Among the myriads of products of art, science, and manufactures, to be
congregated under Mr. Paxton’s great glass house in Hyde Park next year,
it is to be hoped that the newspaper press will not be unrepresented. We
do not mean model morning papers, displaying several square acres of
advertisements, or news conveyed from the other hemisphere, by steam and
electricity, since the previous morning; but a modest sheet, in the
humble guise of a miniature Morning Post (like the Morning Post of old),
for the registry of the names and “up-puttings” of the tens of thousands
of strangers who will inevitably be thrusting themselves into London,
like needles in bundles of hay, where nobody can find them. Such a
humble record as we propose already exists, and we will describe it:—
About three years since, a brother of the well-known German philosopher,
Heine, established a paper in Vienna, called the “_Fremden Blatt_,” or
“Strangers’ Leaf.” One of its chief objects is to give the names and
residences of such strangers as arrive daily in the capital, and the
dates of their departure. It is printed on a sheet about the size of a
lady’s pocket-handkerchief. It costs rather less than a penny; the
expenses of conducting it are trifling, and its circulation is very
extensive. There is not an hotel or coffee-house, not a lounge, or a
pastry-cook’s shop (the chief place of resort in Vienna), which does not
take it in, and indeed, among the idlers and triflers—a very large class
of every population—it is the only paper read at all.
It will, perhaps, however, give a better idea of it to analyse the
contents of the number for July 31st, 1850, now before us. The first
column, and two-thirds of the second, is devoted to intelligence
connected with Austria and the provinces; all short paragraphs, most of
them of only three or four lines. Their matter concerns the movements of
persons of note, and such military and civil appointments, promotions,
and retirements, as are likely to be of general interest. If they touch
upon any other news, the bare fact is related without comment of any
kind. In the next column, Foreign news—including the exciting
intelligence from Schleswig Holstein—are disposed of in a dozen
paragraphs, containing, however, quite as much as it is necessary to
know to be on equal terms with one’s friends after dinner. Then come the
domestic _on dits_ of Vienna with the current topics of conversation and
a spice or two of scandal; by no means to be imitated here, or anywhere
else. Births, deaths, marriages, accidents and offences, follow. All
this is, however, merely the prelude. The rise and fall of nations, the
mere change of a dynasty, or the details of an earthquake, are but
accessories to the grand aim, end, and purpose of the Fremden Blatt’s
existence. As Sarah Battle relaxed from the serious business of whist,
to unbend over a book, so the editor of the Strangers’ Leaf dallies with
the great globe itself and its most terrific catastrophes to recreate
the minds of his readers previous to the study of—“arrivals and
departures.” Upon these the editor fastens all his care—all his genius.
They are alphabetically arranged with great precision. They are his
leading article. Should a mistake occur in geography, or should he be a
few thousands out in his statistics, it is nothing; but the accidental
mis-spelling of a title of ten syllables; if he happen to leave out a
“z” in the name of Count Sczorowszantzski; he inserts, next morning, an
apologetic “erratum” of great length.
The utility of such a register in London, at the approaching Industrial
Fair, as we presume to call it, is easily seen. Let us suppose Count
Smorltork arriving in England with the intention of writing an account
of the Exposition. He has only a few days to make his observations; and
it is not till he has driven half over London, that he discovers of Lord
Tomnoddy and Sir Carnaby Jenks—from whom he expects to derive his chief
information—that one is at Leamington, and the other in Scotland. Or we
may imagine Dr. Dommheit, with the grave Senor Eriganados, and their
volatile coadjutor, M. de Tête-vide, arriving in our capital on a
scientific excursion. It costs them a month’s income in messengers and
cab-fares, and a week’s waiting while their strangely spelt letters are
decyphered at the Post-Office, before they learn that Mr. Crypt is off
with Lord Rhomboid and the Chrononhotonthologos Society, somewhere in
the provinces; Dr. Dryasdust is looking for antiquities in the Hebrides;
and the oracle of their tribe, Earl Everlasting—having been left alone
with the secretary and the porter at the sixth hour of the reading of
his paper on the antediluvian organisms of a piece of slate—has gone
down to his “place” in Dorsetshire in a huff. On the other hand, the
famous Dr. Ledern Langweile, Monsieur de Papillon-Sauvage, and the great
Condé Hermosa-Muchacha-Quieres, are going crazy because they cannot find
each other; yet all are perhaps dwelling within a stone’s throw of each
other; perhaps in the same street or square—most probably Leicester
Square, which they have been given to understand is the most fashionable
quarter of the town. This is exactly the condition of things which may
be expected without such a register of names and addresses as we
suggest.
To our own men about town, also, or to “ladies of condition,” as
Addison’s Spectator has it, the Strangers’ Leaf will be invaluable. None
have so little time as the idle; and how severely Indolence will have to
work for the benefit of its foreign and provincial friends in 1851, it
must tremble to anticipate. To relieve it a little, some such means as
we suggest should be adopted, for allowing Indolence to find out easily
those strangers who have been recommended to his attention and good
offices. One glance at a list of “arrivals” would save it a world of
trouble.
The duties of the editor of the “London Strangers’ Leaf” would not be
very onerous. The names and intended addresses of every individual
coming from abroad it will not be difficult to obtain. To reach us
Islanders every visitor must arrive by sea, and at each port we are
blessed with a customhouse. The captain of every steamer is bound for
customhouse purposes to have the name of each of his passengers set down
in a sort of Way-bill; and, for a slight consideration, the person who
performs that office (generally the steward), would doubtless learn and
add the address to which each of the passengers is going in London. An
arrangement with a customhouse clerk at each of the ports could be made
for forwarding daily a copy of the list. Thus a complete record of
arrivals from abroad could be obtained with little trouble. The names
and lodgings of persons from the provinces would be more difficult of
access; but a good understanding with hotel-keepers, and some assistance
from the “Lodging-house Committee” (for of course there will be one,) of
the Executive of the Great Congress, would insure the editor a tolerably
complete “List of the Company” who assemble, even from the country. The
“Strangers’ Leaf” might be published early each afternoon so as to give
the arrivals of the morning.
It is not to be doubted that at the essentially Industrial Meeting of
1851, the _Chevaliers d’Industrie_ of all nations will make it their
especial business to attend in large numbers. _Their_ names, personal
appearance, addresses, and achievements, it would be very useful to
record in “the Strangers’ Leaf.” To our excellent friends the Detectives
the benefit would be great and reciprocal: for they would not only
derive, but contribute much useful information. As a kind of “Hue and
Cry,” of a more refined and fashionable kind, the proposed sheet would
be invaluable.
Should any enterprising gentleman, literary or otherwise, make the
experiment, it may possibly turn out not only useful but profitable.
Should such a speculation be deemed too undignified, we would silence
the objection with a remark from Macaulay’s Essay on the life of Bacon,
to the effect that Nothing is too insignificant for the attention of the
wisest, which may be of advantage to the smallest in the community.