The Lord of the Manor; or, Lights and Shades of country life

Front matter

VOL. I. OE, LIGHTS AND SHADES OF COTJNTEY LIFE. By THOMAS HALL, Esq. AUTHOR OF "BABY BATTLER," "ROLAND BBADSHAW," Ac. IN TAVO VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON: AVILLIAM SHOBERL, PUBLISHER, 20, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. MDCCCXLII. 0___G_ M'COEWODAtE JWD CO., I SISXEKS. CHAPTEE I. As to wdlich requires the greatest demand upon the faculty caUed invention ; History, Biography, or Fiction, w7e shall not presume to determine: though as the first is often remote, and the second so nearly allied to the privacy, privation, and the struggles of genius, ever to be very communicative, we are of opinion that fiction needs the least of all. Fiction, then, seems to be only a modest way of intro ducing truth : a sly means of gaining it a reception; for, of all inductive writing, none of the theories is so much indebted to skill and contrivance to gain it a lurking place in the temple of knowledge, as this hazardous commodity — truth .

It wiU probably be seen that we have had to en counter some of its difficulties in the following sheets; but still, iu a moment of temerity, w7e resolved not to manifest them further than by a mere change of scene, date, and a few names — the rest being Truth in his naked, and so of course, in his least pleasing form — his opposite character gaining a readier w7elcome, and inducing more sincere pleasure if his attire be august enough, his im pudence modest enough, and the rattle of his pocket-coins be equal to the patented merit found in his note-case. At all events, the reader will have a better chance of n detecting the black face of Mr. Fib in a tale only em bracing some few years' time before his commencing its perusal, than he is likely to do about the acts (historical) of worthies who figured before chronology got into the right method of counting up his sand-glasses, printing had been invented— or the hero: and then writing biography, teUing the pedigree of a man — of genius — who could never well determine in what parish he was born, and if he could, and also had the merit of knowing his parents, used alike caution to forget the first, as not to name the other.

So that Fiction after aU, is only like an algebraical equation; using the unknown quantity as if it were known : calling Fiction x, and working away until truth bursts out like the sun in dog-days — when least expected, but nevertheless in a way which leaves no doubt that it is the sun, and that too in very verity, yes and indeed. Now, tw7o of the principal characters in this book — though neither of them the " Lord of the Manor" — are Wdliam Kent and John Stratford, and so we shall not apologize for going a Uttle into detad as to their births, educations, and personal appearances; and, presuming upon our judgment as to which wiU be the most con venient for the reader, we will start with the latter gentleman — Jacky Stratford. Not that w7e mean to say that even that is the correct name of our second hero: it is the name which was given to him by his mother, but not by his sponsors in baptism.

Chapter I

No man should take up his pen without some motive; whether to promote some views of his own, though wicked, or, if it advantage him, to crush those of another, though virtuous. This may be said to be selfish: why, that is just it, but then it is straightforward. You may mistake a man, but seldom his pen — if used often enough. Thus, whilst some qudls'have been muscularly employed in the reviling of gin-shops, and wiiat are, by their wielders, termed, " the resorts of the dissipated," let it be our humble effort, with the reader's gentle sympathies, to draw our steel and ink in their defence; better, it is trusted, than the steel and blood which have been drawn to support more ancient, though, perhaps, less useful institutions. For what could the poor man do without them ; so long, at least, as there is an equal number of well established and well-capitalled pawn-shops?

If ladies go a-shopping, not because they stand in need, but because they have just received their pin or card money, their allowance, or state bribes; why, surely, a poor man, or his dearer help-mate, after pawning her bed-tick or children's pdlows, her own shoes or hei7.. landlady's fire-irons, has a right to carry the proceeds to where they will meet the readiest welcome. That place is the flaming temple at the top of the dark street, into which the still gloomier court breathes its stenches. What else could the family do with them? Why, nothing, unless buy rosin-chips or coals : stay at home to cook a hot supper: even then, perhaps, scald their mouths in eating it — go to bed so early that they could not sleep after six in the morning — or, perhaps, come to the gloomy determination of never going to a dram-shop again !

Let us leave such murky, fiU-belly, mawky deter minations — dingy-court and sooty-cellar comforts, and attend the levee of the noble proprietor and gentlemanly assistants, of yon one-hundred monster-puncheon bower: where, in day, it is made blithe by the smiles of the proprietor himself — at night, by more, and brighter gas than that of the adjoining thirteen back streets — their courts, alleys, piggeries, and all the Irish lodging-houses. Not a barrel but has a gorgeous picture on its breast: not a hoop but sends forth more splendour than Venus' zone. The shining garniture of the monstrous Old Tom himself, shows that his wealth and discretion are equal to his size and comeliness. Not a pump-handle, even for the most maudlin beer, but would vie, in inlaid-work, with the temple of Solomon. The ceiling renders that of the Queen's drawing-room no longer a sight to the lieges.

The mural enrichments struggle for mastery over that again. But the counter, of divers woods, and marble tops; the spirit stands, and glassery, in turn compel the other to recede with becoming modesty. Who could look at this abode of the Blisses without entering — entering, without wishing to sip from the many sparkling fountains- — nay, get drunk with the TnE LORD OF THE MANOR. inspiritive joy of the mass, and pine-apple rum ; quaff Lethe from every bursting spring; ascend his frightful shores, 'midst the odours of handmaids' scented clothes, perfumed breaths, and the fragrant pipes of cabmen steeped in heavy muddle. So much in praise of this modern Pantheon — which, we may here observe, is on the Surrey-side of West minster bridge — and now, something in favour of the principal godhead. The proprietor of this poor man's Elysium was not less an entity in the scheme of social happiness, than the temple itself: he had done many things to cheer his heart and make smooth his pdlow, should anything, at any time, hint to him the probability of his not wanting the latter any more, or the former going cold after its being so warm during the greater portion of his pilgrimage.

It is true that, in the earliest part of it, he had not been so stiffly honest, as, he had satisfied his neighbours, was the case in his wealthier struggles through this naughty, though, to him, considerate world. And, even then, he considered that all his answers to impertinent questions, put by a little troublesome chap who lived in his breast, w7ould have been more pat, but for having had read to him that beautiful apophthegm of Dr. Franklin's, which sayeth: " It is hard for an empty sack to stand upright." He was an empty one then, now is a very fuU one, and in his own affecting w7ords, he had long given the sack to such pernicious advice: nay, that he would never have an empty sack near his, though the property of his own brother, mother, or father. Let the empty sacks he by themselves!

Now this good man's name was Joseph MeUow, and this good man's person was somewhat short: but, then, it was very plump and equaUy sleek: had a very benevolent face at the top of it, with a rather wicked eye therein — carefully-combed black hair over that again — whilst the age of the whole was about forty-five. He had a beloved wife and five darling children: aU of whom (so he said at a dissenting tea-party) w7ere " the children of her bosom and his line." This worthy missis (that is what he caUed her) said that, though the perprietress of one of the jolliest dram vaults in all London, she would never have a babby inoculated from any other little babby's arm, unless both its papa and mamma were teetotallers. Joseph used to say that he did not think it mattered so much, as that, from the youngest to the very eldest, he never aUowed one to peep, let alone ever to serve, in the temple.

There were poor people's chddren enough to learn temptation and the mysteries of the sacred — and, as always was the case — money-making temple. They should neither serve the contents of Old Tom, nor their time to any trade — unless to a bishop, or if one of the senior judges took a fancy to one of 'em. As to the young ladies; well, certainly, a year or so as maids of honour might give a little poUsh : they might not need it, as they would have everything which goold could tach 'em — but there was time enough to think of these things: — as the largest licen-sed vittler in the O O kingdom, why he paid the greatest amount of duties to the king, and, therefore, ought to receive correspond ing family favours. Now Joseph had, beside this residentiary establishment, seven others: keeping up his own surname upon them, because of its great popularity, but varying the christian names in the licenses, and putting into them those of his cousins, nephew's, or nieces, as might be — all, how7ever, from the country.

Then he owned a third in three smashing paw7n-shops, in wilich were his own brothers; and, to show that he was not ostentatious, his name did not appear in any of these firms, though carefuUy placed in the bonds — which bonds, with equal prudence, were not only placed, but could at any time be found, in his fire-proof safe. " Ah," said Joseph, " a lot of would-be-very-wise people, talks of the hurt such establishments as these is calkdated to do to the suckUng, as weU as the more adult popelation. There may be some as does — for even a church gets abused — but grant it; see the good I does by my three pawn-shops ; (because they are mine ha, ha, ha! whatever the magistracy may pre-sub-mise to the conter-a-ry ;) see, I say, the thousands I daily keep from crowding the work -houses, or smashing lamps, or plate glass panes, the penalties of which is three months' food and clothin in a jad.

If it was not for the money I loan out of these shops, at aU hours of day or night, what a many would have to drowned themselves in the Tames river, in order they could commit suiside. Ah, how httle does the unpremeditating world think of that! " Then, when I was the relieving officer of Lambeth, was I not a father to thousands of poor wanderin creeters? " And is not my wife a mother to her five children? " Did not I advokit the enhancipation of the poor black-man, when I found that it would not interfere with the price of rum? " And though I may have done a good deal of mixing up of my hardened spirits — which after aU wiU do no hurt if the drinker wdl ddute 'em with a strong dose of water — and smugglin, doesn't every body else do the same? " And though my place is supported by such char ac-ters, did I ever serve the biggest prig or the most smashin lady, amongst 'em, after twelve of Saturday nio-ht — or rather of the blessed sabbath mornin?

Not o but, though there is a heavy penalty against it, did I ever refuse to a good customer — in a quantity — and perticler if I thought, nay knowed, he durst not tell. " And what man and his family attends better to his duties, or is oftener visited by his clergyman, or his wife by his pastor's lady — than mine? " And if ever the divil tempted me to go astray, did I ever rob my family of a pound— for such work: and then did I not always say my prayers before and after? "Besides, I am worth fifty thousand pound:" said Joseph, with an imperative nod of the head. " These are warming considerations," continued the worthy self examinant, rubbing his waistcoat from the very bottom to the very top; " they warm without." And Joseph took a little brandy, with hot water and lump sugar; thanked Heaven for its manifold blessings, and — he felt cheered within.

Chapter II

And now to business. The reader may, perhaps, im agine, after the luxurious picture of the estabhshment and its owner, that its customers are on an equally elevated, and richly-attired scale. Why no, to say the truth, the customers were no such visionaries, but seemed rather to seek the blandishments of their temple than to rival it by any ostentatiousness on their part. As we see the same in priest-jockeyed countries — their cathe drals and their congregations always forming the most pleasing contrasts. And not only in their attire were they indifferent, but, though nice in the smell of Old Tom's contents, they were singularly remiss as to that of each other. And Joseph and his assistants being very particular, in these little respects, it accounts for the width of the counters — and the seventeen ventilators.

But, as the reader has seen tbe palace, we will now introduce him to its votaries. Mrs. Brady, there, is an Irish lady; (and the beloved mother of Mr. John Stratford;) she is standing with Mrs. Johnson, the maternal grand-mother of the fair faced William Kent. She deals in lemons — her basket is behind her, in which are about two dozen. Then the other is a Welshwoman — at home, but a lady here. The hoarse man is a pot-seller from Lanca shire. The other dozen, who are staring so, are miscellaneous : — not exactly Rag, Tag, and Robert Tail, but Jink Jack, Tinker Mat, and Sir Stuggy O'Rale. " The truth of the matter is, we are all born to woe, Mother Johnson — " " O, my dear Mrs. Brady, your discoorse is always so cheering." " — With a little of something to wash it down: but go on with your story — here's to you in heavy."

" Ah, my heart's heavy enough, Mrs. Brady: but, as I was saying, my two eldest daughters corned up to me — them as is in business — the most fashionablest milliners — but you know, anywhere. WeU, I say, they got on one side of me; my son from the bank — yes, Mrs. Brady, although so young, he's second cash-keeper there : then my other son, as is head booker at Chaddock's & So., and one as I loves better than all — almost — my eldest daughter's son — her as is dead, poor lamb ! — blessed little boy — William Kent — they aU attackted me at once ; one on them with his arm round my neck, and my best of husbands with my hand hold of his; all impertreating me to abandon myself from lemon-selling, getting too much gin — without, and, don't be offended, my love, they didn't mean you — my low acquaintances, old shoes, and unwashed under-gear.

WeU, you know what I mean — be a mother once more to my family, then they would all subscribe to make me a rale lady. ' Yes, and,' says my eldest daughter, ' you shall have the most finest clothes, and a quart of stout a-day,' to commence the attack on my bad habits. ' And a noggin of gin,' says the banker, 'leaving off by a thimbleful a-day; and tobacco and snuff in reasonable dacincy,' to pass on my time till I had a relish for more improving studies — fancying of my meals, instead of intoxicating drinks; going to a theatre, or to a chapel, for change, instead of, what he caUs, one of these dens of innifunny — don't be vexed, love, he doesn't know you come here — and selling lemons — " "Chapel to the divil! do I ever miss of a Sunday morning? — but proceed. I am afraid you have but a queer family — slightly upstartish: but go on, Divil Johnson — chapel !

" " ' WeU,' and says my dear husband, ' to show you how happy I am at the promise' — I had promised to become one of the family — ' of the wife of the best famdy in England, as I first fell in love with you, for those dear little foots, in my youth, I'll make you the prettiest pair of shoes I ever made yet ; I'll make them with my own hands,' says he, ' although I keep twelve men, yes,' says he, ' if I stay from my duties next Sunday.' And then I give him a kiss, and we aU cried, we was so happy as I was declaimed." "No doubt, what the honest people call 'reclamed,' but go on, Divil Johnson; such fire of joy will soon meet with some cold water, I'm thinking. But how's the exchicquer? even woe, as joy, must have its support, or else why so much whisky at a funeral, or fireworks at a rejoicing — och! you've plinty left I see.

Here, two goes of gin — proceed." " Well, my sweet, dear husband kept his word, and made me the shoes last Sunday, and I went to church with aU my family at night, with my new clothes, and I was, I thank my Redeemer, quite an altered woman; and my husband said, ' Bles3 them little foots, they look as well as they did the first day I prayed it might be my good fortune, at some time or other, to have the measuring of them.' " Well, at supper, I'd my quart of stout, and my noggin of gin, and my 'lowance of tobacco and snuff. I didn't sleep very weU after such a sudden limitation, but I was resolved to get used to it. And so the next morning I rose early, and my husband gave me three shillings to take little Billy Kent, as he's a scholar, you know, to show him the Diorama, and for him to look after me, as I suppose, for fear some of my old friends might wish me to take my mornin with 'em — " " Served him right if you had; to be prigged about by a young shrimp of a grand-son — it's him as led my Jack astray — I'd like a child of mine — but proceed."

"Well, I unbethought me as we was going along Rupert street, that, about a fortnight before, I had left two dozen of lemons — the landlady thinking I was a little too far gone to see 'em home, and so I thought I might as well get the price of 'em, as I had declinated the business, and show my old customer my fine clothes, my new shoes, and what an altered creeter I was, and also to advise her to go to chapel, and to act as an example to her poor be-gas-smoked customers. I had just begun to make her cry, and confess her wicked life, when in come an old friend, who had been receiving her son's prize-money as had been shot in an engagement; and she begun to cry too, to see my changed condition, and to think what a good son the lad as was shot was; and so we all three cried so that we begun to chick-up, and a corn-doctor as was there, said we might all go off in a fit, unless we took a drop of somethin.

Little Billy started at this, and pulled at my gown: — but then, to die in a fit ! and so — I took a little drop of port wine — " " Made you sick?" " Right, Mrs. Brady, I was worse; so then we all agreed to take a drop of pale-brandy. — I would not have touched it, only it was so very pale. WeU, I was a bit better, but still did not feel right until — " " You got to the real genuine blue." " You are a profit. I wras — indeed, we all was easier after the first glass : — and that first had been my last — but where was Willy Kent? I suspected, all at once, that he had run home to teU his grand-father." " A little monster, I would have took another out of revinge." " I did, and should have gone home and presumed my plan of reformation, but I was afraid Johnson might come and catch me in the place, and sol off to another: I recollect getting a drop there, I was so terrified at what I had done — and then I suppose I must have got some more, and have gone somewhere else — where, I have no recoUection ; but I'll be damned it' somebody had not stole the new shoes off my feet — and the very first day I had 'em on!"

" O world, O world, thy infamies! — but order another pot of stout, Divil Johnson, before I begin my sympathe tics. Ah, there! what, steal the shoes of your feet? O planet, O planet, henceforth call thee not earth. And yet it's not the shoes I care a damn about!" " What! a new pair, made of a Sunday?" " It's not that I care for — don't teaze me childer! No, Divd Johnson, it's not the shoes — but it is the ungal lantry of the act that's freezing the beer upon my stomach. If I had been a hen, instead of a lady, that tale had made a hole through my gizzard — to the divd with the beer — or here, give it to the chdder — order in some snips of the rale thing. What? to stale thim off your feet! thank the saints, the act did not polute ould Ireland; I wonder what country gave birth to the mon ster.

I don't think an Englishman would have done it, as, to do him justice, he's naturally polite to a lady. A Scotsman durst not — so far out of his own country. Would a Taffy? Why, yes, if he could have humbugged his conscience that he had found them. But an Irish man! instead of prigging the, unprotected shoes off a female, would have puUed the petticoats over them : — becase, by how much more you wanted protection, by so much more would he have found it his duty to have afforded it tdl you ; and as, no doubt, you were in a state of beastly intoxication, he ought to have taken you up in his arms; sought out the place of your abode; taken you to your own door, and have said; 'Mr. Johnson, Mr. Johnson, I bring you home the partner of your joys and affictions — the mother of your beloved chUdren, and her new shoes!' That's what an Lishman would have said."

" No doubt: but they are gone, and now I have nothin to wear but these old trashes!" "Is there no revinge?" " Yes, Mrs. Brady, and I'll be damned if I don't get drunk this blessed, blessed day, to revenge it on my husband, for his being so wicked as to make them on a Sunday: what else could he expect?" " Examine the exchiquer : all right? what Umins have you got? damn the Umins, sacrifice them: prime-cost thim; this is a great evint, and w7e must make a stand, or it's not the last pair of shoes will be made of a Sun day: — hut, childer, don't worrit me so: don't I give you a share of all that's gooin? do I lave you at home to pine upon a sick squab as some unreflecting mothers do? I know you want to go home': — have you got no bowels, DivU Johnson? WhUst I'm groaning for your trouble, you're not offerin the childer a drop, although you know that Ted's got the measles, and Ann's got thim nasty chicken pocks.

Be patient, Ted; see how quiet Ann is. Ann deserves to be ill, she's so good." " And I'm be damned if I didn't lose my new shoes, right and left, the very first — " " And am I not guzzling gallons to sympathy and comfort you for the loss?" " You're a dear friend, Mrs. Brady. — Wir. MeUow, Mr. MeUow — snips apiece again ; a little stiffer nor last. — Mrs. Brady, your affections I'll return." " WeU, but let us sing an hymn in atonement of all our misdoings, and for the losses, crosses — wait 'tdl I cross me. — Come, Mrs. Jones, Joseph, all take hold of hands, and thin I'U commince. — Now, Divil Johnson." " Yes but," said Mrs. Jones, " Mrs. Brady, if you caUs the Taffies any more, indeed I shall Ust your head lower; great omens as you are!" " O, let's have harmony and pace, as the mornin sar vice is goin to commince.

Now, are you aU riddy? I shall begin the solo, and wiiin I nod my head, Joseph, you take the bass; and thin the chorus and dance of joy will foUow7. Lit us mind our duties, as well as our pleasures. Now, aU hold of hands, and we'U sing the ANTHEM OF THANKSGIVING. (Air, " Nora _._.«_.") (For the saints of Hivin may Air, Mrs. Brady i , , . " i hover about us. (Better to have us nor do Hoarse Joseph, (ivrong).. -\ .,, Mrs. Brady. — " You are\ Tow, row, row, row, row, row, toosoon." j row. Joseph, (right) Toyv, row, &c. Chorus and dance, all Tow7, row7, &c. "Not quite so loud, ladies and gentlemen : poor things, how theydoes enjoy their selves: is it not a beautiful sight?" Joseph Mellow. !For we're all on us the childeren of Hivin, and we hopes for to be forgiven. Solo, Mrs. Brady. Duetto, Mrs. Brady and} Tow, row, row, row, row, row, Hoarse Joseph ) row. „ .

(If we re not, to the divd we re 1710 1 j . (. driven. Chorus and dance bu all) m _ , 7 s Tow. row. BOW, &c. &c. the characters ) " And I'll be damned if my new shoes was not stole off my feet the very first time I put them on. And if it was not for my darlin Billy Kent being an orphan, and no one to look after him but his grand-mother Kent — this night I would throw myself off the Thames." " Oh, pace about the nasty ditch-water — think of the Shannon." "Peace! oh, here's my own darling Billy — " and surely enough in wralked .Master Kent, just arriving at the palace in time to prevent his grand-mother from forming an unhappy illustration of our propensity to gravitation, particularly when our movements are under some direction which proceeds not from the head. In short, poor Mrs. Johnson was gently staggering, and would have tumbled, if her watchful grand-son had not caught her in his arms.

This he did, and though but a slender youth, with the assistance of three or four of the feeling chorus party, he succeeded in getting her to a cab, and thence to the longing arms of her family. Nor did WiUiam Kent enter alone, but with him our other hero, Mr. John Stratford, who seeing his mother, said: " O, you're there, are you, marm? the fondest of parents ! — do take my harm." Jacky had just seized Ids mamma's waist, when entered, and in the highest temperature — Jacky's papa — that is, step-father Brady. He had got a strong carrier's strap, and was about to apply it — it is to be hoped in a com- TJIL. LORD OF THE MANOR. fortinng way, to the shoulders of his affectionate wife — when the great Professor Costello interdicted. Jacky saved his mother from the application: so, whether it was intended to be used hostdely, or in the same way in which we see a gentleman place a boa round a lady's neck, as she leaves the opera-box — is not, to this hour, exactly known.

" Come, mother, I'll see yer home, and then I'll come back to father who can be a-enjoying on himself till I do so," said Jacky, throwing down a crown; "here," added he, " man, drink my health." Mr. Brady seized the crown, and looked at his step son: saw the magnificent suit of shining black, moustache, Jacky's impudence, (so he caUed it,) and into Jacky's new profession — his son had apprenticed himself to the noted corporation, or company as may be — the swell-mob. Well, it was no business of his, only let him bring whacking five-shilling pieces, and he might swell away until he bust. " And which is this one, mamma? " demanded Jacky, when he arrived at the dwelling of Mr. Brady : " which of your fortunit issue is this? or is it a neighbour's — a he or a she? I didn't know7 you'd one so juvenile as this."