Chapter VI
Hail! venerable pile! with awe I tread The sacred mansion of th' illustrious dead! Where rise, o'er forms now mould'ring into dust, The “storied urn” and “animated West.”-- Beneath the fretted dome, aspiring high, Here monarchs, heroes, poets, sages, lie! “Deaf the prais'd ear, and mute the tuneful tongue,” Here sleeps the bard with those whom erst he sung; And all consigned to one impartial doom, Lo! kings and subjects levelled in the tomb!
IN a perambulation westward, our friends shortly reached the precinct of Westminster Abbey, or the collegiate Church of Saint Peter; the most ancient religious structure in the metropolis.
Divested of fabulous narration, its history is briefly as follows. Its name is obviously derived from its situation, in the west, and from its original destination as the church of a monastery. It was founded by Sebert, king of the East Saxons; was destroyed afterwards by the Danes; was subsequently re-built by king Edgar in 958; the church was again re-built by Edward the Confessor in 1065; and by Pope Nicholas II. it was constituted a place of inauguration of the English Monarchs. Henry III. re-built it from the ground, and Henry VII. added a magnificent chapel at the east end of it. The monastery was surrendered by the abbot and monks to Henry VIII. who first converted it into a college of secular canons, and afterwards into a cathedral, of which the county of Middlesex was the see. His successor, Edward VI. dissolved the see, and restored the college, which was again converted by Mary into an abbey. That institution was dissolved by Elizabeth in 1560; she founded the present establishment, which is a college consisting of a dean, 12 secular canons, and 30 petty canons; to which is attached a school of 40 boys, denominated the Queen's or King's scholars, with a master and usher; and also twelve alms-men, an organist, and choristers.
Its greatest length is 489 feet; the breadth of the west front 66 feet; the length of the cross aisle 189 feet; and the height of the roof 92 feet; the west end is adorned with two towers, which were built by Sir Christopher Wren. The nave and cross aisles are supported by two rows of arches, of Sussex marble, one above the other, each of the pillars of which is a union of one massy round pillar, and tour others of a similar form, but slender. These aisles are lofty, and each of the small pillars being extended from the base to the roof, they produce an idea at once sublime and awful. Besides the cross aisle there are two side aisles, which are lower than the nave; and, being in a just proportion, they unite with the other parts of the edifice to produce a harmonious effect. The choir, from which there is an ascent by several steps to a magnificent altar-piece of white marble, is divided from the western part of the great aisle by two iron gates, and is perhaps the most beautiful choir in Europe: its roof was materially injured by fire, occasioned by the carelessness of the plumbers who were repairing it in 1803, but it has since been completely restored, at an expence of upwards of £4000. In this choir is performed the coronation of the Kings and Queens of England.
This succinct account will not prove unacceptable, we hope, to our readers.
The attractive spot at the southern extremity of the cross aisle was now entered by the two friends. “This,” said Dashall, “is called Poet's Corner, and never could a place be named with more propriety.”
Tallyho cast an eye of intense observation on these sacred records of departed excellence. Here he found the names of Chaucer, Spenser, Shakespeare, Johnson, Milton, Dryden, Butler, Thomson, Gay, Goldsmith, &c. There also, as though the spot were dedicated to genius of the highest rank, are the tombs of Handel and Garrick. The Squire in his admiration of the British Poets, now gave full scope to the ardency of his feelings, and surrounded by the sculptured images of the bards of former days, he seemed as if environed by a re-animated constellation of genius, and wrapt in the delirium of its inspiritive influence.
~84~~ Westminster Abbey contains a great number of monuments of kings, statesmen, heroes, poets, and persons distinguished by genius, learning, and science; but many of these monuments can be regarded as little better than so many disfigurements of the buildings. Some however are to be spoken of with praise, and the best are the productions of Reubilliac and Bacon.
The curiosities of Westminster Abbey consist chiefly of twelve chapels, the principal of which were visited by Dashall and his cousin; but to the chapel of Henry VII. their chief attention was directed. This chapel is contiguous to the eastern extremity of the church, and opens into it: it is dedicated to the Virgin Mary, and is one of the finest specimens of Gothic antiquity in the world. On its site formerly stood a chapel dedicated to the Virgin Mary, and also a tavern, distinguished by the sign of the White Rose: Henry resolving to erect a superb mausoleum for himself and his family, pulled down the old chapel and tavern, and on the 11th of February in the year 1503, the first stone of the new structure was laid by Abbot Islip, at the King's command. It cost £14,000, an immense sum for that period, particularly considering the rapacious temper of the king. The exterior of the chapel is distinguished by the richness and variety of its form, occasioned chiefly by 14 towers, elegantly proportioned to the body of the edifice, and projecting in different angles from the outer-most wall: the inside is approached by the area at the back of the chapels of Edward the Confessor and Henry v. The floor of this chapel is elevated above that of the area, and the ascent is by a flight of marble steps: the entrance is ornamented with a handsome gothic portico of stone, within which are three large gates of gilt brass, of curious open workmanship, every pannel being enriched with a rose and a portcullis alternately. The chapel consists of the nave and two small aisles: the centre is 99 feet in length, 66 in breadth, and 54 in height, terminating at the east in a curve, and having five deep recesses of a similar form: the entrance to these recesses is by open arches, and they add greatly to the relief and beauty of the building: it is not improbable that they were originally so many smaller chapels, destined to various uses. The side aisles are in a just proportion to the centre, with which they communicate by four arches, turned on gothic pillars; each of them is relieved by four recesses, a window, with minute and curious ~85~~divisions, running the whole height of each recess. The upper part of the nave has four windows on each side, and ten in the eastern extremity, five above and five below. The whole of the roof of the chapel, including the side aisles and the curve at the end, is of wrought stone, in the gothic style, and of exquisite beauty. An altar-tomb erected by Henry, at the cost of £1000, to receive his last remains, stands in the centre of the chapel. It is of basaltic stone, ornamented and surrounded with a magnificent railing of gilt brass. This monument was constructed by Peter Torregiano, a Florentine artist, and possesses extraordinary merit. Six devices in bas-relief, and four statues, all of gilt brass, adorn the tomb.
In addition to these venerable antiquities, which all deserve to be seen, a variety of figures in wax, and in cases with glazed doors, are shewn as curiosities to the stranger; but they ought to be removed, as disgraceful to the grandeur and solemnity of the other parts of the scene, and as a satire on the national taste, which can scarcely be excused, when such things are exhibited in a room for children's amusement.
Every lover of the arts must lament that this beautiful relic of gothic taste is falling rapidly to decay; notwithstanding, within the last twenty-four years, the Dean and Chapter of Westminster have expended the sum of £28,749 in general repairs of the abbey. Parliament, however, has at last granted the requisite aid, and the sum of £20,000 has been voted to commence the repairs, which are now going on. It has been estimated that the necessary repairs of Henry the VIIth's chapel will cost about £14,800 and the ornamental repairs about £10,400.
The prospect from the western tower of the abbey is more beautiful and picturesque, though less extensive, than that from St. Paul's. The west end of the town and its environs, the Banquetting-house at Whitehall, St. James's park, the gardens of the Queen's palace, the extremity of Piccadilly and Hyde-park, with the Serpentine River, and the distant groves of Kensington Gardens, present a varied and magnificent view towards the west. On the other hand, the bridges of Westminster, Waterloo, and Blackfriars, with the broad expanse of the Thames, and Somerset-house on its banks, and St. Paul's towering pile, together with the light Gothic steeple of St. Dunstan's in the East, present a most noble and ~86~~ interesting prospect. From this tower the exterior form of St. Paul's, when the sun falls upon it, is distinctly seen, and here its exquisite beauty will be more fully comprehended than in any part of the city, for a sufficient area to take in the entire outline is not to be found there.
This prolixity of description will not, we presume, be considered by our readers, as a tedious digression from the main subject.--Real Life in London cannot be better elucidated, than by uniting incident with appropriate anecdote, and amidst the perambulations of our respectable associates, which led them to the ancient and interesting edifice of Westminster Abbey, it necessarily followed that we should illustrate the subject, by a brief, yet accurate and interesting account of the antiquity, et cetera, of the object under consideration.
Having gratified their wishes by a cursory inspection of what their guides were pleased to denominate “Curiosities,” our two heroes were on the eve of departure from the Abbey, when Bob begged that the guide would repeat the terms of admission to view these repositories of mortality.
“The tombs,” said the conductor, “at the east end of the church, with the chapel of Henry VIIth, the price of admission to view these, sir, is six-pence; the models three-pence; the tombs at the northern part of the cross aisle three-pence; and the west end and tower of the abbey six-pence.”
Tallyho expressed his surprise that the house of God and the depository of the dead, should be so shamefully assigned over to the influence of Mammon, and a price of admission as into a place of public amusement, exacted by those to whose mercenary government the ancient structure of Westminster Abbey had devolved. “Was it thus, always,” asked he, “from the time of Henry IIId?” To this enquiry, the guide replied merely by a shrug of his shoulders, rather indicative of contempt than otherways, and to a further question of “Who is the receiver general of these exactions, and to what purpose are they applied?” he preserved a sullen taciturnity.
From the south aisle of the abbey there are two entrances into the cloisters, which are entire, and consist of four arched walks on the sides of an open quadrangle. There are many monuments in these walks, but four of them, beneath which are the remains of four of the abbots ~87~~of Westminster, at the east end of the south walk, are all which merit particular attention.--
Amongst the ancient records deposited here, the two friends were gratified with a sight of those of the Court of Star-chamber, and of the original Domesday-book, which is still as legible as the first hour it was written.
Against the south-west part of the west front of the abbey, is the north front of the Jerusalem chamber, remarkable for being the place where king Henry IV. breathed his last.{1}
North from the abbey stood the Sanctuary, the place of refuge allowed in old times, to criminals of a certain description; and, on the south side, was the eleemosynary or almonry, where the alms of the abbot were distributed.--This place is remarkable for being the spot in which the first printing-press ever used in England was set up; and here, in 1474, Caxton printed the Game and Play of Chesse, the first book ever printed in England.--A new Court House is now built on the site of the sanctuary.
Having seen in the Abbey every curiosity of note, its two visitants directed their course into Westminster Hall, the great national seat of justice.--This together with the House of Lords, and the House of Commons, are the remains of the palace of Westminster, built by Edward the Confessor, the situation of which was close to the river Thames, and the stairs leading from it still retain the name of palace stairs. The hall itself is the largest room in Europe, except the theatre at Oxford, unsupported by columns. It is 275 feet in length, 74 in breadth, and 90 in height, the roof being of oak, of curious gothic architecture. It was originally used as a place of festivity, and Richard IId entertained 10,000 guests within its walls. In this hall Charles I.. was tried and condemned; and at present it is occasionally fitted up for the trial of peers or of any person impeached by the Commons.
Our heroes now relinquishing the contemplation of the olden times for the enjoyment of the passing scenes of the modern, turned their steps in the direction of Whitehall; passing through which, and facing the Banquetting-House,{2} their observation was attracted to a gentleman on
1 See Shakespeare's Play of Henry IV. Part II.
2 In front of the Banquetting House, on a scaffold, Charles I. was beheaded on the 30th of January, 1648;--His Majesty passed from the Banquetting House to the scaffold through one of the windows.
~88~~horseback, followed by a number of people, by whom he was frequently and warmly cheered; and en passant was recognized with other popular feeling of regard and respect. Dashall stept forward to reconnoitre, and ascertained that the favourite was no other than the worthy representative of the borough of Southwark, Sir Robert Wilson, Knt. lately deprived of his rank as a General, “for,” continued Dashall, “nobody knows what, unless the enormous crime of paying his last tribute of respect to the memory of an “injured Queen;” and endeavouring, in the temperate language of remonstrance, to prevent the effusion of human blood! His character however, is too firmly rooted to sustain injury from the breath of slander; and the malignity of his enemies has recoiled on themselves: thanks to a brave, just, and generous people, who are ever prone to save whom persecution aims to destroy.”
Dashall seemed warm in defending the cause of this gallant officer, and the Squire listened with correspondent satisfaction.
“The allied Sovereigns,” observed Dashall, “in General Sir Robert Wilson, found all the essential requisites of a good soldier: of skill to plan, and of valour to execute. They were chiefly indebted to his judgment and intrepidity for the victory of Leipsic; to which ample testimony was given by the Emperors of Russia and Austria; the latter of whom, during the intensity and perils of the engagement, he extricated from the imminent hazard of captivity. His services have not been of less importance in the armies of his own country, as acknowledged by the Commander in Chief, who has now rewarded him by recommending his dismissal, at the instance, no doubt, of Ministers; anxious by this procedure to annihilate his independent feelings, and render them more subservient to the doctrine of non-resistance and of passive obedience to the existing authorities!”{1}
1 This object is already defeated.--Amongst all classes Sir Robert Wilson's dismissal has excited strong feelings of reprobation. Certainly, whatsoever other name may be given to the act, it cannot be called a just one, to degrade an honourable man from his rank, and deprive him of the half pay (which in a great measure accrued to him from purchase,) without accusation, arbitrarily, and on secret and suborned information of having; merited the inflicted contumely. But futile has been the effort of malevolence; Sir Robert Wilson's half pay was £460 per annum, and the subscriptions in indemnification of his loss already exceed £10,000.
~89~~Pursuing their course along the Strand, and ruminating on the alarming increase of juvenile depravity, Tallyho could not avoid remarking on the numerous temptations held out to the vicious and necessitous in this wide-spreading and wealthy metropolis--“For instance,” making a full halt, with his friend, against the spacious and unlatticed window of a jeweller's shop, Dashall admitted the truth of his companion's observation. Here on promiscuous display were seen most valuable articles of jewelry, stretching multitudinously from one extremity to the other of the window, consisting of gold and silver watches, elegant and richly wrought seals, musical snuff-boxes, diamond rings, diamond pins, &c. embracing, in vast variety, a property of immense value, divided from the street by “thin and undefended squares of glass only; and that the lure might prove still more attractive, each article marked at its price, some 25, some 50, 75, 100, and 200 guineas each! A dash and a grab might secure to the depredator possession of wealth; and while such temptations are held out, the surprise is, not that so many street robberies are, but that a great many more are not committed. The many thousands in London out of employment, and of these perhaps the greatest number unhoused and famishing, would it be much to be wondered at if some of these sons of misery, goaded onwards to crime by the extremity of human suffering, were to attempt the possession of spoil, so carelessly exposed, and apparently so easily obtainable?{1}
1 Lord Mansfield once presided as Judge, when an unfortunate man was tried for stealing an article of jewellery from a shop-window, exposed by its unguarded state to depredation, and more encouraging than otherwise, the hope of success.-- It proved differently, and the prosecutor seeming determined to proceed against the wretched man, even to capital punishment, Lord Mansfield, indignant at the severity of the owner of the trinket, and compassionating the state of misery and destitution, under the influence of which the poor prisoner at the bar, stimulated too by its careless exposure, had committed the felony, desired the Jury to value the trinket in question at ten pence.--The prosecutor started up in surprise, and exclaimed, “Tenpence, my Lord! why the very fashion of it cost me ten times the sum!” “That may be,” returned his Lordship, “but we must not hang a man for fashion's sake!”
~90~~“Here conies silly Tom and staggering Bob,” exclaimed a fellow, as he approached towards our pedestrians. Tallyho had grasped more firmly his oaken sprig, with the intention of trying the crankness of the observer's pericranium, when Dashall perceived that the obnoxious remark was directed to a simple looking old man, dejectedly leading a horse “done up,” and apparently destined for the slaughter-house.
“Where now, Tommy,” continued the querist, “with thy decayed bit of blood?”
“Aye, aye,” answered Tommy, despondingly, “even to the naggers,{1}--'tis what we must all come to.”
1 A Naggerman is a wholesale horse-butcher! his business is frequently so extensive as to enable him to employ a vast many hands, and so lucrative as to ensure him a fortune in a very few years; the carcases are sold to the dealers by whom they are cut up, and sold in quarters to the retailers, and purchased by the street venders; these latter form one of the prominent itinerant avocations, and supply with food all the dogs and cats of the metropolis!
“And so thy master has passed the doom of death against his old servant Bob, on whose back he has been safely borne, in the chase, “many a time and oft,” as the song says, “o'er hedges, gaps, ditches and gates; and fleet of foot as thou wert,” patting the animal with feelings of commiseration,” and often as thou hast replenished thy master's purse, thou art now going to the slaughter-house!”
“Even so--the faithful servant, now no longer useful, is discarded.”
“And put to death!--Why man, thy master is a d----d unfeeling, ungrateful scoundrel, else he would have turned this poor nag at large on the green sward, to roam as he list in summer, with a warm stable in winter, and have left him to die the death of nature.”
An assemblage of passengers had now collected round the doom'd horse and his sympathizing friend, whose vehemence of expression had attracted much attention. The feelings of his auditory were in full unison with his own, and as the throng increased, with inquisitive curiosity, the advocate in the cause of humanity repeated the following lines:
“And hast thou doom'd my death, sweet master, say, And wilt thou kill thy servant, old and poor? A little longer let me live, I pray; A little longer hobble round thy door!”
~91~~The spectators were evidently affected. He next sung the stanza of an old song, extemporaneously produced (with the exception of the first two lines)
At last having labored, drudg'd early and late, Bow'd down by degrees he draws on to his fate: His blood must the Naggerman's sluicing knife spill; His carcase the Naggerman's slaughter-house fill! Now led to his doom, while with pity we view Poor Bob, may mishap still his master pursue; Who callously spurning humanity's bounds, Now sells his old servant as food for the hounds.
The Squire having occasion to call at a banker's in Fleet Street, the two friends entered at the moment when a countryman with a most rueful expression of countenance, stood transfixed to the floor, like the statue of Despair, incapable either of speech or motion. After an absorption of mental faculty of several minutes duration, he burst out into the incoherent exclamations of
“Murrian take un, zay I!--Icod, I'ze in a voine pickle! I ha brought my pigs to market wi a vengeance! O luord! O luord! whoa would ha thought en't?”
He then began exercising his feet by stamping each alternately on the floor, with a violence that shook the room to its foundation; and this vehement thunder he accompanied by correspondent energy of gesticulation; distorting his visage, and casting about his arms with the action of an infuriated maniac. The place was thrown into alarm, and business was suspended. Dashall now addressing himself to the presumed lunatic, begged him to compose himself, and endeavour briefly to state what had happened, that if he had sustained an injury, redress might be obtained.
After several fruitless attempts at narration, he at length told his story; and that it may lose nothing of its originality, we shall give it in the first person.
“I'ze cuom zur, frae Zumersetzshire to Lunnon, first time o' my loife, by coach, where it putt en at a pleace called the two Gooses necks, and zo having a cheque on this house for Fifty Pounds, and not knowing the way, I axed a vera civil gentleman whom I met wi' hovering about Inn-yard; and telling him my business, Pze go with you, zaid he, vera kindly, and help thee to take care o! thy money, vor there be a desperate set o' sharp fellows in Lunnon ready to take every advantage of a stranger; ~92~~ and zoa we came along, and just avore we gotten into house here, he said to I, zays he, I'ze take thy money and zee that all's right, vor there be a vast many bad sovereigns about.--Well, zur, zoa he did; and just as I wur looking about, it seems he had taen himself off wi'the money, vor when I looked round he wur no where to be zeen; and zoa zur, I have lost Fifty good Pounds to my sorrow. Who would ha thought it!--I wish the murrian had ha hold on me avore I had come to this wicked world o' Lunnon!”
Here the countryman concluded his narrative, exciting the amusement of some and the sympathy of others of his auditory.--The banker dispatched one of his clerks with the unlucky wight to one of the Public Offices, for the purpose of describing the depredator, altho' with very small chance of recovering the property.{1}
Eliminating on the folly of this credulous countryman, our perambulators now proceeded down Fleet Street, where casting a look into Bolt Court--“Here,” said Dashall, “lived and died the colossus of English literature, Doctor Samuel Johnson,{2} a man whose like the world may
1 In all the Coach and Waggon yards in London there are fellows loitering about with the view of plunder; they frequently are taken by the unwary countryman, for domestics of the Inn, and as such are entrusted with property with which they immediately decamp, and by many other artful manouvres secure their spoil.
2 The most trivial circumstance in the life of a great man, carries with it a certain somewhat of importance, infinitely more agreeable to the generality of readers than the long details which history usually presents. Amongst the numerous anecdotes of Doctor Johnson, perhaps the following is not the least amusing.--When the Doctor first became acquainted with David Mallet, they once went, with some other gentlemen, to laugh away an hour at South-wark-fair. At one of the booths where wild beasts were exhibited to the wondering crowd, was a very large bear, which the showman assured them was “cotched” in the undiscovered deserts of the remotest Russia. The bear was muzzled, and might therefore be approached with safety; but to all the company, except Johnson, was very surly and ill tempered. Of the philosopher he appeared extremely fond, rubbed against him, and displayed every mark of awkward partiality, and ursine kindness. “How is it, (said one of the company,) that; this savage animal is so attached to Mr. Johnson?” From a very natural cause, replied Mallet: “the bear is a Russian philosopher, and he knows that Linnæus would have placed him in the same class with the English moralist. They are two barbarous animals of one species.”--Johnson disliked Mallet for his tendency to infidelity, and this sarcasm turned his dislike into downright hatred. He never spoke to him afterwards, but has gibbeted him in his octavo dictionary, under the article “Alias.”
~93~~perhaps never see again; yet with all his vast erudition he had his prejudices and superstitions; he believed in apparitions, and he despised all countries save his own.--The Scotch and Irish he affected particularly to dislike.--In his poem of “London,” in imitation of Juvenal, he says,--
For who unbrib'd would leave Hibernia's land, Or change the rocks of Scotland for the Strand?-- There none are swept by sudden death away, But all whom Hunger spares, with age decay!
But, with all his foibles, (and who is there without human infirmity?) Doctor Samuel Johnson was the most highly talented writer of any age or nation.”
Facing the Obelisk, “let us stroll down the market,” said Dashall, “considered the cheapest in London.--Flesh, fish and fowl, fruits, roots and vegetables, are here abundantly attainable, and at moderate prices.”
Amongst the various venders, our two observers passed on, unmolestedly, excepting the annoyance and importunity of “What d'ye buy? what d'ye buy, buy, buy?” from” barking butchers, who instinctively reiterated the phrase as the casual passenger approached, like so many parrots, unconscious of its import being unproductive in effect; for who would be induced to purchase by the clamorous invitation universally in use by these vociferous butchers of the metropolis?--“My fine fellow,” observed Tallyho to one who annoyed him, “good wine, they say, needs no bush, neither does good meat require a barker.”
“Bad luck to my mother's own daughter, and that is myself, sure,” exclaimed a retail venderess of vegetables, to her opponent in trade, “if I wouldn't for the value of a tester, or for the value of nothing at all at all, give you freely just what you ask for my jewel.--Arrah now, is it law that you want of me! Faith and troth then you shall have it, club-law, when and where you plase, my darling!”
“Dirty end,” rejoined the other lady, “to the girl who fear* you!--Here am I, Kate, of the Maclusky's of Ballymena, in the county of Antrim, long life to it! and it would be a hard case, and a shameful one to boot, if a well educated northern lass should suffer her own self to be disgraced by a Munster-woman.”
~94~~ “The devil fly away with Ballymena, and the Macluskys along with it!” retorted the other; “and is it Munster and heddication that you are bothering about? Whillaloe graraachree! my sweet one! and did you begin your larning in Ballymena, and come to finish it in Fleet-market? By my conscience, Kate Maclusky, if you are not very much belied, you know more than you ought to do.”
“And what would you 'sinuate by that?” demanded Kate;--“What do you 'sinuate by that, Ma'am?--I acknowledge that I'm both a whore and a thief--what then? Bating that I defy you to say, black is the white of my eye!”
Here Mrs. Maclusky with arms a-kimbo, and a visage strongly expressing exasperation and defiance, advanced towards the Munster-woman.
“Let us step aside,” said Dashall, “hostilities are about to commence.”
He was right; a few more irritable preliminaries, and the heroines came in contact, in due order of battle.
“Two to one on the Munster-woman.” “Done! Ulster for ever! go it Kate!--handle your dawdles, my girl;--shiver her ivory;--darken her skylights;--flatten her sneizer;--foul, foul,--ah you Munster b----ch!”
“Fair, fair;--arrah, now for the honor of Munster;--dig away;--mind your hits;--rattle her bread basket;--set her claret-spout a-going;--stand firm on your pegs;--what, down!”
Thus ended round the first; the amazons had, in the fray, reduced each other from the waist upwards to nearly a state of nudity. On either side the partisans were numerous, the combatants eager to renew the fight, and the spectators, the majority of whom were of Irish distraction, anxious for the result, when the officious interposition of official authority, terminated the “tug of war,” and the honor of the two provinces remained undecided.--
“Success to the land that gave Patrick his birth.” Tranquillity thus restored, a new scene in the drama of Fleet-market attracted the attention of the two visitants.
A rabbit pole-woman passing through the market, was accosted by a lady, who enquiring the price of the Rabbits, purchased a couple, in front of the shop of a similar exhibitant.--This was considered by the rabbit-dealers of the market, a gross breach of privilege, more particularly as the obnoxious female had presumed to undersell them, even with a superior article. Not willing, however, from ~95~~prudential reasons, to appear in avowed personal hostility against the object of their vengeance, and that, too, a woman, who had inadvertently incurred the displeasure of their high mightinesses, the subordinate agency of boys was deputed for the purpose of wrecking summary retribution; and the juvenile deputation quickly overthrew in the apparent wantonness of mischief, the whole of the poor girl's day-property, and scrambling for the spoil, disseminated themselves in different directions, leaving not the vestige of a rabbit behind!
A torrent of tears, feelingly shewed the anguish of her mind. She was ruined beyond hope of redemption; the rabbits she had every morning on credit, she plied the streets in selling them, through many a wearisome hour in the day, happy if next morning, having realized a very moderate profit by her laborious vocation, she could settle accounts with the wholesale dealer, and take a fresh cargo with which to commence another day's adventure.--But now, wringing her hands in an agony of grief, “It is all over with me!” she exclaimed,--” my means of subsistence is gone,--my credit is lost,--and God's will be done,--I must go home and starve!”{1}
1 It is scarcely credible that one salesman in Leadenhall market, at the present time, sells on an average 14,000 rabbits weekly. He contracts with the coach masters for the carriage, and pays them eleven pounds per thousand, amounting, weekly, to £154. The way he disposes of them, is by employing 150 travelling pole-men and women; in the morning they are started upon credit, and the next day they return, bringing back the skins, settle the accounts, and then take a fresh cargo.
Ever prone to relieve distress, Dashall and Tallyho sympathized most sincerely with this unfortunate girl; there was an indescribable something of extreme interest about her, which was well calculated to excite a feeling of generous commiseration.
Shall we now say the two philanthropists? for such they proved themselves. Each then, in the same moment, expanded his purse, and together more than compensated the delighted and astonished girl for her loss, who, blessing her benefactors, went home rejoicing.
Gaining the extremity of the market, at the bottom of Skinner-street, the two friends rounded the corner, and verged towards Ludgate-hill by the Fleet Prison. Here a fresh claim, though of lesser magnitude, obtruded itself on their benevolence. “Pity the poor debtors, having no ~96~~ allowance!” exclaimed an emaciated being, gazing with an eye of wistful expectancy, through the thrice-grated window of a small apartment on a level nearly with the street; “Pity the poor debtors;” The supplicating tone of deep distress in which these words were uttered spoke irresistibly to the heart, and the blessing of Heaven was once more invoked on the donors.
“And this is the prison,” observed the Squire, “where a presumed scion of the Royal branch, a few days ago surrendered to her bail, as a prisoner for debt.”--“The same,” rejoined his Cousin, “and the Princess is now most unroyally domiciled at a private-house within the rules of the Fleet, on Ludgate-hill.--Sic transit gloria mundi!”
“Certainly,” said the Squire, “this London produces extraordinary sights, and not less extraordinary occurrences;--but of all the scenes of Real Life which has hitherto come within the scope of our observation, the most singular is that of the presumed legitimate cousin of the King of England, recently in a Spunging-house, and now confined for a debt of a few hundred pounds to the rules of the Fleet.”{1}
1 Ci-divant Princess of Cumberland
To the Right Hon. Lord Sidmouth.
My Lord,'--When I reflect on the injuries I have received by the refusal of your Lordship to forward my claims in a proper way to his Majesty, I consider it as a duty that I owe to my high descent, to enquire of your Lordship, why I have been suffered to remain so long neglected and deprived of the rights, which in common with other younger branches of the Royal Family, I am entitled to? As soon as the demise of my late Royal Uncle, his late Majesty, occurred, I addressed your Lordship, for his present Majesty's gracious knowledge. In my letters, repeatedly sent to your Lord-ship, I assured you for the King's knowledge, that I had but one anxious desire, which was to act in conformity to his Majesty's Royal will and pleasure, after an audience had been allowed to shew my papers. If, my Lord, I had been an impostor, it was the duty of Ministers to have enquired into my claims, and to have exposed them if unjust or illegal. But, no! my Lord; every application was treated with cold and apathetic contempt; and although all the writings of my parent's marriage and my birth have been verified according to law, at Judge Abbott's chambers, Sergeants' Inn,--at Master Simeon's Office, Court of Chancery,--before Sir Robert Baker and Barber Beaumont Esq.--and twelve affidavits sworn and sent in to your Lordship, yet at this late moment I find myself neglected and oppressed, and without one guinea of support from the Government or Royal Family! My dear late cousin, Prince Edward, Duke of Kent, supported and protected me several years before his lamented death. His Royal Highness saw the papers delivered to me by the Earl of Warwick of my legitimacy, and there are at least a hundred papers connected with my parent's affairs and my own; and General Wetherall, Comptroller to his late Royal Highness, looked over many such papers, at my residence in his Royal Master's life-time. The excellent heart of the late Duke of Kent was of a nature to decide, in all events of life meeting his eye, with religion and moral justice. Thus has he loved and cherished me, his cousin, and solemnly bound himself to see me righted the moment that the death of his late Majesty authorised my papers meeting the eye of the nation.
My Lord,--You well know why my claims are neglected--a mighty cause exists! But it is a duty that I owe to myself and the English nation to give a narrative of facts as they are, unless immediate justice is done me. I am Olive, the only child of the late Duke of Cumberland, by Olivia, his virtuous, injured wife; and very shortly the public shall know the great and forbearing conduct of Dr. Wilmot. To him at one period, the English were indebted for tranquillity; it can be proved, my Lord. And although my health is similar to the late injured Queen's (my first cousin,) from having experienced every deprivation and persecution from interested enemies, yet I religiously trust the time is not remote, when truth will triumph over calumny and oppression.--I have the honor to be, my Lord,
Your obedient servant,
Olive.
Ludgate-hill, Nov. 6th. 1821.
~97~~“Some Kings are not partial to female cousins; and the legitimacy (said Dashall,) of this pretended Princess of Cumberland does not appear sufficiently tangible to admit of recognition, otherwise, without doubt, she would have been provided for!”
“Her case, however, wears not much the semblance of imposition,” said the Squire. “The circumstances which she so minutely states, with reference to living characters, strongly imply that her pretensions are not ill-founded.”
They had now reached Ludgate-hill; a crowd was collected opposite the residence of the Princess of Cumberland, when the captive heroine condescended to shew herself at the window.--She is of matronly appearance, and was well dressed.--The mobility received her with due respect; the lady made her obeisance, and the assemblage retired, on terms apparently of reciprocal satisfaction.--
Strolling onwards until they gained the centre of Blackfriars Bridge, the two friends paused in admiration of the interesting scene before them.
Amidst the spires and turrets of the metropolis, Saint Paul's, close at hand, rose in the proud pre-eminence of stupendous grandeur, like a mighty monarch surrounded ~98~~ by tributary kings, rendering him the homage of vassalage.
--Emerging from the dense mass of buildings on the line from the Tower to Westminster Abbey, appeared a continued succession of prominent public edifices; on the river Thames the scene was diversified by numerous wherries, gliding pleasurably on the rippling wave; some shooting under the arches of the elegant Waterloo, and others under the spacious span of the lofty iron bridge of Southwark,--while on either side the river, Labour was on the alert, and the busy and ceaseless hum of Industry resounded far and near.
'Twas low water, and the mud-larks now intent on their several vocations, engaged the eye of the Squire.--“What are those people about?” he asked, “What are they in search of?”
“These are mud-larks,” answered his friend, “in search of what chance may throw in their way; all's fish that comes to net! You have much to learn yet of Real Life in London, and must prolong your stay accordingly.--Willing to eat the bread of honesty, these poor people are in the daily practice of frequenting the shores of the Thames, to literally pick up a living. Nothing comes amiss; all that is portable, however insignificant in value, goes into the general repository. The mud-lark returns home, when his labours are ended, sorts the indiscriminate heterogeneous “mass of matter,” and disposes of it as well as he can.”{1}
1 How many hundreds and thousands, in a metropolis like that of the British empire, obtain a subsistence, in a way of which those of its inhabitants who are not compelled to such an exercise of their ingenuity can have no idea! In the midst of a crowded city, man is much more closely cut off from all assistance on the part of his fellows, and is obliged to trust entirely for the support of life to the individual exertions of his strength, his talents, or his ingenuity. Various and singular are the expedients practised by numbers in the British capital. Among these the class of Mud-larks is not the least extraordinary, that is people, who, on the ebb of the tide re-pair to the river-side, in quest of any article that the water may have left behind in the mud. To this description of people belonged Peggy Jones, the well known Mud-lark at Black Friars. She was a woman, apparently about forty years of age, with red hair; the particular object of whose researches was the coals which accidentally fell from the sides of the lighters. Her constant resort was the neighbourhood of Blackfriars, where she was always to be seen, even before the tide was down, wading into the water, nearly up to the middle, and scraping together from the bottom, the coals which she felt with her feet. Numbers of passengers who have passed by that quarter, particularly over Blackfriars Bridge, have often stopped to contemplate with astonishment, a female engaged in an occupation apparently so painful and disagreeable. She appeared dressed in very short ragged petticoats, without shoes or stockings, and with a kind of apron made of some strong substance, that folded like a bag all round her, in which she collected whatever she was so fortunate as to find. In these strange habiliments, and her legs encrusted with mud, she traversed the streets of this metropolis. Sometimes she was industrious enough to pick up three, and at others even four loads a day; and as they consisted entirely of what are termed round coals, she was never at a loss for customers, whom she charged at the rate of eight- pence a load. In the collection of her sable treasure, she was frequently assisted by the coal-heavers, who, when she happened to approach the lighters, would, as if undesignedly, kick overboard a large coal, at the same time bidding her, with apparent surliness, go about her business. Peggy Jones was not exempt from a failing to which most individuals of the lower orders are subject, namely, inebriety. Her propensity to liquor was sometimes indulged to such a degree, that she would tumble about the streets with her load, to the no small amusement of mischievous boys, and others, who, on such occasions, never failed to collect around her. After concluding the labors of the day, she retired to a wretched lodging in Chick Lane. This woman carried on her extraordinary calling for many years, but about the month of February, 1805, she suddenly disappeared from her usual places of resort, and nobody can tell what is become of her. A man who has the appearance of a coal- heaver, has since stepped into her place, and adopted the profession which she so long followed.
~99~~ “Thus it is that the Mud-lark earns a precarious and scanty subsistence, and in many other instances in this metropolis, Ingenuity and Perseverance overcome difficulties that in the country would prove insurmountable.”
Retracing their steps to Ludgate-hill, the associates passed into the Old Bailey, where the Squire seemed struck with surprise at the simple bill of fare of an eating-house, not inscribed on paper and exhibited against the window, but deeply engraven on brass, and conspicuously fixed by the side of the door, expressed in four syllables only, “The boil'd-beef house.”--“Compendious enough,” exclaimed his Cousin. “Multum in parvo,” rejoined the Squire; and immediately walking in, they were ushered into a snug room partly occupied by guests of apparent respectability, each actively employed in the demolition of buttock or flank with great seeming satisfaction. The two strangers intimating a desire to follow so laudable an example, the waiter submissively put the question, “Which would you please to have, gentlemen, buttock or flank, or a plate of both?” That the quality of each might be ascertained, plates of both were ordered, and presently brought in, piping hot, and in the first style of culinary perfection.{1}
~100~~ It was amusing to observe the characteristic features of the different guests.
The young man hurrying over his meal, and frequently casting a look on the dial, indicated a tradesman's book-keeper, desirous of enjoying his pipe and pint ere the allotted dinner hour expired, when he must return to his desk.
Another, of meagre and cadaverous appearance, had his plate replenished, thrice repeated, and each time dispatched the contents with astonishing celerity. This man without doubt, was either a poet or a bookseller's hack, who, probably had not for sometime enjoyed the novelty of a dinner, and was thus making atonement to appetite accordingly.
One gentleman fashionably attired kept mincing his meat, and at long intervals supplying masticates that seemed not at all alert in the performance of their office.--His attention was given rather to the company than to his plate, and was particularly directed to Dashall and Tallyho, on whom it alternately settled with fixed and favourite regard.--This very polite personage was assiduously eager by every possible courtesy to ingratiate himself into the notice of our two friends; but Dashall was a knowing fish, so the bait wouldn't take; and the Squire happening to ejaculate the word Spunger, the stranger prudently took the hint, and withdrew.{2}
1 Thirty years ago this house was noted for the excellent quality of its boiled beef;--no other meat is ever drest here,--Hobson's choice, or none! During that period it has had several occupants, and each has retired with a very considerable fortune. In the decided superiority of its buttock and flank, the house still sustains its pristine reputation.
2 These gentry are hardly to be distinguished from the Hanger-on, except by being, if possible, more impudent; they frequent all places of public resort, in order to pick up a dinner or a bottle, and otherwise prey upon the credulity of the unwary. Whenever they meet with a countryman, they salute him with enquiring the time of day, or describing the weather, and entertaining him with a story of little consequence, till they have artfully wheedled you into an invitation to dine or sup with you. They can tell you where the best entertainment is to be met with; which is the best comedian; can get you introduced to see such an actress; to hear this sing or that spout; will provide you with the best seat at the play-house, or keep a place for you in the front row of the first gallery, should you prefer it to the pit; can procure a ticket for the exhibition rooms for half price, and explain every thing in the museum as well as the librarians themselves.--If your inclination is for mischief, he is the only man in the world to assist you; would you break the lamps, or Mill the Charleys, he will stand by and cry Bravo! till you are carried to the Watch-house, but will not engage in the quarrel himself, acting only as a corps de reserve. When you are taken, he will negotiate with the constable of the night about your ransom, for which you must pay smartly, other-wise be detained till Justice opens her doors to descry and punish your enormities, according to the nature of the crime committed; upon which the Spunger says, that he foresaw and told you the consequences that would happen if you persevered, but that you would not listen to his advice.
~101~~ Having done satisfactory justice to the buttock and flank, and further refreshed themselves with a draught of Whitbread's Entire; our pedestrians, leaving the “Boil'd Beef House,” recommenced their excursion by proceeding up the Old Bailey, when Dashall remarking on the number of Eating Houses with which that street abounds, observed, that it seemed a favorite seat of consolidation for the professors of the culinary art, like Cloth-fair for Woollen-drapers, Paternoster-Row for Booksellers, and Clerkenwell for Watch-makers, &c. “This,” said Dashall, “is His Majesty's Gaol of Newgate, and from this door ascend the numerous victims to the fatal scaffold, in immolation to the offended laws of their country. Let us enter this temporary abode of crime and wretchedness. It has been much meliorated by the humane and indefatigable attentions of an excellent lady, Mrs. Elizabeth Fry, and I am desirous of seeing the result of her philanthropic exertions.” The gentlemanly appearance and demeanour of the two strangers facilitated their admission, and they entered the prison preceded by one of the turnkeys, who courteously had proffered his services in shewing the place, and giving every required information.
Newgate, on the eastern side of the Old Bailey, has been rebuilt, its walls or shell excepted, since it was destroyed by the rioters, in the year 1780. A broad yard divides Newgate from the Sessions House, a very handsome stone and brick building. Another edifice, where that lately stood, commonly called Surgeon's Hall, has been erected; it is arched underneath, and supported upon pillars, and is used as a place of accommodation for witnesses and other persons, while waiting for the trials during session time.
~102~~ This prison, until within these few years back, was a place of confinement as well for debtors as felons, but by late arrangements, and the erection of the new gaol in Whitecross-street, Newgate has now become the receptacle of felons only.{1}
1 Newgate has been the scene of two remarkable events, which frequently serve as eras of reckoning to some of the inhabitants of Loudon; the first is, that of the memorable riots in 1780, when this imposing edifice was attacked by a furious mob in the evening of Monday the 5th of June, who by breaking the windows, batter-ing the entrances of the cells with sledge hammers and pickaxes, and climbing the walls with ladders, found means to enter Mr. Akerman's house, communicating with the prison, and eventually liberated three hundred prisoners. The next of these events oc-curred on the 23rd of February, 1807. This was when Haggarty and Holloway were to suffer for the murder of Mr. Steele on Houns-low Heath. The populace began to assemble so early as five o'clock, and to accumulate until eight. (It is supposed that the concourse of people was greater than at the execution of Governor Wall.) At eight o'clock the prisoners ascended the scaffold. Im-mediately after they were launched off, a most dreadful scene took place. The approaches to the place were completely blocked up with carts, filled with spectators, and when some of the crowd began to move away, the pressure became dreadful. Some fell, and others falling over them they were trampled to death. Terror took possession of the crowd, they became desperate, and their efforts only contributed to increase their danger. As soon as this frightful confusion ceased, forty-two sufferers in the scene were carried to St. Bartholomew's Hospital. Of these, twenty-seven were dead; and though every effort was made for their resuscitation, in not one instance was it crowned with success. Of forty-two, the whole number, five were women, and three of them were among the dead. Of the remaining twenty-four bodies, five were men, and the rest lads, from twelve to seventeen years of age. Among the dead men was a pye-man, who was said to have fallen first, and caused the dreadful catastrophe. A great number of the pupils in attendance happened to be collected in St. Bartholomew's Hospital at the time, and afforded prompt assistance; and Dr. Powell, and a Surgeon, who were both upon the spot, directed their humane exertions.
In the Old Bailey stood Sydney-house, known by the white front, and the recess in which it is concealed; and here Jonathan Wild is said to have lived the greatest part of his time. The north side of Newgate consists of two court-yards, which are far too circumscribed for the numerous inhabitants, this prison always exhibiting a multitudinous calendar of human depravity. The men's court is only 49 feet 6 inches, by 31 feet 6, and the women's of the same length, and about half the width. The whole square is entirely surrounded by the wards, ~103~~ which rise three stories above the pavement. The women's yard is separated from the men's by a wall. In the south and south-east yards, felons for trial are confined, and four other yards are similarly occupied. The yard assigned to female felons is a wretched place, containing three wards, in which are sometimes kept upwards of one hundred women. In the north-east corner, next Newgate-street, is the condemned yard, in which are kept persons under sentence of death. The yards and all the wards are repeatedly lime-washed, and by these and other excellent regulations of the Sheriffs of London, Newgate is changed from a loathsome prison, dangerous to the health of the metropolis, to a state which may be quoted as a model for all similar places. Water is plentiful, ventilators are introduced into every window, and a general system of cleanliness prevails throughout the whole prison. The morals of its inmates have been improved, and their condition greatly meliorated by Mrs. Elizabeth Fry, who like her predecessor in the exercise of philanthropy, the celebrated Howard, delights in reducing the sum of human misery. The feelings of the two visitors having been amply gratified by demonstration of the happy result, from superior management, accruing to the prisoners, they departed, not forgetting the poor box, put up for general benefit, inviting the contributions of charitable strangers.
Continuing their route, our perambulators proceeded down Skinner street into Holborn, and traversed its extended line without any remarkable occurrence, until they reached Broad Street, St. Giles's. “We are now,” said Dashall, “in the Holy Land.”
“Long life to your honors,” exclaimed a ragged professor of mendicity: “give a poor fellow the price of a shake down, and may you never be without the comforts of an upright!”
“What mean you,” asked the Squire, “by a shake down and an upright?”
“Not the worse luck that you don't know that self same thing now; but sure enough a shake-down is a two-penny layer of straw, and saving the tatters on my back, not a covering at all at all; may the son of my father never have a worse birth any how.”
“And an upright?”
~104~~ “Is it an upright your honor's spaking about?--fait and troth, as to that same, may the devil fly away with Thady O'Flannagan, and that is myself sure, if he knows much about it at all at all, seeing as how he has not rested his old bones on such a thing, arrah, these many long years; but sure enough it is four stumps, with boards across, a good flock-bed, a blanket below and a sheet above, with a decent coverlet pieced and patched in a hundred places to boot;--may you never want the like of it, any how!”
“Thanks for your good wishes, my friend,” said Dashall; “and this for the information which you have given us.”
“By the powers of good luck!” exclaimed the itinerant philosopher, “a tirteener!--Now an Irishman's blessing upon you for two good-hearted gentlemen; may you live all the days of your lives in peace and prosperity both here and hereafter!”{1}
1 The many impoverished and deserted beings who daily wander the streets, trusting for the vegetative existence of the moment to eleemosynary occurrences, are incalculable. Amongst these sons and daughters of misery, happy is the one who, after partially satisfying the cravings of hunger, possesses two-pence, the price of a shake down for the night, in Rainbridge or Buckeridge-street, St. Giles's!--The upright is a wretched semblance of a bed, at the rate of three-pence or four-pence; but the lofty aspirant to genteel accommodation, must put down a tester. In this way there are frequently beds to the number of seventy in one house, made up for nocturnal visitants!
Palestine in London, or the Holy Land, includes that portion of the parish of St. Giles, Bloomsbury, inhabited by the lower Irish, with whom it seems a favorite place of residence. The Squire having expressed to his friend a desire of perambulating these boundaries, they proceeded, by the way of George street, to explore the sanctified labyrinths, the scenes of diurnal clamour, and hebdomadary conflict.
“Arrah now,” exclaimed a voice of maternity, in the person of a legitimate daughter of Erin,--“Arrah now, you brat of the devil's own begetting, be after bowling along to your fader: bad luck to him, and be sure that you bring him home wid you, by the token that the murphies are cracking, the salt-herrings scalding, and the apple-dumplings tumbling about the pot,--d'ye mind me, you tief of the world, tell him that his dinner waits upon him.”--“I'll be after doing that same, moder;” and forth from the ground floor of a mean looking house in Buckeridge-street, sprang an urchin without hat, shoe or stocking, and the scanty tattered habiliment he wore, fluttering in ~105~~various hues, like pennants in the wind, with such heedless velocity, urged no doubt by the anticipated delicacies of the dinner-pot, that he came in furious, unexpected, and irresistible contact with Squire Tallyho, who borne forward by the shock, was precipitated into a stagnant collection of mud and water, to the total disfigurement of his Boots, which had that morning received the “matchlessly brilliant polish of Warren's inestimable Jet blacking.” Not like many others in London, who will run you down and leave you to your fate, the heir of his fader's whimsicalities stopped short in the inauspicious set-out of his rapid career; and “dirty end,” he exclaimed, “to the scavenger that didn't think of the gentleman's boots!” And at the same time the mother of this hopeful representative of the Mac Dermott family, made her appearance with the genuine warmth of Irish hospitality; and inviting the two strangers to walk in, consoled the bespattered Squire with the prospect of speedy and effectual reparation, for “fait and troth, (said she) his dinner is all of a heap in the pot there, praaties, salt-herrings, and apple-dumplings,{1} and that is my husband Thady Mac Dermott, who is neither more nor less than a bricklayer's laborer, is after amusing himself and obliging his neighbours, at a small outlay, of a Sunday morning, by claning their boots and shoes; so it is an ill wind that blows nobody good, they say.” The accommodating hostess then producing a bottle of blacking, with the requisite brushing implements, applied herself assiduously to the operation of claning the Squire's boots, and restored them, in a few minutes, to the splendour of their pristine brilliancy.
Scarcely had this important operation been performed, when entered Thady Mac Dermott and his son, the origin of the accident. “The devil burn your trampers, you imp of the Mac Dermotts,” cried the father: “couldn't you run against the gentleman without dirtying his boots? Never mind it at all at all; I'll be after giving you a walloping for it, any how.”
1 The fastidious delicacy of English cookery, when contrasted with that of Irish culinary preparation in the Holy-land, is surprising. The wife of an Irish laborer who is desirous of giving her husband a delectable meal, and of various description, bodders not her brain with a diversity of utensils; but from the same pot or pan will produce, as if by enchantment, potatoes, (without which an Irishman cannot possibly make a dinner,) salt-herrings, and apple- dumplings; nor, does this extraordinary union of opposites affect the appetite of those partaking the oglio.
~106~~ The first instrument of attack that comes to hand is an Irishman's weapon.--Thady brandished in terrorem a red hot poker, and his son with the agility of a cat took sanctuary under the bed, but at the intercession of the Squire was allowed to emerge with impunity, and admitted to a participation of the salt-herrings and apple-dumplings. The two friends declining an invitation to taste of these dainties, now departed, Tallyho not forgetting the “outlay, and the ill-wind that blows nobody good.”
Winding the mazes of the holy land, which may not unaptly be considered a colony of Irish emigrants, our perambulators without further occurrence worthy of notice, threaded their way through streets, lanes, and alleys, until they emerged at the bottom of Tottenham-court Road, close by the extensive brewery of Read and Co. Entering the premises, they were gratified with a view of every thing interesting in the establishment; and the Squire, to whom the spectacle was entirely new, stood wrapt in wonder at the vast magnitude of its immense vats and boilers, containing, as he observed, of the fluid of Sir John Barleycorn, a sufficiency to inundate the whole neighbourhood! “Such a circumstance,” said the attendant, “actually occurred a few years ago, when the vat burst, and an ocean of beer rushed forth, with such impetuous force as to bear down, in its resistless progress, the side of a house, and fill, to the imminent hazard of drowning the astonished and alarmed occupants, all the cellars in the vicinity.”{1}
1 Scarcely any thing contributes so much to characterize the enterprising spirit of the present age, as the vast scale on which many branches of manufacture are carried on in this country. Every one has heard of the celebrated tun of Heidelberg, but that monument of idle vanity is rivalled by the vessels now employed in the breweries of this metropolis.
Having seen all that is remarkable in this spacious concern, the two associates turned into Oxford Street, where their attention was directed to a gay female in an elegant equipage, pair in hand, dashing along, in the manner of royal celerity.
“Observe that lady,” said Dashall, “She is the celebrated Mrs. C*r*y, the favourite sultana of a certain Commander in Chief, and I shall give you her history in a few words.”
~107~~ “Sutherland, a bombadier at Woolwich, obtained a commission, but was less successful in securing the fidelity of his wife, who eloped with an officer to Gibraltar; the produce of this intercourse was the amoroso whom we observed en passant; in process of time she married C*r*y, an officer in a veteran battalion, but shortly afterwards getting tired of the connection, she adopted the laudable example set by her respectable mamma, deserted her husband and came to England, under the protection of a surgeon in the army, whose embraces she relinquished for those of her present illustrious possessor. How long she may keep him in captivation, is a surmise of rather equivocal import; however ardent at present, his attachment, Mrs. C*r*y must be aware of the versatile propensities of his R*y*l H*ghn*ss of Y**k, and sans doubt like her predecessor, Mary Ann C***ke, will make the most of a favourable opportunity.”
“London exhibits Real Life in all its forms and gradations, from the hireling of royalty in a curricle, to the passive spouse of all the town, on the pavement; from the splendour of affluence to the miseries of penury; even Mendicity itself has its shades of variety, its success being less frequently derived from the acuteness of distress than the caprice of Nature, in having gifted the mendicant with some peculiar eccentricity of person or character, to attract attention and sympathy. He who is without these endowments passes unnoticed; but the diminutive and deformed creature, seated on a child's cart, who with the help of crutches shoves himself along the street, and whose whole height, including his machine, does not exceed two feet; this minikin, ecce homo, is gazed at by the casual passenger as a prodigy, and seldom fails to benefit by the excitation of curiosity.”--
Approaching the tiny personage alluded to,--“Well, Mr. Andrew Whiston,” said Dashall, “what important business brings you so far westward? I thought that your migrations from Bankside had never extended beyond the precincts of Temple-bar.”
“I wot weel, your honor, that I have strayed far frae hame, and to little purpose,--better fortune has not lit on me this wearisome day, than meeting wi' your honor, for God bless you many a time has the poor dwarfish body tasted your bounty.”
During this colloquy, Tallyho gazed on the poor dwarfish body with commiseration, intermixed with no small portion of surprise, at this fresh display of general knowledge by his intelligent and amusing coz, to whom all of interest and curiosity in the metropolis, animate and inanimate, seemed perfectly familiar.
~108~~ “And whither away now, Master Whiston; do you mean to look in at the rendezvous to night?”{1}
“Faith no, sir,--I got a fright there some few years since, and I shall be very cautious of getting into the like disaster a second time.”
The conversation had so far proceeded, to the entertainment of congregated passengers, when the auditory getting rather inconveniently numerous, the two friends left each his mite of benevolence with Maister Andrew Whiston, gaining home without further incident or interruption.{2}
1 Recurring to the holy land, the rendezvous is a noted house in St. Giles's, where, after the labors of the day, the mendicant fraternity assemble, enjoy the comfort of a good supper; amongst other items, not unfrequently an alderman in chains, alias a roast turkey, garnished with pork-sausages; elect their chairman, and spend the night as jolly beggars ought to do, in mirth and revelry.
2 Andrew Whiston was born at Dundee in Scotland, February 10th, 1770, and has, during the last twenty-eight years, resided in London. The person of this man is well known to the perambulators of the metropolis. He forms altogether a disgusting little figure, pushing himself about on a small cart, which moves upon wheels, and wearing an apron to conceal the deformity of his legs. His whole height, including his vehicle, does not exceed two feet. To avoid the penalties attached to begging and vagrancy, he carries a few pens stuck between his coat and waistcoat, and declares that the dealing in those articles is the only trade to which he has been brought up. It is not improbable, that by means of this, and other arts and mysteries which he exercises, Andrew has been enabled to procure something more than salt to his porridge. It cannot be supposed that his person is calculated to excite the tender passion; it must therefore be to the idea of his having accumulated wealth, that we are to attribute the following circumstance. A short time since, Andrew began to think seriously of taking unto himself a wife, and having looked round among his female acquaint-ance for a desirable partner, he fixed his choice on a Mrs. Marshall, the widow of a waterman, who follows the trade of a retail dealer in fish, at the corner of Spiller's public-house, on that side of the Surrey Road which he usually frequents. This fair lady, who might perhaps have been dead as a roach to his addresses, if he had possessed nothing but his deformed person to offer, proved leaping alive, ho! at the thought of Andrew's little hoard, of which she hoped to become mistress. Several presents attested the seriousness of the lover's proposals, and his charmer was all compliance to his wishes, till he had actually sent the money to pay for publishing the banns at Christ Church, when the ridicule of all her acquaintance urged her to abandon the design of so preposterous a match.
Chapter VII
Gae him strong drink until he wink, That's sinking in despair; And liquor gúid to fire his blúid, That's prest wi' grief and care;-- Then let him boose and deep carouse, Wi' bumpers flowing o'er; 'Till he forgets his fears and debts, And minds his ills no more.
~109~~ DASHALL, during a stroll with his relation round the neighbourhood of Covent Garden, learning that several of his friends had formed a select party to dine at the Shakespear that day, sent in the names of himself and Coz, and they were received by the social and convivial assemblage with acclamation.
The Dinner-party comprised Sir Felix O'Grady, an Irish baronet just imported from the province of Munster; the honorable Frederick Fitzroy, a luminary in the constellation of Fashion; Colonel Mc. Can, a distinguished Scotch Officer; an amateur Poet; a member of the Corps Dramatique; and our old friends Sparkle and Mortimer, with the augmentation of Dashall and Tallyho, as already mentioned.
The viands were excellent, and the wines of the first quality. Conviviality was the order of the evening, and its whimsicalities were commenced during the repast, by the player, who, taking up a goblet of wine, and assuming the attitude of Macbeth in the banquet scene, exclaimed--
“I drink To the general joy of the whole table;-- May good digestion wait on appetite, And health on both.”----
~110~~The bottle was now put into quick circulation; harmony and hilarity prevailed; and the poet, availing himself of the moments of inspiration, gave the following chant, extempore.--
Song.
Air. Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen.
Here's to the land where fair Freedom is seen,
Old England,--her glory and trade, aye;-- Here's to the island of Erin so green, And here's to Sir Felix O'Grady; Let the toast pass, Flinch not the glass That warms like the kiss of your favorite lass.
Here's to the beaus and the belles of the day,
The pleasures of life who enjoy, sir;-- Here's to the leaders of fashion, so gay, And here's to the dashing Fitzroy, sir. Let the toast pass, Flinch not the glass That warms like the kiss of your favorite lass.
Here's to our sailors who plough the salt wave,
And never from battle have ran, sir;-- Here's to our soldiers who nobly behave, And here's to brave Colonel Mc. Can, sir. Let the toast pass, Flinch not the glass That warms like the kiss of your favorite lass.
Here's to the joys that our reason engage,
Where Truth shines our best benefactress; Here's to the triumph of Learning,--the Stage,- And here's to each actor and actress. Let the toast pass, Flinch not the glass That warms like the kiss of your favorite lass.
Here's to the man with a head to discern,
And eke with a heart to bestow, sir, Tom Dashall, well skill'd Life in London to learn; And here's to the Squire Tallyho, sir. Let the toast pass, Flinch not the glass That warms like the kiss of your favorite lass.
Here's to the friendship united and true,
That paces variety's round, sir; To Sparkle and Mortimer fill then, anew, And let us with pleasure abound, sir. Let the toast pass, Flinch not the glass That warms like the kiss of your favorite lass.
This complimentary bag-a-telle was well received, and Sir Felix, shaking the amateur cordially by the hand, observed, that amongst other attainments before he left London, he meant to acquire the art of making verses, when he should give the poet a Rowland for his Oliver!
The player having but recently returned to Town, after completing his engagements with some of the Irish provincial theatres, proceeded to amuse his auditory, the baronet excepted, with accounts of the manner of posting in the sister kingdom.--
“Travelling,” said he, “in the province of Munster, having got into a chaise, I was surprised to hear the driver knocking at each side of the carriage.--“What are you doing?”--“A'n't I nailing your honor?”--“Why do you nail me up? I don't wish to be nailed up.”--“Augh! would your honor have the doors fly off the hinges?” When we came to the end of the stage, I begged the man to unfasten the doors.--“Ogh! what would I be taking out the nails for, to be racking the doors?”--“How shall I get out then?”--“Can't your honor get out of the window like any other jontleman?” I then began the operation; but having forced my head and shoulders out, could get no farther, and called again to the postillion.--“Augh! did any one ever see any one get out of a chay head foremost? Can't your honor put out your feet first, like a Christian?”
Here the baronet manifested considerable impatience, and was about to interrupt the narrator, when the latter requesting permission, continued:
“Next day four horses were attached to the crazy vehicle;--one, unfortunately, lost a shoe; and as I refused to go on until the poor animal was shod, my two postillions commenced, in my hearing, a colloquy.--“Paddy, where will I get a shoe, and no smith nigh hand?”--“Why don't you see yon jontleman's horse in the field; can't you go and unshoe him?”--“True for ye,” said Jem, “but that horse's shoe will never fit him.” “Augh! you can but try it,” said Paddy. So the gentleman's horse was actually unshod, and his shoe put upon the posting hack; and fit or not fit, Paddy went off with it.
~112~~ “Same day, during a violent storm of wind and rain, 1 found that two of the windows were broken, and two could not, by force or art of man, be pulled up. I ventured to complain to Paddy of the inconvenience I suffered from the storm pelting in my face. His consolation was, “Augh! God bless your honour, and can't you get out and set behind the carriage, and you'll not get a drop at all, I'll engage!”
The player having thus closed his narrative, and the laughter of the company having subsided, the baronet very candidly admitted, that the sister kingdom in many parts, was miserably deficient in the requisites of travelling, and other conveniences to which the English were accustomed. But in process of time (he continued) we shall get more civilized. Nevertheless, we have still an advantage over you; we have more hospitality, and more honesty. Nay, by the powers! but it is so, my good friends. However much we unhappily may quarrel with each other, we respect the stranger who comes to sojourn amongst us; and long would he reside, even in the province of Munster, before a dirty spalpeen would rob him of his great coat and umbrella, and be after doing that same thing when he was at a friend's house too, from which they were taken, along with nearly all the great coats, cloaks, shawls, pelisses, hats and umbrellas, belonging to the company.”{1}
1 We are inclined to believe that Sir Felix alludes to the fol-lowing instance of daring depredation.
Extraordinary Robbery. On Thursday night, whilst a large party of young folks were assembled at the house of Mr. Gregory, in Hertford Street, Fitzroy Square, to supper, a young man was let in by a servant, who said he had brought a cloak for his young mistress, as the night was cold. The servant left him in the hall, and went up stairs; when shortly after, a second arrived with a hackney coach, and on his being questioned by the servant, he said he brought the coach to take his master and mistress home. The servant was not acquainted with the names of half the company, and therefore credited what was told her. The two strangers were suffered to stand at the stairs head, to listen to the music and singing, with which they appeared highly delighted, and also had their supper and plenty to drink. But while festive hilarity prevailed above, the villains began to exercise their calling below, and the supper table in a trice they unloaded of four silver table spoons, a silver sauce-boat, knives and forks, &c. and from off the pegs and banisters they stole eight top-coats, several cloaks, shawls, pelisses and hats, besides a number of umbrellas, muffs, tippets, and other articles, all of which they carried off in the coach which was in waiting. To complete the farce, the watchman shut the coach door, and wished “their honours” good night. The robbery was not discovered until the company was breaking up. No trace of the thieves can be found.
~113~~ There was certainly somewhat of an Irishism in the baronet's remark.--Of eight great coats stolen, the thieves could not discriminate who were the respective owners, and if it had been possible that they could have discriminated, it is not likely that any regard for the laws of hospitality would have induced them to make an exception of Sir Felix O'Grady's property amidst the general depredation.
The company, although secretly amused by the baronet's remarks, condoled with him on the loss he had sustained; and the player protesting that in stating the facts of Irish posting, he had no intention of giving the baronet the least offence, unanimity was restored, and the conviviality of the evening proceeded without further interruption.
Sir Felix made Irish bulls, and gave Irish anecdotes; the amateur occasionally gave a song or a stanza impromptu; the player spouted, recited, and took off several of his brother performers, by exhibiting their defects in close imitations,--
“Till tired at last wi' mony a farce,” They sat them down--
and united with the remaining company in an attentive hearing to a conversation which the honorable Frederick Fitzroy had just commenced with his friend Dashall.--
“You have now,” said the honourable Frederick Fitzroy, addressing himself to Dashall, “You have now become a retired, steady, contemplative young man; a peripatetic philosopher; tired with the scenes of ton, and deriving pleasure only from the investigation of Real Life in London, accompanied in your wanderings, by your respectable relative of Belville-Hall; and yet while you were one of us, you shone like a star of the first magnitude, and participated in all the follies of fashion with a zest of enjoyment that forbid the presage of satiety or decline.”
“Neither,” answered Dashall, “have I now altogether relinquished those pleasures, but by frequent repetition they become irksome; the mind is thus relieved by opposite pursuits, and the line of observation which I have latterly chosen has certainly afforded me much substantial information and rational amusement.”
~114~~ “Some such pursuit I too must think of adopting,” replied Fitzroy, “else I shall sink into the gulph of ennuit to the verge of which I am fast approaching. Independent of the frequent ruinous consequences of the gaming-table, I have taken a dislike to its associates, and therefore abandoned their society; nor will you be surprised at my having adopted this resolution, when I inform you, that at my last sitting in one of these nefarious haunts of dissipation, I was minus to the extent, in a few hours, of several thousand pounds, the prize of unprincipled adventurers, of swindlers, black-legs, and pigeon-fanciers!”{1}
1 A pigeon-fancier is one of those speculators at the Gambling Houses, whose object it is to lie in wait for inexperienced noviciates, and under the pretext of fair and honorable dealing pluck their feathers; that is to say, strip them bare of their property. Days and nights are passed at the gaming-table. “I remember,” said the Earl of G----, “spending three days and three nights in the hazard room of a well-known house in St James's Street; the shutters were closed, the curtains down, and we had candles the whole time; even in the adjoining rooms we had candles, that when our doors were opened to bring in refreshments, no obtrusive gleam of day-light might remind us how the hours had passed. How human nature supported the fatigue, I know not. We scarcely allowed ourselves a moment's pause to take the sustenance our bodies required. At last one of the waiters, who had been in the room with us the whole time, declared that he could hold out no longer, and that sleep he must. With difficulty he obtained an hour's truce; the moment he got out of the room he fell asleep, absolutely at the very threshold of our door. By the rules of the house he was entitled to a bonus on every transfer of property at the hazard-table; and he made in the course of three days, up- wards of Three hundred pounds! Sleep and avarice had struggled to the utmost, but, with his vulgar habit, sleep prevailed. We were wide awake. I never shall forget the figure of one of my noble associates, who sat holding his watch, his eager eyes fixed upon the minute-hand, whilst he exclaimed continually, “This hour will never be over!” Then he listened to discover whether his watch had stopped, then cursed the lazy fellow for falling asleep, protesting, that for his part, he never would again consent to such a waste of time. The very instant the hour was ended, he ordered “that dog” to be awakened, and to work we went. At this sitting Thirty-five Thousand Pounds were lost and won. I was very fortunate, for I lost a mere trifle--Ten Thousand Pounds only!”
Dashall congratulated Fitzroy on his resolution, in having cut the dangerous connexion, and expressed a hope that in due process of time he would emancipate himself from the trammels of dissipation generally.
~115~~ “That,” rejoined Fitzroy, “is already in a considerable degree effected.”
“In the higher and middle classes of society,” says a celebrated writer, “it is a melancholy and distressing sight to observe, not unfrequently, a man of a noble and ingenuous disposition, once feelingly alive to a sense of honor and integrity, gradually sinking under the pressure of his circumstances, making his excuses at first with a blush of conscious shame, afraid to see the faces of his friends from whom he may have borrowed money, reduced to the meanest tricks and subterfuges to delay or avoid the payment of his just debts, till ultimately grown familiar with falsehood, and at enmity with the world, he loses all the grace and dignity of man.”--
“Such,” continued Fitzroy, “was the acmé of degradation to which I was rapidly advancing, when an incident occurred to arrest the progress of dissipation, and give a stimulus to more worthy pursuits.
“One morning having visited a certain nunnery in the precincts of Pall-Mail, the Lady Abbess introduced me to a young noviciate, a beautiful girl of sixteen.
“When we were left alone, she dropped on her knees, and in attitude and voice of the most urgent supplication, implored me to save her from infamy!”
“I am in your power,” she exclaimed, “but I feel confident that you will not use it to my dishonor.--I am yet innocent;--restore me to my parents,--pure and unsullied,--and the benediction of Heaven will reward you!”--
She then told me a most lamentable tale of distress;--that her father was in prison for a small debt; and that her mother, her brothers and sisters, were starving at home.--Under these disastrous circumstances she had sought service, and was inveighd into that of mother W. from whence she had no hope of extrication, unless through my generous assistance! She concluded her pathetic appeal, by observing, that if the honorable Frederick Fitzroy had listened to the call of humanity, and paid a debt of long standing, her father would not now be breaking his heart in prison, her family famishing, nor herself subject to destruction.
“And I am the Author of all!” I exclaimed, “I am the dis-honorable Frederick Fitzroy, who in the vortex of dissipation, forgot the exercise of common justice, and involved a worthy man and his suffering family in misery! But I thank heaven, the injury is not irreparable!”
~116~ “I immediately explained to Mother W. the peculiarly distressing situation of this poor girl, rescued her from meditated perdition,--restored the husband to his family, with improved circumstances,--and by a continuance of my support, I trust, in some degree to atone for past transgression.”
This narrative excited much interest, and the approval, by the company, of Fitzroy's munificence was expressive and unanimous.
The conviviality of the evening was renewed, and sustained until an early hour, when the party broke up; having enjoyed “the feast of reason, and the flow of soul,” with temperate hilarity.
Dashall, his Cousin, and Fitzroy, proceeding under the piazzas of Covent Garden, the latter suggested an hour's amusement in the Cellars underneath the Hotel, a proposition which was immediately acceded to by his companions, and the trio descended into the lower regions.
The descent however bore not any resemblance to that of Telemachus into Hell. A brilliant light irradiated their passage, and the grim shadows of the infernal abode were, if present, without the ken of ocular observation. In place of the palace of Pandemonium, our triumvirate beheld the temple of Bacchus, where were assembled a number of Votaries, sacrificing to the jolly Deity of the Ancients, in frequent and powerful libations.
By some unaccountable means the daemon of discord, however, gained admission and ascendancy.
A scene now took place which baffles every attempt at description.--The row became general; decanters, glasses, and other fragile missiles, were resorted to,--their fragments strewed the floor,--and the terrified attendants hastened to require the interposition of the guardians of the night, in restoring order and tranquillity.
Amidst the ravage and dissonance of war, our trio preserved a strict neutrality, and before the arrival of the mediating powers, had regained their position in the piazzas, where they waited the result of the conflict.
Negotiations of peace having been unavailingly attempted, the refractory combatants were taken into custody, after an obstinate resistance, and conducted to “duress vile,” in the Watch-house.
~117~~ The tragi-comedy was dacently wound up by one of the performers, a native of the Emerald Isle, who thinking it necessary that the neighbourhood should have an intimation of the proceedings, announced the hour of “past three,” with the accompaniment of “a bloody MORNING!”{1}
The neutrals now proceeded to their respective homes, and our two associates reached their domicile, without the occurrence of further incident.
Next morning the indicative double rit-tat of the postman induced the Squire from the breakfast-parlor to the hall. The servant had opened the door, and received the letters; when an itinerant dealer in genuine articles obtruded himself on the threshold, and doffing his castor after the manner of a knowing one, enquired whether his honor was pleased to be spoke with. Tallyho desired him to step in, and required to know his business. The fellow with a significant wink, and many prelusive apologies for the liberty he was about to take, stated that he had accidentally come into possession of some contraband goods, chiefly Hollands, Geneva, and India silk handkerchiefs, of prime and indisputable excellence; which he could part with at unparalleled low prices;--that he had already, in this private way, disposed of the greatest portion, and that if his honor was inclined to become a purchaser, he now had the opportunity of blending economy with superlative excellence, in an almost incredible degree, and unequalled in any part of the three kingdoms.
This flourish the Squire answered with becoming indignity; expressed his surprise at the consummate assurance of any trickster who would dare to offer him a contraband article, to the prejudice of His Majesty's revenue; and ordered the servant to turn the “scoundrel” out of doors.{2}
1 The above mentioned fracas took place a few weeks ago.-- The offenders “against the peace of our Sovereign Lord the King,” were next day held before one of the Police Magistrates, when it appearing that the row occurred under the influence of ebriety, and that the landlord and the watchmen were the only sufferers, a com-promise was permitted, and the parties were discharged with a suitable admonition.
2 “Contraband articles.” The Squire apparently was not aware that the superlatively excellent Hollands, Geneva, and India-hand-kerchiefs were, the one the manufacture of Spital-fields, and the other the sophisticated balderdash known by the name of Maidstone gin. It is a fact, altho' not generally known, that at the different watering places every season, the venders of silk handkerchiefs manufactured in Spital-flelds, carry on a lucrative trade, by disposing of them under the affectation of secrecy, as the genuine produce of the Indian loom; and thus accommodating themselves to the prejudice of their customers against our native productions; get off in threefold proportion, the number sold in London, and at a cent per cent greater advantage!
With respect to alleged contraband SPIRITS, the deceit is more successfully manoeuvred in Town than in the country.-- The facility of smuggling on the coast frequently supplies the maritime visitant with a cheap and genuine beverage. In Town the same opportunity does not occur, and on the uninitiated in the cheats of London, the system of this species of imposition is more frequently practised. Professing to exhibit Real Life in London, we shall not trouble our readers with an apology for the introduction of the following appropriate incident--
Court ok Requests.--Holborn.--A case of rather a curious nature, and which was characterised rather by the absurd credulity of the parties than by its novelty, came before the Commissioners on Thursday last. A man of the name of O'Regan attended the Court, to show cause against a summons which had been issued, calling upon him to pay a debt of eighteen shillings, which was alleged to be due by him to a person who stated his name to be Higgins. The parties were both Irishmen, and exhibited a good deal of irritation as well as confusion, in their stories. With some difficulty the following facts were collected from their respective statements;--On Tuesday week, about nine o'clock in the evening, a man dressed in the costume of a sailor, and wearing a large rough coat, similar to that commonly worn by sea-faring men, in bad weather, entered the shop of O'Regan, who is a dealer in salt fish, and other haberdashery,” as he called it, in St. Giles's; and beckoning to the back part of the room, and at the same time looking very significantly, said, “May be you would not like a drop of the “real thing,” to keep a merry Christmas with?” “What do you mane?” says O'Regan. “Whiskey, to be sure,” says the man. “Faith, and it's I that would, “replied O'Regan, “provided it was good and chape.” “Och, by the piper of Kilrush,” says the man, “there has not been a noter, claner, more completer drop of Putshean (whiskey illicitly distilled,) smuggled across the Herring-brook (the Irish Channel,) for many a long day, and as for chapeness, you shall have it for an ould song.” “You don't mane to say it's after being smuggled!” says O'Regan. “Be my soul, but I do,” rejoined the man, “it's I and Jack Corcoran, a friend of mine, brought it safe and sound into the Thames last Sunday, in the shape of a cargo of butter-firkins, from Cork.” “Could a body taste it?” pursued O'Regan. With a couple of “why nots,” says the man, “I've a blather full of it under my oxther (his arm- pit,) if you'll lind us hould of a glass.” O'Regan said he hadn't a glass handy, but he brought a cup, and the bladder being produced, a fair taste was poured forth, which O'Regan, having tippled it off, after collecting his breath, swore was “the darling of a drop, it was the next kin to aquafortis.”--“Aqua fifties you mane” says the man, “aquafortis is a fool to it.” The next question was, as to the price? “Och, by the powers,” says the honest smuggler, “as you're a countryman and friend, you shall have it for ten shillings a gallon, and less than that I would'nt give it to my mother.” O'Regan thought this too much, and proposed eight shillings a gallon; but, after much chartering, he agreed to give nine shillings. The quantity was next discussed. The man could not sell less than an anker, four gallons. This was too much for O'Regan; but he finally determined to get a friend to go partners, and Higgins, who lodged in his house, was called down and also indulged with a taste, which he likewise pronounced “beautiful.” It was then arranged, with strong injunctions of secrecy, that the tub should be brought the next night, in a half-bushel sack, as if it were coals, and the hour of nine was appointed. The smuggler then departed, but was true to his appointment. He came at the hour fixed on the Wednesday night, and in the disguise proposed. The commodity was then carried into a little back parlor, with great mystery, and deposited in a cupboard, and the doors being all shut, he demanded his cash. “To be sure,” says Higgins; “but, first and foremost (for he was more cautious than his friend,) let us see if it is as good as the sample was?” “Och, the devil burn me,” says the smuggler, “if I'd desave you.” “Sure I know you would'nt,” replied Higgins, “only just I'd like to wet my whistle with another drop, as you may say.” “Touch my honor, touch my life,” says the smuggler; and seizing the tub with some indignation, he called for the poker, and then striking the barrel on each side the bung-hole, out started the bung. He next called for a table-spoon, and a cup, and ladling out about a noggin, alias a quartern, handed it to O'Regan, who, having taken a suck, by the twist of his eye and the smack of his lips, evinced his satisfaction. Higgins finished it; and exclaiming, “it's the dandy,” passed his hand in his pocket, without further hesitation, and produced his eighteen shillings. O'Regan did the same, and the cask being safely locked in the cupboard, the smuggler was let out with as much caution as he had been admitted. O'Regan and Higgins then held a council upon the division of the spoil; and the latter went up stairs to fetch down a two gallon jar, while the former ran to the public-house to borrow a measure. They soon met again in the parlor, and the tub was brought out. They endeavoured at first to get the bung out in the same manner which they had observed the smuggler pursue, but not being equally acquainted with the subject, they could not succeed. This difficulty, however, was soon obviated. O'Regan obtained a large gimblet from a next door neighbour, and a hole being bored in one of the ends, the liquor began to flow very freely into the measure which was held to receive it. Higgins remarked that it looked very muddy, and on the pint being full, lifted it up to have another sup; but he had no sooner taken a gulp, than, to the dismay of O'Regan, he exclaimed, “Oh, Holy Paul, it's bilge!” mentioning a very unsavoury liquid. “Brother,” says O'Regan, and snatching the measure from his partner, took a mouthful himself, which he as quickly spirted about the floor; and then, in an agitated tone, cried out, “Sure enough Higgins, it is bilge, and precious bail it is, as ever I drank.” They now eyed each other for some time with mutual surprise, and then sympathetically agreed that they must have been “done.” It was still, however, a matter of surprise to them, how their friend, the smuggler, could have taken good whiskey (which that they had tasted from the bung-hole certainly was,) from such nastiness. In order to solve their doubts, they procured a pail; and, having emptied the cask, they proceeded to break it to pieces, when, to their astonishment, the mystery was unravelled, and their folly, in being made the dupes of a pretended smuggler, made fully manifest; for immediately under the bung-hole they found a small tin box, capable of containing about half a pint, which, being tightly tacked to one of the staves, kept the pure liquor, a small quantity of which still remained, from that which was of a very opposite character. It was no laughing matter, and they were not, therefore, very merry on the occasion; and still less so, when Higgins demanded of O'Regan the repayment of his eighteen shillings; this O'Regan refused, and a quarrel ensued, which after having terminated in a regular “set to,” attended with painful consequences to both; was followed by Higgins applying to this Court for the summons which led to their appearance before the Commissioners. The whole of the circum-stances, with infinite trouble, having been thus unravelled; the Commissioner declared his inability to afford Mr. Higgins any re-dress. There was clearly no debt incurred; there was a mutual compact, entered into for an illegal purpose, for had the liquid which they had purchased been smuggled spirits, they were liable to pay a large penalty for having bought it. But putting aside all these considerations, it was clear that Higgins had, with a proper degree of caution, endeavoured to satisfy himself of the quality of the article before he paid his money; and thereby showed that he was not acting under a confidence in any guarantee on the part of O'Regan; and consequently could have no claim on him. In this view of the case, he should dismiss the summons without costs. The parties then retired, amidst the laughter of the by-standers; and Higgins, who was evidently much mortified, swore he would take the worth of his eighteen shillings “out of O'Regan's bones!”
This command was obeyed with alacrity, and as promptly acceded to by the discomfited intruder, who, however, retrieved, without doubt, in the credulity of others, the disappointment he had sustained by the pertinacity of the Squire.
~120~~ The morning was unfavourable to pedestrian excursion. The library was well stored with literature in choice variety. To this antidote of ennui the Squire resorted, while Dashall wrote cards of invitation to a few select friends, whom he knew would, sans cerémonie honor his table to take bachelor's fare with him in the evening.
“I pity the man in a rainy day,” says a writer, “who cannot find amusement in reading.” This was not the case with the two associates;--the intellectual treat afforded by the library was fully enjoyed; and the moments glided on, imperceptibly, until verging on the hour of dinner.
The friends to whom Dashall had sent round, one and all accepted his invitation, and the remainder of the day was devoted to that refined hilarity, of which his hospitable board was always the chief characteristic.
Chapter VIII
London, thy streets abound with incident.-- Dashing along, here roll the vehicles, Splendid, and drawn by highly pamper'd steeds, Of rank and wealth; and intermix'd with these, The hackney chariot, urg'd to sober pace Its jaded horses; while the long-drawn train Of waggons, carts, and drays, pond'rous and slow, Complete the dissonance, stunning the ear Like pealing thunder, harsh and continuous, While on either side the busy multitude Pass on, various and infinite.--
~122~~ THE following morning presented the exhilarating aspect of an unclouded sky, and the two friends were anticipating, at the breakfast-table, the enjoyment of a fine day,--when
A double rat-tat, quickly doubled again, » Announced an intruder of Consequence vain, Decorum inclin'd to defy all;-- Again went the knocker, yet louder and faster, John ran to the door, and one ask'd for his master, Resolv'd against taking denial.--
“My good fellow,” said the stranger, “will you be after representing my obeisance and all that, to the Honorable Mr. Dashall, and I beg to know whether he is at home?”
“Your name, sir?”
“Augh, what does it signify?--Tell him an old friend with a new face,--arrah, not so,--tell him, that a new friend with no face at all at all, would be glad to wait upon him.--Sir Felix O'Grady, the Munster baronet, d'ye mind me?”
This was an unexpected visit, and the more kindly received by Dashall and Tallyho, who promised themselves considerable amusement in the acquisition of the baronet's society, which was readily conceded for the day, to their request.
~123~~ “Have you breakfasted?” asked Dashall. “Whether or not,” answered Sir Felix, “I'll take a cup of taa with you, any how.”
When the repast was finished, the triumvirate set out on their pedestrian excursion; interrupted however, in their progress, by a temporary shower, they took refuge in a Coffee-house, where Sir Felix taking up a Newspaper, read from amongst the numerous advertisements, the following selected article of information,--“Convenient accommodations for ladies who are desirous of privately lying in, and their infants carefully put out to nurse.” “Well now, after all,” observed the baronet, “this same London is a very convanient place, where a lady may gratify her pleasurable propensities, and at same time preserve an unblemished reputation. It is only going into the country, sure, for the benefit of her health; that is to say, she retires to one of the villages in the neighbourhood of London, pays her way without name given or questions asked, and in a few months, returns to Town improved in health, but more slender in person, all her acquaintance exclaiming, “La! my dear, how vastly thin you have grown!”--
“There are in London and its neighbourhood,” said Dashall, “numerous such convenient asylums; but I cannot acquiesce in their utility.--I am rather of opinion that they have a demoralizing tendency, as accelerating by concealment, the progress of licentiousness.--Human failings will still predominate, and the indulgence of illicit intercourse is less frequently prevented by an innate principle of virtue than the dread of shame. When facility of concealment is therefore given to the result, these connexions will still become more prevalent.”
“By the Powers,” exclaimed Sir Felix, “but I think Morality ought to feel particularly benefited by these convanient asylums; they preserve reputation, and in some instances have prevented suicide and murder. I know of two cases wherein both crimes were perpetrated through a sense of shame and dread of discovery, which probably would not have happened could the unfortunates have resorted to “convanient accommodations.”--Well, here's good luck to the fair sex, the dear cratures! and may they, every one of them, die on a Christmas day, any how!”{1}
~124~~ This eccentric wish elicited a look of surprise from the Squire, which Sir Felix observing,--
“My rason is,” said he, “that the gates of heaven being open all that day long, a body may slip in unknownst, as it is to be hoped that you, Mr. Dashall, and I may do, some day shortly without any interruption at all, at all.”
This ludicrous finis excited the laughter of the company--
“But lo! the clouds break off, and sideways run, Out from his shelter lively looks the sun:”
and the united observers of Real Life hailing the favorable presage, resumed their perambulation.--
Advancing along Piccadilly towards Hyde Park, they reached the splendid mansion of the hero of Waterloo; the gates were open, and a travelling carriage with four horses was in waiting for his Grace, who was then about setting off to inspect the fortifications of the Netherlands.{2} Neither Sir Felix nor Tallyho having ever seen the Duke, the triumvirate paused at the entrance of the Court-yard, until the carriage came forth, when they saluted the gallant warrior with the tribute of respect due to distinguished services and exalted genius, which his Grace very courteously returned.
1 On the subject of “convenient accommodation for ladies who wish privately to ly in,” if we might hazard an opinion, it would be in coincidence with that of our friend Dashall. These establishments' are certainly an encouragement to licentiousness, and it is well known, that in many of these receptacles, “where the strictest honor and secrecy may be relied on,” the allurement of abortion is held out to the unhappy female, if she declines the anticipation of maternal solicitude.
2 Thirty-Two Great Personages! Anecdote of the Duke of Wellington,--His Grace, the Duke of Wellington, when last in the Netherlands, and travelling without attendants, in a part of the country where his multitudinous titles were not well understood, was overtaken on the road by a veteran officer, whose route lay in the same direction with that of his Grace. The Duke having occasion to stop; and as the officer would reach a certain town several hours before him, he requested that the veteran would take the trouble of ordering dinner for him, at the principal Inn. The old officer made his congee, and pro-ceeded on his mission. “I am desired to order dinner here,” said he, to the landlord; “but stay, I had better state who for.” Then calling for pen and ink, he presented the astonished and delighted host with the following list of his forthcoming illustrious guests.
The Prince of Waterloo! The Duke of Wellington.--The Duke of Ciudad Rodrigo, and The Duke of Vittoria. The Marquis of Douro, and a Marshal General of France. Master General of the Ordnance.
Colonel of the Royal Regt. of Horse Guards, Blue. Colonel of the Rifle Brigade.
The Lord Lieutenant of Hampshire.--And
The Governor of Plymouth.
Field Marshal of Austria, --------------------Russia, --------------------Prussia, --------------------France, --------------------England, and --------------------The Netherlands.
A Grandee of the Highest Class. A Captain General of Spain.
Knights of the Orders of The Garter, in England.--St. Andrew, in Russia.--The Black Eagle, in Russia.--Charles III. in Spain.--St. Ferdinand and Merit, in Spain.--The Golden Fleece, in Spain.--Maximilian Joseph, in Bavaria.--St. Maria Theresa, in Austria.--The Sword, in Spain.--St. Esprit, in France.--St. George, in Russia.--The Tower and Sword, in Portugal. And, (to bring up the rear,) A Doctor of Civil Laws!
“Mon Dieu!” exclaimed the host, in extacy, “what a noble company!” He then began to tell them over;--“One Prince,” he continued,--“Three Dukes--One Marquis--A Marshal General of France--An English Governor--An English Lord Lieutenant-- The Master General of the Ordnance, and Two English Colonels--Six Field Marshals--One Grandee of the Highest Class--A Captain General of Spain--Twelve Knights, and a Doctor of Civil Laws!.'--Mon Dieu! Thirty-two Great Personages!!”
All the provisions of the town, all the delicacies of the season and all the celebrated wines, were immediately put in requisition for the illustrious company in expectancy.
At last the Duke of Wellington arrived, and was ushered into a spacious dining-room, where a cloth was laid with thirty- two covers. The person of the Duke was unknown to the Innkeeper, who, full of important preparations for the Thirty-two Great Personages, thought not of any thing else.--“I ordered dinner here,” said his Grace.--“Mon Dieu!” responded the Innkeeper, “are you one of the Thirty- two Great Personages?” presenting the list at same time. His Grace glanced his eye over it,--“they are all here!” said he, “so send up the dinner immediately.” The Inn-keeper stood aghast with amazement; at last finding utterance, he ventured to express a hope that his Grace would be pleased to take into consideration, that he (the Innkeeper,) had, at great trouble and expence, provided a most sumptuous entertainment for Thirty-two Great Personages. “D----n the Thirty-two Great Personages,” exclaimed the Duke, “Send up the dinner, and your bill.--Thus I must pay the penalty,” said he, “for not having invited the old veteran to be of the party!!”
~125~~ The Squire observed, that the brilliant victories of his Grace, although acknowledged and rewarded by all the Potentates of Europe, had not procured him much popularity at home. The remark was confessed by Dashall to be correct, but whence the public indifference originated, he could not presume to explain.
Crossing Hyde Park, which a celebrated physician denominated the lungs of the Metropolis, our pedestrians made their egress into Oxford-road. This fine street, with longitudinal reference the first in London, excited the admiration of the baronet; the long line of perspective indeterminable to the view, stretching from Hyde Park corner to St. Giles's, the general uniformity of the buildings, the neatness, and in many instances the splendor of the tradesmen's shops, together with the comfortable manner of their perambulation, unjostled and unimpeded by the hurry, throng and bustle of passengers, with which ~126~~ many other parts of the Town are annoyed, gave an additional zest of enjoyment to the trio in their excursion, while the Squire observed, that he felt in this part of the Town, always as if he had been suddenly removed to some other region of the world, far remote from the city of London, its dissonant uproar, and crowded inconveniences.
Turning into Blenheim street, Dashall apprized his companions, that if they felt inclined to take a peep into the Theatre of Anatomy, he could procure their admission.
The Squire seemed to recoil from so disgusting an exhibition; while on the other hand the baronet expressed a great desire to enter the theatre. “I have been used to murder and mutilation!” said he.
“The devil you have!” ejaculated the Squire, “where, how?”
“Where else should it be but in Ireland?” replied the baronet:--“and as to the how, was it not, sure, after the manner of my profession, while I was a member of a Corps of Yeoman Cavalry, during the rebellion, when we whipped, hanged, beheaded, and mutilated men, every day, by dozens! So you may guess, my good ~127~~friend, that cutting up a human carcase is nothing new to me. Only now, I should like to see if there is any difference in the mangling of human bodies by the anatomical artists of London from the ci-devant military professors, “The Loyal Troop of Doneraile.”
The hesitation manifested by the Squire yielded, ultimately, to the importunity of the baronet, and they entered the human shambles, where the cutters up were at work upon a subject, securing to themselves the advantage of personal experience, in the process of dissection; the abdomen had been already cleared out, and the corpse was portioned out to the different students of anatomy for the purpose of illustration; the arms to one class, the legs to another, the head to a third, &c. so that in less than a quarter of an hour, decapitation and dismemberment were completely effected; and the trunk was deserted, as an uninteresting object, from which there could not be derived any information of importance, further than that which the students had already obtained!!!
Sir Felix whispered his friends, that these adepts in human mutilation far exceeded in apathy of feeling and adroitness of execution, even the ci-devant Loyal Troop of Doneraile!--But when one of the young artists brought forward in his hands smeared with gore, a human heart for the operation of the dissecting knife, Tallyho declaring that he could bear it no longer, rushed out of the theatre, and was followed by his two companions, all disgusted with this spoliation of the dead, however conducive it might prove to the interests of the living.{1}
1 The human subjects for these Theatres of Anatomy and private dissection, are chiefly supplied by “Resurrectionists;” a class of depraved wretches whose only employment is that of body-snatching, or robbing the graves of their dead; from which they derive a ready and lucrative emolument. The anatomists are ready at all hours to receive, without questions asked, and with prompt remuneration, the produce of these unsanctified depredations.--Dreadful must be the feelings of the fond relatives of a departed friend, to learn that the sanctuary of the grave has been violated, and the body of perhaps a beloved wife, sister, or other revered female, exposed to the gaze, and subjected to the scalping-knife, of these butchers.
Iron Coffins have been resorted to as a safe-guard, which once closed cannot be opened. For this improvement the artist obtained a patent; but he is not likely to derive much advantage from his invention, as the parish officers within the bills of mortality have generally refused the rites of sepulture to bodies cased in iron; alleging, that the almost imperishable material would shortly compel an enlargement of burying ground, at a vast expence, which it is the duty of the parish officers to prevent, by resisting the interment of bodies in iron coffins; and this resolution has lately had the sanction of legal authority.
~128~~
Proceeding along Oxford Street, Sir Felix enquired for the Holy Land, informing his friends, at same time, that his servant, whom he had entrusted the preceding day with a cheque on his banker, had not been at home all night, and the probability was, that he had got amongst his Munster friends in Palestine. Sir Felix was therefore desirous of ascertaining, if possible, the sanctuary of the fugitive; and with that view requested his friends to accompany him in a perambulation of discovery, through (to him) these hitherto unexplored regions.--This application was readily assented to, and the triumvirate passed onwards to the place of destination.
They had now reached the Church of St. Giles in the Fields, situated in Broad Street, St. Giles's; and their attention was immediately directed to that fine piece of sculpture over the iron gateway, leading into the Church-yard, representing the Resurrection and Last Judgment. The figures are in basso relievo, and although diminutive, are admirably grouped, and the expression of each gives to the whole a finished and impressive effect.
Two minutes more, and the three friends were on the boundaries of the Holy Land, namely, George Street, or, as formerly cognomened, Dyott Street, Bloomsbury.
At the end of this street, next to St. Giles's, were several of the Lower Irish, of both gender, who, clustering together, seemed to hold a close confabulation, casting occasionally, an inquisitive eye on Sir Felix O'Grady.
“By the soul of the priest!” at last exclaimed one of the Munster emigrees, “but it is him, and I would take my davy on it;--but sure enough, I will ax the jontleman himself now, whether he knows who he is, or if he is any body at all, at all!”
This real representative of the tag-rag and bob-tail of the Emerald Isle, was arrayed in the appropriate costume of his class and country. A nameless something that had once been a hat, covered a shock head of hair; the redundancy of which protuberated sideways and perpendicularly, ~129~~from the ci-devant castor, in many a knotty combination, impervious to wind and weather. The fragments of a loose great coat decorated his tall athletic form, which scarcely reaching his knees, exposed fully to observation his nether habiliment,--
“His galligaskins, that had long withstood The winter's fury and encroaching frost By Time subdued,--what will not Time subdue, Now horrid rents disclosed, portending agues.”
His brawny legs were partially cased in worsted hose, the dilapidations of wear and tear ingeniously repaired with cloth, pieced and patched, and comprising all the prismatic colours of the rainbow; his toes, disdaining the trammels of duress, peeped through his brogues, as if anxious for freedom; and to complete the singularity of this strange figure, his vacant face was incrusted with filth, his bristly beard unshorn,--
And stuck in his mouth of capacious dimensions, That never to similar shape had pretensions, A pipe he sustain'd, short and jetty of hue, Thro' which the dense clouds of tobacco he drew.
This apparition stalking onwards to our admiring triumvirate,--“May be,” said he, “your honor can be after telling me,--will your honor be Sir Felix O'Grady of Munster, that is, long life to it?”--“The same, by the powers of my father who begot me!” exclaimed the baronet: “sure enough I am Sir Felix O'Grady that is, not that will be!” “Erin ma vorneen!” rejoined the enquirer,--“the pot of Saint Patrick be upon you, and may your honor live all the days of your life, and many years longer, if that's all!--Arrah, but I'm plased to my heart's content to meet wid your honor in a strange land!”
The congregated expectants now approached, and respectfully united their congratulations with those of their respectable deputy.--“The pot of Saint Patrick be upon you, and may your reverence live for ever and a day afterwards!” It was in vain that Sir Felix offered them money. “No, the devil a drap would they taste, unless it was wid his honor's own self, by the holy poker!”
There was no remedy; so Sir Felix, with his friends Dash all and Tallyho, who were much amused by this ~130~~unsophisticated manifestation of Irish recognition, accompanied the motley groupe to the blue-ruin shop.{1}
Entering then, the neighbouring den, of a licensed retailer of destruction, the first object on whom the scrutinizing eye of the baronet cast a glance, was his servant, regaling himself and his blowen with a glass of the “right sort.” The indignant Sir Felix raised his cane, and was about to inflict a well-merited chastisement, when the transgressor, deprecating the wrath of his master, produced the full amount of the cheque in mitigation of punishment, expressing his obligations to mother Cummings for the preservation of the property.
“And who, in the devil's name,” asked the baronet, “is mother Cummings?”{2}
“Och! a good sowl,” said the valet, “for all that, she keeps convanient lodgings. And so your honor, just having got a drap too much of the cratur last night, this girl and I took up our lodgings at mother Cummings's: good luck to her any how! And if your honor will but forgive me this once, I will, as in duty bound, serve you faithfully by night and by day, in any or in no way at all at all, and never will be guilty of the like again as long as I live, gra.”
1 Blue-ruin, alias English Gin.--Not unaptly is this pernicious beverage so denominated. It is lamentable to observe the avidity with which the lower orders of society in London resort to this fiery liquid, destructive alike of health and morals. The consumption of gin in the metropolis is three-fold in proportion to what it was a few years ago. Every public-house is now converted into “Wine Vaults,” as they are termed, which the venders of poison and their account in; it is true, that the occupants are compelled to sell beer also, but in many of these receptacles, there is not even sitting room, and “something short,” is thus the resource of men, women, and even children!
2 This discreet matron has realized a very daccnt competency, by keeping, in the Holy Land, a house of accommodation for single, men and their wives.--When a couple of this description require the asylum of her hospitable roof, she demands possession of all the money which the male visitor may have about him. This conceded, it is told over, and carefully sealed up in the presence of its owner, and left for the night in charge of the prudent landlady. The party is then shewn into a room, and in the morning the money is forth-coming to its utmost farthing.
~131~~ Circumstances considered, and as this had been his first offence, the servant, at the intercession of Dashall, was let off with a reprimand only, and ordered home, a mandate which he instantly and with many expressions of gratitude obeyed.
The baronet having adjusted this business to his satisfaction, directed his attention to his newly acquired Munster friends, whom he not only treated with a liberal potation of aqua vitæ, but in the warmth of his kindly feelings, actually drank with them, a condescension infinitely more acceptable to the generous nature of these poor-people, than was the more solid proof which he left them of his munificence; and of which, until absolutely forced upon them, they long and pertinaciously resisted the acceptance.
Our party pursuing their route, entered Holborn, and ordered refreshment at the George and Blue Boar Coffee-House; a place of excellent accommodation, and convenient for persons coming from the West of England.
Here, while our perambulators amused themselves in conversation on the occurrences of the morning, a chaise and four drove rapidly into the yard, the postillions decorated with white ribbons, “denoting,” said Dashall, “the successful denouement, perhaps, of a trip to Gretna Green.” His conjecture was correct; the happy pair just arrived, had been rivetted in the ties of matrimony by the far-famed blacksmith of Gretna.{1}
1 In tracing the pursuits of needy and profligate adventurers, with whom this vast metropolis abounds beyond that of any other capital in the world, wife-hunting is not the least predominant. This remark we cannot better illustrate than by introducing to the notice of our readers, the following extraordinary detail, exhibiting in High Life, atrocious premeditated villainy, and in the mediocrity of female rank extreme and fatal cupidity.
An anecdote has come to our knowledge within the last few days which we think calls for publicity, as it may tend to place on their guard those tender-hearted spinsters whose sensibility of feeling may induce them for a moment to forget that prudence which is at all times the best safeguard of their sex. The circumstances which we shall describe are considered quite unique among certain orders of the sporting world; and the Hero of the Tale, from the dashing completion of his plan, has obtained no small importance in the eyes of his associates.
To our purpose;--About a fortnight back, a person, we will not call him a gentleman, the first letter of whose name is not far re-moved from the last letter of the alphabet, and who has been particularly distinguished for the dashing, although not very meritorious affairs in which he has been engaged, both on the turf and the road, as well as in the stable, found himself (to use one of his own fashionable phrases,) “hard up.” In plain terms, his Exchequer was completely exhausted, and what was worse, his credit was altogether “out at the elbows.” All ordinary, and, indeed, almost all extraordinary modes of “raising the wind,” had long since been worn threadbare. Something, however, must be done; and to be “well done,” it must be “done quickly.” A happy thought struck him. He had heard of a lady, some few years beyond her “teens,” who was possessed of a pretty round sum; he could not ascertain exactly how much, in her own right. This was a prize which he thought it would be most desirable to obtain. It was true, the lady was past that age when passion is not at all times to be con-trolled; but then certainly not so far advanced as to have abandoned all hope of obtaining an agreeable husband, or not to be perfectly convinced that her attractions entitled her to entertain such an expectation. The only difficulty which suggested itself, was the mode of introduction. Two heads are better than one, and our hero called in a friend, to whom he unfolded his scheme, and whose advice and assistance he immediately bespoke. The friend had no scruples on the subject, and at once became a partner in the plot. Means were found to overcome the first impediment, and behold our two gentlemen in the presence of the fair object of their attack. The principal was immediately introduced as the son of Sir George ----, a highly respectable Baronet of the same name, but of a very different character. His manners were chastened for the occasion, his appearance fashionable, and his address distinguished by a warmth which the acknowledged purpose of his visit, that of soliciting the honor of being permitted to pay his addresses, in some measure justified. The lady was not displeased: to all appearance the connexion, which was thus offered to her was most nattering; the son of a baronet, and one especially who had expressed himself in a most disinterested manner, was not to be dismissed without due deliberation; she, therefore, with becoming frankness, consented to grant another interview on the ensuing day. The friends were punctual to the time appointed, and came in the carriage (pro tempore) of the suitor. They were shown into the drawing-room, and the conversation was mutually pleasing. At length our hero proposed to the lady to take a short airing in his carriage. At first she exhibited the usual coyness at such an invitation from one, to whom she was almost a stranger; but was ultimately bantered into a consent, and accordingly dressed for a ride. Having taken her seat between the two gentlemen, they engaged her on such topics as they thought most amusing, and the time passed so agreeably that she scarce knew where she was going, till she had arrived at Barnet, on the north road. They stopped at one of the principal inns, and alighting, a slight cold repast was ordered. The convenient friend shortly after quitted the apartment to look to the horses, and the soi- disant son of the Baronet instantly commenced an assault upon the lady's heart, which it would seem, was but too well received. He protested that he had long sighed at a distance, without having the courage to confess his flame; and, in short, that he could not exist unless she became his. The lady, whatever might be the feelings of her heart, laughed at the warmth of his declarations. This only induced him to become more impetuous; and at last, as a proof of his sincerity, he proposed, as they were so far on the north road, that they should order four horses, and set off at once to Gretna Green. This produced additional merri-ment on the part of the lady, which, as there was no specific refusal, was taken for consent; and on the return of the friend, he received a wink, which instructed him in the course he was to pursue, and in a moment, four horses were clapped to the travelling chariot in which they had arrived. The lady was shortly afterwards handed to her seat, and, accompanied as before, was whirled off with the utmost velocity. She had gone thirty miles of the road, however, before she believed that her lover was really serious. On alighting at the end of the third stage, reflection came to her aid, and she began to repent of having suffered herself to be prevailed on to consent so far to what she still pretended to believe was but a joke. On our hero quitting the coom, she represented to his friend the utter impossibility of proceeding further, and entreated that he would take means to have her re-conducted to town. The friend, however, who was too much interested in the success of a plot so well commenced, endeavoured to dissuade her, by every argument of which he was master, to go on; but she positively refused; when, as the last resource, he determined to work on her fears, and accordingly told her, that Mr.---- had long spoken of her, in terms of impatient rapture; that he was a man, unhappily, of a most passionate temper, and that he had vowed, sooner than he would go back to London without making her his wife, he would blow out his brains, for which purpose he was provided with a brace of pistols, then in his pocket, and double loaded. To this was added the still more persuasive observation, that he was a gentleman of family and fortune and figure, to whom no rational objection could be taken by any woman whose heart had not been previously engaged. The result was, that the unfortunate woman, half consenting, half relenting, agreed to go forward, and on they drove till they arrived full speed at Gretna Bridge, in Yorkshire. Here a new difficulty arose; our hero had exhausted his purse, and had not a shilling left to enable him to complete his journey; his good genius, however, had not deserted him, and, with that effrontery for which he is distinguished, he called the landlord into a private room, told him he was on his way to Gretna Green with an heiress, again described himself to be the son of a baronet, and finally requested him to give cash for a cheque which he proposed drawing on a respectable banking-house in town, (where, by the bye, he happened to have no account.) The cause he assigned for his distress was the suddenness of his flight from town. His appeal proved successful, and he was furnished with the means of completing his journey. Again the trio resumed their course, and in the end reached the quarters of the celebrated Blacksmith, who was immediately summoned to their presence. Here another impediment threw them into fresh alarm; the Blacksmith seeing the style in which they had arrived, and judging from that circumstance that they were persons of no mean consequence, refused to rivet their chains under a douceur of One hundred pounds. This sum it was impossible, at so short a notice, they could raise; and their hopes would have been altogether frustrated, had not the eloquence of our hero once more proved successful. He explained to the venerable priest that their finances were but slender; and having assured him of that fact, he induced him to accept of Five pounds down, and a note of hand for Fifty pounds more. The Gordian knot was then tied, and Mr. and Mrs.---- having received the congratulations of their friend, who witnessed the ceremony, returned to Gretna Bridge; where they agreed to wait a few days, until a remittance for which the lady, under some plausible excuse, was induced to draw, had arrived. The necessary sum at length reached their hands; the bill was dis-charged; the cheque upon which the cash had been previously advanced, redeemed; and the party pursued their journey back to the metropolis.
On reaching London, the marriage ceremony was repeated in a more formal manner, and thus all question of the validity of the union was set at rest. Our hero had now to render available the funds of his Lady; and in a morning tete-a- tete requested some information as to the state of her fortune? It was a subject, he said, of no great importance in his estimation, but still he wished to know what she had? The Lady candidly told him that all she had under her own control, was £1,100 in the 5 per Cents, and a bond of her brother's for £2,500 payable on demand. On the very same day, the disinterested husband was found soliciting several brokers in the city, to sell out the stock which his wife had described, but they all declined, unless the lady were present. This was an objection easily got over; he returned to his wife, and having assigned some feasible reason for an immediate want of ready cash, induced her to accompany him to the market, where the value of the stock was soon transferred into his pocket.
The friends of the lady had by this time been apprised of her marriage, and naturally felt anxious to ascertain the character of the connexion which she had formed. She, of course, repeated the story told her by her “Lord and Master;” but inquiry having been made as to its truth, it was found to be fictitious in all its main features. Her husband, although of the same name, was not the son of Sir George, nor was he at all connected with that family; and in addition to this, it was ascertained that he was, as we have already described him to be, a gentleman “much better known than trusted.” It is needless to say that the feelings of the lady were greatly agitated at these discoveries, and she did not hesitate to upbraid her husband with his deceitful conduct. His sensibility, however, was not to be excited on such an occasion; he coolly told her he knew all she could say on that subject without putting her to any further trouble; and, in fine, confirmed all that she had heard to his prejudice. She had taken him “for better for worse,” and she must make the best of a bad bargain. The brother of the lady now interfered; he had an interview with her husband, and could not suppress the indignation which he felt in his presence. Our hero had too long been accustomed to the reverses of the sporting world to be easily ruffled; he preserved his temper with admirable presence of mind, and having heard the enraged brother to a conclusion, at last very coolly replied, that “all he had said might be very true, but that did not alter the fact that his sister was his lawful wife; and further, that, as her husband, he held a bond of his (the brother's) for £12,500, payable on demand, and of which he requested immediate payment as he was short of “the ready.” The cold-blooded gravity with which this demand was made, incensed the brother still more, and he gave vent to the feelings which were excited in his breast. Our hero was in no respect thrown off his guard, and at last, after having heard that the brother, as well as the lady, whose eyes were now open to his real character, would be glad to get rid of him on any terms; he proposed to “do the thing,” what he called “handsomely,” and with very little qualification suggested, that in order to settle the business “amicably,” he had no objection to give up his wife and her brother's bond for £1,000 in addition to the £1,000 he had already received. Unprincipled as this offer was, the brother, upon reflection, felt that he was “in the jaws of the lion,” and therefore, after consultation with his sister, who was but too happy in escaping from such a companion, he agreed to the terms proposed. The £1,000 was paid, the bond returned, and a separation mutually agreed upon without further delay, to the infinite satisfaction of our hero, who tells the adventure among his friends with extra-ordinary glee, taking no small credit to himself for its happy issue. We have suppressed the names of the parties, for obvious reasons; there are those by whom they will be immediately recognised. We wish, however, not to give unnecessary pain to the individuals really injured; and have only to hope the facts we have detailed may operate as a sufficient caution to others who may be placed in similar situations in future.
~135~~ Sir Felix O'Grady was all a-gog to learn from the postillions the names of the party, but nothing satisfactory could be elicited.
Our trio now directed their progress along Holborn, in which route they had advanced but a few minutes when their attention was arrested by a concourse of people assembled at the door of a Linen-draper, who it seems had detected a thief in the person of a pregnant woman. This information excited the sympathy of our three friends, and they accordingly entered the Shop. Tallyho entreated of the Linen-draper, that he would be merciful to the unfortunate woman, in consideration of her being so far in a family way.
“And yet, sir,” answered the Shopkeeper, “I fancy we shall be able to relieve the lady without the assistance of a midwife.” The woman was then taken into a back room and searched by two of her own sex. The result ~136~~of this investigation was soon made known.--The pregnancy was assumed, the better to evade suspicion; her under garments were completely lined with hooks, to which were suspended, in vast variety, articles of stolen property, including not only those of light weight, viz. handkerchiefs, shawls, stockings, &c. but several of less portable description, amongst which were two pieces of Irish linen. These articles she had conveyed through an aperture in her upper habiliment of sufficient dimensions to admit an easy access to the general repository. The ingenuity of this invention created much surprise, and as it greatly facilitated concealment and evaded detection, there is no doubt of its having frequently produced a rich harvest. This female adept was now committed to the charge of an officer, the Shopkeeper having identified upon her person several articles of stolen property.
Chapter IX
Ladies,--the chariot waits;--the toilet now Where erst so many hours were idly spent, Asks of its wonted due the tythe alone;-- Braid then your tresses of luxuriant now, And wrap your forms angelic in the dress Simple, yet rich and elegant, that gives Your matchless beauties half revealed to view; The broad capacious bosom's luscious swell, Still heaving strong, and suing to be prest;-- Grace then the vehicle.--We, observers Of Real Life, the while, in London go To “catch the living manners as they rise, “And give the age its very form and pressure.”
~137~~ CONTINUING their route down Holborn, the adventure in the Linen-draper's shop became the theme of conversation.--“It is not alone,” said Dashall, “to the lower orders and necessitous that this system of Shop-lifting is confined; many recent instances have occurred of similar depredation, by women above the mediocrity of rank, who, however, frequently contrive to compromise prosecution, while the delinquent of poverty is visited by the utmost rigor of the law!--Of the two, certainly the thief from habit is more culpable than the thief from necessity.”
Sir Felix and the Squire entirely agreed with their friend in opinion.--“Shop-lifters,” continued Dashall, “are as pernicious to the trading part of the community as any of the cheats of London; there is not, on a moderate calculation, less than 5000 of these artful thieves in the metropolis, and the prejudice they do to the industrious tradesman is incalculable.”
“By the powers of safety, then,” exclaimed the baronet “the honest dealer should consider every stranger a thief until further acquaintance.”
“Not exactly so; however, it is necessary that the London tradesman should be upon his guard, and keep ~138~~ a sharp look out upon his customers, not knowing, by their appearance, whether they are honest or otherwise.”{1}
Turning from Holborn into Chancery Lane, our pedestrians were encountered by a very handsome chariot, in which were two elegantly dressed and beautiful women, who, ordering the carriage to stop, saluted Dashall and the Squire in the most fascinating terms of friendly recognition.
“Your Ladyships render me,” said Dashall, “infinite happiness; this is a most unexpected pleasure!”
“You are a gallant cavalier,” observed one of the lovely inmates, “another gentleman would probably have used the word honor instead of happiness, but you are fertile in felicitous expression.”
“Not more felicitous than appropriate; but whither away, my fair captivators?”
“We are on a shopping expedition,” replied one of the ladies, “you and your friend of Belville-hall, are observers of Life in London generally;--ours is a mere circumscribed sphere of action; we go to view Life in a Mercer's shop.--When the Squire and you are not more pleasantly engaged, give us a call, and perhaps we may grant you the honor of an interview.--We would ask the Unknown,” said she, in a whisper, “who is he?”
1 A thief from habit.--Not long since, there existed in the fashionable world, a female of rank and property, who was an habitual, expert, and incorrigible thief.--She would frequently sally forth in her carriage, and alighting at the doors of perhaps, half a dozen different tradesmen, rummage over their goods, without mak-ing a purchase, and embrace the opportunity of purloining any portable article that lay in her way. Those tradesmen to whom her thieving propensities were known, used to watch, carefully, her manoeuvres, let her walk off with the spoil, and then send a bill of depredation, which she uniformly, and without hesitation, dis-charged. This unfortunate woman was one morning detected in the shop of a Mercer to whom she was a stranger, in the act of pilfering some article of value. He was about to detain her, when she burst into an agony of tears, acknowledged, and lamented deeply, the irresistible infatuation under which she acted, disclosed her rank and family, and the compassionate mercer suffered her to depart.
At another time, being one of a card-party, a gold snuff-box vanished from the table. Every person present denied any knowledge of it;--“Madam, you are mistaken,” said one of the company, “you have got the snuff-box in your pocket.”--“How very absent I am!”exclaimed our heroine, producing the box.--“And I beg that you will continue absent!” said the lady of the mansion.
~139~~ “Sir Felix O'Grady, Madam,” answered Dashall, “an Irish baronet, of recent acquaintance; like every other gentleman of the Emerald Isle, combining, with characteristic eccentricity, a sound head and a warm heart.”
“Then, of all things, bring him with you.” “So,” waving gracefully her hand, “adieu!” the trio responded, by respectfully raising their hats, “Allons donc,” she exclaimed, and the carriage drove off.
“There go,” exclaimed Dashall, “two of the most lovely and accomplished women in London, and perhaps the least tinctured with fashionable folly.”
“With the exception,” observed the Squire, “of shopping, that is, I presume, making the morning tour of tradesmen's shops, tumbling over their goods, giving them every possible trouble, and ultimately making no purchase.”{1}
Dashall admitted the correctness of the Squire's observation, as generally applicable, but claimed an exemption for the ladies in question.
On the left, proceeding down Chancery Lane, Dashall pointed to a respectable house as the occasional residence of a lady in the first class of literature, whose writings have given universal satisfaction, and will continue to be read with increased avidity, as conveying the most admirable lessons of morality, told in a manner alike impressive and pathetic;--Mrs. Op*e; the widow of the late celebrated artist. This excellent woman is endeared to the circle of her numerous acquaintance by a pre-eminent
1 Tallyho had improved in his knowledge of Real Life in London.--His definition of Shopping was perfectly correct.
One of those fashionable female idlers, who delight in occupying the time, and exercising the patience of the industrious, alighted, a short time since, at the shop of a tradesman in Ludgate-street, and after a couple of hours spent in examining and re-examining a variety of rich silks, made her election at last, and desired the mercer to cut her off a shilling's worth, throwing, at the same time, the money on the counter. The tradesman, with perfect coolness, took up the piece of coin, laid it on a corner of the silk, circum-scribed it with his scissors, and presented the part so cut out to the lady, as the shilling's worth required. We feel pleasure in recording the result. The lady admired the mercer's equanimity of temper, laughed heartily at his manner of illustrating it, and in atonement for trouble given and patience exemplified, became, and still continues, one of his most valued customers.
~140~~ suavity of disposition, blended with superior mental endowments; to the unfortunate by her benevolent heart, to which the appeal of distress is never made in vain; and to the public generally, by her invaluable works, the uniform tendency of which is the advancement of virtue and the inculcation of the benign feelings of humanity.{1}
1 To the admirers of Mrs. Op*e, the following lines, never before published, will not prove unacceptable.
TRIBUTE OF RESPECT. O Thou of matchless power to raise And bend the Passions to thy sway I-- Whose pen with magic force portrays, Whose spell the shadowy forms obey. Of Joy and Grief, of Hope and Fear, And wiles from Apathy a tear,-- Enchantress! take the duteous lays To Worth that Admiration pays.
To thee, as to thy Op*e, given On Immortality a claim; His virtues pass'd from Earth to Heaven, Yet still exist in deathless fame;-- His pencil to thy pen assign'd To charm, instruct, and grace mankind!-- And Oh! could but my humble strains To thy impressive skill aspire, The Muse that faintly now sustains Thy worth, would make poetic fire, And glowing high, with fervid name, Would graft her honors on thy name.--
But ah! bereft of every stay, From Hope exil'd, with Woe I keep My vigils, each sad sorrowing day, And wake, each dreary night, to weep!-- By Penury chill'd poetic powers, No voice to soothe, no hand to save, And snatch a victim from the grave,-- Around me Desolation lours, And glaring, midst the deep'ning gloom, Despair and Famine urge me to the tomb!
If, all unmeet, my humble strain Is destin'd still to flow in vain;-- Shouldst thou the tribute now refuse Essayed by Misery and the Muse; Reject not yet the lay with scorn, To thee by kindred feelings borne;-- For still thy tales of plaintive tone Breathe pain and sufferings, like mine own.
~141~~ Facing the entrance to the Royal Wax Works, Sir Felix made a full stop;--“That fellow,” said he, alluding to the whole length figure of the Centinel, “stands as motionless as a statue; by the powers, but half-a-dozen peep-o-day boys in his rear would be after putting life and mettle in his heels!--Shoulder and carry your arms, you spalpeen; and is this the way that you show the position of a soldier?” at same time enforcing his admonition with a smart stroke of his cane over the arm of the inanimated military representative. The attendant, a young man in the costume of the Yeomen of the Guards, remonstrated; Dashall and Tallyho laughed most immoderately; and the baronet, equally enjoying the joke, persisted in affecting to believe, that he was addressing himself to a living object, greatly to the amusement of the now congregating street passengers.
“Begging your pardon, ray jewel,” continued Sir Felix, “long life and good luck to you, in your stationary quarters, and may His Majesty never find a more active enemy than yourself!--By the soul of my grandmother, it would be well for poor Ireland, who has taken leave of her senses, if her bog-trotting marauders were as peaceably inclined as you are.--Fait and troth, but you're a fine looking lad after all, and with the assistance of your master, and a touch of Prometheus, we might raise a regiment of braver fellows than the King's Guards, without bounty or beat of drum, in the twinkling of an eye, honey; but with your leave, and saving yourself unnecessary trouble, we'll be after paying a visit to the company above stairs; “and the party proceeded to the exhibition room.--
Here were representatives of the living and mementos of the dead! Kings and Queens, Princes and Princesses,
Ah! cease the sad resemblance here!-- Thee, then, to every feeling dear Of tender sympathy,--thy way Illumin'd to life's remotest day. In bliss, in worth, in talent shine, Though pain, and want unsuccour'd, mine! Adorning this terrestrial sphere, Be long an Op*e's talents given; And Virtue consecrate the tear When call'd to join her native Heaven!
A. K.
~142~~ warriors, statesmen, poets, and philosophers, in social communion: not forgetting the lady who had three hundred and sixty-five children at a birth!!{1}
The baronet made many congees to the great and inferior personages by whom he was surrounded, admired the heterogeneity of the group, and regretted that their imperfect creation precluded the possibility of converse.
One of the figures, by an unobserved excitement of the attendant, now inclined its head to Sir Felix, who, nothing daunted, immediately assumed the attitude of Macbeth in the banquet scene, and exclaimed,
“Nay, if thou canst nod, speak too! if our graves And charnel houses give those we bury back, Our monuments shall be the maws of kites.”
The company present pronounced the baronet a player, and a lady, to whom the manly and athletic form of the supposed tragedian had given apparent pleasure, assured him she had never heard the passage more impressively delivered, and that certainly, in the character of the Scottish Usurper, there was no doubt of his becoming to Mr. Kran a very formidable rival!
Sir Felix sustained his part admirably, expressing his high acknowledgment of the lady's favorable opinion; but the enquiry when and in which theatre, he meant to make his first appearance, had so nearly deranged his gravity and that of his two friends, as to induce them to hasten their retreat.
Dashall and Tallyho congratulated the baronet on his promising dramatic talent, and advised him still further to court the favors of the tragic Muse.
“May the devil burn the tragic Muse!” he exclaimed;
1 Thus runs the legend.--
A lady in former times, who, it seems, like some of our modern visionaries, was an enemy to superabundant population, and would have restricted the procreation of children to those only who could maintain them; was applied to for alms by a poor woman, with no less than five little famishing urchins in her train. The haughty dame not only refused to relieve the unfortunate mendicant, but poured upon her a torrent of abuse, adding that she had no right to put herself in the way of having children whom she could not support.--The woman dropped on her knees, and prayed “that the lady might have as many children at one birth as there were days in the year!” and so, (as the legend runs,) it actually happened!
~143~~ “Arrah, give me the favors of that sweet pretty crature, the comical Muse at the Wax-works, who took me for a player,--Och! the fascination of her smile and the witchery of her eye before all the Muses that ever fuddled the brain of a garreteer!”
“Why baronet,” said the Squire, “you are love-struck,--deeply lurched,--taken in by the knowing one!”
“Taken in, that is as it may hereafter happen, but an Irishman, my jewel, is never so desperately in love with one girl but he can spare a bit of affection for another.
“Sure love is the soul of a nate Irishman, He loves all that's lovely, loves all that he can With his sprig of shilleleagh and shamrock so green.”--
The three friends had now rounded the corner at the bottom of Fleet-street, in the direction of Blackfriars, when Dashall claimed the attention of his associates.--
“This is the domicil,” said he, “of the patriotic Alderman, who, during so many years has uniformly and ably opposed the civic hirelings of Corruption, advocated the cause of Freedom, and acquired the well-earned meed of high estimation by all the respectable and independent portion of his fellow-citizens.
“Firm in principle, and resolute in difficulty, the conscientious discharge of his duty has ever been his prominent object. But perhaps in no instance has he so greatly endeared himself to humanity, than in that of the long protracted inquest on the bodies of the two unfortunate men, Honey and Francis, the victims of military outrage; his constant attendance and indefatigable exertions on that occasion, were the means of eliciting many particulars which otherways might not have been known, and which ultimately led the Jury to record the atrociousness of the crime by the several verdicts of murder and manslaughter.
“Again, on the memorable day of the funeral of these two immolated men, Mr. W. in his capacity of Sheriff, supported with becoming dignity, his high station, and undaunted amidst imminent danger, enforced obedience even from the military, and saved the effusion of human blood.”
London exhibits, daily, a series of depravity perhaps unparalleled in any other part of the British Empire.--
~144~~ Dashall had just finished his eulogium on the worthy Alderman, in which his friends heartily coincided, when the attention of the triumvirate was attracted by the appalling appearance of five men rivetted together, and conducted along the street by officers of justice. Tallyho enquired into the nature of their crimes, and was informed that they were in custody under suspicion of house-breaking in the night-time, and that two of them, particularly, had been taken in the house which they had plundered, regaling themselves, in perfect ease, with cold meat, wine, and liquors, and the stolen property tied up in a bag, with which, on the moment of alarm, they attempted an escape, but were intercepted in their retreat, and taken in charge by the officers after a desperate resistance, in which shots and hurts were received both by the victors and the vanquished. It is almost beyond belief, that men engaged in an enterprise wherein ignominious death awaits discovery, would sit down to regale themselves after having secured their booty, with as much composure, as if in their own homes; yet so it is; such is the daring callousness of mind attached to long confirmed and successful habits of guilt.{1}
1 Police. Mansion House.--William Johnson was charged by Mr. Miller of Lower Thames Street, on suspicion of having com- mitted a robbery on Thursday night, under circumstances of rather an extraordinary kind.. Mr. Miller's evidence was to the following effect. He has a cut glass and earthenware warehouse in Thames Street, but does not reside there. Upon visiting his warehouse yesterday morning, he found that thieves had been very busy upon the concern the night before. They did not get much, but while they were in the house they enjoyed themselves. They lighted a fire, and paid a visit to the wine-cellar, from which they took two bottles of wine and three bottles of perry, which it seemed they drank warm with sugar, and Mr. Miller received a very polite letter from one of them, acknowledging the obligations they were under to him for the excellent beverage his cellar afforded. Upon examining other parts of the premises. Mr. Miller found that his iron chest had been forced open. The instrument (a large chissel) with which this feat was performed was lying on the premises, and a dark lanthorn, which the thieves had forgotten, was also picked up in the course of the search. The petty cash drawers of the iron chest lay open empty, but Mr. Miller believed there had been in them when he left the Warehouse, a sum perhaps not exceeding a couple of pounds. The bills and papers were not taken away, neither had any thing been removed that was likely to be recovered. Some silver cruet-tops were taken, but the cruets were left behind. The chissel, which, though very strong, had been broken in the effort to open the chest, was of the largest size. All the rooms of the building, except those in front, had been visited by the depredators, and there were various circumstances concurring to fix a very strong suspicion on the prisoner, besides the probability that he was the writer of the letter “of thanks” to Mr. Miller for the entertainment afforded. The letter, which was written in a good hand, began with the word “Gemmen,” and stated that they (the writer and his friends) had called, regretted that there was no “wassel in the lob,” (money in the chest) but expressed the highest opinion of the wine, begged pardon for disturbing the papers, and expressed how happy those who drank the wine would be to visit the premises upon a future occasion! The prisoner was remanded.
~145~~ It sometimes happens that even juvenile depredators who have imbibed a propensity for liquor, have been caught in the snare thus laid by themselves. Of this fact Dashall gave the following very curious illustration.--“A few evenings ago,” said he, “the family of my next door neighbour retired to rest, leaving every thing, as they imagined, in a state of perfect security. On the servant however, coming down stairs in the morning, he was surprised to find a new and unexpected inmate, fast asleep in the kitchen, a quantity of plate packed up lay by his side, and before him were a bottle of brandy and another of wine. He was a lad not more than sixteen years of age, who had ingeniously contrived, in the nighttime, to get access to the house, and having secured his spoil, had resorted to the pantry and wine-cellar for refreshment. Of the stores from the latter receptacle, he had partaken so liberally that he was thrown into a deep slumber, from which he was roused by the unwelcome voice of the Officer who had been sent for to take him into custody.”
Our perambulators had now passed along the bridge, and advanced a short distance on Blackfriar's road, when they observed a spacious travelling caravan, stationary by the side of the high way, intimating that there was to be seen within, the great northern bear, known by the name of “Autocrat of All the Russias,” while a fellow with a speaking tube invited in the most alluring terms of itinerant oratory, the gaping multitude to walk in,--“Walk in, ladies and gentlemen, and behold this most wonderous of all wonders that ever was wondered at in this wonderful world,--the Ursa major,--that gives its name to one of the constellations, and was taken by a ruse de guerre in one of the hitherto undiscovered deserts of the remotest Siberia! This stupendous animal was sent from these unknown regions as a present to a certain great personage in this country, who having a superabundancy of native bears already prowling about him, was pleased to order the dismission of this northern stranger, without a pension; and thus it came into the possession of its present exhibiter!”
~146~~ This irresistible invitation was accepted by several of the auditory, including the baronet, Dashall, and the Squire, who were gratified beyond their anticipations, with a sight of the great polar bear, the desolate inhabitant of a frigid and dismal clime, where Nature has forbid the vegetative, and stinted the growth of the animal creation, with the exception of the shaggy wanderer of the desert and the floundering leviathan of the ocean. The animal was perfectly tractable; and its exhibition well compensated both for time and gratuity.
The proprietor, however, in answer to an enquiry apart by Dashall, acknowledged that his Ursine companion had never been attached to the household of any great personage; although a northern quadruped of lesser interest was under the protection of one of the Royal Dukes and frequently played its mischievous gambols in the environs of Kensington Palace.{1}
1 The Bear at Kensington Palace. Early on Sunday morn-ing it was discovered, that a large black bear, sent as a present to His Royal Highness the Duke of Sussex, had contrived to break out of his cage, which was placed in a coach-house, and Bruin, having an inclination to explore these premises, containing a hand-some new chariot, mounted the foot-board, and began to play with the tassels; he next ascended the roof and the box, the covering of which became a prey to his claws; after enjoying himself as an outside passenger, as long as he thought proper, he proceeded to examine the interior of the vehicle, and turning from the box, made his entre through the front windows into the carriage, which bore serious marks of his savage curiosity. No one dared to approach this northern visitor, and in order to prevent further depredations in his probable rambles, guards were placed, with fixed bayonets, until some keepers arrived from a Menagerie, who secured him, after great difficulty, in one of their strong cages.
Chapter X
“Oh the dear pleasures of the velvet plain, The painted Tablets, deal't and deal't again Cards, with what rapture, and the polish'd die The yawning chasm of indolence supply. Then to the Dance and make the sober moon Witness of joys that shun the sight of noon. Blame cynic if you can, quadrille or ball, The snug close party, or the splendid hall, “Where night down stooping from her ebon throne Views constellations brighter than her own. 'Tis innocent and harmless, and refined, The balm of care, elysium of the mind.”
~147~~ THE rapid succession of novelty in a Life in London where the scenes like those of a Pantomime are constantly changing
“From grave to gay, from lively to severe,”
scarcely required those attentions which the Hon. Tom Dashall continued to enjoy on the score of arrangements for the gratification and information of his cousin. He was ever watchful of opportunities to furnish new views of Real Life and character to Tallyho, and who never failed to profit by his observations upon Men and manners: for Tom, notwithstanding the gaiety of his disposition, was an acute and discerning companion, who having mingled in all ranks and degrees of Society, was able to associate himself with the high or the low, as circumstances might require, and to form tolerably accurate estimates of those by whom he was surrounded.
It was, therefore, with his usual view to the accomplishment of his cousin as a votary of Real Life in London, that he had proposed a visit to a fancy dress Ball at Almack's, and preparations had accordingly been made between them.
“A Fancy dress Ball,” said Tom, in order to give his cousin an idea of the entertainment he was to partake, “bears some similitude to a Masquerade, with two important exceptions: first, Masks are not general; and second, ~148~~ No practical Jokes are expected or admitted. Dress however, is left wholly to the taste or inclination of the visitors, and the amusements consist principally of dancing and cards. The Rooms are of the most splendid description, and the company generally of the first order; combining all that is elegant and fashionable in what is termed the higher ranks of society,--'Tis said
“If once to Almacks you belong, Like monarchs you can do no wrong. But banish'd thence on Wednesday night, By Jove you can do nothing right. I hear (perhaps the story false is,) From Almacks, that he never waltzes With Lady Anne or Lady Biddy, Twirling till he's in Love, or giddy. The girl a pigmy, he a giant, His cravat stiff, her corset pliant. There, while some jaded couple stops, The rest go round like humming tops. Each in the circle with its neighbour Sharing alternate rest and labour; While many a gentle chaperon As the fair Dervises spin on, Sighs with regret that she was courted, Ere this new fashion was imported. Ere the dull minuet step had vanished, . With jigs and country scrapers banished.
But ---- whose energy relaxes No more revolves upon his axis, As sounds of cymbal and of drum Deep clanging from the orch'tra come, And round him moves in radiance bright Some beauteous beaming sattelite. Nor ventures as the night advances, On a new partner in French dances, Nor his high destiny fulfilling Through all the mazes of quadrilling, Holds, lest the figure should be hard Close to his nose a printed card, Which for their special use invented, To beaus on entrance is presented. A strange device one must allow, But useful as it tells them how To foot it in their proper places, Much better than their partners faces.
Mark how the married and the single, In yon gay groupes delighted mingle: Midst diamonds blazing, tapers beaming, Midst Georges, Stars, and Crosses gleaming. We gaze on beauty, catch the sound Of music, and of mirth around. And discord feels her empire ended At Almacks--or at least suspended.”
“Zounds,” said Dashall, “I am happy to see the Rooms so well attended this evening, and particularly to find Mr. Maitland and his two lovely sisters. Do you observe,” continued he, “that Gentleman in Regimentals on the opposite side?”
“I do, and is he in the Army?” enquired Bob “No,” replied Tom, “that is only an assumed character for the Evening, but I must introduce you to them, though the Ladies are considered to be sharp shooters with their eyes, therefore it will be necessary for you to be on your guard.”
“I've heard that by a single glance Strange witchery is sometimes done, And only by a look askance, Ladies have many a lover won.”
The elegant and tasteful illuminations of the Room, the sprightly sound of the music by a well selected band, and the gay movements of the well dressed circles, were attractive in the mind of Tallyho, and alternately rivetted his attention, while his cousin was as frequently addressed and congratulated by his friends.
“My Dear Tom,” said Maitland, who was lounging round the Room with his two sisters, and who seemed to consider himself the rose of the party by the affected levity of a military character, “I am glad to see you--'pon Honor--just going to make up a quadrille--know you are a good dancer--list you in my Corps with Misa Maitland's permission--but can't be denied 'pon Honor.”
“That is very gallant, truly,” replied a lovely and interesting girl, his eldest sister. “With my permission, and yet he won't be denied.”
“If Miss Maitland were to command,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “denial were impossible, disobedience were disgrace and dishonor.”--bowing politely to the Ladies.
“Vastly pretty indeed Mr. Dashall, and to speak the truth I am very glad to find you here; for you know my brother is but a nobody, except when he shews himself off in Regimentals:” replied Miss Maitland.
~150~~ “Aye, and we want somebody to talk to,” continued her sister.
“'Pon my word, this is strange ill usage,” said Maitland.-“I shall desert.”
“Nay,” said Tom, “there is no need of that: but if you do, the ladies shall not be deserted while I have a hand at their service, and I believe I may venture to offer additional protection on the part of my Cousin.”
Bob nodded assent, and assured the party he was proud of the honor of the introduction; while Maitland eyed him from top to toe, and was heartily laughed at by his sisters, which not a little mortified him.
“If that's the case,” said he, taking out his quizzing-glass, and staring each of them in the face in succession, “why I've nothing more to say upon it, so come along, I am anxious for a dance.” The music just at the moment striking off, a Quadrille was formed, but the younger sister having declined dancing, Bob, who had no great inclination to “trip it on the light fantastic toe,” had a good opportunity of following her example, and during the dance they amused themselves with observations on the dresses and manners of the company before them, in the course of which he discovered that Maitland was something of the fashionable insipid, and not very high in the general estimation of the Ladies, and the contrast between the easy and graceful movements of the Hon. Tom Dashall, with those of Maitland braced up in military uniform, and dancing with the stiffness of a Halbert, afforded them high amusement, it brought to Tallyho's recollection a French Dancing Master in the country, who, upon the occasion of his annual Ball, perceiving a gentleman and lady in person and figure perfectly contrasted, the latter being short and stout, and the former tall and thin, addressed the Gentleman in the following complimentary stile, as well as his broken English would admit, “Ma dear sare--bien obligé--ah! ma goot sare--you vill do me the honneur to lead off de next dance--you do dance as de Poker, and your Lady she do dance as de Butter fierke”--(meaning a butter firkin.) The allusions were exactly in point, and the company within hearing, did not suffer the sarcasm to escape unnoticed. How far the observations were well timed by the dancing master, or well received by the loving couple, is not our business here to enquire.
~151~~ Miss Caroline Maitland was about 20 years of age, of a most prepossessing and engaging form, fond of dress and full of vivacity with no mean conception of her own wit or captivating powers, her attire was elegant and shewy, almost approaching to the gaudy, rather than the selection of refined Taste and Judgment.
Miss Amelia was about 19 with features calculated to make conquest certain where the attack was not made on hearts of stone, the simple modesty of her wardrobe seemed rather to indicate the thoughtful and contemplative mind, rich in its own resources, and requiring no foil to render conspicuous its real value, her auburn locks parted in the front, discovered a fine well arched forehead, from under which darted glances from her beautiful dark eyes, that when purposely directed for observation, spoke volumes to the heart. Unadorned by the feathers which waved in majestic splendor over the temples of her sister as she threaded through the mazy windings of the dance, she attracted the attention of the company in a much greater degree than the dress-delighted Caroline. Her figure was neither well nor ill formed, but the open and animated expression of her countenance, together with the graces of her mind, would in the opinion of all judicious thinkers, have been considered as a compensation for the absence of beautiful form. Her whole appearance however, was not only pleasing, it was prepossessing, while her manners and conversation were captivating. Bob gazed and admired, listened and was charmed.
The Hon. Tom Dashall was at the same time fully occupied in his attentions to the other sister, but could not occasionally help a sly glance at Bob, indicative of the pleasure he derived from seeing his cousin thus engaged.
The Quadrille being over, “Come,” said Col. Maitland, “we must go and have a peep at the Card Tables, and enquire how the cash moves, for you know if your aunt is losing her money, she will be as cross as the----”
“Silence Charles,” said his sister, “remember you have no occasion to make such observations here, why you might almost as well entertain us with a pedigree of the family, as expose the tempers and dispositions of your relations; besides I am sure the party alluded to would feel herself very much offended to hear such conversation in a Ball room. It is neither a fit time or place;”--and with ~152~~ this, each of his sisters seizing an arm, led him towards the Card Room, alternately schooling him as they passed along, and leaving our Heroes to draw their own conclusions from what had occurred.
“Thus it is,” said Tom, “that a Commander in the field is obliged to be an obedient in the Ball Room, he is however a very poor creature at the best of times, and depends more upon the abilities of others than his own for the appearance he makes in the world, and is rather to be looked at than admired and esteemed. Here,” continued he, “I shall have an opportunity of introducing you to a character of another kind, here is my friend Dick Distich, a logger of Rhyme, a poet and a contemplative philosopher, he is recently married, but appears to be without his rib.”
“My dear friend Dashall,” exclaimed a tall thin man advancing and catching him by the hand, “I am glad to see you, for I am bewildered and lost.”
“Good,” replied Tom, “then I am very glad to have found you, what is the Reward--are you advertised--are your manuscripts stolen, or is your Library on Fire? Has the good woman brought forth twins or disappointed your hopes?”
“Walk this way,” replied the other, “you are a happy fellow, always gamesome and gay, but I know you have a fellow feeling for all mankind, and will pour the balm of pity into a wounded heart.”
“Zounds,” said Tom, “you attack a body with a mouthful of pity, and a heart full of wounds at a strange time, for the introduction of such subjects. What can you mean, probably you appear here as the knight of 'the woeful countenance, with a determination to support the character to the end of the chapter. Why you look as melancholy as a mute, and one would almost fancy you were making a funeral visit, instead of attending a Mask'd
“I have enough to make me so,” was the reply, “I shall be brief in my narrative, in order that I may not interfere with your enjoyments, and you know that mine are of another kind. I am routed from home.”--
“How do you mean?”
“Thus it is then, you know I am a plain man, a quiet man, a civil and humble man. I hate Balls and Routs, but my wife and I differ in taste. She has determined ~153~~ on having a Rout at home, and it proves no misnomer with me, for Heaven knows they rout me from Study to Drawing Room, from Drawing Room to Chamber, and all because truly my little woman must have her party.”
“And why not?” enquired Tom.
“Why man for this reason, you must know I had myself the sweetest little sanctuary in the world. I had gothicised my Study, its walls were painted in imitation of oak, my books were arranged with the most unauthor-like neatness, my prints hung, my casts and models all bracketed, and all have vanished like the
--baseless fabric of a vision.”
“And is this your misery,” said Tom, “upon my soul I began to think you had lost your wife; but it seems you have only lost your wits. What the devil did you expect when you joined issue--to live as you have done like a hermit in a cell? Well if this is all I do pity you indeed.”
“But you have not heard half yet. The whole house is transformed.”
“And I think you ought to be reformed,” continued Tom.
Notwithstanding the lightness and satire with which our Hero appeared to treat the subject, poor Distich was not to be stayed in his course.
“Ah!” said he, with a sigh, “In vain did Cicero strain his neck to peep over Burke on the Sublime and Beautiful--Shakespeare beard Blair's Sermons and Humphrey Glinkert or Milton's sightless balls gleam over Sir Walter Scott's Epics--all, all, is chaos and misrule. Even my greenhouse over my head which held three ci-devant pots of mignonette, one decayed mirtle, a soi-disant geranium and other exotics, which are to spring out afresh in the summer--my shrubs are clapped under my couch, and my evergreens stuck over the kitchen fire place, are doomed to this unpropitious hot-bed, in order to make room for pattens, clogs, cloaks, and shawls, for all the old maids in Town.”
Tom bit his lip to stifle a laugh, and treading lightly on the toe of his cousin, had so strongly excited Tallyho's risibility, that it was with difficulty he resisted the momentary impulse.
The routed Benedict continued--“Our Drawing Room, ~154~~which conveniently holds ten persons, is to be the black hole for thirty--My study, dear beloved retreat, where sonnets have been composed and novels written--this spot which just holds me and my cat, is to be the scene of bagatelle, commerce, or any thing else that a parcel of giggling girls may chuse to act in it,--my statues are converted--Diabolus is made to hold a spermaceti candle, while the Medicean nymph, my Apollo Belvidere, and my dancing fawn, being too bulky to move, are adorned with aprons of green silk, because forsooth Betty says they are vastly undecent with nothing on them, and my wife is quite certain “that no one will visit us, unless we do as other people do.” Alas! until the success of my last poem, we never cared about other people, and I am now absolutely turned out, to make room for them, and advised to come here to-night in order to prepare myself for the approaching festivity.”
Dashall was unable to contain himself longer, and Bob, who had been for some time stuffing his white cambric handkerchief into his mouth, could no longer resist the laugh he had been trying to avoid. They look'd alternately at each other, and then at the doleful complainant, who with unaltered features sat for a moment between his laughing companions, till perceiving the ridiculous situation he was in, he rose from his seat and hastily left the room.
Our friends then took a further survey of the company without making any additional remark except upon the view of the various elegant and tasteful dresses exhibited, the grace and agility of the dancers, and the brilliance of the decorations, when supper was announced.
Moving onward to the Supper Room, they again encountered poor Distich, who although he had no relish for the generality of the amusements, declared he would not quit till he had supped: after which, Tom determined if possible to drive away the blue devils, who seemed to have occupied his brain. For this purpose he listened to his additional complaints, and filling his glass at every pause, became lively and agreeable, as the toast was circulated, till the invigorating effects of the bottle sunk him again, and at length putting him into a hackney coach, they dispatched him in good order to his Rib; after which they took their departure towards Piccadilly.~155~~
Chapter XI
“I be one of they sailors who think 'tis no lie That for every wherefore there should be a why, That by fortune's strange weather a calm or a squall, Our births, good or bad are chalk'd out for us all: That the stays and the braces of Life will be found To be some of 'em rotten, and some of 'em sound. Thus the good we should cherish, the bad never seek, For death will too soon bring each anchor apeak.”
IT was half past eleven o'clock before our friends approaching the breakfast parlour, had an opportunity of congratulating each other on the amusements of the previous evening, when the Hon. Tom Dashall ever upon the active look-out for the most pleasureable amusements to occupy the mind and attention of his cousin, observing it was a very tine morning, proposed a ride to Greenwich, and with this object in view all being prepared, it was not long before they were seated in the curricle.
“Greenwich,” said Tom, “is not a very long journey, nor do I know, speaking of the town itself, independent of its surrounding attractions, particularly to be admired, though it is a neat town, about five miles from London Bridge, in the county of Kent, with a market on Wednesdays and Saturdays. It is however, famous for an hospital for decayed Seamen, the brave defenders of their native soil, who have fought and bled for their king and country; thought to be the finest structure of the kind in the world, and for an observatory built by Charles II. on the summit of a hill, called Flamstead Hill, from the great astronomer of that name, who was here the first astronomer Royal: and we compute the longitude from the meridian of this place. It is also a place of great resort at holiday time, for being so near London. The Lads and Lasses move off in groups to Greenwich fair, and the amusements at those times are of so varying a kind as almost to defy description.
“The hills and dales are lined With pretty girls all round.”
~156~~And there are but few who have had an opportunity, but have occasionally enjoyed a roll down this hill. The roads leading to the sporting spot are to be seen clogged with coaches, carts, and waggons, decorated with laurel, and filled with company, singing their way down or up to participate in the frolics of Greenwich fair. It is however, much more celebrated for its once having been a Royal Palace, in which Edward VI. died, and Queen Mary and Queen Elizabeth were born. On a part of the site of it, now stands the house belonging to the Ranger of the Park at Greenwich, also a College called the Duke of Norfolk's College, for the maintenance of 20 decayed Housekeepers, and another called Queen Elizabeth's, as well as a Royal Naval asylum for the orphans of Sailors and Marines; and although we are going down when there is no fair to attract multitudes to the spot, I can still promise you more solid entertainment in a review of these truly splendid and useful national establishments, besides which, the town affords plenty of good accommodation for refreshment and comfort.”
By this time they had passed Westminster Bridge on their road. Bob thanked his cousin for the information he had imparted, but as the objects and subjects directly under his eye generally engrossed his immediate attention, he could not resist the impulse of the moment, as they turned the corner of the asylum wall, to remark that he had witnessed in many instances before, a practice which appeared in and about London, of chalking the walls, and perceiving in large letters “Dr. Eady 32 Dean Street Soho,” enquired what was meant by it.
“That,” replied his cousin, “is one of the most ingenious modes of advertising, hit upon in the Metropolis, and the Doctor at all events deserves credit for the industry and perseverance he has manifested in making his name known. It is not altogether new, for it has been successfully practiced in popular elections. Men are sent out at night to chalk the names of Candidates on walls and other places, to keep their interest alive; but in all probability no one has ever before carried the system to so great a length as this Doctor Eady, for it is scarcely possible to travel ten miles round the metropolis without meeting with his name, which naturally excites enquiry into the object and pretensions of the chalked up Hero. You will also find in many cases that the proprietor of the Bonassus has ~157~~lately adopted the same system. It is a species of puffing which can hardly fail of producing notoriety, and I have before observed, it matters but little to the parties themselves by what means this is produced save and except the avoidance of expence.”
“It is a curious scheme however,” replied Bob, “and I have two or three times before intended to enquire its meaning.”
“There are numerous instances,” returned Tom, “in which the eccentricities of an individual have blown him into notice, and puff'd fortune into his pocket. Packwood of Gracechurch street, had many whims and fancies, and acted upon the idea, that when a man's name is once up, he may go to bed, or take a nod elsewhere. By making razor strops and a certain paste for sharpening razors, he pasted his name on public credulity, and pocketed the proceeds. His advertisements were frequently laughable, and he caught his customers in their risible moments, wisely taking care never to laugh himself, 'till he had realized the possibles. I remember in the year 1807, he published a book, price “Two good Tower shillings,” containing his advertisements, entitled “Packwood's whim, Packwoodiana, or the Goldfinches nest, or the way to get money and be happy.” And to make the publication worth the money, and that there might be no grumbling, An half crown was according to the title-page, placed between the leaves.”
“That was no laughing matter, however,” said Bob, “he could not have got rich by such means.”
“You must not trust the title-pages of books,” replied Tom, “no more than the advertisements of Quacks, or the looks of persons. The half crown was not visible, or at least not tangible. It proved to be an anecdote related in the work. He however managed to circulate many copies, and it is generally understood, gained considerable money by his pursuits. He has left the benefit of his invention to his daughter, who now lives in Bride Lane, Fleet Street. But a more prominent character of recent times was the late celebrated Martin Van Butchell, whose name and fame are well known to Newspaper readers, and whose personal appearance at all times, excited in London the attention of the spectators. He was rather a tall man with a very long beard, and used to ride a short pony sometimes, spotted all over with a variety of colours.”
~158~~ “He must have cut a curious figure,” said Bob, “certainly, but what building have we here?”
“That,” replied his communicative cousin, “is The New Bethlem for the care and cure of lunatics. Bethlem was formerly situated on the South side of Moorfields, but as that building was hastening to decay, this elegant receptacle for its inmates has been prepared. It is not a little curious to remark, that it now occupies a part of that ground which was formerly devoted to mirth and revelry, The Dog and Duck Tea Gardens, the scene of many a frolic. The structure was designed by Mr. Lewis, and executed at an expence of £95,000. It is 580 feet in length, and capable of receiving in this front 200 patients. Another line of building extending to the South, is designed to admit an equal number, as well as 60 lunatics, the charge of which latter department, exclusively belongs to Government. The ground around it, occupying twelve acres, is devoted to the exercise of the patients.”
They were now dashing along the road towards the Elephant and Castle, when Bob was attracted by the appearance of the Philanthropic Chapel and School, which his cousin dismissed in a few words, by observing it was the school of reform, which he had alluded to, when last in the vicinity of Blackfriars, and which deserved more attention than he could just then give it. So touching up the tits in prime twig, they pushed on to the originally proposed place of destination.
Having arrived at Greenwich, and partaken of some refreshment, our heroes proceeded immediately to the Hospital; the magnificent appearance of which had an evident effect upon Tallyho, as he gazed upon its exterior, and some of its venerable inhabitants taking their peaceable walks before it, while others were seated on accommodating benches, viewing the vessels passing up and down the river.
“Why,” said Bob, “this Hospital is more like a Palace.”
“It is,” replied Tom, “a noble monument of National gratitude to its defenders, who deserve to be protected and assisted when disabled for service. Here the lame, the wounded, and the aged, are enabled to spin out the thread of a useful existence, in comfortable retirement. It was founded by William and Mary for invalid seamen, and many an old Commodore and gallant hardy Tar is ~159~~ preserved in this establishment, after being doused from his pins, to puff old sorrow away and sing,
“Yet still I am enabled To bring up in life's rear, Although I'm quite disabled And lie in Greenwich tier. The King, God bless his Majesty, Who sav'd me from the main, I'll praise with Love and Loyalty, But ne'er to sea again.”
“You perceive,” continued he, “that the costume of the place is a suit of blue, with proper distinctions of rank and station allotted to each.”
“But,” inquired Bob, “some of them appear to have their coats turned inside out; is that according to choice?”--“Not so,” replied Tosi, “that is a mark of disgrace, by way of punishment, for some errors or improprieties of which they have been guilty; and there are some, in spite of misfortune, who cannot forget former times, and occasionally verify the words of the song--
“So in misfortune's school grown tough, In this same sort of knowledge, Thinking mayhap I'd had enough, They sent me here to College.
And here we tell old tales and smoke, And laugh while we are drinking; Sailors, you know, will have their joke, E'en though the ship were sinking.
For I while I get grog to drink My wife, or friend, or King in, 'Twill be no easy thing, I think, D---- me to spoil my singing.”
And although used to severe discipline on board a ship, they do sometimes forget what they are subject to here, and “slip the cable upon an ocean of grog,” grow dizzy over the binnacle, unship the rudder, lose their calculations, and stand too far out to sea to reach the intended Port; but more of this presently. You perceive this magnificent structure consists of four grand buildings, completely separated from each other; yet forming a very entire and most beautiful plan--especially viewed from the river, which runs in the front of it. Here the comforts and ~160~~ conveniences of the hardy veterans, who have faced the enemies of their country in many fearful encounters, are studied, when they can no longer give the word of command, or answer it in such active services. The four different buildings you now see, contain accommodations for bed and board for about 2600 persons of different ranks and stations; and you may perceive by those you have before you, that the ranks they have formerly held in his Majesty's employ are still visible in their outward habiliments.”
They were now in the centre of the building, approaching the edge of the Thames, on whose bosom were seen sundry small vessels, gliding in majestic pride; and perceiving a seat capable of holding four or five persons, in the corner of which sat an old weather-beaten tar, in a gold-laced hat and coat, with a wooden leg, who was watching with apparent delight one of the larger vessels, with all her sails set to catch the breeze; they took a seat alongside of him.
“Come,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “we may here at «ase survey the exertions of such as still retain the power, and contemplate the comforts of those who no longer have powers to exert.” The Pensioner remained in mute attention to the moving scene on the river, occasionally smiling and squirting from his jaws the accumulating essence of his quid, seeming at the same time to enjoy in retrospection scenes similar to what he had formerly been engaged in, but without bestowing one look on our Heroes. “There is a fine fresh breeze down the river,” continued Tom, addressing the wooden legged warrior; and then a pause ensued--but no reply.
“It is a beautiful situation for retirement in old age,” said Bob. “I should think, Sir,” said he, “that you must be very comfortable under this protecting roof,” determined, if possible, to elicit something from the hardy old Pensioner, approaching a little closer to him, and at the same time to take his attention, respectfully moving his hat.
Tins address, however, was received with nearly the same effect as the previous observations, except that the veteran moved his hat in return. “He is a churlish old blade,” said Tom; thinking by this remark to rouse and animate the blood of their taciturn companion.--“There seems to be no intelligence in him. Pray, Sir,” continued he, “may I be so bold as to inquire, laying his hand upon ~161~~ his knee, what is the name of that vessel on which you appear to bestow so many anxious looks?”
Roused by the touch, he darted a hasty look at Tom, and then at Bob, started hastily from his seat, held up his stick, as they supposed, in a menacing attitude, then shouldering it, he marched, or rather hobbled, on his wooden pin some paces from them, and, with an air of commanding authority, returned in front of them, took off his hat, and began to describe two lines on the gravel, but which was to them perfectly unintelligible.
However, in a few minutes, the arrival of a younger Pensioner, with one arm and a wooden stump, in breathless haste, informed them that the old gentleman was deaf and dumb.
“God bless you, my worthy masters,” said the interpreter, who first paid his respects to the old Commodore, “you have started my revered commander on his high ropes; he is as deaf as the top-lights, and as dumb as a stantion: two and twenty years ago, your Honors, he and I were both capsized together on board; the shot that took off his leg splintered my arm, and the doctor kindly took it off for me afterwards.”
“That was a lamentable day for you,” said Tom. “Why aye, for the matter of that there, d'ye see, it disabled us from sarvice, but then we both of us had some consolation, for we have never been separated since: besides, we were better off than poor Wattie the cook, who had his head taken off by a chain-shot, and was made food for sharks, while we are enabled to stump about the world with the use of our remaining limbs, and that there's a comfort, you know.”
During this introductory conversation, the old Commodore was intent upon the work he had began, which, upon inquiry, was a sort of practical description of the situation in which the ships were placed at the period when he lost his limb. “He is now pouring in a broadside, and in imagination enjoying a part of his life over again. It is a sorry sight, my worthy Sirs, and yet upon the whole it is a cheerful one, to see an old man live his time over again; now he is physicing them with
grape-shot--Bang--Bang--like hail--my eyes how she took it--Go it again, my boys, said the old Commodore--Ditto repeated, as the Doctor used to say. D----m the Doctor; the words were scarcely out of his mouth, when down he ~162~~ went; and as I stood alongside him, ready to attend to his orders, I was very near being sent down the hatchway stairs without assistance; for the same shot that doused my old master, carried away my arm just here.--” D----me,” said the old man, to his brave crew, as they carried us down to the cockpit--“I shall never forget it as long as I live--That was a pepperer--Once more, my boys, and the day's your own.--My eyes, he had hardly said the words, before--Bang, bang, went our bull dogs--and sure enough it was all over. They cried Piccavi, and went to the Doctor; but after that I know no more about the matter--we were a long while before we got the better of our wounds; and as for him, he has never spoken since--and as to hearing, I believe he never wished to hear any more, than that the enemies of his country had got a good drubbing.”
By this time the old gentleman having gone through his manouvres, with perhaps as much accuracy as my Uncle Toby did the siege of Dendermond--having blown up the enemy with a flourish of his stick, made a profound bow, and hobbled away.--“Thank you, my friend,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “for your information; we should never have understood him without your assistance, for which accept of this, and our best wishes--giving him a couple of half-crowns, with which, after thanking the donors, he made the best of his way in search of the old Commodore, who put our heroes forcibly in mind of the following lines:
“What a d----d bad time for a seaman to sculk, Under gingerbread hatches on shore; What a d----d hard job that this battered old hulk, Can't be rigg'd out for sea once more.”
“Thus you see,” said Dashall, “how our habits become rooted in us: the old Commodore, though unable to give the word of command, or to hear the thunder of the cannon, still lives in the midst of the battle, becomes warmed and animated by the imaginary heat of the engagement, and
“Thrice he routed all his foes, And thrice he slew the slain.”
“But come, we will now proceed to a view of the Chapel, the Painted Hall, and the other curiosities of the ~163~~ interior; which done, we will take our refreshment at the Crown, and pursue our way home.”
They now took another cursory survey of this magnificent pile of buildings, the grandeur and effect of which is scarcely to be imagined; the beauty and variety being heightened by the grand square, and the area beyond terminating with a view of the Observatory, which stands on a hill in Greenwich Park.
Tallyho was next delighted with a view of the Chapel, which is 111 feet long, and 52 broad, and capable of conveniently accommodating 1000 Pensioners, nurses, and boys, exclusive of pews for the Directors, the several officers of the establishment, &c--The altar-piece, painted by West, representing The escape of St. Paul from Shipwreck on the Island of Malta, and the paintings between the cornice and the ceiling of the Ascension, by the same artist, claimed particular attention. The splendid decorations of the Great Hall, with its variety of paintings and statues, were also objects of peculiar admiration, the effect of which must be seen to be duly appreciated. After these gratifications, according to the proposal of Dashall, they retired, to the Crown, where having partaken of à good dinner, and a glass of wine, they returned to town, fully satisfied with their excursion, and arrived in Piccadilly without any occurrence worthy of further remark.