And some the moments on their love bestow.”
“Thus you have a full, true, and particular, as well as amusing account, of a Day Rule, or what in the cant language of the day is termed hiring a horse, which sometimes proves a bolter.”
“And what is meant by a bolter?”
“He is one,” replied Dashall, “who, having obtained the privilege of a Day Rule, brushes off, and leaves his bondsmen, or the Marshal, to pay his debt; or one who transgresses the bounds; but such a one when retaken, usually undergoes some discipline from the inhabitants of the College, who being all honourable men, set their faces against such ungentleman-like proceedings.”
“Then they do sometimes make an escape?”
“Yes, notwithstanding their restrictive arrangements, such things have occurred, and you must recollect that of Lord Cochrane, confined for the memorable Stock Exchange hoax. The means by which it was effected, I believe, have never been discovered; but certain it is, that he was in the House of Commons, while a prisoner in the King's Bench, and on the first night of his subsequent liberation, gave the casting vote against a proposed grant to a certain Duke.”
“I remember it very well, and also remember that the generality of thinking persons considered his Lordship harshly treated.”
~37~~ “However, he is now bravely fighting the battles of independence, increasing both his fame and fortune, while some of the Ministerial hirelings are subjected to a similar privation. We shall have a view of some of the residents in this renowned place of fashionable resort; the interior of which perhaps exhibits a spectacle far more diversified, and if possible more immoral and vicious, than the exterior. There are quondam gentlemen of fortune, reduced either so low as not to be able to pay for the Rules, or so unprincipled and degraded as to have no friend at command who could with safety become their surety. Shop-keepers, whose knavery having distanced even their extravagance, dread the appearance of ease exhibited in the Rules and the detection of fraud, by producing the reverse of their independence, and who even grudge the expenditure of money, to obtain limited liberty. Uncertificated bankrupts, and unconvicted felons; Jews--gamblers by trade--horse-dealers--money scriveners--bill discounters--annuity procurers--disinterested profligates--unemployed and branded attorneys--scandal mongers and libel writers--Gazetted publicans, and the perhaps less culpable sinners of broken officers--reduced mechanics--starving authors, and cast-off Cyprians.”
“A very comprehensive and animated account truly,” said Tallyho.
“And you will find it accurate,” continued Dashall, “for the turn-out of this dwelling of crime and misery, resembles the Piazza de Sant Marco at Venice, in the Carnival time. There are all descriptions and classes in society, all casts and sects, all tribes and associations, all colours, complexions and appearances, not only of human and inhuman beings, but also all shades, features, and conformations of vice. The Spendthrift, or degraded man of fortune, lives by shifts, by schemes, by loans, by sponging on the novice, by subscription, or on commiseration's uncertain aid. He has however in perspective some visionary scheme of emolument and dishonour blended, to put into execution as soon as he obtains his discharge. The uncertificated Bankrupt has many opportunities left yet; he has other dupes, other tricks of trade, other resources in reserve. The Swindler mellows, refines, and sublimates his plan of future operations, and associates in it, perchance, a fallen fair one, or an incipient Greek, ~38~~ put up in the Bench. Horse-dealers, money scriveners, bill doers, attorneys, &c. have either the means of setting up again, or some new system of roguery to be put in practice, in fresh time and place, which may conduct them to the harbour of Fortune, or waft them over the herring pond at the expence of the public purse. The disinterested Profligate here either consumes, corrupts, and festers, under the brandy fever and despair, or is put up by a gambler, who sells his art to his brother debtors, and thus lives in hope of yet turning the honest penny in imitation of those who have gone before him. The Cyprian, still exercising her allurements, lingers and decays until persecution loses the point of its arrow, and drops from the persecutor's hand, grasping more hardly after money, and opening from the clenched attitude of revenge. Then, to conclude the picture, there are youths living upon the open infamy of easy-hearted women, who disgrace and ruin themselves without the walls, in order to pamper the appetite and humour the whims of a favourite within, thus sacrificing one victim to another. Partners carrying on trade in the world, communing with their incarcerated partners in durance vile. Misery and extravagance, rude joy and frantic fear, with more passions than the celebrated Collins ever drew, and with more scenes, adventures, and vicissitudes, than ever Jonathan Wild or any other Jonathan exhibited.”
“Excellent description,” exclaimed Bob.
“And you shall have ocular demonstration of its absolute existence; nay, this sketch might serve for many other places of confinement, the Fleet, &c. They are like the streets of the Metropolis, constantly varying in their company, according to entrances and exits of their visitors.”
“This, however,” continued the Hon. Tom Dashall, “is rather a mental picture of what we shall presently witness in reality, a sort of introductory sketch by way of passport through the doors of this Panorama of Beal Life, to which you will shortly be introduced; a sort of ideal, or dramatic sketch of its inhabitants en masse, before the drawing up of the curtain.”
The eagerness of Bob to listen to his Cousin's sketches of London society, on the one hand, and the earnestness with which Dashall had been exercising his imaginary powers, on the other, had led our perambulators to the ~39~~ foot of Blackfriar's Bridge, on their road to the King's Bench, without any particular circumstance exciting their attention; when Bob, suddenly twitching his Cousin by the arm, and directing his eye at the same time to a thin spare figure of a man, without hat or coat, who was rapidly passing towards Fleet market, enquired who it was, and what was his occupation or calling.
“Don't you hear his calling?” was the reply.
“Hot, hot, hot, pudding hot!” was in a moment vociferated in his ears, while the active and industrious mercantile pedestrian, with a swing of his head, which was in continual motion from right to left, gave Bob a wipe in the eye with his tail, which by the velocity of the wearer was kept in full play like the pendulum of a clock, or the tail of Matthews in his admirable delineation of Sir Fretful Plagiary.
“Zounds,” cries Bob, “it is true I may hear, but I can't pretend to say I can see; who the devil is he? there is no looking at him, he seems to leave time and space behind him; where is he?”
Tom laughed heartily, while Bob rubbed his eyes in vain to obtain another view.
“That,” said Dashall, “is a sort of Commissary, a dealer in stores for the stomach--red hot pudding, all hot, and commonly called the Flying Pieman.”{1}~40~~
1 James Sharpe Eglaud, more commonly known in the streets of the Metropolis by the appellation of the Flying Pieman, may fairly be held forth as an example of what may be effected by persevering industry and activity, especially in a large and populous city. Those qualities, joined with a moderate share of prudence, cannot fail to ensure to every man at least comfort and respectability, it” not competence and wealth, however humble his sphere, and however unpromising his beginnings. He was bred to the sedentary trade of a tailor, and worked for some years with his relation, Mr. Austerbury, of Friday Street, Cheapside; but love, which works so many changes, and which has ere now transformed blacksmiths into painters, and which induced Hercules to exchange his club for the distaff, caused this Knight of the Steel Bar to relinquish the shop-board and patch up his fortune by the patty-pan. He married his landlady, a widow, who resided in Turnmill Street, Clerkenwell. He had a soul above buttons, and abandoned the making of garments to cover the outside, in order to mould cakes, pies, and other small pastry, to comfort the internals. His active genius, however, could not brook the tedious task of serving his customers behind the counter; he therefore took up his eatables and went abroad in quest of them, and we doubt not he has found this practice, which he has continued ever since, very profitable. The neatness and cleanliness of his appearance at all times are truly pleasing. Hail, rain, or shine, he may be seen abroad without coat or hat; his hair powdered, his shirt sleeves turned up to his elbows, and a steel hanging on his apron-string. Originally he carried a tin case, something like a Dutch oven, in which he constantly kept a lire, but is now generally seen with a small tray. In serving a customer, he never touches his pudding with his hands, but has a knife for the purpose of presenting it to the purchasers, and his sale is so extensive, that he is obliged to replenish several times in a day; and in order to secure a regular and ready supply, his female partner and himself convey a quantity of pudding to a certain distance, and deposit their load at some public-house, where she takes care to keep it “all hot,” while Egland scours the neighbourhood in search of customers. The first cargo being disposed of he returns for more, and by this method he has it always fresh, and is never in want of goods.
Many laughable anecdotes are told of this flying pieman, and perhaps a day's excursion in following him during his peregrinations would furnish much of curious and interesting amusement. We shall however select one, authenticated by his appearance at Marlborough Street Police Office on Monday, July 8, 1821, as most intimately connected with Real Life in London; when he preferred a serious charge against a Beggar, no other than the president of a smoking club in the Holy Land, and others, for stealing his mutton pies, cutting off his tail, and otherwise disfiguring his person. By the evidence of Egland, it appeared that he was introduced, with his goods for sale, to a company chiefly consisting of street beggars in St. Giles's, the chair at that moment being filled by a beggar without hands, well known in the vicinity of the Admiralty as a chalker of the pavement. The dignity of the chair was well sustained by this ingenious colourer, who was smoking a pipe as great as an alderman over a bason of turtle soup; but no sooner did Egland make his appearance, than the company seized upon his goods and crammed them down their throats, in spite of the repeated vociferations of “honour, honour, Gentlemen,” from the assailed. Resistance was vain, and Egland in this dilemma began to consider that his only safety lay in flight. This, however, he found equally impracticable; he was detained, and by way of consolation for his loss, was called upon for a song. His lungs were good, and although his spirits were not much exhilarated by the introductory part of the entertainment, he began to “tip 'em a stave;” but whilst he was chanting “The stormy winds do blow,” a fellow cut off his tail. This was worse than all the rest; it was, as it were, a part of his working tools, and the loss of it was likely to injure his business by an alteration of his appearance, and could not be tacitly submitted to.
The magistrates gravely considering this a most serious charge of unprovoked attack upon an industrious individual, ordered the parties to find bail, in default of fully satisfying the inoffensive dealer in pastry, which was accordingly done.
In the year 1804, scorning to be behindhand in loyalty as well as activity, he became a member of the Clerkenwell Volunteers, and was placed in the light company, in which capacity he obtained the character not only of being the cleanest man, but the best soldier in the regiment.
It is said, that for amusement, or the gratification of a whim, he will sometimes walk a distance of fifty or a hundred miles from the Metropolis, and return the same way. On such occasions he always manages to take some companion or friend out with him, but was never known to come back in the same company; for so irresistibly are they allured forward by his inexhaustible fund of humour and sprightliness of conversation, that they seldom think of the distance till they find themselves too far from home to return on foot.
~41~~“Then,” said Bob, “he is not like some of the London dealers, who invite their customers to taste and try before they buy, for he scarcely seems to afford a chance of seeing what he sells.”
“You did not try him,” replied Tom, “nor would he have expected you to be a customer. He is a remarkable character, well known all over the Metropolis. Particularly noted for his activity in disposing of his goods; never standing still for a moment, but accosting with extraordinary ease and fluency every person who appears likely to be a purchaser; always ready with an answer to any question, but delivering it with so much volubility, that it is impossible to propose a second enquiry, suiting at the same time his answer to the apparent quality of the querist, though frequently leaving it unfinished in search of a customer, and moving on with so much rapidity, that you may almost find him at the same moment at Tower Hill, Billingsgate, and Spa Fields; at Smithfield, Temple Bar, and Piccadilly; indeed he may be said to be in all quarters of the town in a space of time incredibly short for a man who obtains a livelihood by seeking customers as he moves along.”
“Zounds,” cried Bob, “this walking genius, this credible incredible, and visible invisible pedestrian dealer in portable eatables, has almost blinded me.
“For, by this flying pieman, I've nearly lost an eye, man.”
“Come,” said Tom, “I've no fear of your eye while you can muster a couplet; so let us proceed.”
Crossing Black friars Bridge, and approaching the road, Bob, who had assuaged the pain of which he had previously ~42~~ been complaining, could not help admiring the extensive range of nouses on each side of the way, terminated by a handsome building in the distance.
“That Building,” said Dashall, “will be the extent of our journey, for very near to it is the habitation of Merrywell, where I entertain no doubt you will find enough for observation of a useful as well as a humorous nature: for an epitome of men and manners is there to be obtained.”
“Here are abundance of subjects worthy of inspection in this quarter,” replied Tom, “and we therefore ought not to exhaust too much time on one, so let us proceed: do you see that high wall to the right? That is the Magdalen Hospital,{1} established for the relief and
1 The Magdalen Hospital in Blackfriars Road, enclosed from public view, occupies an extensive space of ground, and is from the nature of its inhabitants very properly so enclosed. It was opened in the year 1758, and it must be a delightful reflection to its governors, that during the period it has subsisted, more than two-thirds of the women who have been admitted have been reconciled to their friends, or placed in honest employments or reputable services: besides which, a very considerable portion have since been married, and are at this moment respectable members of society: circumstances which prove the great and important utility of this admirable institution.
There is no prescribed time for the objects of this charity to remain in the house, it being varied according to circumstances. Every effort is made use of to find out their relations and friends, if possible, to bring about a reconciliation with them, and if they prove to be persons of character, to put them under their protection. If, however, the young women are destitute of such friends, they are kept in the house till an opportunity offers of placing them in reputable services, or otherwise procuring them the means of obtaining an honest livelihood, and they never discharge any one without providing for her. There have been but few discharged beyond the age of twenty years.
The general business of the establishment is conducted by a Committee consisting of 32 Governors, who meet at the Hospital every Thursday at twelve o'clock precisely, except on the first Thursday of every mouth, when they meet at eleven. Two of them attend at the Chapel in rotation every Sunday at morning and evening service, when a collection is made at the door on entrance. The hours of divine service are a quarter after eleven in the forenoon, and a quarter after six in the evening; and on account of the fascination of the singing, no place of worship in the Metropolis is more worthy of the notice of strangers.
An opportunity is afforded to companies who wish to visit this charity, by addressing a request by letter to the Committee any Thursday, or to A. Bonnet, Esq. the Treasurer, any day in the week, and no fees are allowed to be taken.
reformation of wretched outcasts from society. The principle on which it is founded, entitles it to the countenance and support of the public, and particularly of the female sex, the object being to reclaim and restore to virtue such wanderers in the labyrinths of vice as are not totally depraved.”~43~~
“Admirable intentions indeed,” cried Tallyho, “if they are but as well carried into effect.”
“The records of the establishment have proved its advantages to society, or rather, I should say, to its conductors, for they are of a nature which cannot be publicly exposed, without much private injury to the individuals who partake of them. It is, however, not a little remarkable, that till lately, on the very opposite side of the road, the neighbourhood has exhibited scenes of vice, immorality, and indecency, which it is the great object of this Charity if possible to prevent, by an endeavour to reclaim the miserable and deluded wretches from their evil ways. I remember the late John Home Tooke related in the House of Commons a curious anecdote, in allusion to himself and his situation at the time, in which this institution was mentioned, and which excited considerable interest.
“It is well known that the late John Home Tooke, of political memory as the reputed tutor of a certain patriotic Baronet of the present day, as well as the author of the Diversions of Purley, and a correspondent of the yet undiscovered Junius, was a reverend divine of the Church of England; and when he became a Member of Parliament, it was objected against him that no person in Holy Orders could hold a seat in the honourable House of Commons. In his reply, he very ingeniously observed, that this objection reminded him of an applicant for admission to the Magdalen, who, upon being exhorted by the Chaplain to forsake her evil ways, replied that she was not aware of his meaning, and upon explanation she was excluded from the Charity, because she was not bad enough to require reforming. 'This,' said Mr. Home Tooke, 'is exactly my case; because I am in Holy Orders I must leave the House, and after committing some act of impropriety to lose my gown, I may yet be eligible for a Member of this Assembly.'”
“Pointed enough,” said Bob Tallyho.
“Yes,” replied Tom; “and having mentioned the name of the man, you may perhaps recollect the order of the day, ~44~~ as well as the curious definition (before the Commissioners of the Income Tax) as to how a man lives who has no income at all. Being interrogated by the Commissioners, as to how he obtained his living, Mr. Home Tooke replied as follows:--'Why, it appears to me, Gentlemen, that there are three modes by which a person may obtain a living; the first is by begging--now this I am too proud to submit to;--the second, by stealing--this I don't choose to resort to;--and the third is by the exercise of the wits--and this, Gentlemen, I presume, you know nothing about.'
“Here,” said Dashall, “is the Surrey Theatre, formerly denominated the Royal Circus. I shall, however, dispatch my description of it in a very few words, as we will ere long pay a visit to its interior. It is a neat building, and shews a good front to the road; is fitted up with a considerable degree of elegance, and is a very convenient theatre. It was originally conducted by Hughes and Jones, and its exhibitions were both scenic and equestrian, something in the style of what Astley's Amphitheatre is now; but you must see the one in order to form an idea of the other. Horses are now banished at this place, where, under an annual license from the magistrates of the county, burlettas, melodramas, dancing, and pantomimes are got up, and performed in a style which would not disgrace even the patent theatres. It is at present under the management of Mr. Dibdin, a son of the celebrated writer of so many of our national, patriotic, and characteristic ballads.--Just through the turnpike, the building which gives a sort of finish to the road, is the School for the Indigent Blind; at the back of which is the Philanthropic Institution, calculated to unite the purposes of charity with those of industry and police, to rescue from destruction the offspring of the vicious and criminal; and Bethlem Hospital, for the care and cure of insane persons, well deserving of minute inspection; and to the right, at the corner of a road which leads from Westminster Bridge towards Vauxhall, is an Asylum for Female Orphans, which, as the Magdalen was intended to reclaim prostitutes, was originally intended to prevent prostitution. To the left again is the King's Bench; and as that is our present place of destination, we will forego any further description, till another opportunity.
“I cannot, however, refrain a few remarks on the ~45~~situation we are now in, for from this place may be seen the children of penance (the Magdalen); the children of darkness (the School for the Indigent Blind); the insane (New Bethlem); the infatuated and fanatic (the congregations of the Zoar Chapel, and the faithful of mewses, garrets, and wooden tabernacles); the children of Thespis and Terpsichore (the Surrey Theatre), mingled together as it were with the debtor and the captive (the King's Bench): at least, placing ourselves at this obelisk in the centre of the road, the mind's eye can comprehend them within a short distance of each other.”
“And a curious admixture of the useful and the sweet it certainly is,” exclaimed Tallyho, anxious to give his Cousin a little respite, while they turned to the left on their way to the Bench.
“You will find,” continued Tom, “all the before-mentioned infirmities, blindness, infatuation, madness, and profligacy, within the walls that we shall shortly enter, without the repentant spirit of the Sisters within the walls we have just passed. You will also find there is a plenty of self-interest and hypocrisy combined with them; nay, an hospital of incurables is only wanting to complete the scene. It is not till lately that a little reform has been effected in this quarter, for Dover Street and its vicinity, as I before observed, so near to these benevolent charities and to the walls of a prison, have been the sink of female profligacy, of the lowest, most dangerous, and most disgusting kind; and suffered too long to pollute the streams of charity and impede the road to reform. However, at length the nuisance is removed, at least the public appearance of it, though the neighbourhood is not altogether bereft of its private negociations and stolen accommodations. But come, now for an interior view of the. Abbott's Park, its interesting scenery, and its multi-farious characters. There you shall see what you shall see, and Merrywell will tell you more in ten minutes than you might wish to know in your whole life, I mean practically, though it is well to know in theory what ought never to be reduced to experiment.”~46~~
Chapter IV
“----Give me leave to ask a question; Pray, in the King's Bench have you ever been? The Bench! Good Heaven! how shocking a suggestion! Was e'er so saucy a companion seen?
Well, you ne'er saw the place; or if you did, 'Twere better not too closely to surmise; Enough, enough, those frowns the thought forbid, Who sees too much is rarely counted wise; I rather boast that mine are prudent eyes; Persons and things so quietly they read, Nor by a glance confess they scrutinize, That thoughtless lookers think me blind indeed, When of themselves I take the strictest heed. But since you wish me to believe that College Ne'er gave its finish to your education, I, of its laws and customs having knowledge, Ere I take up the thread of my narration, Must say a little for your information.”
THEY had now passed the outer gates of the prison, and entered a court yard surrounded by a wall, which enclosed some good looking houses.
“These houses,” said Dashall, “are occupied by the principal officers of the place, and devoted to purposes of business, or let out by them for the accommodation of those who' have purchased the privilege of the Rules. This door directly opposite the gate, is the only entrance to the Park.”
They next passed up the steps, and entered a gloomy apartment, where after a few minutes a Turnkey, surveying their persons rather minutely, opened the ponderous door, which admitted them to an inner court of confined dimensions. Bob looked around him with surprise after the description of his Cousin, and began to think he had been vamping up imaginary pictures of what was not to be realized; however, hearing a variety of voices, and perceiving another gate, he quelled his conjectures and ~47~~ followed Dashall, who, upon knocking at the door, was surveyed from a sort of loop-hole by the keeper within, who quickly gave them entrance; and the spacious appearance of the parade, racquet ground, and habitations, and a moving panorama of personages of both sexes, attracted his immediate attention.
Gazing with enquiring eyes upon this world-within-walls,{1} they scarcely heeded the variety of salutations with which they were greeted on entering, such as nods, winks, and touches on the shoulder from one who appeared as unconscious of such familiarity as if he had for some time been wholly absorbed in the solution of a mathematical problem, or the horse-laugh of the ignorant and vulgar, by whom they found themselves surrounded. Struggling through the throng, Dashall impelled his Cousin forward, repeating as he proceeded,
“How many o'er this threshold pass that mouru, Wanting our power at pleasure to return; A moment let us pause ere we ascend The gallery that leads us to our friend; Survey the place, where all that meets your view, Is full of interest, and strangely new. Could we but hide those grinning spikes awhile, Borne spacious barrack we might think the pile.”
“However,” continued he, “I perceive we are quizzed, we will just take a turn round, and probably we may meet Merrywell, if not, we will soon find him out by enquiry. You perceive, they have the accommodation of a butcher's shop, and a baker's, besides green stalls, fish stalls, and chandlers' shops, which give the place the appearance of a public market, while the racquet players and others amusing themselves in various ways, resemble that of a fair.”
“Indeed,” said Tallyho, “your description is just, for I have as yet seen but few sorrowful faces, every one seems to have some object in view, either of business or pleasure, almost as attractive as those without the walls.”
~48~~ “And in many instances,” continued Dashall, “of as much, nay, more interest. However, you perceive the
1 The walls of the King's Bench are about thirty feet high, sur-mounted by a chevaux de frieze, and as a place of confinement, it is of great though uncertain antiquity.
accommodation of the inmates has been studied by the founders of the College. Water is well supplied from four pumps, and were it not that the walls intercept the views, a man here might almost consider himself in his own habitation, with only one drawback.”
“And what is that?” enquired Tallyho.
“Merely, that like the starling, he can't get out.”
“How now,” said Merry well, who had espied the entrance of his friends from the window of his apartment, and immediately descended to greet them--touching the Honourable Tom Dashall on the shoulder, while he seized Bob by the opposite arm.
“What are you a'ter, exploring the secrets of the prison-house?”
Mutual congratulations having passed, Merrywell welcomed them to his habitation, significantly informing them at the same time, that notwithstanding his powers of entertainment were just then not what he could wish, all was right, the trick was done, that he was arranging for a house in the Rules, pro tempore, and that it would not be long before he should have the honour of meeting them in a way that would be more agreeable to all parties. “However,” continued he, “if you can bear a confined apartment, I promise you shall have nothing else to complain of. Can you put up with pot-luck in a prison?”
“Certainly,” was the reply, “our object was to spend a convivial hour with you, to wile away a little of the time, to see and learn, to take a peep at things as they are, and to form our judgments upon their existence.”
“Then,” replied Merrywell, “you have arrived en bon heure, for in this place a volume of information may be obtained, which, if judiciously applied, must prove beneficial; and while dinner is preparing, I can afford you abundance of amusement; so come along, we must move round this way to the gate again, in order to take any thing like an accurate survey, and I can furnish some anecdotes of the paraders, the players, the officers of the Court, and the visitors, which cannot fail to prove interesting. This, however, must be done with caution, for suspicion is ever active, and jealousy constantly awake within these walls; and as I mean to give you sketches of individual characters, rather than a general view of ~49~~ the society with which I am now in association, a little discretion may be well made use of.”
“Now let us analyse, but not too loud, If wise, the composition of this crowd; Made up from native soil and foreign clime, Of waste and folly, accident and crime. Here join the Speculator and the Fool, Greybeards, and youngsters rather tit for school, (At least for any school but this alone, Where College vices in the shade are thrown.) Of pugilists, of haberdashers, jugglers, Horse jockeys, swindlers, Bond Street beaux, and smugglers, By hollow friendship some in prison thrown, By others' follies some--more by their own.”
By this time they had traversed round the open walk of the prison, and on arriving at the place of entrance--
“Do you observe that small building on the right? it is called the State House, and contains the largest and most convenient rooms; it is usually devoted to the accommodation of such as are best enabled to pay; and there are persons residing here, who live as well, and in as dashing a style as those without the walls, or at least pay as much for their living. On the left hand you may also perceive the chapel, for the spiritual wants of those confined are not to be forgotten.”
“There, in the centre, is the chapel door, With ever changing notices spread o'er: Whatever doctrines may within be taught, With words of peace that door is rarely fraught: For there, mid notices of beds for hire, Of concerts in the state-house by desire, Some ill-spelt scrawl demands the mighty debt Of half a crown, with a ferocious threat; Some traitorous agent is denounced; some spy, That blabb'd of gin, is hung in effigy; Here angry fools proclaim the petty jar, And clumsy pasquinades provoke to war.”
By this time they had reached the door of the Chapel, which, by the various placards pasted against it, fully confirmed the description of Merrywell.
Bob, casting his eyes around him, discovered much for enquiry. “Who are those in the corner in close conversation together?”
“The farthest from us,” replied Merrywell, “is a Jew attorney, well acquainted with all the shuffling arts of the ~50~~ place; one who can explain the whole game, from raising the wind, down to the White-washing Act, for the knowledge and experience of gentlemen in these days are astonishing. You would scarcely believe it, but such is the fact, there are rakes of quality and of fashion, who are their own farriers, horse dealers, who know every trick upon the cards and dice--cutting, shuffling, slipping, cogging, securing; who have cards and dice always at hand, and ready made to their hand; who, although they are awake to a good thing, know the odds to a nicety, and can give or take according as it may best suit their purpose, yet are not properly initiated in all requisite mysteries, till a sort of finish is given to their education, by a temporary retirement here; where they learn a sufficiency of the law to give information on all the quirks and quibbles of the arrest laws, of bailing, demurring, justifying bail, putting in bail above, of writs of error, county and Marshalsea writs, of letters of licence, the laws against usury, the bankrupt laws, and finally of acts of grace; perhaps the last and only one in their lives bearing that name: but we must walk on, or we may be overheard.”
“Then,” said Dashall, “you are by this time pretty well acquainted with the characters of your companions, and expect to leave the College with more information than you previously possessed.”
“No doubt of it,” was the reply; “but as my case was not desperate, I have not sought desperate remedies. I am at this moment supposed by certain friends of mine to be in the gay city of Paris, enjoying all the luxuries of the Thuilleries, the Louvre, the Palais Royal, and the Elysian Fields; and I doubt not I shall be able to convince an old rich uncle of mine of the fact. And as my expectations chiefly rest on him, and he cannot last long, I shall upon liberation make my approaches to him with a little of the French polish I am preparing while here. This, however, is selfish conversation.”
“Yet perfectly in point,” continued Dashall.
“And equally interesting too,” said Bob.
“Do you see,” said Merrywell, “that young man buttoned up to the chin, in what has been a blue great coat? He is one of the lecturers.”
“Lecturers?” enquired Tallyho; “what, have you lectures in the College?”
~51~~ “Undoubtedly we have, on subjects of the utmost importance too. That young man, who began the world with slender property, but who contrived by a strict adherence to ways and means to cut a dashing figure, and live as if he had a large fortune, is in possession of volumes of information, which he is willing to retail to such as require it. What are termed lecturers here, are needy debtors, who put up young men less knowing than themselves, for money or for a dinner; and his experience is great, for when he had worn out all quarters of the town in the way of trick, when the fashionable watering places were teeming with clamorous creditors, when he was expelled from all the clubs in consequence of not paying his subscriptions, nay, when he owed almost all the waiters money, he came to this place nearly pennyless, and now, by singing a good song, telling a tough story, and occasionally giving lectures to his brothers in confinement, he manages to get a good dinner daily, and seldom goes to bed sober.”
“Then his ways and means are not yet exhausted; he must be a good financier, and might be made very useful to the Minister,” replied Tom; “and it is really a pity such talents are not duly appreciated.”
“Who is that little stout man who passed you just now with a nod of the head?” enquired Tallyho.
“That,” answered Merrywell, “is Capt. W----, a sort of walking automaton, a kind of medley of incomprehensibles, something like pedants' periods, very inanimate, and as you perceive, very round. He was formerly a button maker, but having a desire to sink the shank, he enlisted under the banners of Cupid, paid his addresses to one of the Queen's maids, carried the fortress by a coup de main, and gained a safe lodgement in the covert way, by taking the oath of allegiance at the altar of Hymen. Spurning buttons, he aspired to the epaulette, and was appointed paymaster to the 7th Hussars. Then he set up a coach to run to and from Maidenhead. This being one iron too many in the fire, soon became too hot for him. He defaulted for a considerable sum, and has been in quod for four years. Here comes a beau of the first order, a Colonel, and a most determined Dandy, even in confinement. Colonel R---- adheres as much to the nicety of dress in this place, as he would for a military appearance on parade. He ~52~~ is Colonel of the New Grenada Horse. I have not yet learned much of his former pursuits or his origin. There is, however, an anecdote of him circulated, which prove the admirable fitness of such a person for such a command. It is said that when he obtained his appointment, he very significantly asked the General, what stocks he should have for his guns, meaning the gun carriages.”
“That's a little too severe,” cried Dashall, laughing at the same time, “it was but a lapsus linguæ, such as might happen to any man.”
“I claim no merit in the relation,” was the reply; “however, it has raised many a laugh at his expence, and as I had it so you now have it. But we have other game in view, and must not be exhausting our time in criticising immaterial points of propriety.
“Here ruin'd Lawyers, ruin'd Clients meet; Here Doctors their consumptive Patients greet, Sick of one malady that mocks all skill, Without the true specific golden pill Here finished Tailors, never to be paid, Turn eyes on many a coat themselves have made; And Bailiffs, caught by their own arts at last, Meet those their capias yesterday made fast. There stalks a youth whose father, for reform, Has shut him up where countless vices swarm. But little is that parent skill'd to trace The springs of action,--little knows the place, Who sends an ailing mind to where disease Its inmost citadel of health may seize.”
“You entertain us with a diversity of mental dishes,” said Tom; “Manacles, Mammon, and Morality, dance through the mazes of your imagination in rapid and admirable succession--I wonder you don't commence Lecturer.”
“I do not conceive myself qualified, and as I have no real occasion to be a pretender, I leave it to those who have.--O! there goes a curiosity--
“If you look sharp you'll see the short knee'd breeches, Brown hat and powdered head of stalking P--tch--s.”
“He is known here by the title of Don; he has been a long resident within these walls, has seen much of Life, and is still a gay fellow. He was formerly a Member of Parliament, but not being able to overrule the Speaker, he out-run the Constable, and was seized by ~53~~ the Bailiffs. He is, however, a jolly companion, and lives well; but to show his contempt for riches, he has actually seated his inexpressibles with the parchment title deeds of his own estate, with impressions similar to the old song--
“Why should we quarrel for riches, Or any such glittering toys? A tight heart and a thin pair of breeches Will go through the world, my brave boye.”
“Who is that with the rackets under his arm?” enquired Bob.
“That is Baker, a sort of privileged man, who is allowed the advantages of supplying the inmates with rackets, balls, &c. He lends rackets, sells balls, keeps scores, and occasionally carries on the haberdashery trade.”
“Then he is a shop-keeper, I suppose.”
“He is a measurer of tape” replied Merry well, “by way of refreshment, or in other words, under safe circumstances, can spin out Old Tom or Blue-ruin.”
“I understand,” said Bob, “a little of the Cratur.”
“Here,” continued Merry well, “is the coach-maker to the late Christophe, King of Hayti, Mr. H---- of Long Acre notoriety. This gentleman bought a considerable estate, which, with true parental regard, he settled on his daughter, and paying for his purchase by his residence here, whether his intentions will be fulfilled or not, so as to obtain liberation by the Whitewashing Act, no one at present can tell--and Colville is taking his walks--he is one of the Janitors, and Crier of the place. He has a Stentorian voice, which is a part of his business to exercise in calling the prisoners. I know but little of him, and even that is not worth knowing. He, however, has the character of being an informer, and I am not aware that he is in possession of any good qualities. I shall, therefore, rather give a slight sketch of the office he holds, than of the person.~54~~
“Whoe'er one night has slept within these walls, Has heard the din that each new comer calls, To where the keen-eyed Turnkeys wait to trace The lineaments of every novel face. Each morning thro' the Bench goes forth a cry, By Colville sent thro' every gallery high. To number “One,” peals round the shout from “Ten,” Far rolling heard, “Pull up! now Gentlemen!”
“This is the custom with every new comer, and is productive sometimes of much mirth to some, but of infinite mortification to others, according to the circumstances of the case. As it would occupy some time to describe them, I shall give you a poetical sketch of a morning in the Bench; and by the introduction of a fictitious name, make you acquainted with a general practice. Imagine for a moment,
“Rous'd by the force of that Stentorian sound, Rose Belcour, dressed, and soon the lobby found. About the door a throng of varlets stood, A grinning and ill-favoured brotherhood, That scoff and gibe at every wight that wears Linen less black, or better coat than theirs. For these, young Belcour was too fair a mark; 'Make way,' cries one, 'he's going to the Park: His horses wait; he's going for a ride.' 'Fool, 'tis his tilbury,' another cried; 'D'ye think his lordship rides without his spurs?' 'A curse upon such base unmanner'd curs,' Between his teeth impatient Belcour mutter'd, As each his wit so truly attic utter'd; Then, 'mid the laughter of the brutal throng, Dark frowning through the door he moved along. Within the upper lobby Morris sate, And touch'd with easy complaisance his hat; And cried, not deigning from his seat to stir, 'We hope you're pretty comfortable, Sir. 'These chaps about the door are rather rum; 'But, love you! So they do to all that come.' Short was the conference; the Turnkey's look Quick cognizance of Belcour's features took; And never, from that hour might he pass by Unnoted by that well-observing eye.”
“Well,” said Tallyho, “I must confess such scrutiny on the one part, and such observations on the other, would be more than likely to ruffle my temper, and I should be apt to signify my disapprobation, at least of all that was unnecessary.”
“In that case,” replied Merry well, “you would only subject yourself to additional torment: you would have songs, epigrams, lampoons, and epitaphs in abundance, which would prove still more irritating; for this is the seat of learning and of wit, of poets, painters, and musicians, who, being enraptured with their own arts, neglect that of book-keeping, till a residence here gives them a leisure opportunity to close their ledgers.
~55~~ Speaking on that subject, by the by, we have among us, at this moment, the publishers of the John Bull, whose combined efforts in the way of scurrility have rendered them notorious among the periodicals of present times. There is, however, little of public attraction about them; and although they profess to have a subscription opened, to enable them to pay the fine imposed upon them, it is doubted whether any such is really in existence. Here, however, is a character of another description:
Captain K---- is still a gay fellow, though I apprehend rather what we call hard up just now. He has had the opportunity of expending a very considerable property in seeing Life, but if report say true, it has been chiefly exhausted among the fair sex, and coffee-house keepers. Seldom much depressed in spirits, let the world wag as it will, he sometimes gives good dinners and enjoys himself with a friend, though I suspect that can, under present circumstances, only be done when he can pitch the gammon to the wine merchant, and induce him to stand the nonsense.”
“And do wine merchants give credit to persons in confinement?” enquired Bob.
“Certainly,” was the reply, “for services done or promised to be done, or upon the security of some friend, who perhaps intends soon after to pay his engagements by a similar mode to that of the person whose debt he pretends to secure. No place can be found where the study of ways and means is more closely attended to than this. Of our prisons in general, much the same may be said as of our gaming houses; very few get out of them as they went in. A dupe is the general character of those who first enter; but they seldom fail to acquire that of knave before their departure. The air is infectious, the society fatal to morality and to honesty; few pass through the ordeal with purity, and return uncontaminated to the world; and yet, after all the frauds, tricks, and speculations practised, it is well to be acquainted with them, in order to guard against the recurrence, if a man can but have fortitude enough to avoid practising them himself.~56~~
“Think not that the action of the place Is all revealed upon this open space; The darkest portion of the picture lies Obscur'd and cover'd up from public eyes; Here much you see, that bids you all mistrust, Much that provokes aversion and disgust; New friends, who coolly ask a one pound note, Or borrow for an hour, then pawn, your coat. Such stuff as this upon the surface swims; He little sees who but the surface skims. How much of fraud and finished wickedness, How much of deep despair and keen distress, Thought of by few, and seen by none, the while, Is chamber'd in the niches of this pile!”
“Zounds,” cried Dashall, “your pictures have so much light and shade, so much to admire, and so much to condemn, that there is scarcely any possibility of arriving at any conclusion.--Bless me, there is Dick Rakewell!”
“Do you know him?” said Merry well.
“What the devil are you doing here?” cried a young man advancing, and at the same time catching the Honourable Tom Dashall by the hand; “Are you initiated, or merely come to take a peep at the curiosities of this menagerie? Have you tipp'd and shewn yourself in due form; or do you still sport a game leg among the gallants of Bond Street?”
“Fortunately,” said Dashall, “I can still boast of the latter, and have no very strong inclination to aspire to all the honour and happiness of the former.”
“Grown serious and sedate; I suppose married, and ca'nt come--pretty wife--lots of children--love and fireside comfort at home--pleasure abroad--cash in hand, and care for nobody. That's the sort--give you joy with all my heart--never were such times.”
“I am glad you find them so,” continued Tom; “but your anticipations are a little too rapid, and your imagination rather too vivid for my proceeding; however, there is no knowing what we may come to; life is a labyrinth full of turnings and windings. But what brought you here?”
“Driven in by the Philistines,” was the reply; “caught like a harmless dove by the Greeks--clean'd out.--By the cog, I was obliged to fly to this pigeon house, in order to avoid being cut up by my creditors; and, up to a little of the Newmarket logic, I am now crossing and justling though it is doubtful at present who will win the race.”
“You have not far to run, however,” replied Dashall, “and it is therefore fair to presume the heat will soon be over.”
~57~~ “As usual,” cried Rakewell, “always something short, but pungent, like a pinch of merry-go-up{1}--satire and sentiment--mirth, morality, and good humour--unmarried and still the same man. These are better subjects of congratulation than the former.”
“We shall dine at half past three,” said Merry well, “and if you are inclined to make one along with us, you will find me at home.”
“I should have no objection to meet you abroad,” exclaimed Rakewell; “but, however, I'm your man. Half past three, d----nd unfashionable; but never mind,
I'll pick a bone with you; and spite of dull care and high walls, 'locks, bolts, and bars, we'll defy you;' and my life for it we have a jolly afternoon. Is the cellar well stored, and the kitchen in good repair?”
“All right, my boy!” exclaimed Merrywell, “bring your bellows{2} in good order, and don't be afraid of your bread basket.{3} The dibs are in tune.{4} A ball of fire,{s} a dose of daffy, or a blow out of black strap, will set the blue devils at defiance, give a spur to harmony, and set the spirits a jogging.”
“Then at half past three I'll have a turn to with you,” continued Rakewell; “so no more at present from your loving Cousin. I am going now to call on Fred. Fearnought; that fellow has deceived me; I thought him a trump, but he's eaten up with hopes and fears, tormented in mind, body, and estate, no more pluck than a dunghill chick. I must stir him up with a long pole, give him a lesson or two, touch him to the quick, and then quickly adjourn to you; so adieu for the present.”
Thus saying, he made his escape from his friends, and, passing through one of the entrances to the interior, was quickly out of sight.
“That,” said Dashall, addressing his Cousin, “was one of the gayest of the gay in all the leading circles of haut ton.”
“And I assure you,” said Merrywell, “he has not lost one atom of his vivacity, notwithstanding the alteration in his circumstances; he is always full of humour, ready for a bit of fun even in confinement; he plays, laughs, sings, drinks, and is about one of the most cheerful companions I know.”~58~~
1 Merry-go-up--Snuff.
2 Bellows--A cant term for the lungs.
3 Bread-basket--The stomach.
4 The dibs are in tune--There is plenty of money.
5 A ball of fire--A glass of brandy.
“Then,” rejoined Bob, “he is a philosopher, for he has learned to bear.”
“Yes,” continued Dashall, “but the other, and by far the most important, part of philosophy is to forbear.”
“That,” said Merry well, “he yet has to learn, and I have my doubts whether he will accomplish that desirable object while here. He has, with a moderate allowance from his father, contrived to drive his four-in-hand at times, to keep seven or more horses on his hunting and Town establishments; has kept some of the most dashing and expensive ladies, expensive male company; indulged in extravagant habits of all sorts, and has twinkled for a while in the highest gambling circles. A run of ill luck has at last sent him here, but not before he had honoured almost all the horse-dealers, coach-makers, and saddlers, gunsmiths and tavern-keepers in Town, with his custom, or rather with his name on their books. His father is a man of considerable property, which must eventually come to him, and he may yet form a conspicuous figure in High Life.”
“What have we here?” said Tallyho, stopping to read a paper displayed in the window of a barber's shop.
“The old and only established shop at the prison “price: shave well for one penny, hair fashionably cut “for twopence, at 17 in 16, first staircase round the corner.”
“Seventeen in sixteen--I don't understand this.”
“Each of the doors,” said Merry well, “which lead to the apartments is numbered, as is likewise every room in each passage, by which means much facility is afforded to visitors who come to make a call upon their friends. The operator himself is a prisoner, and so are most of those who carry on trades; but opportunities are afforded for any person to come in and supply articles to the inhabitants; and at an early hour in the morning you may hear almost all the cries of London.”~59~~
“Milk, matches, eggs, and Epping sausages, Greens, water-cresses, chips, geranium trees; A brush or broom, deal wood, cow-heel, and tripe, Fresh butter, oranges all round and ripe; Rabbits, a kettle, jug, or coffee pot, Eels, poultry, home-bak'd bread, and rolls all hot; Shirt buttons, nosegays, coals, and God knows what Such are the goods that pass the lobby door, Cried in all tones that vary, squeak, and roar.”
“A little further on,” said Merry well, “is the public kitchen, where, for a trifling fee, cooking is performed for the prisoners, and hot water supplied at a penny per kettle. Then there is a coffee-room and a tap-room for general accommodation, according to the circumstances of the inmates; so that in point of fact there is little to be regretted here, but the loss of liberty, and the want of money.”
“Zounds,” said Bob, “those two articles constitute all that is valuable in life, and in their absence it dwindles into mere existence.
“And bare existence man to live ordained, “Wrings and oppresses with enormous weight.”
“I admit the justice of the remark, for to become an article of vegetation, were it sure of continuance, would be one of the most irksome, as well as degrading situations to which a man could be reduced. But you should recollect, that the generality of persons who study in this College expect an early termination of their privations, by which hope is kept alive; and when the cherished hope is realized, of escaping from these walls, all recollection of the past is banished; and it is doubtful whether the temporary absence from the possibility of indulging in folly does not increase the possibility as well as the power, when at liberty.”
“Who do you call that man with his hands in his pockets?” pointing to a person at a short distance from them at the moment, in slovenly attire, and with a vacant countenance.
“Hush,” replied Merry well, “for we have modest men here as well as elsewhere; men who, though they have rendered themselves famous (a more delicate term than notorious) are not emulous of having their deeds recorded in history, and are indeed very tenacious of satisfying enquiries: his name is F--rr--ter, not quite so vacant as he looks; for it is, generally speaking, not your empty-headed fellows who can arrive at the honour of a residence here, it is rather those of brilliant imagination, of aspiring talent, who have been determined to have money for a time, without heeding the source from which it was derived--who have been up to snuff, till they have reduced themselves to the necessity of resting contented with the marrow-bone stage instead of a phaeton or a ~60~~ curricle, and twopenny in lieu of claret The person you allude to, however, is brother to Cecil F--rr--ter of Court notoriety, and has really been in possession of considerable property. It is said that his principal failing has been too strong an inclination to resort to the law, and that upon the law and lawyers he has expended the bulk of his fortune.”
“He cuts a curious figure now, however,” said Tallyho, “and every view at first sight would take him for a. fortunate youth.”
“Do you observe that man in mustachios, now talking with P----s? That is Captain R----n, who bears a more striking resemblance in character to the celebrated youth you mention; he had at one time inspired a belief among those who knew him, that he was a man of property--married with a view to realize it; and upon comparing notes after the nuptial knot was tied, both parties discovered they were taken in; but it is not ascertained whether this mutual disappointment ended with smiles.”
“Why, it was no laughing matter,” said Tom; “the lucky hit was all a miss.”
“Yes, there was a Miss taken, and a Biter bit. Love is a lottery as well as life, and the chances two to one against the adventurer,” replied Dashall.
“It may be so,” said Merrywell; “I am not fly{1} to the subject at present; perhaps Sparkle could by this time unravel some of its mysteries, and give beneficial lessons to us all: however, time is flying, we will just make one more turn, and then to dinner with what appetite we may. Do you observe the pericranium topp'd with a Prussian cap, and the wearer with a pipe in his mouth?”
1 Fit--To be up to any thing, to understand, to know, or be awake.
“I was on the point of enquiry,” said Bob; “Pray who is he?”
“That is another Captain.”
“Who! One would almost think you have the whole army of Martyrs confined here,” said Tallyho; “at all events, your ranks are not deficient of officers.”
“But then,” said Dashall, “they are out of commission and out of practice.”
“For want of command,” continued Merrywell; “though Capt. S----, although never made a Commander in Chief, has been an exalted character, having once been made ~61~~inspector of the pavement,{1} or in other words knapp'd the stoop; and, if report says true, he has also figured away in other situations equally honourable--a flash turf man--a naval character, and a smuggler. But come, I have given you a sort of index by which you may read, mark, and learn more, when we are more at leisure. It is now half past three o'clock, and punctuality is always my motto.”
1 Inspector of the pavement, or knapp'd the stoop--Cant term for the pillory.
“Humph,” ejaculated Tom; “Cash down, and no grumbling.”
“D----n severity,” was the reply; “no more of that, or we cut: touch my honour, and you touch my life.”
“Dot and go one,” cried Dashall. “Come along, Bob!” and catching his Cousin by the arm, they followed Merrywell in silence to his apartment in the State House.
On arrival, they found the dinner on table; and Hakewell, true to his appointment, arrived before them. The keen air of Surrey, though rather confined, had furnished them with good appetites. Apologies were banished, and to it they went without “let, hinderance, or molestation”--the viands were good, the wines exquisite and plentiful. The cloth being removed, mirth and conviviality were the order of the day.
Confusion to soft heads and hard hearts!--Parks and pleasure ground s without priories! were drank in bumpers with enthusiastic applause. The merriment and hilarity of Merrywell and his fellow student crowned the afternoon with as much pleasure and delight, as Bob conceived he could have found under unlimited circumstances. The good humour and hospitality of the host was manifested in the perfect satisfaction of those he entertained; and about eight o'clock, when Rakewell began to mangle his mother tongue, our friends, after dropping their mites into the canisters held out for their bounty, repassed the gates, well pleased and highly diverted with the information they had obtained, and the occurrences of the day; and not a little exhilarated by the Bacchanalian juice.
“Well,” said Tallyho, “this is a scene of Real Life, which I should judge could scarcely be equalled, and would almost induce one to wish for an opportunity of a residence along with the Collegians.”
~62~~ “Provided always nevertheless with an equal opportunity of leaving it when we please,” said Dashall; “and probably we have only seen one of the best pictures it contains, for although we have been as jolly as Sandboys, there is a large store of misery unseen. But let us proceed. We shall soon be free from College Rules, and a thought strikes me, that we can make a call on our road that will afford another view of society equally amusing and refreshing. I have often observed to you, that in order to see Life, there is no necessity to buz about with court flies, to waste time and money in getting introduced to the tip tops of the West, to join what are termed the fashionable circles, and to end a fashionable career by a whereas or a whitewashing. The true student of Real Life should occasionally mingle with all descriptions of persons, mark the characters and their conduct; and, believe me, there are those in the humblest situations, who enjoy themselves in their own way with as much of heartfelt satisfaction as those in the highest, of which, I think, I shall be able to give you a decided proof before we reach home.”
They now pursued their way along the London Road and over Westminster Bridge, till Tom called a halt at the door of a friend.
“Come, Bob,” said he, “here we must uncase--doff the present toggery, and turn out in new trim for the evening.”
“What!” enquired Bob, “another masquerade?”
“No, no,” was the reply, “a temporary suspension of the dress and character of a gentleman, in order to avoid being tormented and suspected by the company to which I intend to introduce you.”
Finding his friend at home, they were quickly supplied with tatter'd garments and slouch'd hats, in which they again sallied forth, and about nine o'clock they entered a low public-house in Scotland-yard.
“Fear nothing,” said Tom, as they passed the threshold; “don't be flurried by any thing said to you, 'tis only a heavy-wet party among the coal-heaving coves.”
As Bob entered the room, his very first action betrayed him, for, being accustomed to genteel behaviour, he took off his hat, which was in a moment knocked out of his hand by a hard featured fellow near him, whose face indicated the want of water, although so near the river.
~63~~ “Order, order,” was vociferated in an instant by a jolly good-natured looking man exalted above the rest, who, at the same moment, rapped the table with his knuckles--“This here vay, gentlemen--Bill Muggins, mind you I arn't had your penny in the plate for Backy.”
“Vy, that's a lie!” roar'd out a Stentorian voice, “I never takes my seat before I sees my vay clear upon the board. I put a crooked ha' penny.”
“Yes, and two bad fardens vhat an't vorth nothing,” said another. “Make him tip” cried a third, “or else stick him in the nitch.”{1}
1 Stick him in the nitch--Send him to Coventry.
Bob having regained his castor, followed his Cousin to the other end of the room, and after each depositing a penny in the plate, they took their seats at the table, where, being supplied with a flowing quart, they began to look around them.
The first thing which struck Tallyho's eye, was “No trust,” printed in large letters at one end of the room; a sort of indication, that a man without money would not be likely to meet with agreeable entertainment: then turning his head the other way, he discovered they were in a house of call for Coal Porters. Before the president (who, by way of distinction, had turned the broad flap of his coal-heaving hat forward in the fashion of a huntsman's cap) was placed a small round table, on which stood a gallon measure of heavy wet. On his right sat a worn-out workman fast asleep, and occasionally affording his friends around him a snoring accompaniment to a roar of laughter.
“Silence, silence! vy don't you all be more quieter when I am going to begin?”
“Order, order, chair, chair!” now resounded from every one.
“Vell, you know its no use at all for to make me take this here chair, because vy--I an't got no woice.”
“I knows better nor that,” said Bill Muggins, “for, by ----ven you fell overboard the other day you roared like a rum un, and ven I pulled you out you squeaked like a pig, so that are proves vhat you have got two woices, and that's one more than you ought to have. Lord, Lord, if you had but seen him and I get drunk a'ter it, you would ha' laughed--Dick bolted blue ruin till his eyes sparkled just for all the vorld like a vooden spoon against a soot bag.”
~64~~ A general laugh succeeded this sally, which was accompanied by the speaker with a violent blow upon the table, which threatened confusion to the candles, glasses, and porter-pots, with which it was loaded.
“Veil,” continued the chairman, “you know its all my eye, I an't got no sing in me, so if you're a mind to be friendly, vill you heave out.”
“Vy, you know Dick, for the matter o' that are, I never refuses you nothing; nor, vhat's more, I never vont, so here goes.
“Vhat a hearty blade am I, Care ca'nt never touch my heart, Every trouble I defy, Vhile I views the foaming quawt. A very good song, and very well sung; Jolly kimpanions, every one, Clap your hats on, keep your heads vann, A little more liquor will do us no harm. Blankets and pins, blankets and pins, When a man's married his sorrow begins.”
The six last lines were repeated as a chorus, till every one appeared to be exhausted, and was succeeded by thunders of approbation, and reiterated cries of “Well done, Bill--go it, Bill--Bill Muggins for ever!” and the still unabated snoring of their companion in the corner.
“Bill Muggins a'nt nothing but a good'un, Gemmen,” said the President; “here's his health. Landlord, bring him a bolus of blue ruin. I say, Bill, vhat shall ve say a'ter that are good song?”
“Here's bad luck and no blue ruin to bad masters, and leg o' mutton and turnups for trumps--that's all I got to say, so here goes.”
The toast being drank,
“Who is ve to call on now, Bill?”
“Vy, Bob Martlet's the boy to come it strong.”
Bob Martlet was accordingly called upon, but requested a few minutes to prepare himself, as he was rather hoarse.
During this interregnum, Dashall slipped out of the room, and gave the landlord an order to place two bowls of punch on the tables, cautioning him at the same time to say nothing of the party who paid for it, but to say that a Gentleman, passing by the door and hearing them all merry, had given an order for it at the bar.
~65~~ Upon re-entering the room, Bob Martlet, with one eye bound up and his hat in his hand, was bawling with lungs of leather,
Lovely nymph! assuage my anguish, At thy feet a tender swain, Prays you will not let him languish, One kind look would ease his pain. Did you know the lad who courts you, He not long need sue in vain-- Prince of song and dance--you Scarce will meet his like again!
As this was a song to be sung in character, Bob Martlet determined to profit by the instructions of Shakspeare, “to suit the action to the word, and the word to the action,” and consequently at the word “dance,” he introduced some steps to the great entertainment of the company; but unfortunately jigging to another tune, in which all the broad brims joined, he forgot the connexion of the words, and was compelled to sing it over again, and to give his hornpipe by way of conclusion, which was accompanied by the barking of a dog.
Tallyho laughed heartily at this; the grotesque appearance of the “tender swain,” and the dance in wooden shoes, were admirable, and highly relished by his companions. The room resounded with applauses, and it was some moments before silence could be obtained, when, lo and behold, the landlord entered the room as a peace-breaker with two bowls of punch.
Consternation and surprise were visible in every countenance. The confusion of tongues could scarcely equal the enquiries made in a moment; but the landlord, having his cue, made no reply. But there it is, will you drink it? It is all your own--and, to set you a good example, here goes--Success to trade!--and took a hearty swig from the bowl he placed before the President; then, taking the other bowl to the lower end of the room, he evaporated, but soon returned with glasses. Where he came from or how it was obtained, was banished from consideration, and to make more, the remnant of a pot of heavy wet was thrown into the bowl to mellow it, as the President observed, because vy he liked things mellow. The punch was handed about, the song and the toast passed merrily in succession till near twelve, when an unlucky disturber of harmony, with a candle set fire to the whisker of Phill the flue faker so called from his ~66~~having in his younger days been a chimney-sweeper. Phill, who had slept during the noise of the evening, was, notwithstanding his former trade, not fire-proof, awoke in a flame, and not knowing the real depredator, upset the President, and nearly knock'd him through a window just behind him--mill'd away in all directions, growling with as much melody as he had before snored. During the confusion of this affray, Tom and Bob took their departure from Charley's Crib, which they understood was a nickname given to the place, and, throwing themselves into a rattler, soon arrived in Piccadilly, where we shall for the present leave them to their repose.
Chapter V
“Since Life's but a jest, let us follow the rule, There's nothing so pleasant as playing the fool, In town we may practise, as well as at school.
The world turns about the same things o'er and o'er; We fool it--our forefathers fool'd it before; They did what we do, which our sons will encore.
Life's but a half holiday, lent us to stare; We wander and wonder in vanity's fair, All, baby-like, bawling for each bawble there:
We, children like, covet the glitter of gay things, Make racket for ribbands, and such sort of play-things, Which we cannot have tho'--without we can say things.
We take, or are in all our turns, taken in; The world to be sure--'tis a shame and a sin,-- Might soon be much better--but who will begin?”
~67~~ “LONDON,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall to his Cousin, “abounds with so much of munificence, that notwithstanding all its intricacies and inconveniences, he who travels through life without visiting it, may justly be said to know nothing; for it is all Life, its remotest corners are full of animation, and although it is difficult to fancy how all live, there are few but could give some satisfactory information if they chose, though I am willing to believe many would rather wish to avoid interrogation. We have already explored some parts of it, but be assured there is still much to admire, much to applaud, and much to deprecate. Our researches, after all, have been rather confined than extensive. It is such an ever varying and never ceasing mine of observation, that it is almost like the wishing cap of Fortunatus, with this exception, that although every wish may be supplied, it requires something more than putting on the cap to obtain the object desired.”
~68~~ “From what I have already seen,” replied Tallyho, “I perfectly coincide with you in the latter part of your observation, for I have no doubt but perseverance and integrity, with some portion of ability, is sure to meet reward.”
“You are right,” continued Tom; “many instances could be pointed out in proof of the justice of that remark: some of the greatest men of the present day have rose from the lowest origin. Shop-boys and porters have become tradesmen and merchants; shoe-blacks have become statesmen, and servants councillors. But on the other hand, many who have been born, as the old saying is, 'with a silver spoon in their mouths,' have 'fallen from their high estates,' and lingered out the latter parts of their lives in prisons or work-houses, laying the blame on fate, rather than attributing failure to their own want of ability, prudence, or active exertion. But come, I perceive the curricle is ready; let us take a spank through the City, and look a little more minutely at the mercantile world.”
This call was instantly obeyed by Tallyho, who never doubted but his Cousin had some object in view, though he frequently started from Piccadilly without being previously acquainted with it.
Passing out at Hyde Park Corner, Bon remarked that he thought the City lay the other way.
“Never mind,” replied Dashall, “we shall come to the point without doubt. Why, man, there are more ways than one, and I am not particularly partial to being blocked up in the public streets, amidst knowing jarveys and cramp carmen, sugar hogsheads, molasses, and slush carts, which is so frequently the case, when by a slight deviation from the direct way, we can give the tits a rattler on a good road without obstruction, and pocket a handful of time into the bargain.”
He now turned into the road which leads directly to Vauxhall Bridge; on arriving at which, Tallyho was much delighted with an extensive view of the Thames.
“This,” said Dashall, “will bring us to a favourite place of amusement, where you have already cut a conspicuous figure.”
“What do you mean?” enquired his Cousin.
“A masquerade,” replied he significantly. “Go along Bob.”
~69~~ Passing gently over the Bridge, “Do you observe,” continued he, “that extensive building? That is called the Penitentiary. It is a building designed for the punishment, employment, and reformation of offenders of secondary turpitude, usually punished by transportation for a term of years. It has been conceived since the commencement of the disputes which terminated in the separation of the American States. The plan of it is known to be partly that of Mr. Jeremy Bentham. The culprits are confined in circular buildings, the windows of which are so constructed, that the overseer from his room in the centre may be able to view every one of their rooms. The external wall encloses no less than eighteen acres of ground, within which are six of these circular buildings, each capable of lodging and employing from 150 to 200 prisoners, with a chapel, infirmary, and other conveniences. Its situation is called Millbank.”
“It looks,” said Bob, “like a castle, or tower, of impregnable strength.”
“It is, however,” continued Tom, “a useful institution, since it supersedes that indiscriminate transportation so long practised, and which, as applied to definite periods, was cruel and unjust, since the wretched objects were precluded from the power of ever returning to their native land, however short the intended period of their banishment. This part of the world is much improved of late years. The Bridge we are now passing, is an admirable light and elegant structure, but recently erected, according to the plan of Mr. J. Walker, and connects, as you perceive, by a straight line of road with Hyde Park Corner. The road before us leads to Newington Cross, and thence by various ways to the City. The Bridge consists of nine arches, of equal span, in squares of cast iron, on piers of rusticated stone formed of fragments, united by means of Parker's cement. Its width is 809 feet, the span of the arches 78 feet, the height 29 feet, and the clear breadth of the road way is 36 feet. It cost above 300,000L. But we shall shortly cross another bridge, far surpassing it in point of magnificence.”
“It is wonderful indeed,” said Bob, “that in a country complaining of a starving population, such serious sums of money should be expended in the erection of splendid mansions and magnificent bridges.”
~70~~ “Not at all,” was the reply, “for perhaps it is one of the best ways of expending, as it gives employment to thousands who would otherwise have become beggars on private charity, or paupers on public bounty, either of which is revolting to the mind of an Englishman: besides, if your observation applied at all, it would cut at every improvement of the day; and you should recollect, that, whether upon true foundations or not, every generation think the age they live in is the most enlightened: so it may be with respect to the preceding, and indeed, so much so, that the succeeding will rather decline than improve upon it, but it would be difficult to convince them of the fact. It is certain, however, that scarcely a day passes but some new invention or improvement is offered to public notice. The perusal of the newspapers is an evidence of my assertion; and as London is the centre of attraction, so it is the seat of knowledge, of science and information.”
“I should judge, that if a person who had lived some two hundred years ago, even in this wild place, were to rise up amongst us, his surprise and astonishment would be strongly excited,” said Bob, endeavouring to draw forth more of his observations as they bowled along the road.
“There can be no question on that subject,” said Tom, “for how would the high ideas he entertained of the ingenuity of the age in which he had lived, dwindle into nothing! Nay, should he appear in the country first, what would he think of the various implements of husbandry, for ploughing, and preparing the land; the different machines for sowing the corn, for threshing, grinding, and dressing it; and in numerous instances (though perhaps not quite so much now as it has been, on account of the present agricultural distresses) he would find something else too which he might not consider an improvement: instead of meeting the honest homely farmer, assisting personally in the gathering in his crops, and his daughter following the cart with a rake, he would find the former mounted on his Prad following the hounds, and the latter at boarding school. Instead of the farmer's son bringing home his cows of an evening, and his sister going out to meet him at the sound of his well known voice, with her milk-white pail, he would find the one poring over Latin and Greek, and the other running her fingers over the chords of a harp or piano-forte.”
~71 “These,” said Bob, “are refinements in manners at least.”
“Then, should he take a peep at London, as we are now doing, he would be struck dumb with admiration. But here we are on the Waterloo Road. That building on the right is the Coburg Theatre, so named in compliment to the Prince of Saxe Coburg, who married the unfortunate Princess Charlotte of Wales, the much regretted daughter of our present King. Before us is Waterloo Bridge, which leads to the Strand, and was originally denominated the Strand Bridge; it is acknowledged to be one of the most majestic structures of the kind, perhaps, in the known world, and was built under the direction of the late Mr. Rennie, to whose memory it is said a monument is intended to be erected. The Bridge consists of nine equal arches, and like the bridges of the ancients, is perfectly flat, which you perceive the road we are now travelling is not, for in some instances you may look over the wall upon another world below, as we are above the tops of the houses. Its being level is a circumstance highly favourable to the draught of carriages across it, and without any apparent subtraction from its beauty. We will alight here and walk leisurely across, taking time for remark.”
The servants now took charge of the curricle, with orders to wait at the corner of the Strand, while our heroes, having each deposited his penny at the toll-house, strolled forward.
Tallyho appeared delighted with the views around him: In the front, a fine prospect of one of the finest cities in the world, and behind an equally pleasing sight over the Surrey Hills. The day being fine, and the sun darting his refulgent beams on the bosom of the Thames, contributed to form, altogether, one of the most enraptured sights he had ever beheld. The passing and repassing of boats and barges below; and carriages, horsemen, and pedestrians, crossing the bridge, alternately attracted his attention.
“Each arch of this bridge,” said Dashall, “is 120 feet span; the piers 20 feet thick, with Tuscan columns; the width between the parapets 42 feet; these footpaths are seven feet each, and the road-way is 28 feet. The cost has been immense, and it is not likely that the original subscribers will ever realize the capital expended.”
~72~~ At this moment the sound of music attracted the ears of Tallyho.
“What have we here?” said he, thrusting his head through the balustrades, by which he found himself almost suffocated with smoke, which stopped further enquiry.
“Behold,” said Tom, “another improvement of the age; that is the Richmond Steam Boat, proceeding with a cargo of live stock to that celebrated place of public resort, and, in spite of wind and weather, will return in the evening. They always have a band of music on board, for the amusement of their passengers.”
“Zounds,” said Bob, “they ought to have a smoke-consumer.”
“They had one just now,” replied Tom; “for I apprehend you assisted them in some degree, though not voluntarily.”
“You are smoking me,” said Bob.
“Never mind, you have only been puffing a cloud.”
“However, as the mist is dispelled,” said Tallyho, “and we have, a clear sky before us again, let us make use of our senses.”
“To the right you perceive Blackfriars' Bridge, and beyond that the Southwark Bridge. By the way, we were speaking of the alterations to be witnessed in a country life. We will now pursue the subject, and suppose for a moment our two-thousand-years-ago friend, after his visit among the Swains, inclined to transfer his observations to the Great Town. The first question would be, How shall I get there? Oh, there are plenty of night coaches, and day coaches too, Sir. Well, then “fancy him seated in a night coach, and having supped on the road, on resuming his corner of the vehicle, he falls into a sound sleep. Guess what must be his surprise on waking in the morning, to find himself in the bustle and apparent confusion of the streets of the Metropolis. But how altered! Wide streets and upright houses, instead of narrow lanes with houses meeting each other at the tops. Then what elegant shops!--He would exclaim, rubbing his eyes, 'Why, this is all a dream
“Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain!”
~73~~ 'It cannot be reality!'--However, he swallows a hasty breakfast, and sallies out again to look about him. From London Bridge he espies the one I have just mentioned, the Southwark Bridge.--'What have we here?'--'Oh, Sir, that is the cast-iron bridge, with three arches, over the Thames.' He hastens to it, and when upon it, what must be his astonishment, at the power of the human mind to form, and of the human body to bring together, such immense pieces of iron? To connect Queen Street, Cheapside, with the Kent and Surrey Roads by three arches, the centre of which is 240 feet span, and the side ones 210 feet each, the arches all composed of cast iron, the piers and abutments of stone. 'Zounds,' he would exclaim, 'if the race of man dwindle in stature, they grow daily more stupendous in intellect! 'But we will suppose, like you, with an anxiety to see all that can be seen, he perceives a machine sailing down the river with astonishing velocity; 'Why, formerly,' said he, 'wind and tide against a vessel were insurmountable obstacles in its passage, but now they seem to add to its swiftness; how is this to be accounted for? '--'Easily enough,' replies a bye-stander; 'Lord bless you, it's all done by steam. Hot water and smoke do every thing now-a-days! Why there are a great number of machines, which formerly required from two to forty or more horses each to put and keep in motion, entirely worked by the steam arising from boiling water.'--' Prodigious! Steam do all that! Astonishing!'”
“And truly,” replied Bob, “notwithstanding I have witnessed many improvements, I confess I am astonished at the various uses to which this discovery has already been devoted, and the extraordinary powers it possesses.
“Well, we will pursue the train of thought a little further: Suppose, perambulating the streets till he is quite tired, and seeing alterations and changes out of number, he enters a Coffee House, eats a hearty meal, and taking a glass or two of wine, he falls into a musing train of ideas of the wonders he has been witnessing, from which he is not disturbed, till the hoarse voice of a Charley sounds in his ear, 'Past ten o'clock, and a cloudy night,' at which he hastily starts up, discharges his bill, and prepares, by buttoning up close and securing his trusty stick, for (as he would naturally expect) a dull dreary walk. He sallies out thus equipped, and, to his utter astonishment, finds the streets as busy as in the middle of the day, and almost as light. He steps up to one of the lights to ~74~~ examine it--'What can this be? It is not oil, there is no vessel to contain it; surely this can't be steam also! But what can it be?'--'Gas, Sir,' says a passenger, who overhears the question, 'Gas; it is produced from coals set on fire and confined in a furnace, the subtle vapour from which is conveyed by means of pipes, and, light applied to it, immediately bursts into a flame.' His astonishment would now be complete, and if he did sleep after, it would be difficult to persuade him it was not all a dream.”
“Our wise forefathers knew the worth of land, And bank'd the Thames out with laborious hand; From fresh encroachments bound it's restless tide Within a spacious channel deep and wide. With equal pains, revers'd, their grandsons make On the same spot a little inland lake; Where browsing sheep or grazing cattle fed, The wondrous waters new dominion spread; Where rows of houses stood through many a street Now rows of ships present a little fleet. Nay, we had made, had Nature not refus'd, Had Father Thames not begg'd to be excus'd, A pretty tunnel underneath his bed, And left him running, grumbling, over head; Had scratch'd a track out, like a grubbing mole, Through a long, dark, and damp and dirty hole-- Like rats in sewers, had flounder'd through the mud, Instead of sailing, duck-like, o'er the flood; But bubbling springs chok'd up the project deep, And trickling waters on our folly weep.”
By this time they had crossed the Bridge, and having regained the curricle, the Hon. Tom Dashall tickled the tits in prime style along the Strand, in the road to the City. Soon after passing Temple Bar, they were attracted by a vast concourse of persons surrounding the shop of Mr. Carlile,{1} from whence upon enquiry they learnt the
1 Perhaps some of the most remarkable occurrences in the City of London have taken place at the house of Carlile. The whole family have been tried and convicted of selling treasonable or seditious works, and are now suffering the sentence of the law. But, notwithstanding the combined efforts of a powerful body, the shop is kept open, and it is more than likely that a greater business is carried on now than ever. In a recent Number of the Re-publican, published by him, he makes the following observations:--
“Since my last went to press, we have thought it prudent to resort to stratagem to defeat the schemes of the Gang, in taking out every new hand from the shop by a warrant. We now sell all publications, to suspicious and unsuspicious customers, through a hole in a part of the shop, where it is impossible for the purchaser to identify the seller, as there are always two or three serving in the back ground, none of whom can be seen or heard, to be identified individually. These persons are frequently changed, so that even if the enemy resorted to burglary and house-breaking, upon the strength of any warrant, the seller of any pamphlet or pamphlets could not be identified. Where the statue of Paine stood, we are about to caricature the defeat of Murray and Sharpe, and make them watch the hole through which the money and pamphlets pass, without being able to prevent it. There are fifty stratagems by which I could give full effect to the sale of my publications, as well as if they were sold openly, and which would defy prosecution, as the vender could not be identified. I dislike this mode of doing business; I like open, fair play; and I now make a proposition to Stoddart, Clarke, Murray, and Sharp, that I will do every thing openly, and give them the name of every individual in my employ from time to time, if they will confine themselves to the professions they have made through “Cato,” their scribe, and not arrest until a Grand Jury have pronounced a true Bill against the individual. If they will not accept this proposition, they shall arrest no more, and my business shall go on just the same. I tell them, for their comfort, that the pamphlets sold daily through the hole, have doubled the number of those sold openly heretofore. Public curiosity they have excited, and am reaping the benefit. They cannot put-me down. I will put them down. Let the result bear witness. My friend in the enemy's camp and councils, has my thanks for his valuable information. He will perceive that all his information and instructions have been acted upon.”
The previous observations of Mr. Carlile are admirably elucidated by the following Police Report of one of the Newspapers:
The Bridge-street Association.--After a cessation of hostilities for two or three days, Mr. Secretary Murray, and the forces of the Bridge Street Association under his command, re-assembled at this Justice-room [Guildhall] on Saturday.
Mr. Honorary Secretary Sharp was also in attendance, and remained in the public room with the Yeomen, while the Co- Secretary was indulged with a private interview with the Magistrate, Mr. Alderman Birch, in the parlour. Mr. Newman, the City Solicitor, was also called into council, and remained iu consultation with Secretary Murray some time; there was much marching and countermarching in and out of the office on the part of the Secretary and the Yeomen, but no public application on the part of the Association was made to the Alderman, and it was understood that there was much difficulty in determining the manner of renewing, with any prospect of success, the attacks upon the inmates of “The Temple of Reason.”
The difficulty, it seems, arose from the new mode of defence adopted by the besieged. The little parlour which adjoins the shop has been converted into a citadel, the glass partition which separates them is closely blinded, and the operations carried on in ambush behind it; two of the squares of glass have been taken out, and in the place of one of them is erected a box with an aperture for the receipt of money, over which is an inscription, “Put your money in here;” and in the other, a contrivance by which the pamphlet wanted is slid down to the purchaser from the inside of the citadel. This machinery, however, is used only for the sale of such works as have already been made the object of prosecution. The seller is invisible, and the identification of his person rendered impracticable, unless the citadel be taken by storm. Little Waddington, heretofore the Radical standard-bearer, whose own experience has procured for him an extensive acquaintance with the persons of officers and informers, has assumed the command, and conducts the operations in the front shop, where the sale of such of Carlile's publications as have not as yet come under the censure of the law, is carried on as usual.
~76~~ officers of the Police had just taken one of the shopmen in custody, for vending an alleged seditious or treasonable publication, upon the information of a Yeoman in the pay of the Bridge Street Gang. The crowd of persons induced our friends to make a little further enquiry into the cause, who were soon informed, that in consequence of the repeated attempts to stop the issue of books and pamphlets sold, at what is denominated the Temple of Reason, a part of the shop had been boarded off, so as completely to screen the venders of any publication from the eye of the purchaser, and by this means to render abortive all future attempts to identify any supposed offender.
“Why,” said Dashall, “it is an old saying, and I believe a very true one, If you tread upon a worm it will turn. Such appears to be exemplified in the case of this man. You have also heard me remark, that in London it signifies little by what means a man obtains popularity, and here is a case exactly in point. An extensive body of rich men have combined their efforts to crush an individual of little importance in the world, and who perhaps would before this have been forgotten, but for their indiscreet interference with his pursuits. They are now not only foiled in their endeavours to obtain fresh exercise for their Yeomen, and more work for their Lawyers, but, in consequence of their determined opposition, the world is likely to be deluged with every obnoxious publication, without any chance of detecting the sellers.”
“It is a curious manouvre,” said Tallyho.
“Yes, and it appears to have the desired effect with the Carliles and their adherents. They carry on the war in ambuscade, and are selling, without fear, books and ~77~~ pamphlets, of which but for the Constitutional Committee, as they call themselves, perhaps half the world would have known nothing. Such, however, is frequently the effect of intemperate zeal, and these Gentlemen have blown into notoriety that which they intended to suppress, whether upon the substantial grounds of reason or propriety, I leave others to decide.”
Becoming now entangled in a double row of carriages, with little prospect of making further progress for some time, our friends resigned the curricle to the care of the servant, and proceeded on foot to the City Coffee House, Ludgate Hill, for refreshment.{1}
1 When the City Coffee House was first opened, Dr. Johnson frequently called there, and one morning observing a large book upon the table, took it up, and after inspecting the outside with great attention, he found it to be Minshew's Dictionary of Twelve Languages; upon which he turned round to the master of the house and asked him, “What use he could have for such a book?” “To amuse literary Gentlemen,” was the reply. “Do you under-stand any of these languages?” “I find it a very difficult task, Sir, to understand my own, and I am not possessed of the erudition of a Johnson.” The Doctor looked at him stedfastly and replied, “Sir, you are a very impudent fellow.” “Sir, I am sorry you think so,” replied the proprietor, “and I hope we shall both of us mend our manners.” On this the Doctor drank his chocolate, and marched out of the house.
This Coffee House is much resorted to, and, in point of comfortable accommodation, is perhaps not surpassed by any in London.
Having regaled themselves, and looked over the leading papers of the day, they proceeded to inspect the interior of that noble edifice, the pride of the British empire, St. Paul's Cathedral.
“According to vulgar tradition,” said Dashall, “this church occupies the site of a Roman temple, which was consecrated to Diana; but the son of Sir Christopher Wren, in his Parentalia, controverts this opinion, and contends, that the first cathedral of the Episcopal see of London was built in the area, the seat of the Roman Prætorian camp, the precise spot on which the present church stands. It is supposed to have been destroyed in the general persecution under the emperor Dioclesian, to have been re-edified under Constantine, to have been demolished by the Pagan Saxons, and to have been restored in the seventh century, when the Saxons embraced ~78~~ Christianity. From this period it has been four times rebuilt, and at the great fire of London was totally destroyed.”
These remarks premised by Dashall for the information of his friend, they proceeded to view the several statues and funeral monuments, displayed with uniformity and executed with considerable taste, by which the interior of the church has been much improved in appearance.{1}
After having examined these stately and expressive mementos of mortality, the two visitors were asked by their attendant, whether they would pass to the stone and iron galleries outside of the church; but this, having so lately enjoyed the extensive prospect from the Monument, they declined, and proceeded at once to the Library, the first object to be seen in the ascent.
Our two visitors were very much pleased with this handsome room, which in its dimensions is about fifty feet by forty, having shelves of books to the top, with a gallery
1 The statues of Dr. Johnson, and Howard the philanthropist, both executed by the late Mr. Bacon, were opened for public inspection in 1796. That of Dr. Johnson represents a moral philosopher, with the attitude and expression of intense thought, leaning against a column, indicative of the firmness of mind and stability of principles of the man whom it is intended to commemorate.
The statue of Howard, in which the character of active benevolence is well expressed, stands upon a pedestal of white marble, on which is a group of bas-relief, representing a scene in a prison, where the philanthropist, having broken the chains of the prisoners, is bringing provision and clothing for their relief.
The statue of Sir William Jones, a man well known for his extensive and multifarious erudition, whose study it was to make the British name honoured and revered amongst the nations of the East, is also the work of Bacon, and was erected by the East India Company.
Amongst the monuments lately raised in commemoration of de- parted worth, is that of Nelson, and in design and execution it is not exceeded by any in the Cathedral.
In the open part of the Cathedral, the stranger will be struck with the appearance of numerous tattered flags, the trophies of British valour. Those over the aisle leading from the western door, were taken in part during the American War, and the rest by the Duke of York at Valenciennes. Those on both sides near the north door, were reprisals made from the French by Lord Howe, on the 1st of June, 1794; opposite to which, on the right hand, are the flags taken from the Spaniards by Lord Nelson, in 1797; and on the left are those taken from the Dutch by Lord Duncan, at Camperdown, and by Lord Keith at the Cape of Good Hope.
~79~~running along the sides. The floor is of oak, consisting of 2376 small square pieces, and is not only curious for its being inlaid, without a nail or a peg to fasten the parts, but is very neat in the workmanship, and beautiful in its appearance. The principal things pointed out to a stranger, are several carved stone pillars, some Latin manuscripts, written by Monks 800 years ago, and an English manuscript illuminated, containing rules for the government of a convent, written in old English, about 500 years since, all in fine preservation.
The clock-work and the great bell were the next curiosities that attracted the attention of our visitants. On the latter, weighing 11,470lbs. the hammer of the clock strikes the hours. It was now noon, and the ponderous hammer put itself into motion, and slowly, yet with astounding impetus, struck the bell, and the reverberation tingled on the auricular organs of the two strangers with painful and stunning effect throughout the long protracted intimation of the hour; nor was it until a considerable time had elapsed, that their hearing recovered from the clanging agitation.{1}
1 This bell is never tolled but upon the death of some of the Royal Family, of the Bishop of London, or of the Dean of St. Paul's, and then the clapper is moved and not the bell. In the stillness of night, the indication of the hour by the deeply sonorous tone of this bell may be heard, not merely over the immense Metropolis, but in distant parts of the country. The fact is well known of the sentry at Windsor, who, when accused of having been asleep one night on his post, denied the charge, saying, “That he had been listening to St. Paul's in London, which had just struck thirteen!” And this assertion was, upon enquiry, satisfactorily corroborated.
They were now ushered into the Whispering Gallery, which is constructed on the very simple principle of an unbroken communication. It is 140 yards in circumference, and a stone seat runs round the gallery along the foot of the wall. On the side directly opposite to the entrance door, Dashall and his friend seated themselves, when the person who shewed the gallery whispered close to the door, at the distance of 140 feet, and yet they heard his voice seemingly at their ear. The shutting of the door resembled a clap of thunder. From this gallery, round the inner circle of which is an iron balustrade, the marble pavement of the church exhibits a beautiful appearance, and the paintings of the dome, which have ~80~~ greatly suffered by time, are thence seen to the greatest advantage.
The ascent to the ball is attended by some difficulty, and is not encountered by many. Our two visitants therefore declined its inspection. The interior diameter of the ball is six feet two inches, and will contain twelve persons.{1}
1 A new ball and cross have lately replaced the former, of similar dimensions. The erection of the scaffolding, and subsequent proceedings of the workmen, at so fearful a height from the “haunts of men,” excited a very general interest, more particularly so on the recent happy accomplishment of the undertaking, when the in-trepid aeronauts cheered the admiring multitude far beneath, and, seated in the clouds like the deities of Mount Olympus, drank to the prosperity of their friends in the nether regions.
The best view of the metropolis is obtained, in a clear day, from the gallery at the foot of the lantern. The diminutive appearance of the passengers and other objects beneath is extremely amusing, and resembles the Elfin Panorama of the capital of Lilliput.
The calm serenity of the interior, the awful grandeur of the structure itself, and the reflections arising from the contemplation of monuments erected to the memory of departed worth, with the splendid achievements of heroic minds, formed a strange contrast to the scene which presented itself to their view on leaving this magnificent pile. The hurry, bustle, and confusion of the street, the noisy vociferations of coachmen, carmen, &c. burst upon their senses at a moment when the mind had been soothed by reflection, and the eye gratified with a sight which led imagination into futurity, before which the past and the present had appeared to evaporate. The Hon. Tom Dashall, however, was quickly recalled by observing his curricle so completely hemmed in between contending parties to obtain liberation at the corner of Paul's chain, as to afford but little chance of escape from its intricate situation for some time.
“Zounds,” said Tom, “we had better return and take a seat among the worthies within, for I have no idea of mounting the curricle, to sit and be quizzed.”
“Any chance,” said Bob, “is better than that; but at all events your man is able to take care of the carriage and cattle, and we are competent to the care of ourselves.”
“Well hinted,” replied Tom, “and it shall be acted upon.”
~81~~ Thus saying, he made his way through the throng, and gave orders for the curricle to proceed home as soon as it could be extricated from its present confinement. Then returning to his Cousin,
“It is not the first time I have been disappointed; I had made up my mind to proceed much farther; but the very scenes we have been inspecting are proofs of the inability of man to perform all his wishes, although equally' a proof of the splendid talents and determined valour of our renowned and deservedly remembered countrymen, and are well calculated to inspire us with patience, fortitude, and forbearance. At the other door we can escape from the bustle of this side; and perhaps the best thing we can do under existing circumstances, will be to speed homewards, and after dinner relax a little from our toils, in order to recruit for further activity.”
“Have with you,” said Bob; “we have enjoyed the first part of the day on a variety of interesting subjects, and after a cheerful and refreshing ride, have at last arrived at the threshold of eternity. We may as well escape for this time if we can, and cheat the grim tyrant of mankind. Although our ride has been a long one, our walk back is but short, so let us lose no time.”
In accordance with this recommendation, he caught hold of Dashall's arm, proceeded through the Cathedral, and arrived at Piccadilly without any thing remarkable or particular to record, where we shall for the present leave them to their enjoyments among the able writers with which Tom's bookcase was well stored.