part of the gipsies took lodgings, and those she was with, having
to go into the town, left her in a lodging-house kept by a Mrs.
Tickner. There, to amuse herself, she began reading the Testament
with a little boy, which Mrs. Tickner observing, said she could
not have been brought up to the gipsy life, or she would not have
been able to read. She replied that she had not, and then told
Mrs. Tickner her story. Mrs. Tickner said she had once had a
little boy of her own stolen, and she knew the distraction the
loss of children caused parents to feel; and that, therefore, the
gipsies should give her up, or she would make them, and she would
keep her until she should hear from her parents. She then got a
letter written to them, and received an answer (stating her
mother was on her deathbed, and had been ill ever since her
disappearance), together with five shillings in a parcel. Mrs.
Tickner then hearing that there was a steam packet that sailed
from the chain pier at Brighton, let her come over to Brighton;
she accordingly arrived there, and went to the pier to inquire
about the packet, and was told that there was no steam packet
that went from Brighton to Bristol, but there was a coach which
did. She went to all the coach offices, and there learnt that the
Bristol coach had ceased running for the last fortnight; and,
upon asking for lodgings, was recommended to the Seven Stars.
There she found a person who knew the place near the Bell, where
she was taken up, and another who knew her mother and uncles. To
them she showed the letter, which she had since lost; and, upon
her making her story known, she was brought to the Town Hall, and
put into the prison. At the idea of having been put into prison
the child cried very much.
"Sir D. Scott asked what had become of the gipsies.
"The girl replied that she did not know, as they were travelling
about the country.
"Mr. Solomon said he had taken the girl to the
assistant-overseer, who took down the particulars in writing, but
said he did not believe her story.
"The girl said if they would take her to Mr. Burton, of the
theatre, he would know her again.
"Sir D. Scott: How do you know he is here?
"Girl: I read his name in the play-bill, and he used to write
letters to my mother, when his wife lodged with us. He was
property man at our theatre.
"Sir D. Scott: Property man! Why how came you to know there was
such a person in a theatre? How came you to know so much about a
theatre?
"The girl replied that her father and mother at one time lived in
front of Bath theatre. They used to go to the theatre sometimes,
by permission of Mrs. Macready; and she herself had been brought
up to it, when a little girl three years old. They lived in the
drawing-room and had the whole of the house.
"Sir D. Scott: If we let you go now, you will never get home with
five shillings, and, then, if we did, you are likely to be taken
by some gipsies again.
"Girl: I should like to be sent to Mr. Burton first, to see if he
would send me home; he knows all my relations, and I know him
well.
"Mr. Burton having been sent for, said he thought he could
remember her face, but it was two years since he had seen her. He
added he had no doubt of the truth of her story. The girl then
asked him if he would let her have money to take her home, or if
he would keep her until her friends could send for her. This Mr.
Burton said he could not afford to do.
"Mr. Solomon said the girl told him the gipsies had a young man
with them, chained down to one of their carts.
"Sir D. Scott: Chained down?
"The girl assured him that was the fact; and, from what she had
heard from Mrs. Tickner, and the description of him, she had no
doubt it was a son of the Rev. Mr. Jones.
"Sir D. Scott then ordered that the girl should be taken over to
Lewes, and confronted with Mrs. Tickner; and, if what the girl
stated turned out to be true, directed a letter to be sent to the
parents; the girl, meanwhile, being kept in the workhouse."
There was curious superstition in the North of England, which is
practically done away with in these days of lucifer matches. In the
old days of tinder boxes, if any one failed to get a light, it was of
no use his going round to the neighbours to get one, for even his
dearest friends would refuse him, it being considered _most unlucky_
to allow any light to leave the house between Christmas Eve and New
Year's day, both inclusive. No reason has been found for this singular
and somewhat churlish custom. An example is given in the _Leeds
Times_, quoted in the _Times_ of January 20th.
"Had not the following anecdote been told us on the authority of
a gentleman of high respectability, we should have found some
difficulty in believing that so strange a superstition had still
influence on the minds of the inhabitants of the West Riding. On
the night of Christmas Day our informant was returning to Leeds
in a gig from a town a few miles off, and wished to light a
cigar. He stopped at a cottage by the wayside, and asked to be
allowed a light. 'No,' was the reply, 'thou'lt get no light here
to-night.' Somewhat surprised at this surly reply, he drove on
for a mile or two, and on arriving at a toll bar, again preferred
his request. 'No, sir,' said the gatekeeper, 'I shall let no
light go out of my house to-night.' As there was no mending the
matter, our friend proceeded to another toll-bar, and a third
time requested a light. He was very civilly told he should have a
light with pleasure, had it not been Christmas night; but, on
that night, to allow a light to be taken out of the house would
insure bad luck through the next year. Here, at length, the
mystery was solved. This silly superstition was the cause which
led to the refusals which so astonished the traveller."
On Thursday, March 24th, there was opened to public inspection at the
National Gallery the designs for the new Houses of Parliament. Of
these one critic wrote--
"Of these designs, some are good--indeed, we may say, very
good--many promising, and some so bad that it was ground of
wonder that room should be found for them. They certainly remind
us of Peter Pindar's description of matrimony, which the caustic
satirist describes--
'Like to Jeremiah's figs,
The good are very good, the bad not fit to give to pigs.'"
Of these designs four were chosen as the best, Barry's plans being
most approved; and again on April 28th they were exhibited publicly at
the National Gallery. Eventually Barry's plans were accepted, and to
him we owe our beautiful "Palace of Westminster."
On April 8th, between midnight and one a.m., the statue of King
William III. on College Green, Dublin, was blown up by gunpowder. The
street for some time previously had been quiet, none but the ordinary
passengers being apparent, when a watchman saw a lighted train burning
upwards towards the figure; he endeavoured to drag it down with his
pole, but did not succeed. A second watchman came up, and told him to
come away, for there was powder in it. This latter man, who warned his
companion, had previously seen an attempt made to blow up the statue,
but it had failed; and, fearing the danger, gave the warning.
Immediately after the watchmen withdrew, a tremendous explosion
occurred, as loud as a piece of artillery. The noise was heard all
over the neighbourhood. Most of the gas-lamps from the College to
Trinity Street were blown out, and the figure, weighty as it was,
being composed of nearly solid lead, and nine or ten feet high, was
thrown several feet in the air, and fell on the southern side of the
base.
It may be remembered that, in 1835, the Hon. C. Berkeley moved the
admission of ladies to the gallery of the House of Commons. A select
committee was appointed to consider the subject, and their report was
presented and read on May 3rd. As the debate thereon was short, and
somewhat amusing, I give some of the principal speeches _in extenso_.
"The Hon. C. Berkeley said that he now brought this question, for
the second time, under the consideration of the House, because he
was perfectly convinced that his motion would have been carried
last session, if many friends of the measure had not happened to
have been in the House at the time. (Laughter.) The Committee,
who had agreed to the report which had just been read, had been
fairly chosen, and they had considered how the object could be
attained at the least possible expense; and, for his own part, he
could not see why ladies should not be admitted, when they were
placed in such a situation that they could not interfere in the
debate. (Great laughter.) It had been said that the presence of
ladies during the debates would distract the attention of
honourable members, although he must confess that if the ladies
were in the House it would make no difference in his thoughts.
(Loud and continued laughter.) Perhaps some gentlemen, at least,
who were made of so much more inflammable materials (shouts of
laughter) might be so affected. The ladies were once admitted to
that gallery, and the debates were not prolonged then, though it
was now the fashion to say that the debates would be prolonged if
they were admitted, and that many persons who were not now in the
habit of speaking would be generally getting up to address the
House when the ladies were present; but, on the other hand, he
believed there were many who spoke much more for the papers than
the ears of their audience (great laughter), who would not speak
if the ladies were there to hear them. He would not detain the
House, but would conclude by moving that, 'It is the opinion of
this House that the Resolution of the Select Committee appointed
in 1835 to consider the means of admitting ladies to a portion of
the Strangers' Gallery, together with the plan of Sir R. Smirke,
should be adopted, and that means should be taken to carry it
into effect, with as little delay as possible.'
"Mr. Potter, amidst the loudest laughter, begged leave to second
the motion. He could not possibly conceive any good reason which
could be assigned against it. The plan had been tried in the old
House, in the Ventilator. (A laugh.) Surely the female sex were
as much interested in the proceedings of that House as the other,
and if any portion of them were disposed to hear the debates,
they ought not to refuse them. It was well known that the ladies
exercised an important influence in the State, and why should it
not be properly exercised? Why should the beneficial influence of
a virtuous and enlightened mother (a laugh) not be exerted over
her son who had a seat in Parliament? And if the wife of any hon.
member wished to hear the debates, why should she not have the
opportunity? They were admitted into the French Chamber at Paris,
and it was well known that the ladies had seats assigned to them.
He had seen them there pay as much attention to the debates as
any one else, and he had never witnessed the slightest appearance
of levity. (Loud laughter.) The ladies were also admitted to hear
the debates of Congress at Washington, and surely we ought not to
act in this exclusive and Oriental manner.
"Mr. Kearsley said that he did hope that every hon. member, who
was blessed with a bride or daughters, would give his negative to
this idle, this ridiculous proposition. (Loud laughter.)
"Mr. O'Connell remarked that in the Irish Parliament ladies were
admitted to hear the debates, and he was afraid the detail of the
cause of their being admitted would throw something like a
censure upon the members of the Irish Senate. However, he would
state that at that time hospitalities of a particular kind
prevailed in Ireland, and the consequence of these hospitalities
was that many members came drunk to the House. (Laughter.) The
remedy proposed was that ladies should be admitted. This was
tried, and from that moment not a single person was seen drunk.
He did not say there existed the same reasons for admitting the
ladies into this House (laughter), but at all events he thought
there existed no good reason why they should be excluded.
"Mr. Villiers said that he was neither blessed with daughters nor
a bride-elect (laughter), but still he thought no sufficient
grounds had been shown to justify this motion. He was, however,
glad to find that every class of persons in the community was
represented in this House. There were the friends of the people,
the friends of the Church, the farmers' friends, and, now, the
friends of the ladies. (Laughter.) He thought, however, the hon.
and gallant member for Cheltenham, by his motion, proposed an
organic change. (Renewed laughter.) But it seemed to him that no
excitement existed outside of the House on the subject; he was
not aware that any petitions had been presented with reference to
it. The hon. and gallant member had said that he did not see any
harm in the measure; but would the matter end here? Might not
hon. Members have some ulterior views? (Loud laughter.) The hon.
and gallant member proposed to admit the ladies into the gallery,
but were there not places under the gallery? Were there not the
lobby and the library, and might not some hon. member push the
measure further and give them admission there, much to the
inconvenience of the House? (Hear, hear.) But even if admitted to
the gallery only, in what way, he begged to inquire, were hon.
members to exercise their privilege? They could not admit as many
ladies as gentlemen--nay, even they could not accommodate as many
ladies as there were Irish members. Was the power of granting
admissions to be vested in the Minister for the Home Department;
and, if so, might not he be charged with undue influence in
admitting ladies of a certain description? (Loud laughter.) Might
not the champion of some old lady charge him with corrupt motives
in excluding her? In short, the more the subject was considered
the more difficult it seemed. (Renewed laughter.) He hoped, if
the hon. and gallant member for Cheltenham would, if he meant to
introduce a bill upon the subject, have it circulated in all the
populous towns of the country, so that during the autumn its
effects might be ascertained. (Great laughter.) At present hon.
members were unacquainted with the complicated details of the
measure; they did not know all the bearings of the proposition,
though it had been brought forward for two sessions running;
and, therefore, he hoped that the hon. and gallant member would
consent to postpone it. (General laughter.)
"The House divided. For the motion, 139; against, 40."
The _Times_ of May 9th, quoting the _Glasgow Chronicle_, has a
paragraph headed
"ROYAL CHARLEY BACK AGAIN.
"We have received the following account of the departure from
Greenock of Charles Edward Stuart and his brother, John Sobieski
Stuart. They are said to be grandsons of Charles Edward Stuart,
the Pretender. Of course they must be illegitimate, as the
present King of Sardinia is heir to that prince:--
"'On Friday Charles Edward Stuart and his brother John, grandsons
to the Pretender, embarked on board the _Foyle_ for Londonderry.
The scions of the house of Stuart belong to Italy, and have been
on a tour to the north of Scotland, visiting the places named in
the romantic adventures of their ancestor, the young Ascarvius.
They are good-looking young men, and bear a strong resemblance to
the portraits of "Royal Charley." They speak the Italian, French,
English, Gaelic, and Irish languages, and are always attired in
the Highland costume of the house of Stuart, and accompanied by a
piper of the clan. They have never worn any other dress than the
kilt and its Highland appendages, and their seal is a crown. At
the time they embarked the piper played some of the principal
Jacobite airs, composed as laments at the misfortunes of the
Pretender. A number of Highlanders of the higher and middle
classes went on board to have a peep at the strangers, and
although they to a man were all of the High Tory caste, yet they
looked with veneration on the Stuarts. The visitors and
passengers assembled in the cabin seemed determined to honour the
memory of "Royal Charley" by quaffing bumpers of the best
"Glenlivet." One of the company was deputed to ask permission
(_sic_) of Charles Edward, who respectfully declined the honour
intended, and said it was not proper under present circumstances.
The brothers expressed their high gratification at the enthusiasm
of the Greenock Celtic Tories, and seemed much affected.'"
This precious pair of charlatans pretended that in 1773 a son was born
of the marriage of Charles Edward with the Princess Louisa of
Stolberg-Gedern; that the birth was kept secret, and the babe
privately conveyed on board an English frigate and consigned to the
care of a naval officer named Allen, who brought him up as his own
son. This mysterious child, it was further said, when grown to
manhood, married an English lady in 1790, and in the following year
the "Chevalier Charles Edward" was born.
John Wilson Croker in vol. 81 of the _Quarterly Review_ (pp. 57-85),
while reviewing _Vestiarum Scoticum_, by John Sobieski Stuart, and
_Tales of the Century_, by John Sobieski and Charles Edward Stuart,
ruthlessly demolishes this pedigree, pointing out that if the
Pretender had had an heir, it was his interest to publish and not to
conceal it; that in his will he only recognized one child, his natural
daughter, the Countess of Albany; that his brother, Cardinal York,
considered that he was King of England; and finally proved that these
two adventurers were none other than John and Thomas Allen, the sons
of Admiral Allen.
"John Sobieski" died in February, 1872, and there is a biographical
notice of him in the _Times_ of February 17th, 1872, but more may be
read about these brothers in the _Edinburgh Review_ of July, 1861, and
the _St. James's Magazine_ of January, 1872.
The Oxford and Cambridge boat race, as we know it, did not commence
until 1845,[19] but there were inter-university struggles before that
date, as we see by the _Times_ of June 20th.
[Footnote 19: The first boat race between the two Universities was on
June 10th, 1829, from Hambledon Lock to Henley. Oxford won by five or
six lengths.]
"THE CUTTER MATCH BETWEEN THE UNIVERSITIES OF OXFORD AND
CAMBRIDGE.
"The long-expected match between the gentlemen of the
Universities came off on Friday (June 17th). The sum to be rowed
for was £400, or, as others say, £1000. The weather was most
unpropitious, and those who ventured forth on Friday must have
possessed more than ordinary 'game.' Betting had been two and
three to one on the Oxonians, and there were plenty of takers. At
four o'clock the competitors were at their posts, and, the signal
having been given, they were off. The gentlemen of Cambridge took
the lead, but the Oxonians were right on them. Nothing could have
been finer than the exertions displayed by each party, but
Cambridge still maintained the lead, nor did they, throughout,
ever forfeit that advantage. Cambridge won by four lengths, and
did not exhibit any symptoms of distress."
The boats were eight-oared as now.
"The course was the then Champion Metropolitan Course, from
Westminster to Putney. It was in this race that Cambridge first
adopted light blue as their colour, and that apparently by
accident. They were on the point of pushing off from Searle's
yard at Westminster, when somebody remarked that the boat had no
colour in the bow. One person suggested one colour, and one
another. At the last moment, Mr. R. N. Philips, of Christ's, a
well-known oarsman in those days, ran over to a haberdasher's
close by, and asked for a piece of Eton blue ribbon or silk. This
was produced, and the crew adopted it _con amore_. Since those
days Cambridge has worn light blue; while Oxford, for the sake of
contrast, have rather deepened their shade of the same colour.
The jerseys of Cambridge were white, and those of Oxford blue and
white stripes." "Record of the University Boat Race, 1829-1883,"
by G. G. T. Treherne and J. H. D. Goldie, p. 12. London, 1884.
CHAPTER XXI.
1836.
Report on the British Museum--The King and the Duchess of Kent; a
scene--Inauguration of George III.'s Statue at Charing
Cross--Poetry at the police court--The trip of the Nassau
balloon.
The British Museum had hitherto been the home (so to say) of red tape,
so much so, that it seemed as if every possible obstacle was placed in
the way of people enjoying and benefiting by that magnificent
institution. In fact, its management became such a scandal, that on
February 11th Mr. Estcourt moved that a select committee be appointed
to inquire into its condition, management, and affairs, which was
granted.
In July the committee made their report to the House, and recommended
that the number of official trustees be reduced, those who do not
attend to be requested to resign, and the vacancies, as they occur, to
be filled up by persons distinguished by their eminence in literature,
science, and art. The museum to be opened during the Easter, Whitsun,
and Christmas weeks, and on all public days from ten to seven in the
months of May, June, July, and August; the reading-room to be opened
throughout the year at nine o'clock in the morning. A further
division of departments to be made, the salaries of the officers to be
increased, and pluralities abolished, and an improved synopsis to be
prepared and sold in parts. Casts were to be made from the statues,
bronzes, and coins, and sold to the public at the lowest possible
price. Nothing was said about classed catalogues, nor the opening of
the reading-room in the evening, the claims of both having been
strongly urged. Still great reforms and concessions had been made.
The old King was very fond of his niece Victoria, but could not abide
her mother the Duchess of Kent, and Greville tells one story which
does not redound greatly to the King's credit.
"The King invited the Duchess of Kent to go to Windsor on the
12th of August, to celebrate the Queen's birthday (13th) and stay
there over his own birthday, which was to be kept (_privately_)
on the 21st (the real day, but falling on a Sunday), and
_publicly_ on the day following. She sent word that she wanted to
keep her own birthday at Claremont on the 15th (or whatever the
day is), took no notice of the Queen's birthday, but said she
would go to Windsor on the 20th. This put the King in a fury; he
made, however, no reply, and on the 20th he was in town to
prorogue Parliament, having desired that they would not wait
dinner for him at Windsor. After the prorogation, he went to
Kensington Palace to look about it; when he got there, he found
that the Duchess of Kent had appropriated to her own use a suite
of apartments, seventeen in number, for which she had applied
last year, and which he had refused to let her have. This
increased his ill-humour, already excessive.
"When he arrived at Windsor, and went into the drawing-room (at
about ten at night), where the whole party was assembled, he went
up to the Princess Victoria, took hold of both her hands, and
expressed his pleasure at seeing her there, and his regret at
not seeing her oftener. He then turned to the Duchess, and made
her a low bow, almost immediately after which he said that 'a
most unwarrantable liberty had been taken with one of his
palaces; that he had just come from Kensington, where he found
apartments had been taken possession of, not only without his
consent, but contrary to his commands, and that he neither
understood nor would endure conduct so disrespectful "to him."'
This was said loudly, publicly, and in a tone of serious
displeasure. It was, however, only the muttering of the storm
which was to break the next day.
"Adolphus Fitzclarence went into his room on Sunday morning, and
found him in a state of great excitement. It was his birthday,
and, though the celebration was what was called private, there
were a hundred people at dinner, either belonging to the Court,
or from the neighbourhood. The Duchess of Kent sat on one side of
the King, and one of his sisters on the other, the Princess
Victoria opposite. Adolphus Fitzclarence sat two or three from
the Duchess, and heard every word of what passed. After dinner,
by the Queen's desire, 'His Majesty's health, and long life to
him,' was given, and, as soon as it was drunk, he made a very
long speech, in the course of which he poured forth the following
extraordinary and _foudroyante_ tirade:--
"'I trust in God that my life may be spared for nine months
longer, after which period, in the event of my death, no regency
would take place. I should then have the satisfaction of leaving
the Royal authority to the personal exercise of that young lady
(pointing to the Princess), the heiress presumptive of the Crown,
and not in the hands of a person now near me, who is surrounded
by evil advisers, and who is herself incompetent to act with
propriety in the station in which she would be placed. I have no
hesitation in saying that I have been insulted--grossly and
continuously insulted--by that person, but I am determined to
endure no longer a course of behaviour so disrespectful to me.
Amongst many other things, I have particularly to complain of the
manner in which that young lady has been kept away from my Court;
she has been repeatedly kept from my drawing-rooms, at which she
ought always to have been present, but I am fully determined that
this shall not happen again. I would have her know that I am
King, and I am determined to make my authority respected; and,
for the future, I shall insist and command that the Princess do,
upon all occasions, appear at my Court, as it is her duty to do.'
He terminated his speech by an allusion to the Princess and her
future reign in a tone of paternal interest and affection, which
was excellent in its way.
"This awful philippic (with a great deal more which I forget) was
uttered with a loud voice and excited manner. The Queen looked in
deep distress, the Princess burst into tears, and the whole
company were aghast. The Duchess of Kent said not a word.
Immediately afterwards, they rose and retired, and a terrible
scene ensued: the Duchess announced her immediate departure, and
ordered her carriage, but a sort of reconciliation was patched
up, and she was prevailed upon to stay till the next day. The
following morning, when the King saw Adolphus, he asked him what
people said to his speech. He replied that they thought the
Duchess merited his rebuke, but that it ought not to have been
given there; that he ought to have sent for her into his closet,
and have said all he felt and thought there, but not at table
before a hundred people. He replied that he did not care where he
said it, or before whom, that, 'By God, he had been insulted by
her in a manner that was past all endurance, and he would stand
it no longer.'"
On August 3rd the equestrian statue of George III., in Pall Mall, was
inaugurated. It is by Matthew C. Wyatt, and represents the King as he
appeared when reviewing the volunteer troops in Hyde Park, in 1803. It
was originally intended to place this statue at the bottom of Waterloo
Place, where now stands the Guards' Memorial; but it was not
considered proper that the statue of the Duke of York should have his
back turned to the presentment of his father, and the site proposed
was consequently, abandoned. The spot it now occupies was then
selected, and preparations were made to erect the statue on June 4th,
the anniversary of the venerable monarch's birthday. The preparations
were rendered nugatory by the opposition of a business firm, who
considered its erection would be prejudicial to their premises. All
obstacles were overcome, and the statue was placed in position.
It was unveiled by the Duke of Cumberland, in the presence of a crowd
of noblemen and gentlemen, amidst much cheering, but when the duke,
who was never popular, left, he was severely hissed by the crowd. The
statue is an excellent likeness of the old King, and, when first
erected, was of a gorgeous golden colour.
There was an amusing police case at the Mansion House on September
21st, when an old woman was charged with having presented a poetical
begging petition at a bank in Lombard Street. She was very poor, and
the alderman gave her two shillings.
"Alderman Kelly: What can you do besides writing poetry?
"Defendant: Besides writing poetry! Do you call that nothing? I
can do more. I can teach people to write poetry.
"Alderman Kelly: Well, whatever you do, you must not annoy people
of business. If you are in necessity, you have a claim upon your
parish, whatever people may say to you, and I advise you to act
accordingly.
"Defendant:
When beggars apply for parochial relief,
The welcome they meet is, 'You rascally thief,
Why don't you go work, or beg, borrow, or steal,
Of those who are able to pay for your meal?
Only pass by the parish; the devil may care
If you feed with a bishop, or feed with a bear.'
"Alderman Kelly: You had better give me back those two shillings
for some more deserving person.
"Defendant: I'd willingly do so, but that I think people would
never forgive me for being such a fool (laughter).
"Mr. Hobler (chief clerk): I'd have you try the Press, now that
the stamp is reduced. I've known some people paid for worse stuff
at the enormous rate of a penny a line.
"Defendant: God bless you, Mr. Hobler, you always give me good
advice, as well as something to keep the wolf from the door.
Long life to you, my good old clerk,
With your pen stuck in your ear;
May your money increase from day to day,
And your children from year to year."
Twice only have balloons from England crossed the Channel--once in
1785, and again in 1836--and, from its rarity, the fact deserves
chronicling. On January 7, 1785, François (or Jean Pierre) Blanchard
and Dr. Jeffries crossed the Channel in a balloon, starting from
Dover, and alighting a few miles from Calais. This feat, in the very
infancy of aerostation, was considered very wonderful, and Blanchard
earned, in France, the title of _Don Quixote de la Manche_. They
started at one p.m. and descended in the Forêt de Felmores at three
p.m. They took with them provisions, cork jackets, philosophical
instruments, letters, and oars, with which they fondly hoped to be
able to steer their aerial craft. Their voyage is thus commemorated in
contemporary song--
"Their ballast being expended, near to the sea descended,
And what most them befriended, their cloaths went overboard,
Great coats and trousers gone, cork jackets they put on,
And thus again ascended aloft in the air.
They flew o'er Calais town, people of high renown
Took horses and rode after; it caused a hearty laughter,
And soon they found them hamper'd and clinging to a tree."
Louis XVI. gave Blanchard a present of twelve thousand francs, and a
pension of twelve hundred francs per annum.
On November 7, 1836, the feat was again essayed and was very
successful. Mr. Green, a veteran aeronaut, Mr. Monck Mason, and Mr.
Holland, ascended from Vauxhall at 1.26 p.m. In the car were upwards
of a ton of ballast, several gallons of brandy and wine, and a large
supply of coffee, cold fowls, ham, etc. There were also a supply of
blue lights, stars, and other fireworks, to be let down at night if
the voyage were not accomplished before dark, in order to enable the
aeronauts to reconnoitre the country from their elevation, and choose
the point of their descent, and a number of parachutes, to which
letters were fastened, to be dropped at intervals, for the purpose of
apprising the public of their transit, arrival, and safety. They were,
moreover, furnished with passports from the French and Dutch
embassies, and with a letter to the King of Holland from his
representative in this country. The balloon landed in perfect safety
at a village called Weilburg, in Nassau, at 6.30 next morning, after a
prosperous voyage of seventeen hours, having traversed a space equal
to about 480 English miles.
[Illustration: Dresses.]
Of course they were made a great fuss of. The use of the ducal
_manège_ was immediately tendered for the occupation of the balloon,
and military sentries, more as a guard of honour than for defence,
were posted at the gates and avenues leading to the place of its
reception. Balls, dinner parties, and other festivities were given in
its honour, and, last of all, it was named, with great _éclat_. The
balloon was inflated as much as space would allow, and Mr. Green and
eight young ladies entered within it. A daughter of the Baron de Bibra
then named it the "Great Balloon of Nassau," a large quantity of wine
was drank, and the company regaled themselves with the remains of the
plentiful supply of food taken in the balloon from England. It was
afterwards exhibited in Paris.
[Illustration: Hair dressing.]
The illustrations of ladies' dress include two walking dresses as well
as an indoors and evening dress. It will be noted that the very
graceful scarf was introduced in this year. (_See preceding page._)
CHAPTER XXII.
1837.
Epidemic of influenza--A scene in some Metropolitan
graveyards--Lord de Ros and his cheating at cards--Invention of
sewing machine--Coming of age of Princess
Victoria--Illuminations, etc.--The Spitalfield's silk weavers'
ball--Illness of the King--His death and burial.
This year opens dismally with influenza in a most virulent form. To
give some idea of its ravages, let me quote the _Standard_ of January
12th--
"The epidemic now raging has been seriously injurious both to
public and private business. On Saturday ninety clerks were
absent from the Bank of England, but on Tuesday the absentees
amounted to a hundred and thirty. At the Post Office, Custom
House, and Excise Office, as well as the Government Offices at
Somerset House and Whitehall, and at all the theatres, similar
inconvenience is daily felt, from the illness of the clerks and
others employed. Nor is the evil resulting to business from the
effects of this epidemy confined to public establishments.
Upwards of sixty men have been absent from the brewery of Messrs.
Barclay and Perkins within the last few days; the same number
from Maudslay's the engineers, in the Westminster Bridge Road;
seventeen from the warehouse and shop of Ellis on Ludgate Hill;
twenty from Hitchcock and Rogers'; and as great a number from
Shoolbred's. Indeed, so much has the influenza prevailed in some
quarters, that whole families have been laid up, their business
entirely suspended, and their shops closed; such is the case with
a shop in the Minories, and also with a public house in the
neighbourhood of Grafton Street, Gower Street."
On the 16th the same paper tells us of three judges and many members
of the bar incapable of work through this cause--and also that, within
the last fortnight, sixty-four of the pensioners in Greenwich Hospital
had died of the complaint; but the scene on Sunday, January 22nd, as
reported in the _Times_ and the _Annual Register_, seems to have been
very bad--
"Death had a high day in the metropolis last Sunday; and,
perhaps, in the memory of the oldest inhabitant, such a scene has
not been witnessed. There was scarcely an undertaker unemployed,
and many were unable to accomplish their orders. Hearses and
mourning coaches were to be seen driving through the streets,
hurrying from the execution of one funeral to the commencement of
another. Walking funerals were met at almost every corner of the
public streets, and many who had ordered carriages were unable to
procure them, and were compelled to wade through the dirt and wet
on foot. The churchyards seemed to be all bustle and confusion.
The principal interments took place in the parishes of St.
Pancras, Marylebone, St. Giles's, Clerkenwell, Whitechapel,
Bethnal Green, and St. Margaret's and St. John's Westminster. It
is computed that not less than a thousand burials must have taken
place on Sunday, and when it is considered that the number of
parishes in and around the metropolis is near two hundred, the
calculation does not seem to be an exaggerated one.
"In the churchyards of St. Pancras and St. Giles the scenes were
truly awful, and even disgusting to the feelings. The burial
ground in the former had more the appearance of a ploughed field;
furrows from the graves were turned up all over the place, and
such was the scene between three and four o'clock, that not less
than between forty and fifty interments took place, the
undertakers scarce knowing which grave to go to. Groups of
mourners, with corpses waiting, in every part, for the clergyman
to take his turn in performing the funeral service; then the
horrid manner of the grave-diggers (navigators, who seemed hired
for the purpose), their awful language, and careless manner of
filling in the graves, jumping and stamping on the coffins--such
a sight, indeed, was enough to appal the hardest heart. Some of
the mourners had actually to wait upwards of an hour before their
relatives could be interred.
"The epidemic seems not only to have been destructive in its own
natural form, but, at Guy's Hospital, in the wards, where a free
circulation of air existed, it has, in many instances, run into
bronchitis and pneumonia, and has even induced severe symptoms of
typhoid or yellow fever, in all which cases, it is easy to guess
what were the consequences. So very fatal, indeed, has it proved
in this way, that the managers of several hospitals have set
apart wards exclusively for patients with influenza. Dr. Johnson,
at the last meeting of the Westminster Medical Society, stated
that it has been far more violent in its character, and universal
in its extent, than the epidemic of 1833."
At the Court of King's Bench Lord Denman and a jury spent the 9th and
10th of February in trying an action for libel brought by Lord de Ros,
the premier Baron of England, against a Mr. Cumming, who had accused
his lordship of cheating at cards. The trial excited the greatest
interest, and was attended by most of the nobility and members of good
clubs.
It was charged against Lord de Ros that, at the whist table, he
frequently contrived to have a violent fit of coughing when his deal
came round, which obliged him to put his hands under the table; and
then it always happened that he turned up an honour; and that the aces
and kings in the packs Lord de Ros played with were frequently marked,
slightly, but perceptibly, with the thumb-nail. Many gentlemen swore
to their having been cheated by these tricks, and some refused to play
with Lord de Ros; and, though others did not shun him after his
cheating had been discovered, they sent him anonymous notes of
warning, and hoped that he had left off cheating. The play of these
gentlemen was sometimes very high, and one of them, Mr. Brook
Greville, admitted that he had made £35,000 by play; another, Captain
Alexander, said that he was a "better man by £10,000 for card
playing."
On the part of Lord de Ros, it was stated that he had a stiffness in
his finger-joints, which prevented him from playing tricks with cards,
though he could cut and shuffle them. But Sir William Ingleby swore to
the repeated frauds of the peer. He had seen him fifty times perform
the trick called "_sauter la coupe_;" which, in effect, was to cut the
cards so as always to turn up an ace or a king when he dealt. Several
witnesses proved that the aces and kings of the packs with which Lord
de Ros had played were marked. The persons who gave evidence against
Lord de Ros were, generally, professed gamblers; but no evidence was
adduced to prove that they had any spite against his lordship, or that
any conspiracy had been formed to ruin him. There never was a clearer
case against any delinquent; and the jury took only fifteen minutes to
determine upon their verdict, which was in favour of the defendant.
This was equivalent to the conviction of Lord de Ros of cheating at
cards, and he took the very prudent step of leaving England that night
for Rotterdam.
People are apt to consider that the sewing machine is an invention of
our own time. But the _Times_ of March 8th says otherwise--
"A master tailor of Amsterdam, named Weiland, a German by birth,
has invented a machine which performs the task of sewing a
garment as well as it can be done by hand. The King of Holland
has just presented him with one hundred ducats, but the tailors
have vowed vengeance against him."
The old King felt his health failing him, and his fervent wish was to
live until the Princess Victoria was of age. As Greville writes, May
23rd--
"The King prayed that he might live till the Princess Victoria
was of age, and he was very nearly dying just as the event
arrived. He is better, but supposed to be in a very precarious
state. There has been a fresh squabble between Windsor and
Kensington about a proposed allowance to the Princess."
The King's present to the Princess, on her birthday, was a magnificent
grand pianoforte by Broadwood, of the value of two hundred guineas.
The coming of age of the Princess, on May 24th, was kept with
festivity throughout the kingdom, but especially at Kensington. At six
a.m. the union jack was hoisted on the summit of the old church, and
also on the green opposite the palace. At this latter place it was
surmounted by a splendid flag of white silk, on which was inscribed,
in sky blue letters, the Princess's name "Victoria." From the houses
of the principal inhabitants of the High Street were also displayed
the royal standard, union jack, and other flags of all colours and
dimensions. Soon after six, the gates of Kensington Gardens were
thrown open to the public, and it having got wind that her Royal
Highness would be serenaded at seven (the hour when she was born) the
place was thronged with a large assemblage of well-dressed people.
As early as nine a.m. visitors arrived to enter their names in the
Duchess of Kent's book, and during the whole day, up to a late hour in
the evening, the palace was crowded with company, so much so, that
they were obliged to leave it by another gate. Their Royal Highnesses
received their household at half-past twelve, and the following
members of the royal family at two: the Princess Sophia, the Princess
Sophia Matilda, the Princess Augusta, and the Duke of Sussex. In the
course of the afternoon the Duchess of Kent, the Princess Victoria,
and the Princess of Leinengen drove through the parks in an open
carriage.
At night a State ball was given at St. James's Palace, the Princess
Augusta receiving the company on the part of the Queen. The ball
opened with a quadrille, the Princess Victoria being led off by Lord
Fitzalan, eldest son of the Earl of Surrey, and grandson of the Duke
of Norfolk. Her Royal Highness subsequently danced with Prince Nicolas
Esterhazy, son of the Austrian ambassador.
The following is the _Times_ account of the celebration of the
birthday in London:--
"Yesterday being the anniversary upon which the heiress
presumptive to the throne of these realms attained the age of
eighteen, considerable expectation had been raised amongst the
holiday seekers and sightseers of the metropolis that the day
would be celebrated by military displays, reviews, and those
attractions usually put forward on those occasions. Early in the
morning dense crowds were seen wending their way from all parts
of the metropolis, in the direction of Hyde Park, in anticipation
that their 'weary walk' would be remunerated by one of those
displays of military manoeuvres which, in times of peace, delight
those who wish to live at ease, and in the reality of which so
many Britons have participated, to the honour, the glory, and the
best interests of the land that gave them birth. So general was
the anticipation that such would commence the festivities of the
day, that crowds of artisans who had proceeded towards the usual
scene of action at an early hour, were followed towards the same
arena by vehicles of every description conveying their
fellow-subjects, who, though more wealthy, were equally devoted
to loyalty and amusement. Great was the disappointment when hour
after hour passed and brought no military relief to the
greensward, and eventually the multitude assembled diverged
homewards, or proceeded in search of other attractions. It is
proper to state that, at the dawn of day, salutes were fired from
the ordnance depôts of the metropolis, and to this only was the
military display confined.
"In the evening the principal streets of the City and West End
were most brilliantly illuminated, and, the weather being fine,
the crowds of eager spectators who had been disappointed early in
the day rendered the streets impassable. The club houses in Pall
Mall, St. James's Street, and elsewhere, were elegantly and most
appropriately illuminated, with one solitary exception--the
Reform club house in Pall Mall, in front of which was exhibited
the word "Victoria" in variegated lamps. Some wags doubted the
propriety of this display, and, looking at the Parliamentary
events of the preceding night, were sceptical as to the fitness
of the word at such a moment. It was, however, questioned by some
bystanders whether the display was designed as a compliment to
the heiress presumptive, or had reference to the "mighty
triumph" of the pseudo Liberals in the House of Commons on the
recent division.[20] Whatever was the intention of the parties by
whose direction the exhibition was made, it is beyond doubt that
the word 'Victoria' was, in that view, as much laughed at as
though an insignificant 'Five' had blazoned forth in all the
arrogance of conquest.
[Footnote 20: A debate on church rates, in which the majority was
only five.]
"Though the illuminations were by no means general, yet the
tradespeople of the Royal Family manifested devoted loyalty and
considerable taste in the displays they made. It would be
invidious to the parties, and uninteresting to our readers, to
describe the numerous devices and their localities. The task must
be indefinite, and it must, therefore, content the curious to
know that the brilliancy of the illumination, the taste
displayed, and the good humour which manifested itself in all
directions, made some considerable amends to the disappointment
of the holiday folk in the morning. Densely as the streets were
thronged (and we never saw them more so), we heard of no accident
having occurred--a fact which was rendered the more remarkable by
the total absence of anything like police arrangements as to the
passage of carriages through the principal and most attractive of
the streets. On the whole, however, the day passed off
wonderfully well, and a late hour of the night saw thousands
home, who were highly delighted with the sights they had seen."
_Fraser's Magazine_ for June had a rather smart sonnet on that
majority of five, called
"JUNE SONNET.
"Good was the omen on th' auspicious night
When kept was fair Victoria's natal day--
London in gas, and oil, and tallow gay,
Looked a vast isle of artificial light:
Anchors and crowns, and roses beaming bright;
Stars, garters, and triangles, shone around:
Lions and unicorns all chained and crowned,
And other blazonings--yellow, green, red, white--
Dazzled the air. But, more delighted, we
Welcomed one blazing letter everywhere
Playing a double duty. Hail, great V!
V! Ministerial sad majority--
Mark of the unhappy FIVE! with grim despair
Did Melbourne and his men that symbol see.'
The next thing of interest was "The Spitalfields Silk Weavers Ball,"
held on June 1st, at the King's Theatre. After the Edict of Nantes,
nearly fifty thousand French artisans and manufacturers fled into
England, and the silk weavers located themselves at Spitalfields and
Bethnal Green. At this time their trade was very bad, and there was
much distress among them. This being represented to the King and
Queen, they commanded that a ball should be given at the King's
Theatre for the benefit of the weavers, and at which their Majesties
intended to attend. All the feminine portion of the royal family and
the principal ladies of the nobility were patronesses, and a royal
command was given that no ladies should appear dressed in other than
satin or silk of Spitalfields manufacture, and that those gentlemen
who were not attired in military or naval uniforms should wear fancy
waistcoats of the same fabric.
The theatre was specially and beautifully decorated for the occasion;
the front of the boxes were hung in festoons of satin and silk (all of
Spitalfields manufacture), the grand tier being purple, with the badge
and insignia of the Order of the Garter; the second tier crimson, with
the badge and insignia of the Order of the Bath; the third tier light
blue, with the badge and insignia of the Order of St. Patrick; the
fourth tier green, with the badge and insignia of the Order of St.
Andrew; and the fifth tier light blue, with the badge and insignia of
the Guelphic Order. Five of the centre boxes were thrown into one, and
a large projecting balcony erected for the reception of the royal
visitors, and two boxes on either side for the accommodation of
members of the household. The pit was boarded over and made even with
the stage.
Weippert's band of sixty-four performers formed the orchestra. Mr.
Kendon, dancing-master to the Princess Victoria, acted as master of
the ceremonies, and special precautions were taken to prevent the
admission of improper characters. With that view the patrons and
patronesses gave vouchers to those who were anxious to be present,
which were afterwards exchanged by Mr. Willis, of Almack's, for the
regular tickets of admission, of which about 2300 were sold. Not a
seat was empty, and the ball was a decided success.
Neither the King nor the Queen were able to attend, for the poor old
man was moribund. A slight decline of strength had been perceptible to
the immediate attendants of the King at the commencement of the year,
but it was not till the month of May that the state of his Majesty's
health excited any serious apprehensions. On the 17th of that month he
held a levee, but, on his return to Windsor Castle, he showed great
signs of debility and exhaustion, with oppression of breathing, in
consequence of which he had considerable difficulty in ascending the
staircase; and when he had reached the corridor was under the
necessity of resting on the nearest sofa. He tried to keep up as well
as he could, but on June 7th his physicians found him much worse. On
June 8th his illness was noticed in the "Court Circular," with a
notice that the state entertainment intended to have been given at the
castle to the knights of the several orders was indefinitely
postponed; indeed, on that day, in obedience to the Queen's wishes,
the party staying at the castle dispersed.
Day after day he grew worse, with just a little flutter of improvement
when the Waterloo memorial flag was presented to him, when he
expressed himself as glad to see it, and begged the Duke of Wellington
to be told that he desired the Waterloo banquet to be held as usual,
and hoped it would be an agreeable dinner. He gradually sunk until
June 20th, when the following bulletin was issued:--
"Windsor Castle, Tuesday, June 20.
"It has pleased Almighty God to release from his sufferings our
most gracious sovereign, King William the Fourth. His Majesty
expired this morning at twelve minutes past two o'clock.
"MATT. JOHN TIERNEY.
"WM. FRED CHAMBERS.
"DAVID DAVIES."
Death came to him so gently, that some doubt existed as to the
precise moment at which he actually did expire. The stroke of death
was almost imperceptible.
[Illustration: Dresses.]
He lay in state on July 7th in the Waterloo Chamber at Windsor
Castle, and the public were admitted to see him from ten till four.
The next day--or rather on the night of the 8th--he was buried, with
all the pomp and the solemnity usual on such occasions, in a vault in
St. George's Chapel.
[Illustration: Hair dressing.]
The dresses for 1837 are two walking-dresses and a ball dress, and
also a child's costume, with different fashions of hairdressing.
CHAPTER XXIII.
Men's dress--Education--School advertisements--The original of
Squeers--Girls' schools--Tea as a meal--Food--A foreigner's
sketch of an English dinner-party--A high-class dinner--An ideal
dinner.
Men's dress was very much as in our time, the trousers were somewhat
tighter, the coat collars higher, the waistcoats were worn more open,
and there was somewhat more than a _soupçon_ of stays. Hair was worn
long and artificially curled, and no one but a cavalry man, or a
blackleg, wore a moustache. The neckcloths or "stocks," as they were
called, must have been veritable instruments of torture, being lined
with slips of whalebone, and coming tight under the chin; a rivulet or
rather river of satin flowed over the shirt, and was fastened by two
pins connected by a chain. But, if any one wants the man's costume of
William the Fourth's reign he will find it in the very familiar
engravings by "Phiz," to _Pickwick_ and _Nicholas Nickleby_. Elderly
gentlemen still wore knee breeches and silk stockings, with gaiters
for outdoor wear, and among them the pigtail was still to be found;
nay, I recollect two old gentlemen who wore them, as I also remember
some middle-aged men wearing the very handsome Hessian boot.
The Spanish cloak came in about 1834, and in the following
advertisement we see its size and price, together with the prices of
other clothes. _Times_, November 19, 1834--
"Spanish cloak of superfine blue cloth, a complete circle of
9-1/2 yards, £4 4_s._; Opera ditto, £2 2_s._; boy's ditto, £1
1_s_; camlet ditto, 11_s._; boy's ditto, 12_s._ Fashionable
Petersham great coat, bound, £2 2_s._; Saxon frock coat, faced
silk, £2 10_s._; an elegant suit of superfine cloth, complete, £4
4_s._; the very best that is made, £4 15_s._; suit of livery, £3
3_s._ Contract prices:--Two suits per year, £6 6_s._; extra fine
quality, the very best, £7 7_s._; three suits, £10 17_s._; ditto,
£12 5_s._; four suits, £14 6_s._; ditto, £15 18_s._; the old to
be returned. Stout cloth winter trousers, 13_s._ 6_d._"
Respecting education in England at this time, Count Edouard de
Melfort, who wrote his _Impressions of England_ in 1836, says--
"Even in the lowest classes in England it is difficult to find a
person who does not know how to read or write. There is scarcely
any village, however insignificant, which has not its 'National
School;' and, without meaning any offence to other countries, I
think I may assert that the education of the people in England is
superior to that of any other."
In this opinion, I think, the Count is too optimistic, for the lower
classes were woefully uneducated, my early experience being that
comparatively few could read and write, especially in the rural
districts. The upper class, of course, received an education to
prepare for the Universities; and, in the middle-class, a classical
education was decidedly predominant over one that would fit its
recipient for mercantile pursuits. The ordinary boarding-schools
charged from thirty to forty-five guineas per annum, but their
proprietors had a knack of including extras, which very greatly
increased this sum. Here is an advertisement of a middle-class school
in 1830--
"Exeter College, Snaresbrook, six miles from London, for the
reception of gentlemen designed for mercantile pursuits, the
legal and medical professions, the naval and military
institutions, and the Universities. The number is limited, they
are parlour boarders, and each has a separate bed. The
establishment is under the immediate attention of the Principal
and resident classical assistants, with the regular attendance of
professional gentlemen of eminence in the departments of French,
drawing, music, dancing, &c. Terms per annum--A mercantile
course, with mathematics, history, geography, use of the globes,
astronomy, etc., twenty-five guineas; or with the classics, in
Latin, Greek, and including drawing, music, and dancing, thirty
guineas; any one of the languages or accomplishments selected
with the first course, four guineas. Every department of this
establishment is arranged and conducted on the most comprehensive
scale of liberality. The pupils are the sons of private and
professional gentlemen of the highest respectability in London
and various parts of the kingdom," etc.
This was a comparatively cheap school. Let us take another, to which
well-to-do people would be likely to send their children. It was
situated near Newbury, and was conducted on the plan of a regular
grammar school--
"Young Gentlemen are received from 4 to 20 years of age.
Terms--from 4 to 10 years of age, 25 guineas; 10 to 15, 35
guineas; 15 to 20, 40 guineas; parlour-boarders, 80 guineas per
annum."
But there were lower class schools--such as Dickens has immortalized
in Nicholas Nickleby. He says in his preface to the 1839 edition that
he meant no one in particular, but we may, perhaps, think differently
after reading what I have to write. We all remember the story when
Snawley brings his sons-in-law to the Saracen's Head--
"'Mr. Squeers, I believe, sir?'
"'The same, sir,' said Mr. Squeers, with an assumption of extreme
surprise.
"'The gentleman,' said the stranger, 'that advertised in the
_Times_ newspaper?'
"_'Morning Post_, _Chronicle_, _Herald_, and _Advertiser_,
regarding the academy called Dotheboys Hall, at the delightful
village of Dotheboys near Greta Bridge, in Yorkshire,' added Mr.
Squeers. 'You come on business, sir, I see by my young
friends....'
"'Hem!' said the other; 'twenty pounds per annum, I believe, Mr.
Squeers?'
"'Guineas,' rejoined the schoolmaster, with a persuasive smile.
"'Pounds for two I think, Mr. Squeers,' said Mr. Snawley,
solemnly.
"'I don't think it could be done, sir,' replied Mr. Squeers, as
if he had never considered the proposition before. 'Let me see:
four times five is twenty, double that, and deduct the ---- Well,
a pound either way shall not stand betwixt us. You must recommend
me to your connection, sir, and make it up that way....'
"'And this,' resumed Snawley, 'has made me anxious to put them to
some school a good distance off, where there are no
holidays--none of those ill-judged comings home twice a-year that
unsettles children's minds so--and where they may rough it a
little; you comprehend?'"
That Dickens saw the following advertisements there is no doubt, for
they were inserted every half-year throughout the reign, in the
_Times_--
_Times_, July 15, 1830--
"EDUCATION. By Mr. SHAW, at BOWES ACADEMY, Greta Bridge,
Yorkshire.--YOUTHS are carefully INSTRUCTED in the English,
Latin, and Greek languages, common and decimal arithmetic,
book-keeping, mensuration, surveying, geometry, geography, and
navigation, with the most useful branches of the mathematics, and
provided with board, clothes, and every necessary, at 20 guineas
per annum each. No extra charges. No vacations. Further
particulars may be known on application to.... Mr. Shaw attends
at the George and Blue Boar, Holborn, from 12 to 2 daily, where a
card of particulars may be seen."
_Times_, September 18, 1830--
"At KIRBY HILL ACADEMY, near Richmond, Yorkshire, conducted by I.
Nelson and assistants. The system of instruction comprehends all
the usual branches of a liberal education, comprising the Greek
and Latin Classics, mathematics, etc., at 22 guineas per annum.
No extra charges. No vacation. French language and drawing on the
usual terms. I. N. will attend daily at the Saracen's Head, Snow
Hill, etc."
In these two advertisements we have, in the first, Greta Bridge and
Squeers's prospectus; in the other, his London place of abode, the
Saracen's Head, Snow Hill. Bowes is about five miles from Castle
Barnard.
Mr. Jonathan Bourchier sends a communication to _Notes and Queries_
(4th S. xii. 324) enclosing extracts from a letter from an old friend
who writes from Bowes--
"It is a very fine country--fresh mountain air. _Dotheboys Hall_
is still here, no longer a school. Mr. Shaw, the original of
Squeers, married a Miss Laidman, who was a sort of cousin of my
father. The school buildings are pulled down, but the house
(Dotheboys) is still a very nice handsome one, with large
offices, cowhouses, etc. We learn from our landlady that in the
room where we are now sitting (Unicorn Inn, Bowes) Dickens had
lunch the day he and a friend rode over from Barnard Castle to
see and make sketches of Mr. Shaw's school, and this same old
lady, Mrs. Highmoor, waited on them. Dickens was only here that
day, but he stayed longer in Barnard Castle, and got a great deal
of gossip, not too true, about the school from one ----, a
quondam usher of Shaw's and 'a bad lot,' who had, indeed, been
turned off for bad conduct.
"Mrs. Highmoor tells me, as indeed my father always says, that
Dotheboys Hall is a most exaggerated caricature. But somehow the
description was in some respects so correct that everybody
recognized it. Poor Shaw quite took it to heart, and did no more
good, got childish and paralytic, and soon died. The school went
down fast. Mrs. Shaw also died broken-hearted. But a good deal of
money was left behind. Mrs. Highmoor says there were an immense
number of boys; that Mr. Shaw chartered a special coach to bring
them from London (this place is on one of the great coaching
roads between York and Glasgow); and that there was great joy in
the village on the arrival of the coach and its precious
freight--quite _the event_ it was. She says the boys were used
very well, and fed as well as could be expected for £20 a-year;
that there might be things wrong, but no complaints were ever
made; that Shaw made money, because on his own farm he grazed the
cows and fed the sheep and pigs which supplied the boys' food.
"My impression is that Yorkshire schools were bad, but not so bad
as Dickens makes out, and Shaw's was better than most of them.
There is a strong feeling here of indignation against Dickens,
who no doubt ruined poor Shaw."
"An old pupil of Mr. Squires--the Mr. Squeers of Dickens's
'Nicholas Nickleby'--has died at New Brunswick, leaving behind a
record of his schooldays. This is to be published as a sort of
post-mortem vindication of Mr. Squires, whose career as a
pedagogue was rather unfairly caricatured by the novelist. The
old pupil is the Rev. Ralph Willis, a native of London. He went
to school at Bowes, in Yorkshire, and it was through his father
that Dickens heard of the school. Many of the scenes in the book
he describes as inventions; but the moral of the reminiscences is
that Squires was not as black as he was painted" (_Globe_, June
5, 1895).
A girl at boarding-school cost about the same as a boy, but day
schools seem to have been very cheap, judging by one in Salisbury
Square, Fleet Street, where the governesses say, in their
advertisement, that
"Their system of education is the result of close observation,
blended with long experience; and it embraces all the advantages
of a superior private instruction, with those which will ever be
found to exist in a well-conducted school. Terms, including
reading, geography, history, grammar, and useful and ornamental
needlework, one guinea per quarter. The Misses Thompson are
assisted in the departments of penmanship and arithmetic, the
French, Italian, and Latin languages, music, drawing, and dancing
by professors of eminence, on the usual terms."
But I fancy the following advertisement appealed to a far richer
_clientèle_:--
"At a first-rate FINISHING LADIES' SEMINARY, VACANCIES occur for
a few PUPILS. The system of education adopted is of the highest
order, embracing superior and peculiar advantages. In addition to
an extensive course of English studies, invaluable to young
ladies finishing their education, they will be perfected in the
French and Italian languages, music, comprising the harp,
pianoforte, and singing, with a knowledge of harmony and thorough
bass, drawing, dancing, and every research in science and
literature to qualify them to move in the first circles."
We may note that the guitar, which was then very fashionable, is not
mentioned, and we never find the German or Spanish languages taught.
The dancing comprehended galop, mazurka, waltz, quadrilles, and a
variety of fancy dances, such as the shawl dance, etc., which were
never used out of dancing academies. The poor little dears had no
other physical exercises, no swimming, nor Swedish gymnastics, and
their punishments consisted in being put in the stocks, which made
them turn out their toes, and in the back-board, which tended to
expand the chest and cure round shoulders. Their principal relaxation
was, as now, a solemn walk in procession.
Afternoon tea, as we know it, was unknown; but, as people dined much
earlier than now, it was a fairly substantial meal of hot buttered
toast, muffins, Sally Lunns, and other tea cakes. It was essentially a
chatty cosy meal, the same that Cowper sang of--
"Now stir the fire and close the shutters fast,
Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round."
Either the copper tea-kettle sang on the hob or on a trivet on the
bars, or the tea-urn hissed on the table; whilst on the polished brass
three-legged trivet, standing on the hearth, were the muffins,
crumpets, toast, or what not, keeping nice and hot. In many
middle-class houses a toasting-fork hung with a hearth broom by the
side of the mantelpiece, and it was thought no harm for the younger
portion of the family to "make the toast" by the dining-room fire. The
tea drank was exclusively of Chinese growth, that of India and Ceylon
never having been dreamed of, and the prices (retail) ranged from
3_s._ 6_d._ to 7_s._ 6_d._ per lb. A paragraph in the _Times_, July
15, 1836, gives us an idea of the amount consumed.
"Yesterday the East India Company" (who at this time had the
monopoly of the tea trade) "issued their declaration for the
sale of teas in September next. The declaration amounts to
4,000,000 lbs., and comprises 500,000 lbs. of bohea, 2,770,000
lbs. of congou, souchong, and pekoe, 600,000 lbs. of twankay, and
130,000 lbs. of hyson. In the present declaration there are
100,000 lbs. less of bohea than in the June sale, 100,000 less of
twankay, an increase of 170,000 lbs. of congou, souchong, &c.,
and 30,000 more of hyson. The whole amount of bohea teas entered
under the Treasury minute for payment of the duty of 1_s._ 6_d._
per pound until the 1st of August next is above 12,000,000 lbs."
With regard to the food, it was plain and wholesome, but was supplied
with such prodigality that the table literally "groaned" under its
weight, and I may safely say that at a dinner-party there was at least
six times more food provided than the guests could eat. It was their
way of showing hospitality. There was some truth in the description by
the old French _émigré_, who found England uninhabitable, because
"there were twenty-four religions and only one sauce, no ripe fruit
but roasted apples, and that each man ruined his health in drinking to
the health of others." But as it is good sometimes to "see oursen' as
ithers see us," let us hear what Count Melfort has to say on the
English middle-class dinner in this reign. After giving a most
humorous description of the _mauvais quatre d'heure_ before dinner, he
says--
"At last, hurried steps are heard, and the door opening briskly,
Mr. Jackson (the host) in person appears, who excuses himself for
his delay on account of some business, which, he says, kept him;
he shakes your hands, both at once, in each of his, and tells you
dinner is served; and then you offer your arm to Mrs. Jackson, I
take that of the timid eldest daughter, and we descend to the
ground floor, to the dining-room, which, like the two
drawing-rooms, is everywhere the same, in form, size, and
situation. You can hardly fail to observe all the brilliant
plate, not only on the table but also on the sideboard, where
trays of every size, goblets, covers, plates, and other objects
of the same metal are ranged against the wall; this display puts
one in mind of a silversmith's shop.
"The table is out of all proportion long; each end is occupied,
the one by Mr. Jackson, who undertakes to serve the fish and to
carve the large joints (such as an immense turbot, and then an
enormous piece of roast beef); the other end by _madame_, who,
having placed you on her right, and me on her left, begins to
serve the soup; she will afterwards ask you to carve the
everlasting boiled fowls, _à la sauce blanche_. As for the French
_ragouts_, which are ranged lengthwise down the table in covered
dishes, be careful and avoid them; I recommend it as a friend.
You have accepted soup, and I see that you are astonished to find
little _côtelettes_, bones, forced meat balls, etc., swimming
about; the cayenne pepper and other hot spices cause you to make
a grimace, whilst they burn your throat; never mind! eat some
turbot, you will find it excellent.
"You must now bravely 'screw your courage to the sticking place;'
you are nailed to that chair for the space of two hours and a
half at least, without any chance of conversation, except only a
few interrupted words, each person speaking occasionally in a low
tone to his or her neighbour. The burly Mr. Crack, to whom Mrs.
Jackson introduced us, has, as yet, only opened his mouth for the
purpose of endeavouring to satisfy his extraordinary appetite;
this, however, appears to be labour in vain; he is placed in the
middle of the table, and fills the place of two persons, whilst
he eats enough for four. As to that _soi-disant élégant_--that
little personage placed next to Miss Maria, who cannot turn his
head because of his stiff black stock which keeps it in
prison--you will guess by his ridiculous affectation and
exaggerated politeness to his neighbours to what sphere he
belongs; particularly when, during the dessert, on her asking him
the favour to give her an orange, he will take it up between two
spoons, one in each hand, his elbows raised and his fingers
extended. The only speech which you will have heard him utter
was when good Mr. Jackson cried out, after emptying his glass,
'After all, the climate of England is the best in the world!' and
he rejoined, 'It is unquestionably true!' Thus pass two hours!
However, at last the cloth is removed, and we continue round the
well-rubbed or polished mahogany table. At this point of the
entertainment Mr. Jackson makes us a bow, pronouncing at the same
time a few indistinct words; we all return his bow. This, after
dinner, is a regular custom--a sort of _agimus tibi gratias_,
which is thus said in abridgment.
"The table is now covered with crystal, fruit, and flowers, and
wine decanters; these are first arranged in battle array before
the host; and, at his signal, made by pushing the first round,
they begin their promenade of the table, one gentleman sliding
them along to the next; the ladies take a little, taste the
fruit, and, having occupied some moments in putting on their
white gloves, rise, following the example of Mrs. Jackson; we all
do the same, but only to conduct them to the door of the room.
Here, however, the force of habit makes you forget the
recommendation I had given you--you try to escape; but a hand
retains you by the tail of your coat; it is that of Mr. Jackson,
who observes to you that you have still a bottle of claret to
finish with him. Mr. Crack, too, had made a polite effort to rise
on the departure of the ladies, but his own weight reseated him;
he has now got to the raisins and preserved fruits, etc.
"After another mortal hour a servant enters, and announces that
the tea and coffee are taken upstairs; we ascend. Mrs. Jackson
advances to us immediately, she asks if we play or sing, and
tells us how amiable we should be to do so--this is a request
rarely addressed to an Englishman, one is too sure of a reply in
the negative. Mrs. Jackson appears very much astonished that
neither you nor I can satisfy her in this respect; and, after
many protestations in order to convince her, she makes a sign to
Miss Dorothy, the great musician of the family, who opens the
piano, places her two feet on both the pedals, and begins a
confused din, under which the instrument itself seems to suffer.
When she has finished you will be much embarrassed to tell me
whether it was an adagio, a waltz, or a quadrille which she has
favoured us with. But, never mind; like great Mr. Crack, who is
seated in his armchair, digesting his dinner, you cry out,
'Delightful!' This is all that is required.
"At length midnight is nearly arrived, and ceremony and
restraint, the _nous ne savons que faire_, still reigns at Mrs.
Jackson's; having wished them good-night, let us go!"
In No. XVI. of the _Original_, September 2, 1835, in an article on the
"Art of Dining," there are the following criticisms on contemporary
dining, which show that some of the sore points were known then:--
"It appears to me that nothing can be better contrived to defeat
its legitimate end than a large dinner-party in the London
season--sixteen, for instance. The names of the guests are
generally so announced that it is difficult to hear them; and, in
the earlier part of the year, the assembling takes place in such
obscurity that it is impossible to see. There is often a tedious
and stupefying interval of waiting, caused perhaps by some
affected fashionable, some important politician, or some
gorgeously decked matron, or, it may be, by some culinary
accident. At last comes the formal business of descending into
the dining-room, where the blaze of light produces by degrees
sundry recognitions; but many a slight acquaintance is prevented
from being renewed by the chilling mode of assembling. In the
long days the light is more favourable, but the waiting is
generally more tedious, and half the guests are perhaps leaving
the Park when they ought to be sitting down to dinner.
"At table intercourse is prevented as much as possible by a huge
centre piece of plate and flowers, which cuts off the one half of
the company from the other, and some very awkward mistakes have
taken place in consequence, from guests having made personal
observations upon those who were actually opposite to them. It
seems strange that people should be invited to be hidden from one
another. Besides the centre piece, there are usually massive
branches to assist in interrupting communication; and perhaps you
are placed between two persons with whom you are not acquainted,
and have no community of interest to become so.
"When the company is arranged, then comes the perpetual motion of
the attendants, the perpetual declining of what you do not want,
and the perpetual waiting for what you do, or a silent
resignation to your fate. To desire a potato, and to see the dish
handed to your next neighbour, and taking its course in a
direction from you round an immense table, with occasional
retrograde movements and digressions, is one of the
unsatisfactory occurrences which frequently take place; but,
perhaps, the most distressing incident in a grand dinner is to be
asked to take champagne, and, after much delay, to see the butler
extract the bottle from a cooler, and hold it nearly parallel to
the horizon, in order to calculate how much he is to put into the
first glass to leave any for the second. To relieve him and
yourself from the chilling difficulty, the only alternative is to
change your mind and prefer sherry, which, under the
circumstances, has rather an awkward effect. These and an
infinity of minor evils are constantly experienced amidst the
greatest displays, and they have, from sad experience, made me
come to the conclusion that a combination of state and
calculation is the horror of horrors. Some good bread and cheese
and a jug of ale, comfortably set before me and heartily given,
are heaven and earth in comparison.
"I must not omit to mention, amongst other obstacles to
sociability, the present excessive breadth of fashionable tables,
for the purpose of holding, first, the cumbrous ornaments and
lights before spoken of; secondly, in some cases the dessert, at
the same time with the side dishes; and, lastly, each person's
cover, with its appurtenances; so that to speak across the table,
and through the intervening objects, is so inconvenient as to be
nearly impracticable. To crown all, is the ignorance of what you
have to eat, and the impossibility of duly regulating your
appetite. To be sure, in many particulars, you may form a
tolerably accurate guess, as that, at one season, there will be
partridges in the third course, and at another pigeons, in dull
routine.
"No wonder that such a system produces many a dreary pause, in
spite of every effort to the contrary, and that one is obliged,
in self-defence, to crumble bread, sip wine, look at the
paintings, if there are any, or, if there are not, blazon the
arms on the plates; or, lastly, retreat into one's self in
despair, as I have often and often done. When dinner is over,
there is no peace till each dish in the dessert has made its
circuit, after which the wine moves languidly round two or three
times, and then settles for the rest of the evening, and coffee
and small talk finish the heartless affair."
The writer, previously (in No. XV.), gives his views of an ideal
dinner, which he seems to think perfection--
"I will give you, dear reader, an account of a dinner I have
ordered this very day, at Lovegrove's at Blackwall, where, if you
have never dined, so much the worse for you. This account will
serve as an illustration of my doctrines on dinner-giving better
than a long abstract discourse.
"The party will consist of seven men besides myself, and every
guest is asked for some reason--upon which good fellowship mainly
depends, for people brought together unconnectedly had, in my
opinion, better be kept separate. Eight I hold to be the golden
number, never to be exceeded without weakening the efficiency of
concentration. The dinner is to consist of turtle, followed by no
other fish but whitebait, which is to be followed by no other
meat but grouse, which are to be succeeded by apple fritters and
jelly; pastry on such occasions being quite out of place. With
the turtle, of course, there will be punch, with the whitebait
champagne, and with the grouse claret; the two former I have
ordered to be particularly well iced, and they will all be placed
in succession upon the table, so that we can help ourselves as we
please. I shall permit no other wines, unless, perchance, a
bottle or two of port, if particularly wanted, as I hold a
variety of wines a great mistake. With respect to the adjuncts, I
shall take care that there is cayenne, with lemons cut in halves,
within reach of every one for the turtle, and that brown bread
and butter in abundance is set upon the table for the whitebait.
The dinner will be followed by ices and a good dessert, after
which coffee and one glass of liqueur each and no more."
CHAPTER XXIV.
Clubs--Theatres--Other amusements--a foreigner's idea of
London--London streets and noises--"Buy a broom?" girls.
How did the people amuse themselves? For men of the upper class there
were clubs, which were nothing like so numerous as now. First of all
comes White's, the _doyen_ of all existing clubs--founded as a
Chocolate House in 1698; then, in the next century, the still
surviving clubs were Boodle's, Brooks', and Arthur's; while those of
the present century are the Guards (1813), United Service, Travellers,
Union, United University, Athenæum, Oriental, Junior United Service,
Wyndham, and Oxford and Cambridge. In William the Fourth's reign the
following came into existence: the Carlton and Garrick, 1831; the City
of London, 1832; Reform, 1835; and the Army and Navy, 1837. These, it
will be seen, are purely class clubs; the social clubs were generally
held at some respectable tavern, and their names are as unknown now as
their numbers.
There were fifteen theatres in London: (1) The King's Theatre or
Italian Opera, (2) Drury Lane, (3) Covent Garden, (4) Haymarket, (5)
English Opera or Lyceum Theatre, (6) Adelphi, (7) Olympic, (8)
Astley's, (9) Surrey, (10) The Coburg (named after Prince Leopold) in
Waterloo Road, now the Victoria, (11) Sadler's Wells, (12) City of
London (defunct), in Shoreditch, (13) Queen's Theatre, Tottenham
Street, Tottenham Court Road (now tenantless), (14) Pavilion, in
Whitechapel, and (15) the Garrick, in Leman Street, Whitechapel, no
longer used as a theatre. This latter was, on January 20, 1831,
prosecuted at the Middlesex Sessions for being unlicensed. "_Francis
Wyman_, _Benjamin Conquest_, and _Charles John Freer_, were indicted
for having, on the 1st of December, and on divers days since, kept a
house for dancing, music, and other like performances, called the
Garrick Subscription Theatre, and situate within twenty miles of
London, not having a licence obtained at the Michaelmas Quarter
Sessions of the Peace for that County." The offence was proved, but
the chairman ruled that the performance of music or dancing, as
incidental to a play, or in an interval between the acts, did not
constitute the keeping of a place for "performing music, dancing, and
such like performances," within the meaning of the Act. The evidence
showed this place was conducted as a theatre, and, as such, the
parties were liable to be proceeded against under other Acts of
Parliament, but he could not say they ought to be convicted under
this. _Not guilty._ This little theatre was particularly recommended
as closing by eleven o'clock--the performances at the others lasting
till twelve or after.
The following notices as to the prices and commencement of
performances of those which survive will be interesting for comparison
with their present arrangements:--
No. 1 was the only theatre with stalls, which, together with the
boxes, were mostly rented for the season. Pit, 8_s._ 6_d._
Commence at 8.
No. 2. Commence at 7. Boxes, 7_s._; pit, 3_s._ 6_d._; lower
gallery, 2_s._; upper gallery, 1_s._ Half-price at 9.
No. 3. Same as Drury Lane.
No. 4. Commence at 7. Boxes, 5_s._; pit, 3_s._; lower gallery,
2_s._; upper gallery, 1_s._ Half-price, none; but, as an
equivalent, the performances were seldom over before 1.
No. 5. No account of prices. Not always open.
No. 6. Commence, 6.45. Boxes, 4_s._; pit, 2_s._; gallery, 1_s._
Half-price, 8.30.
No. 7. Commence, 7. Prices same as Adelphi. Half-price, 8.30.
No. 8. Commence, 6.30. " "
No. 9. " " "
No. 11. " " "
No. 14. " " "
Vauxhall was open for singing and for dancing, for those who could
never hope for entrance into Almacks; and, for those who liked Tom and
Jerryism, there were many places which were open all night. But,
during the day, for serious people and families there were many
attractions. One of them, the bazaar, is practically dead. There were
the Soho Bazaar, and the Queen's Bazaar, in Oxford Street, opposite
the Pantheon, in which was exhibited the "Royal Clarence Vase," which
was made of cut coloured glass, in 2400 pieces, so joined as to be
water-tight. It weighed eight tons, its height, including the
pedestal, was fourteen feet, and the inner diameter of the bowl was
twelve feet. The Pantheon, now the offices of Messrs. W. & A. Gilbey,
was opened in May, 1834. It was one of the largest bazaars, with
counters for 250 standings for the sale of fancy articles, millinery,
jewellery, etc., and there were many rooms devoted to the reception of
paintings and statuary. There was the King Street Bazaar, Baker
Street, and something like the bazaars were the Western Exchange,
between Burlington Arcade and Old Bond Street, and the Burlington and
Lowther Arcades.
The Thames Tunnel, though far from complete, was open to the public on
payment of a shilling, which sum would also admit to the Exhibition of
the Royal Academy at Somerset House. Where the Empire Music Hall, in
Leicester Square, now stands, was Miss Linwood's Exhibition of
Needlework-pictures, mostly copies from old masters, done in coloured
wools. There were the Malediction of Cain, David with his sling,
Reynolds's Laughing and Sleeping Girls, Jephtha's Vow, etc., etc.--and
very beautiful they were. Entrance, two shillings. In Leicester
Square, too, was Burford's Panorama, in which, in April, 1832, were
exhibited panoramas of Bombay and Florence. In May, same year, at the
Queen's Bazaar, was the Physiorama and the Diorama, with eighteen
views altogether, among which were Bristol on fire, Melrose Abbey by
moonlight, Joshua commanding the sun to stand still, and the
Coronation in Westminster Abbey. At the Colosseum in Regent's Park,
finished in 1827 and demolished in 1874, was the famous Panorama of
London, which covered nearly an acre of canvas, painted, under the
superintendence of Mr. Parris, from sketches made by Mr. Horner in
1821, from St. Paul's, at the time when repairs were going on above
the dome of the cathedral. The visitor was raised to the level of the
panorama by means of a lift, which in those days was considered a
wonder. To see this cost one shilling, whilst for another you might
see the Conservatories, Marine Cavern, Swiss Cottage, Waterfall,
Alpine scenery, etc. This year, too, there was another panorama at
Burford's, a view of Milan, and, during the reign, there were several
others, as well as changes at the Diorama.
At the lower end of St. Martin's Lane was the pavilion of the gigantic
whale, which was found dead, floating off the coast of Belgium, on
November 3, 1827. The skeleton, which was exhibited, was ninety-five
feet long, and eighteen broad, and the prices to view were a shilling
each person, and "for those who sit in the belly of the whale two
shillings." In Bond Street the curious might visit the "Papyro
Museum," which was a collection of many groups of miniature figures
moulded in paper, and habited and coloured to the life. They were
modelled by two ladies, sisters, and took four years to execute. It
was not successful, and its fate is described in the following quaint
advertisement. _Times_, September 15, 1832--
"THE PAPYRO MUSEUM,
or 'Casting Pearls before Swine,' recently illustrated at 28, Old
Bond Street, and here demonstrated as follows, viz:--
£ _s._ _d._
Dr. to 12 weeks rent of exhibition room 25 4 0
" Carpenters' and drapers' bills 11 3 1
" Three printers' bills 11 2 0
" Advertisements in daily and weekly papers 27 4 6
" Salaries of receiver, check-taker, and placard
men 25 19 0
" Sundries, including carriage, insurance, postage,
magnifying-glasses, stationery, &c. 8 5 4
------------
108 17 11
------------
Cr. by admissions £71 11_s._; catalogues sold £7 1_s._ 78 12 0
------------ -----------
Loss on exhibition £30 5 11
"Reflect on this, ye directors of public taste and opinion, opera
goers, _déjeuné_ doers, and ostentatious patrons of virtu. The
exhibition of a single little mediocre picture, with a big name,
'The Chapeau de Paille,'[21] cleared, by your indiscriminate,
gregarious appreciation, about twelve hundred guineas! The Tam
O'Shanter Stone Works, between three and four thousand! While
eighty groups of the most unique and exquisite gems of art in
Europe, the achievements of English artists, and wholly devoted
to British charity, realizes, by three months exhibition, a loss
of £30 5_s._ 11_d._! to say nothing of considerable personal
expenses, and the sacrifice of immense mental and physical
exertion. If this be not disgusting, if it be not an eternal
disgrace, if it fail to rouse deep indignation, and to justify
the bitterest contempt, then what can, or ought? Would anomalies
so odious have happened in Dublin or Edinburgh? In Paris,
Brussels, or Amsterdam? In Berlin, Vienna, Moscow, or St.
Petersburgh? In Rome, Naples, Madrid, or even Lisbon? Would such
barbarous and heartless apathy to genius and humanity be evinced
in Algiers, America, Hayti, or, in short, by any people on earth,
but the 'most thinking,' absurd seeking, flea-hunting dilettanti
of the British Metropolis? So much for Royal and aristocratic
patronage; so much for the schoolmaster at home; his boasted
'march of intellect,' 'penny' intelligence, discernment,
patriotism, and benevolence, forsooth!"
[Footnote 21: Now in the National Gallery: bought by the trustees from
the late Sir Robert Peel.]
In May, 1834, was exhibited at the Baker Street Bazaar, a "Padorama,"
or a continuous view of the railroad and the adjacent country through
which the line of road passes between Manchester and Liverpool. And
the same month and year was opened a "Cosmorama" in Regent Street,
with views of the Hippodrome at Constantinople, the town of Grenoble,
the interior of the Cathedral of St. Gudule at Brussels, the Lake of
Thun, and the adjacent Alps, Isola Bella on the Lago Maggiore, the
Cascade in the Park of St. Cloud, the Monuments at Philoe, on the
Nile, and the Convent of St. Bernard. These two exhibitions seem to
have been ephemeral, but the panorama in Leicester Square, and the
diorama in Regent's Park, still held their own.
Another ephemeral exhibition took place in this year, which is
described in the _Times_, June 9--
"EXHIBITION OF ANCIENT COSTUME.
"The exhibition of ancient female costume worn at the courts of
Oliver Cromwell and Charles II., which last year was exhibited at
Regent Street, has this season been opened at the Somerset
Gallery, No. 151, Strand. The dresses which compose this very
curious and entertaining collection, were the property of Mrs.
Luson, who was well known for her eccentricity and peculiar
habits of life. Mrs. Luson died about fourteen years ago, at the
almost antediluvian age of 116 years. The dresses now being
exhibited, with many others which are in the possession of the
proprietor of the exhibition, and also many ancient watches,
bracelets, and female ornaments of various descriptions, came
into the possession of Mrs. Luson, in consequence of her marriage
with Mr. Luson, to whom they descended from Mrs. Bendysh, the
daughter of Lady Fleetwood, and, consequently, the granddaughter
of the Protector Cromwell. We believe they may be considered as
genuine articles, and, as the proprietor affirms them to be, the
identical garments worn by the Cromwell family on the occasions
of Court festivals."
In Tichborne Street was "Weeks' Mechanical Exhibition," where, among
other things, was shown an automaton tarantula spider, made of steel,
which ran backward and forward, stretched and drew out its legs, and
moved its horns and claws. There was also an "animated white mouse,
formed chiefly of oriental pearls. This little animal runs about the
table, and feeds at pleasure, and looks so tempting that the most
daintily fed tabby might consider it a _bonne bouche_. A
_caterpillar_, the colours of which are represented in enamelled gold
and brilliants, is an admirably minute copy of animated nature; it is
seen feeding on the foliage of a golden tree. Nor must we forget the
figure of an _old woman_, who at a call comes forth from her cottage,
walks leisurely about, supported by the occasional use of her
crutches, while the joints in her arms and legs are all in apparently
natural motion!" Madame Tussaud's exhibition of waxwork was not open
all the year round; up to 1834 the show was in Gray's Inn, and
afterwards at the Lowther Rooms, King William Street, Charing Cross.
Another minor exhibition was the "Microcosm" in Regent Street, near
Piccadilly, where, "by means of the solar microscope, one
wine-glassful of river water is shown to contain reptiles of all
descriptions, from the _newt_ to the _lizard_!"
The Zoological Gardens in Regent's Park were opened to the public in
1828, and William IV. considerably augmented the collection of the
larger beasts, by presenting the Society with the menagerie which used
to be maintained at the Tower. And there were also the Surrey
Zoological Gardens, in Manor Place, Walworth, which were first opened
to the public in August, 1831. Here was a small menagerie compared
with that of the Zoological Society, the property of Mr. Cross, who
removed here from Exeter Change, and the gardens were more for popular
entertainment. There was a large lake, and, although the place was
opened on a somewhat scientific basis, it soon came to be only for
amusements, such as concerts, fireworks, etc. It was sold soon after
1862, and is now all built over.
The London of that day was not beautiful, dull rows of houses utterly
devoid of any ornament met the eye everywhere. Architecture was
practically unknown, and the only improvement that had been made for
many years was the building of Regent Street. It was reserved for the
Victorian era to redeem the apathy of the past. Hear what a foreigner,
Baron d'Haussez, writing in 1833, says--
"In the more recently built parts of London there is nothing
imposing but the breadth and handsome proportions of its streets;
and in the City nothing but its immense population and the
impress of life which commerce imparts to it. With the exception
of the churches, whose style, whether Greek or Gothic, is
tolerably pure, few buildings fix the attention of a stranger;
but a great number may surprise him by the profusion or the
singularity of their ornaments, or by the beauty of their site.
To this cause, and to the irregularity in the line of buildings,
is chiefly owing the effect produced by the houses in Pall Mall,
Waterloo Place, Regent Street, and Regent's Park. So much pains
have been taken to reproduce the ancient style of architecture,
that one might fancy one's self in an ancient Greek or Roman
City; there is not a house which has not a monumental character.
The slightest examination reveals the numerous imperfections, the
glaring faults of imitation without taste, without reason, and at
variance with the commonest rules of art."
The Baron is equally outspoken as to some of the social aspects of the
metropolis--
"One is often tempted to ask, not if there is a police in London
(its agents in a blue uniform, with numbered collars, scattered
everywhere, night and day, would render that question
superfluous), but what the police does, so little attention is
paid to its details--so great its seeming negligence, in order
not to appear over meddling: certain it is, however, that the
interference of the police is not visible in the cleanliness of
the streets, nor in the indication of their names (for the names
are wanting at the end of most streets), nor in the passing to
and fro of carriages, which are drawn up _pêle mêle_ at the
entrance of all public places, according to the irresponsible
caprice of their drivers. It often happens, in consequence of
this confusion, that vehicles of all sorts become locked
together; this gives rise to a reciprocation of abuse and blows;
nor is the interference of the police here apparent as regards
animals, which, in being driven on market days from one end of
the town to the other, occasion frequent obstructions and often
serious accidents. A certain class of women, too, in spite of
English modesty, exercise their shameless calling in a most
brazen manner, unchecked by the police; neither do they abate
those nuisances of stalls, dangerous to the health and safety of
the public; nor bestow the attention on an infinity of objects
which, in other countries, claim and deserve the attention of the
Municipal Administration. In England, trifles like these are
disregarded, and interference is limited to matters of more
importance. On the other hand, there are few capitals where
robberies are more infrequent, where robbers are so soon
discovered and punished, or where popular movements (brought
about generally, it is true, by a populace without courage, and
unaccustomed to the use of firearms) are sooner suppressed; where
there are fewer disastrous occurrences, fewer collisions between
the different classes of society; or where all these results are
obtained with so little constraint, vexation, and noise."
But it was a very noisy city, this London. The watchmen, not
altogether done away with, would croak out his "Past twelve o'clock,
and a frosty morning;" the milkwoman made the early morning hideous
with her shrieks, as also did the chimneysweep and the newsman, who
brought your morning paper; the peripatetic vendor of fish, or cats'
meat, cried out, the dustman rang a bell and yelled, whilst all sorts
of street hawkers helped to swell the din. Muffin men not only cried
out but rang a bell, as did also the postman; but then his bell was
legalized and useful, as, on hearing it, people could rush to the door
and give him the letters needing posting instead of going to a
post-office, which might be some distance off, and there were no
pillar-boxes in those days. Then, too, the postmen wore the King's
scarlet. The streets were noisy, the roads being paved with squared
stones, asphalte never having been dreamt of, and wood-pavement being
only just mentioned by the _Mechanic's Magazine_, quoted in the
_Times_ of October 27, 1835--
[Illustration: Man.]
"We observe from the New York papers, that a trial is about to be
made in that city of the plain paving with wood followed in St.
Petersburg, and repeatedly recommended by us for adoption in the
more retired parts of our own metropolis. A part of the Broadway
has been selected for the purpose. 'Each of the small blocks of
wood is of hexagonal shape; the whole are fitted together and
driven up tightly, by a long strip of timber near the gutter at
the side; and the interstices between the blocks to be well
covered with tar or pitch.'"
[Illustration: Broom girl.]
One of the features of the streets at that time was the "buy a broom
girl," so called from her cry. Her costume was picturesque, and she
was rather an ornament to the extremely prosaic street.
"From Deutschland I come, with my light wares all laden,
To dear, happy England, in summer's gay bloom;
Then listen, fair ladies, and young pretty maidens,
And buy of a wand'ring Bavarian, a broom.
Buy a broom? Buy a broom?"
Their lives were not always happy, as we may see in the _Times_ of
October 5, 1830--
"One of the Dutch girls, who obtain a livelihood by selling
brooms, applied to the magistrates at Lambeth Street for a
summons against the man who brought her over to this country for
withholding her wages. It appeared, from her statement, that it
was the practice for the dealers in brooms to bring over a number
of girls, at miserable wages, which are contracted to be paid
when the girl returns to Germany. Many, therefore, have an
opportunity of defrauding the girls of their miserable pittance;
and in this case, from the girl's statement, appeared likely to
add to their number. She had contracted for 1_s._ 8_d._ a week to
sell brooms about the country. On this pittance she was to board,
clothe, and lodge herself, which she had only been able to do by
the bounty and charity of the gentry in the country. Her master
had run into her debt to the amount of £2, and was preparing to
quit England. The magistrates ordered that the summons should be
immediately granted."
Hone, who has rescued for us so many unconsidered trifles, tells us in
his _Every-day Book_ (vol. i. 809) that--
"These girls are Flemings. They come to England from the
Netherlands, in the spring, and they take their departure with
the summer. They have only one shrill twittering note, 'Buy a
broom?' sometimes varying it into the singular plural, 'Buy a
brooms?' It is a domestic cry: two or three go together, and
utter it in company with each other; not in concert, nor to a
neighbourhood, and scarcely louder than will attract the notice
of an inmate at a parlour window or an open street door, or a
lady or two passing in the street. The hair is tightened up in
front and at the sides, and so secured or skewered at the top of
the head, as if it were constricted by a tourniquet; the little
close cap, not larger than an infant's, seems to be put on and
tied down by strings fastened beneath the chin, merely as a
concealment of the machinery.
"Without a single inflexion of the body--and, for anything that
appears to the contrary, it may be incased in tin--from the
waist, the form abruptly and boldly bows out like a large
beehive, or an arch of carpentry, built downward from above the
hips, for the purpose of opening and distending the enormous
petticoat into numerous plaits and folds, and therefore allowing
the legs to walk without incumbrance. Their pictures are exactly
miniatured in an unpainted penny doll of turnery ware, made all
round, before and behind, and sold in the toy shops for the
amusement of infancy. These Flemish girls are of low stature,
with features as formal and old-fashioned as their dress. Their
gait and manner answer to both. They carry their brooms, not
under the left arm, but upon it, as they would children, upright
between the arm and the side, with the heads in front of the
shoulder. One, and one only, of the brooms is invariably held in
the right hand, and this is elevated with the sharp cry of 'Buy a
Broom?' to any one likely to become a purchaser, till it is
either purchased or declined.
"The 'brooms' are one entire piece of wood; the sweeping part
being slivered from the handle, and the shavings neatly turned
over, and bound into the form of a besom. They are bought to dust
curtains and hangings with; but good housewives have another use
for them; one of them, dipped in fair water, sprinkles the dried
clothes in the laundry, for the process of ironing, infinitely
better than the hand; it distributes the water more equally and
more quickly."
Other foreigners were there in the streets, Italian boys, who had
white mice, and played the hurdy-gurdy, and Italian men, who ground
upright pianos, and sometimes had a companion monkey; but the German
brass band was, happily for our forefathers, unknown.
CHAPTER XXV.
Holborn Viaduct--Omnibuses--Cabs--Hansom's patent--Posting--Mail
coaches--Stage coaches--Hotels.
On all hands, it is admitted that the streets of London were generally
well paved, and there were but two bad hills, Holborn and Snow Hills,
which were caused by the Valley of the Fleet. This has been bridged
over in our time, but a similar viaduct was proposed in 1833. This was
intended to take down the houses from the corner of Bartlett's
Buildings, Holborn, to Seacoal Lane, Skinner Street, or, on the
opposite side, from Hatton Garden to the top of Snow Hill, and erect a
level terrace on brick arches between these points, the houses to be
taken down and set back about fifty feet, or in a line with St.
Andrew's Church, and the arches under the terrace to be fitted up as
shops on Holborn Hill, with a handsome balustrade on the top. An
ornamental arch was to be turned over Farringdon Street, on the
principle of Highgate Archway. This is, virtually, what was begun
about thirty years later, in 1867.
As the population of London in 1831 (taking the area as now) was only
about a million and a half, it stands to reason that there would be
but about a quarter of the traffic. The first omnibus started from the
Yorkshire Stingo, Paddington, to the Bank, on July 4, 1829, and,
becoming popular, these vehicles were very soon multiplied, and, in
1831, there seem to have been ninety running; for, at a meeting of
omnibus proprietors on September 10th of that year, it was proposed,
in consequence of the danger which arose from competitive racing, to
stop thirty-three of them, and, as the chairman observed, "this
diminution would leave fifty-seven of them to run, so that the public
would have a regular conveyance every three minutes from Paddington to
the Bank, from eight in the morning till ten at night."
As a specimen of omnibus amenities about this time I may mention a
police case at Marylebone, on August 14, 1830. It was for an assault,
but that was of very little moment; it related more to the convenience
and safety of the public, especially the female portion; for it came
out that by some of the cads (as the conductors were then called) it
was considered fair play to take a lady forcibly from the steps of an
omnibus she was inclined to enter and push her into another, and that
the previous week, two ladies had been so mauled by four strong
fellows, that they would not ride at all.
The royal assent was given on September 22, 1831, to "An Act to amend
the laws relating to Hackney Carriages," etc., by which it was enacted
that, up to January 5, 1833, they should be limited to twelve
hundred, and, after that date, there was to be no limitation to their
number, except that caused by the law of demand and supply. The
hackney coach was a cumbrous vehicle with two horses, and, in 1823,
one-horsed vehicles were introduced, called cabriolets, speedily
shortened into cabs. They began modestly with twelve, and in 1831 had
increased to one hundred and sixty-five. They were somewhat peculiar,
as the driver sat by the side of his fare, although not with him, and
the possibility of the coachman seeing the amount he was to be given,
and the chance of his upsetting his passenger in case it did not meet
his expectations, is humorously described in Pickwick.
[Illustration: One-horsed vehicule.]
On December 23, 1834, Joseph Aloysius Hansom, an architect, took out a
patent, No. 6733, for "a vehicle for conveying loads, etc.," and from
that time to this his name has been inseparably connected in England
with cabs. Not that his cab was like the present "hansom," which is a
product of much evolution. There was no back seat for the driver, and
its "safety" consisted in its cranked axle. He sold his rights to a
company for £10,000, but never got a penny piece of it. The only money
he ever got out of it was £300, which, when the company had got into a
muddle, was paid him to take temporary management and put things
straight again.
[Illustration: One-horsed vehicule.]
Thanks to Mr. John Macadam, whose system of using broken stones is
still adopted, the country roads were very much improved. He, unlike
Hansom, received £10,000 from Parliament, and was appointed
Surveyor-General of the Metropolitan roads in 1827. He died in 1836.
In describing travelling in England during this reign, I cannot do
better than quote from Baron d'Haussez, because a foreigner looks upon
things with a far more critical eye than a native, who is always used
to them. Says he--
"The taste for travelling, an expensive taste in any country, is
truly a ruinous one in England. If the means of satisfying it are
numerous, and accompanied by all that can promote pleasure, one
is steeled against this seductive consolation by the perpetual
warning of a speedily drained purse.
[Illustration: Vehicule.]
"Posting, placed on a totally different footing from that service
in the rest of Europe, is not the object of an exclusive
privilege. By means of a licence, which cannot be refused, relays
of post-horses are established according to the caprice or will
of those who possess them. The rivalry arising from this practice
does not lower the price of posting, which, London excepted, is
nearly the same on all roads, and differs but little from the
price of relays in France. The number of horses is always fixed
at two or four, without regard to the number of travellers, or to
the form or weight of the carriages. When you desire a
post-chaise, the innkeeper is obliged to furnish it, without your
paying an additional price. These chaises, in the shape of our
_coupés_, are well hung, and very clean and commodious.
"England has not, as we find in France, a breed of horses
specially appropriated to posting. The greater part of the
post-horses in England are hunters or carriage-horses, which,
having become unfit for either of these purposes, wear out the
remnant of their strength in post-chaises, before they are
transferred to hackney coaches and waggons. Their speed answers
in a great degree to what one would expect from their breed. You
travel at the rate of eight or nine miles an hour (about three
and a half leagues), which includes the time of changing horses.
"The height of the postillions (always chosen among the smallest
men), and their dress, consisting of a jacket, short breeches,
and half boots, are calculated with a view to reduce to the
smallest possible compass the burden of the horses. There is no
difference between the town harness and that which is kept for
posting. They are both in excellent condition.
"The mail coaches destined for the transport of letters are
carriages with four inside and six outside places. Behind the
coach the guard is seated, with a blunderbuss and a pair of
pistols before him. These coaches travel at the rate of ten
miles, or four leagues an hour; but their small size (for the
English, in general tall and thick, appear to have little regard
to their personal proportions in the size of their carriages),
and the short time they stop to refresh, render them very
unpleasant modes of conveyance.
"Stage coaches are very elegant carriages, built to carry fifteen
or eighteen travellers, and a considerable weight in packets, but
on admirable roads. This is an indispensable condition. Without
it, the height of the carriages, the arrangement of the whole of
the luggage on the imperial, and the lightness of the body and
the axletree, would give rise to frequent accidents.
"The inside of the coach contains only four places. The seat of
the coachman, and another seat placed immediately behind it,
admit of six persons, and two seats facing each other, at the
hind wheels, afford places for six or eight more. These seats are
fixed over boots or boxes for stowing away the luggage. Such
parcels as these cannot contain are placed on the imperial.
"The desire to breathe the fresh air, rather than economical
considerations, induce even the richest English to give a
preference to outside places. They only go inside when compelled
by bad weather. The place most in request--one knows not
wherefore--is to the left of the coachman; it is considered as
the place of honour, and is reserved for fashionables, and even
for lords, who do not disdain to travel thus. The sole
advantages, which such a station appeared to me to present, were
the being placed near a well-dressed coachman, and the escaping
the chance of travelling by the side of a butcher, a shoemaker,
or some other individual of that class. Each time the coachman
descends from his box, his neighbour has the advantage of being
made the forced depositary of his reins and whip. These are
placed in your hands, as they are taken out of them again,
without the least ceremony.
"The appointments of an English coach are no less elegant than
its form. A portly looking coachman seated on a very high
coach-box, well dressed, wearing white gloves, a nosegay in his
button-hole, and his chin enveloped in an enormous cravat, drives
four horses perfectly matched and harnessed, and as carefully
groomed as when they excited admiration in the carriages of
Grosvenor and Berkeley Squares. Such is the manner in which
English horses are managed, such, also, is their docility, the
effect either of temperament or training, that you do not remark
the least restiveness in them. Four-horse coaches are to be seen
rapidly traversing the most populous streets of London, without
occasioning the least accident, without being at all
inconvenienced in the midst of the numerous carriages, which
hardly leave the necessary space to pass. The swearing of ostlers
is never heard at the relays, any more than the neighing of
horses; nor are you interrupted on the road by the voice of the
coachman, or the sound of his whip, which differs only from a
cabriolet whip in the length of the thong, and serves as a sort
of appendage, rather than a means of correction in the hand which
carries it. In England, where everything is so well arranged,
where each person knows so well how to confine himself to the
exigencies of his proper position, the horses do better what they
have to do than the horses of other countries, and that, too,
without the need of a brutal correction. One may travel from one
end of England to the other without hearing the sound of a whip,
or the hallooing of conductors, which in France fall so
disagreeably on the ears of travellers.
"Among the wonders of English civilization, the inns should be
mentioned. In many of the larger towns they are magnificent, and
they are good and well supplied in the smallest. In the greater
part of them the servants are in livery, and in all their
attendance is prompt and respectful. On their arrival,
travellers are received by the master of the house, whose decent
dress indicates a respectful feeling towards strangers.
Introduced into a well-heated, well-furnished room, they have
never to wait for a meal, the simplicity of which, in the way of
cookery, is atoned for by the elegance, often the richness, of
the plate and ware, and the superior quality of the meat. A
sleeping-room, as comfortable as this kind of apartment (so
neglected in England) can be, completes the _agrément_ of your
sojourn. Your discontent does not commence till the exorbitant
bill proves that such attentions, far from being disinterested,
are, on the contrary, dearly charged for. Seldom do you separate
from your host with a reciprocation of politeness. Yet,
notwithstanding the coldness with which his attentions are
received, the landlord does not cease to remain by the side of
the traveller till his carriage is in motion."
With regard to the London hotels, travellers by the coaches generally
stopped where they stopped, and were very fairly treated. Of course,
there was none of the palatial magnificence of the modern hotel, but
there was an amount of homely comfort to which the people of those
days were accustomed. The West End hotels, save those for awful
swells, were about Covent Garden, and Morley's Hotel at Charing Cross
was one of the best. The first monster hotel in London was the Great
Western, and its financial success led the way to the palaces that now
adorn our West End thoroughfare.
There is an amusing anecdote _re_ "Mine Host" given in the _New
Sporting Magazine_, and quoted in the _Times_ of March 27, 1835--
"INNKEEPER'S WAYS.
"I will conclude with a story told me the other day, by a Kentish
gentleman, of an innkeeper's 'ways' on the Dover Road. Two
gentlemen having dined and stayed all night, called for the bill
in the morning, and one of them happened to be within earshot
when the waiter went to the landlord to have it made out, and
overheard the following colloquy: Waiter: 'Please, sir, the
gemmen in No. 5 wants their bill.'--Landlord: 'Very well' (taking
down a printed form), 'let me hear what they had.'--Waiter:
'Soup, sir.'--Landlord: 'Soup; very well; what sort was
it?'--Waiter: 'Mock turtle.'--Landlord: 'Mock turtle, 3_s._ Did
they make any remark about it?'--Waiter: 'No, sir; only one of
them said it was werry good.'--Landlord: 'Did they eat of it
twice?'--Waiter: 'Yes, sir.'--Landlord: 'Oh, then, mock turtle,
5_s._; now go on.'--Waiter: 'Fried sole and shrimp
sauce.'--Landlord: 'Fried sole, 2_s._; shrimp sauce, 1_s._; 3_s._
Did they make any remark about that?'--Waiter: 'One of them said
that the fish was werry fresh.--Landlord: 'Indeed! then, fried
sole, 3_s._; shrimp sauce, 1_s._ 6_d._; 4_s._ 6_d._ Now go
on.'--Waiter: 'Small leg of Welsh mutton, potatoes, and French
beans.'--Landlord: 'Mutton, 5_s._; potatoes, 1_s._; French beans,
5_s._; rather early for French beans, isn't it?'--Waiter: 'Yes,
sir; both the gemmen remarked that it was werry
early.'--Landlord: 'Oh, then, French beans, 10_s._'"
Of the coaching hotels enough has been written from Smollett's time,
or before, to date; and, as for their number, any visitor to Barnet
can judge, by those that remain, several having been made to serve
other purposes. This was the first change out of London, on the great
North Road, and even I remember fifteen coaches running each way, and
the last one being run off. I think it was either the Luton Coach or
the Bedford Times.
CHAPTER XXVI.
Steam carriages on roads--Commission thereon--Steam
omnibus--Railways--A nuisance--Railways started during the
reign--Opening of the Greenwich Railway.
But the road was not monopolized by horseflesh. Steam was asserting
itself, and many were the trials of steam carriages on the turnpike
roads. In 1821 Mr. Julius Griffith invented, and Messrs. Bramah
manufactured, a carriage, on which the engineer sat in front, and two
directors or steersmen behind, in vehicles separated from the
carriage, which swung easily on a variety of springs fastened into a
strong connecting frame. The error of this invention lay in the
boiler, which consisted of 114 tubes. These, unfortunately, would not
always contain the water; and, when empty, they became so heated, that
no force-pump could inject the water. In 1822, 1824, and 1825, Mr.
David Gordon tried his hand on steam carriages and failed. In 1829 Sir
James Anderson and Mr. James constructed one, under the patents
obtained by the latter gentleman in 1824 and 1825, and are said to
have worked the engine at a pressure of two hundred pounds each
square inch of the piston. In 1827 Mr. Goldsworthy Gurney patented
one, as did also Messrs. Hill and Burstall in 1828.
There was one running in August, 1830, belonging to Messrs. Summers
and Co., which began its journey by bursting a pipe. This repaired, it
utterly demoralized itself by running into a turnpike gatepost at
Turnham Green, and had to be taken home. Anyhow they must have become
fairly common, for we read in the _Times_, May 12, 1831--
"STEAM CARRIAGES ON COMMON ROADS.
"Some of the advantages to the public from the use of steam on
the turnpike roads already begin to show themselves. Previous to
the starting of the steam coach between Gloucester and
Cheltenham, the fares were four shillings each person--now the
public are taken by all the coaches at one shilling per head. On
Tuesday morning the steam coach took thirty-three passengers from
Cheltenham to Gloucester in fifty minutes."
Again, _Times_, June 7, 1831, quoting the _Glasgow Chronicle_, says--
"Mr. Gurney's[22] steam carriage was, on Wednesday night, blown
to pieces by an explosion of the boiler. The catastrophe occurred
in the square of the cavalry barracks, where the carriage was
exhibiting. It had gone round the square several times, and
stopped at one corner of it, where some people got out. Two boys,
sons of Mr. Maclure, of the Port Eglinton Inn, at that time
entered, and were about to be followed by two gentlemen, when the
boiler burst with a tremendous explosion, and shattered the
vehicle into numberless pieces. The two boys were very seriously
injured in the face and other parts of the body, and they now lie
in very precarious circumstances."
[Footnote 22: Tom Hood notices this steam carriage in his poem of
"Conveyancing"--
"Instead of _journeys_, people now
May go upon a _Gurney_,
With steam to do the horses' work,
By _powers of attorney_;
Tho' with a load, it may explode,
And you may all be _un_done!
And find you're going _up to heaven_,
Instead of _up to London_."]