On Thursday, July 8, 1841, the celebrated pack of Knocker Boys met at the
Cavendish, in Jermyn Street. These animals, which have acquired for
themselves a celebrity as undying as that of Tom and Jerry, are of a fine
powerful breed, and in excellent condition. The success which invariably
attends them must be highly gratifying to the distinguished nobleman who,
if he did not introduce this particular species into the metropolis, has at
least done much to bring it to its present extraordinary state of
perfection.
As there may be some of our readers who are ignorant of the purposes for
which this invaluable pack has been organised, it may be as well to state a
few particulars, before proceeding to the detail of one of the most
splendid nights upon record in the annals of disorderism.
The knocker is a thing which is generally composed of brass or iron. It has
frequently a violent resemblance to the "human face divine," or the
ravenous expressiveness of a beast of prey. It assumes a variety of phases
under peculiar _vinous_ influences. A gentleman, in whose veracity and
experience we have the most unlimited confidence, for a series of years
kept an account of the phenomena of his own knocker; and by his permission
the following extracts are now submitted to the public:--
1840.
Nov. 12--Dined with Captain ----. Capital spread--exquisite
_liqueurs_--magnificent wines--unparalleled cigars--drank _my_
four bottles--should have made it five, but found I had eaten
something which disagreed with me--Home at four.
_State of Knocker_.--Jumping up and down the surface of the door
like a rope dancer, occasionally diverging into a zig-zag, the
key-hole partaking of the same eccentricities.
Nov. 13.--Supped with Charley B----. Brandy, _genuine
cognac_--Cigars _principè_. ESTIMATED CONSUMPTION: brandy and
water, eighteen glasses--cigars, two dozen--porter with a cabman,
two pots.
_State of Knocker_.--Peripatetic--moved from our house to the
next--remained till it roused the family--returned to its own
door, and became duplicated--wouldn't wake the house-porter till
five.
N.B. Found I had used my own thumb for a sounding-plate, and had
bruised my nail awfully.
Nov. 14.--Devoted the day to soda-water and my tailor's bill--gave
a draught for the amount, and took another on my own account.
Nov. 15.--Lectured by the "governor"--left the house savage--met
the Marquess--got very drunk unconsciously--fancied myself a
merman, and that the gutter in the Haymarket was the
Archipelago--grew preposterous, and felt that I should like to be
run over--thought I was waltzing with Cerito, but found I was
being carried on a stretcher to the station-house--somebody sent
somewhere for bail, and somebody bailed me.
_State of Knocker_.--Very indistinct--then became uncommonly like
the "governor" in his nightcap--_could_ NOT reach it--presume it
was filial affection that prevented me--knocked of its own accord,
no doubt agitated by sympathy--reverberated in my ears all night,
and left me with a confounded head-ache in the morning.
The above examples are sufficient to show the variability of this singular
article.
Formerly the knocker was devoted entirely to the menial occupation of
announcing, by a single dab, or a variation of raps, the desire of persons
on the door-step to communicate with the occupants of the interior of a
mansion. Modern genius has elevated it into a source of refined pleasure
and practical humour, affording at the same time employment to the artisan,
excitement to the gentleman, and broken heads and dislocations of every
variety to the police!
We will now proceed to the details of an event which PUNCH alone is worthy
to record:--
Notice of a meet having been despatched to all the members of the "Knocker
Hunt," a splendid field--no _street_--met at the Cavendish--the hotel of
the hospitable Marquess. The white damask which covered the mahogany was
dotted here and there with rich and invigorating viands; whilst decanters
of port and sherry--jugs of Chateau Margaux--bottles of exhilarating
spirits, and boxes of cigars, agreeably diversified the scene. After a
plentiful but orderly discussion of the "creature comforts," (for all
ebullitions at home are strictly prohibited by the Marquess) it was
proposed to _draw_ St. James's Square. This suggestion was, however,
abandoned, as it was reported by Captain Pepperwell, that a party of snobs
had been hunting bell-handles in the same locality, on the preceding night.
Clarges Street was then named; and off we started in that direction, trying
the west end of Jermyn Street and Piccadilly in our way; but, as was
expected, both coverts proved blank. We were almost afraid of the same
result in the Clarges Street gorse; for it was not until we arrived at No.
33, that any one gave tongue. Young Dashover was the first, and clearly and
beautifully came his shrill tone upon the ear, as he exclaimed "Hereth a
knocker--thuch a one, too!" The rush was instantaneous; and in the space of
a moment one feeling seemed to have taken possession of the whole pack. A
more splendid struggle was never witnessed by the oldest knocker-hunter! A
more pertinacious piece of cast-iron never contended against the prowess of
the Corinthian! After a gallant pull of an hour and a half, "the affair
came off," and now graces the club-room of the "Knocker Hunt."
The pack having been called off, were taken to the kennel in the Haymarket,
when one young dog, who had run counter at a bell-handle, was found to be
missing; but the gratifying intelligence was soon brought, that he was safe
in the Vine-street station-house.
The various compounds known as champagne, port, sherry, brandy, &c., having
been very freely distributed, Captain Pepperwell made a proposition that
will so intimately connect his name with that of the immortal Marquess,
that, like the twin-born of Jupiter and Leda, to mention one will be to
imply the other.
Having obtained silence by throwing a quart measure at the waiter, he
wriggled himself into an upright position, and in a voice tremulous from
emotion--perhaps brandy, said--
"Gentlemen of--the Knocker Hunt--there are times when a man can't make--a
speech without con-considerable inconvenience to himself--that's my case at
the present moment--but my admiration for the distinguished foun--der of
the Knocker Hunt--compels me--to stand as well as I can--and propose, that
as soon as we have knockers enough--they be melted down--by some other
respectable founder, and cast into a statue of--the Marquess of Waterford!"
Deafening were the cheers which greeted the gallant captain! A meeting of
ladies has since been held, at which resolutions were passed for the
furtherance of so desirable an object, and a committee formed for the
selection of a design worthy of the originator of the Knocker Hunt. To that
committee we now appeal.
[Illustration:
TO HENRY, MARQUESS OF WATERFORD,
AND HIS JOLLY COMPANIONS IN LOWE,
THIS STATUE OF ACHILLES,
CAST FROM KNOCKERS TAKEN IN THE VICINITIES
OF SACKVILLE-STREET, VIGO-LANE, AND WATERLOO-PLACE,
IS INSCRIBED
BY THEIR GENTLEWOMEN.
PLACED ON THIS SPOT
ON THE FIRST DAY OF APRIL, MDCCCXLII.
BY COMMAND OF
COLONEL ROWAN.]
_Mem_. The hunt meet again on Monday next, as information has been
received that a splendid knocker occupies the door of Laing's shooting
gallery in the Haymarket.
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