City especially, the business of the City, and of England, in fact, was
transacted in them. Merchants and other business people, professional
men, brokers, agents, had not then their private offices, which could
only be reached through the ante-den of quill-driving _cerberi, milgo_
clerks. All the transactions of daily life were then largely carried on
in public, as they are in all communities, until they arrive at a high
state of civilization. Even now among the peasantry of various European
countries a man cannot have his child christened without the ceremony
being rendered a public spectacle. And so here in England, in the
barbarous days of dingy and musty coffee-houses, they were
consulting-rooms, offices, counting-houses, auction-rooms, and shops.
When the business was done, or in order to further it, refreshments of
all sorts were handy, for the coffee-house did not confine itself to
that innocent beverage, but supplied stronger stuffs; it was, in fact, a
tavern, and many of the houses, now openly so called, were formerly
coffee-houses. And the business transacted at them was, as may be
imagined, of the most varied character. Agents for the purchase or sale
of estates, houses and other property, instead of seeing people at their
offices, met them at coffee-houses. Thus one Thomas Rogers advertised
that he gave attendance daily at the Rainbow by the Temple; on Tuesdays
at Tom's, by the Exchange, and on Thursdays at Will's, near Whitehall,
for transacting agency business. This was legitimate enough, but what
of the sale of human flesh at a coffee-house? In 1708 an advertisement
appeared: 'A black boy, twelve years of age, fit to wait on a gentleman,
to be disposed of at Denis's Coffee-house, in Finch-lane.' And again,
in 1728: 'To be sold, a negro boy, aged eleven years. Enquire at the
Virginia Coffee-house, Threadneedle-street.' Sometimes the keeper of
the coffee-house sold goods on account of others; thus from an
advertisement in the _Postman_, January, 1705, we learn that Mr.
Shipton, at John's Coffee-house, in Exchange Alley, sold someone's
famous razor strops. The landlords of those places, indeed, seem to
have been very accommodating, especially in the taking in of letters,
thus anticipating the practice of modern newspaper shops. And they were
not squeamish as to the advertisements, answers to which were to be sent
to them. Thus a gentleman (?) in the _General Advertiser_, October,
1745, expressed a wish to hear from a lady he had seen in one of the
left-hand boxes at Drury Lane, and who seemed to take particular notice
of a gentleman who sat about the middle of the pit (the advertiser, of
course). Letter to be left for 'P.M.F.', at the Portugal Coffee-house,
near the Exchange. In 1762 a young man advertised for his mother, 'who,
in 1740, resided at a certain village near Bath, where she was delivered
of a son, whom she left with a sum of money under the care of a person
in the same parish, and promised to fetch him at a certain age, but has
not since been heard of ... if living, she is asked to send a letter to
"J.E.", at the Chapter Coffee-house, St. Paul's Churchyard ... this
advertisement is published by the person himself [_i.e._, the son, born
near Bath] not from motives of necessity, or to court any assistance (he
being by a series of happy circumstances possessed of an easy and
independent fortune).' It would, I fancy, be difficult at the present
day to find anyone, having a reputation of any note to keep up, willing
to receive answers to such an advertisement, which, if it was not a
fraud, looked terribly like an attempt at one. It happened in those
days, as it occasionally does now, that the estates of gentlemen who
married late in life passed away to remote branches; the 'young
gentleman' had no doubt reflected on this subject. The Turk's Head
seems, to judge by advertisements, to have been somewhat heathenish.
Here is another advertisement, also from the _Morning Post_, answers to
which it took in: 'Whereas there are ladies, who have L2,000, L3,000, or
L4,000 at their command, and who, from not knowing how to dispose of the
same to the greatest advantage ... afford them but a scanty maintenance
... the advertiser (who is a gentleman of independent fortune, strict
honour and character, and above reward) acquaints such ladies that if
they will favour him with their name and address ... he will put them
into a method by which they may, without any trouble, and with an
absolute certainty, place out their money, so as to produce them a clear
interest of 10 or 12 per cent.... on good and safe securities. Direct
to "R.J.," Esq., at the Turk's Head Coffee-house, Strand.' We pity any
lady who fell into the clutches of this 'gentleman of independent
fortune'! And how the Turk's Head must have grinned when answers to
'R.J.' arrived! About the same time a gentleman advertised that he knew
a method, which reduced it almost to a certainty to win a considerable
sum by insuring numbers in the lottery. For ten guineas the gentleman
was prepared to 'discover the plan.' Answers to be sent to the York
Coffee-house, St. James's Street. Another gentleman is willing to lend
L3,000 to anyone having sufficient interest to procure him a Government
appointment, worth L200 or L300 per annum. Answers to this were to be
sent to the Chapter Coffee-house, St. Paul's. To some of the
coffee-houses it would seem porters were attached, ready to run errands
for customers, or the outside public; some of them seem to have earned a
reputation of a certain character. Thus Cynthio (_Spectator_, No. 398)
employs Robin, the porter, who waits Will's Coffee-house, to take a
letter to Flavia. 'Robin, you must know,' we are told, 'is the best man
in the town for carrying a billet; the fellow has a thin body, swift
step, demure looks, sufficient sense, and knows the town ... the fellow
covers his knowledge of the nature of his messages with the most
exquisite low humour imaginable; the first he obliged Flavia to take was
by complaining to her that he had a wife and three children, and if she
did not take that letter, which he was sure there was no harm in, but
rather love, his family must go supperless to bed, for the gentleman
would pay him according as he did his business.' He would seem to have
been a mild Leporello.
We find the cheapness of living at coffee-houses frequently extolled in
the publications and conversations of the day in which they were most
flourishing. An Irish painter, whom Johnson knew, declared that L30 a
year was enough to enable a man to live in London, without being
contemptible. He allowed L10 for clothes and linen. He said a man
might live in a garret at 1s. 6d. a week; few people would inquire where
he lodged, and if they did, it was easy to say: 'Sir, you will find me
at such and such a place'--just as nowadays impecunious swells, who live
in garrets, manage to keep up their club subscription, and give as their
address that of the club. By spending threepence at a coffee-house,
Johnson's Irish painter further argued, a man might be for some hours
every day in very good company; he might dine for sixpence, breakfast on
bread-and-milk for a penny, and do without supper. On clean-shirt day
the painter went out to pay visits, as Swift also did.
With regard to the persons employed in a coffee-house, we learn from one
advertisement: 'To prevent all mistakes among gentlemen of the other end
of the town, who come but once a week to St. James's Coffee-house,
either by miscalling the servants, or requiring such things from them as
are not properly within their respective provinces, this is to give
notice that Kidney, keeper of the book-debts of the outlying customers,
and observer of those who go off without paying, having resigned that
employment, is succeeded by John Sowton, to whose place of caterer of
messages and first coffee-grinder William Bird is promoted, and Samuel
Bardock comes as shoe-cleaner in the room of the said Bird.'
Well, the coffee-houses are things of the past; a few survive as
taverns. What may be considered as their successors are called
coffee-shops, patronized by working-men chiefly, but the 'humours' are
of the tamest description; they may supply statistics to temperance
apostles, but no literary entertainment to the public.
*IV.*
*OLD M.P.S AND SOME OF THEIR SAYINGS.*
Somebody has said that, on making inquiry after a man you have not seen
for a number of years, you may find him either in the hulks or in
Parliament. This somebody evidently was a bit of a philosopher, who knew
how to put the possibilities of human life in a nutshell. He understood
that the same cause may have totally different effects: the same heat
which softens lead hardens clay, the same abilities which may send a man
to penal servitude may elevate him to the dignity of an M.P. And thus
it happened that some queer people got into Parliament, which, no doubt,
was the fact which gave rise to somebody's wise saw, and which was not
to be wondered at in the good old days, before Reform and Corrupt
Practices Prevention Acts, and similar humbugging interferences with the
liberty of the subject, were dreamt of. In those good old days of
rotten and pocket boroughs men had Parliamentary honours thrust upon
them _nolentes volentes_. Thus, a noble lord, who owned several such
boroughs, was asked by the returning officer whom he meant to nominate.
Having no eligible candidate at hand, he named a waiter at White's Club,
one Robert Mackreth; but, as he did not happen to be sure of the
Christian name of his nominee, the election was declared to be void.
Nothing daunted, his lordship persisted in his nomination. A fresh
election was therefore held, when, the name of the waiter having been
ascertained, he was returned as a matter of course, and Robert Mackreth,
Esq., took his seat in St. Stephen's. This was possible in the days of
Eldon and Perceval; in fact, in the early part of this century, 306
members, more than half of the House of Commons, were returned by 160
persons, and in 1830 it was admitted that, though there were men of
ability in the Cabinet, such as Brougham, Lansdowne, Melbourne,
Palmerston, the members of the House were 'persons of very narrow
capacities, of small reputation for talent, and without influence with
the people.'
However, the Reform Bill was passed in 1832, and pocket boroughs were
abolished. There had been thirty-seven places returning members with
constituencies not exceeding fifty electors, and fourteen of those
places had not more than twenty electors. There were three boroughs
each containing only one L10 householder. One of the boroughs only paid
in assessed taxes L3 9s., another L16 8s. 9d., a third L40 17s. 1d.
But, luckily for the public, the Reform Bill did not abolish the fun of
the flags, music, beer, and jokes of elections. The delicate attentions
which could still be paid to candidates remained in full swing. Thus,
we remember an election in the Isle of Wight: The father of one of the
candidates for Parliamentary distinction, in the Conservative interest,
had, in his youthful days, married a lady who, in a peripatetic manner,
dealt in oysters. His rival, a Radical, paid him the compliment of
sending him daily barrows and truck-loads of oyster-shells, which were,
with his kind regards, discharged in front of the hotel where his
committee was established, and from whose windows he addressed the
electors. It was splendid fun, and calculated to impress the
intelligent foreigner. It showed how highly the British public
appreciated their elective franchise. Pleasantries had, indeed, always
been the rule at election-time. When Fox, in 1802, canvassed
Westminster, he asked a shopkeeper on the opposite side for his vote and
interest, when the latter produced a halter, and said that was all he
could give him. Fox thanked him, but said he could not think of
depriving him of it, as no doubt it was a family relic. At an election
at Norwich in 1875 the committee-room of the Conservative candidate was
attacked, but the agent kept up the fire and had red-hot pokers ready,
which, standing at the top of the stairs, he offered to his assailants,
but they would not take them! In the same town the Liberals held a
prayer-meeting, at which the Conservatives presented each man with one
of Moody and Sankey's hymn-books, with something between the leaves. In
fact, the Reform Bill had not made elections pure. William Roupell
obtained his seat for Lambeth by the expenditure of L10,000, 'and,' said
a man well able to judge of the truth of his assertion, 'if he were
released from prison (to which he was sent for life for his forgeries)
and would spend another L10,000, he would be re-elected, in spite of his
having proved a criminal.'
Money carried the day at elections. According to a speech made by Mr.
Bright at Glasgow in 1866, a member had told him that his election had
cost him L9,000 already, and that he had L3,000 more to pay. At a
contest in North Shropshire in 1876, the expenses of the successful
candidate, Mr. Stanley Leighton, amounted to L11,727, and of the
defeated candidate, Mr. Mainwaring, to L10,688. At the General Election
of 1880, in the county of Middlesex, the expenses of the successful
candidates, Lord George Hamilton and Mr. Octavius Coope, were L11,506.
The cost of the Gravesend election, and the petition which followed and
unseated the candidate returned, was estimated at L20,000. But the most
expensive contest ever known in electioneering was that for the
representation of Yorkshire. The candidates were Viscount Milton, son
of Earl Fitzwilliam, a Whig; the Hon. Henry Lascelles, son of Lord
Harewood, a Tory; and William Wilberforce, in the Dissenting and
Independent interest. The election was carried on for fifteen days, Mr.
Wilberforce being at the head of the poll all the time. It terminated
in his favour and in that of Lord Milton. The contest is said to have
cost the parties near half a million pounds. The expenses of
Wilberforce were defrayed by public subscription, more than double the
sum being raised within a few days, and one moiety was afterwards
returned to the subscribers. When Whitbread, the brewer, first opposed
the Duke of Bedford's interest at Bedford, the Duke informed him that he
would spend L50,000 rather than that he should come in. Whitbread
replied that was nothing, the sale of his grains would pay for that.
Now, John Elwes, the miser, knew better than that. Though worth half a
million of money, he entered Parliament, by the interest of Lord Craven,
at the expense of 1s. 6d., for which he had a dinner at Abingdon. From
1774 he sat for the next twelve years for Berkshire, his conduct being
perfectly independent, and in his case there had been no bribery that
could be brought home to him. He was a great gambler, and, after
staking large sums all night, he would, in the morning, go to Smithfield
to await the arrival of his cattle from his farms in Essex, and, if not
arrived, would walk on to meet them. He wore a wig; if he found one
thrown away into the gutter, he would appropriate and wear it. In those
days members occasionally wore dress-swords at the House. One day a
gentleman seated next to Elwes was rising to leave his place, and just
at that moment Elwes bent forward, so that the point of the sword the
gentleman wore came in contact with Elwes's wig, which it whisked off
and carried away. The House was instantly in a roar of laughter, whilst
the gentleman, unconscious of what he had done, calmly walked away, and
Elwes after him to recover his wig, which looked as if it was one of
those he had picked up in the gutter.
Bribes were expected and given, as we have seen. Of course, the thing
was not done openly. Tricks were practised, understood by all parties.
The agent would sit in a room in an out-of-the-way place. A voter would
come in; the agent would say, 'How are you to-day?' and hold up three
fingers. 'I am not very well,' the answer would be, when the agent
would accidentally hold up his hand, upon which the voter would say that
he thought fresh air would do him good, and look out of the window as if
examining the sky. In the meantime the agent would place five
sovereigns on the table, and also go to look at the weather. His back
being turned to the table, the voter would quietly slip the cash into
his pocket, and, saying 'Good-morning,' take his departure. And how
could any bribery be proved? But occasionally the people expecting
bribes were nicely taken in. Lord Cochrane, when he first stood for
Honiton, refused to give bribes, and the seat was secured by his
opponent, who gave L5 for every vote. On this Cochrane sent the bellman
round to announce that he would give to every one of the minority who
had voted for him 10 guineas. At the next election no questions were
asked, and Cochrane was returned by an overwhelming majority. Those who
had voted for him then intimated that they expected some acknowledgment
for their support. He declined to give a penny, and when he was
reminded that, after the former election, he had given 10 guineas to
every one of the minority, he coolly replied that this was for their
disinterestedness in refusing his opponent's L5, and that to pay them
now would be acting in violation of his principle not to bribe. And the
disinterested voters marched off with faces as long as those of horses.
The Reform Bill of 1832, which was highly objectionable to old-fashioned
Conservatives, was accused by them of having introduced some very queer
and curious members into the House. Through this Bill the bone-grubber,
as Raike calls him, W. Cobbett, was returned for Oldham, and Brighton,
under the very nose of the Court, returned two rampant Radicals, who
openly talked of reducing the allowance made to the King and Queen.
Nay, John Gully, a prize-fighter, was returned to the House for
Pontefract, and was re-elected at the next election. He at one time
kept the Plough Inn in Carey Street, which was pulled down just before
the erection of the new Law Courts. Eventually he resigned his seat on
account of ill-health, as he averred; but as he became a great patron of
racing, and was a constant attendant at the various race-courses, his
ill-health was probably only a pretence for quitting a sphere for which
he felt himself unfit. On his first election the following epigram
appeared against him:
'If anyone ask why should Pontefract sully
Its name by returning to Parliament Gully,
The etymological cause, I suppose, is
He's broken the bridges of so many noses.'
Another member who may be reckoned among the curiosities who have sat in
the House was William Roupell. He was the illegitimate son of Richard
Palmer Roupell, a wealthy lead merchant, who invested a large sum in the
purchase of land, to which he gave the name of the Roupell Park Estate.
William was his favourite son, though he had other legitimate children;
and it was not till a few days before his father's death that he learnt
the secret of his own birth. The former had made a will, by which he
left this property to William, on condition of his making annual
payments to his brothers and sisters; but as this would have brought to
light the forgeries he had already committed during his father's
lifetime, to the amount of about L150,000, he, on his father's death,
managed to get hold of the will, which eventually he destroyed,
substituting a forged one, leaving all to his wife and William; and the
latter quickly persuaded his mother to confer the greater part of the
estates on him by deed of gift. He soon obtained the social position
the great wealth he now possessed usually commands; he stood for
Lambeth, and by the expenditure of L10,000, as already mentioned, he
obtained the seat. But Roupell was not only a rogue, but a fool. By
gambling and extravagance he soon ran through the fortune he had
obtained by crooked means. Finding the detection of his crimes
inevitable, he fled to Spain, but eventually returned, and gave himself
up to justice, confessing the forgeries he had committed. Of course,
the persons who had purchased property then became aware that the deeds
by which they held it were worthless. The court considered his offences
so serious that in 1862 it condemned him to penal servitude for life;
but he was released after an imprisonment of fourteen years. In 1876 he
left Portland a free man again. But it is with Roupell as a member of
Parliament we are chiefly concerned. In that capacity he did not shine.
He remained in the House long enough to prove that he was disqualified
to represent a large borough like Lambeth. He took no part in the
debates, nor did he appear to be able to grapple with and master any
question connected with politics. Being asked one evening at the Horns,
when meeting his constituents, why he did not speak in the House of
Commons, he replied: 'Because I do not want to make a fool of myself.'
Next morning the _Times_ made merry with this confession. He was
consequently regarded as a cipher, but he was supported by his supposed
wealth. But soon suspicious murmurs began to be heard, and he prepared
for his flight to Spain; and he decamped without making any application
for the Chiltern Hundreds, so that for a considerable time his place in
Parliament could not be filled up. Advertisements in Galignani apprised
him of the omission, and at length the application was made. He did not
meet with much pity, either from the public or the press; squibs without
end appeared against him in the papers. We append a specimen of a short
one:
'Now, the Lambeth folks this wealthy gent
As their member did decide on,
But little they knew he'd happened to do
Some things he didn't oughter;
For he'd forged a will and several deeds....
'And the public said: "Well, this here Roupell
Has got no more than he oughter."
So there was an end of the wealthy gent
As was member from over the water.'
Lambeth appears to have been unfortunate in the selection of its
Parliamentary candidates. In 1852 the parochial party, wishing for a
local man, formed themselves into a committee to secure the election of
Mr. Joseph Harvey, of Lambeth House, a drapery establishment in the
Westminster Bridge Road. Mr. Harvey had never taken an active part in
public matters; his tastes lay not that way. He shrank from public
life, and had no training or aptitude for addressing large meetings.
However, he was forced forward; but when he spoke at the Horns--the
speech was written for him by someone else--his total incapacity for the
position thrust on him became so apparent that he gave up the contest,
but not before he had afforded plenty of food to the squib-writers.
Parliament is not above the use of nicknames, either by way of praise or
in scorn. Cobbett's talent for fastening such names on anyone he
disliked was very great. He invented 'Prosperity Robinson,' 'AEolus
Canning,' 'Pink-nosed Liverpool,' 'unbaptized, buttonless blackguards,'
or Quakers. Lord Yarmouth, from the colour of his whiskers, and from
the place which gave him his title, was known as 'Red Herrings.' Lord
Durham so often opposed his colleagues in the Cabinet that he was called
the 'Dissenting Minister.' Thomas Duncombe was so popular that he was
always spoken of as 'Honest' or 'Poor' Tom; his French friends called
him 'Cher Tomie.' John Arthur Roebuck had a habit of bringing forward,
in a startling way, facts he had got hold of, and thus raising
opposition; and from a passage in a speech he made at the Cutlers'
Feast, at Sheffield, in 1858, obtained the nickname of 'Tear 'em.' He
had just paid a visit to Cherbourg, and returned home with feelings very
unfriendly to the then ruler of France, to which he gave expression at
the feast, excusing himself at the same time for using such language
towards a neighbour by saying: 'The farmer who goes to sleep, having
placed the watch-dog, Tear 'em, over his rick-yard, hears that dog bark.
He bawls out of the window: "Down, Tear 'em, down!" And Tear 'em does
not again disturb his sleep, till he is woke up by the strong blaze of
his corn and hay ricks. I am Tear 'em. Beware! Cherbourg is a
standing menace to England.' Michael Angelo Taylor was known by the
sobriquet of 'Chicken' Taylor. On some points of law he had answered
the great lawyer Bearcroft, but not without apologizing for his
venturing, he being but a chicken in the law, on a fight with the cock
of Westminster Hall. Charles Wynn was brother to Sir Watkin Wynn, and
from a peculiarity in the utterances of the latter, and the shrillness
of Charles's voice, the two went by the nicknames of 'Bubble and
Squeak.' Sir Watkin was also known as 'Small Journal' Wynn, from his
extensive knowledge of Parliamentary rule. William Cowper, falsely
accused of having married a second wife whilst his first was still
alive, was known as 'Will Bigamy.'
Strangers formerly were not allowed to be present at the deliberations
of the House; now they are admitted to the Strangers' Gallery, but never
to the floor of the House. Yet sometimes there will be an intruder.
Once Lord North, when speaking, was interrupted by the barking of a dog
which had crept in. He turned round, and said: 'Mr. Speaker, I am
interrupted by a new member.' The dog was driven out, but got in again,
and recommenced barking, when Lord North, in his dry way, said: 'Spoke
once.'
We are near the limits of our space. Let us conclude with recording a
few of the strange designations given to Parliaments. The Parliament de
la Bonde was a Parliament in the reign of Edward II., to which the
Barons came armed against the Spencers, with coloured bands, or 'bonds,'
upon their sleeves, by way of distinction. The Diabolical Parliament
was one held at Coventry in the thirty-eighth year of Henry VI.'s reign,
and in which Edward, Earl of March, afterwards King, and several of the
nobility, were attainted. The Unlearned Parliament, held at Coventry in
the sixth year of the reign of Henry IV., was so called by way of
derision, because, by a special precept to the sheriffs in their several
counties, no lawyers were to be admitted thereto. The Insane
Parliament, which was held at Oxford in the forty-first year of the
reign of Henry III., obtained this name from the extraordinary
proceedings of the Lords, who came with great retinues of armed men,
'when contention grew very high, and many things were enacted contrary
to the King's prerogative.' We might add to the list, but the gas is
being turned off; so _vale_!
*V.*
*FAMOUS OLD ACTORS.*