“But now the lang-expected mworn
Of murriment arrives,
Wheyle helter-skelter frae a’ airts
I’ swarms the country drives,
The lasses in their feyne pearce claes,
The lads baith trig an’ souple;
Ower hill an’ knowe, thro’ seugh an’ sowe,
Comes tiftan many o’ couple
Hauf saim’d that day.
“Frae Angerton Wheyte to Dubbmill,
Hin mist, as yen may say,
But a’ wi’ yae consent seem’d met
To mence this merry day.
Wheyle Allonby turn’d out en masse,
Ding-dang, baith man an’ woman,
An’ parlish pranks ’mang Silloth banks
They hed as they were comin’
To th’ town that day.
“But it wad need a Homer’s head
War I to tak’ in han’,
To sing or say what fwok that day
War there, or how they wan;
So far and near, an’ God kens whare,
By common invitation,
Wi’ young an’ auld, an’ great an’ laal.
Seem’d met on this occasion,
Wi’ glee that day.”
_Cumberland Poem._
IN the ardour of our admiration at the Crystal Palace, we have forgotten
the Hero of our story, the simple, but ill-starred individual, who
quitted his native mountains with the special view of beholding the
wonders of the Great Exhibition.
Like all those who could spare the money, and like many who could not,
Mr. Christopher Sandboys, at the special injunction of his beloved Aggy,
had made up his mind to invest five golden pieces of the lawful and
current coin of Great Britain in the purchase of a brace of
admission-tickets for himself and his better half, so that he and his
“good lady” might join the rest of the world in witnessing the ceremony
of the inauguration.
After a series of visits, first to Mr. Sams the librarian, thence to the
Society of Arts in John-street, and thence to the office of the
Executive Committee, Christopher was at last permitted, as a special
favour, to convert his five sovereigns into two small pieces of
pasteboard, entitling himself and his wife to the right of admission to
the Crystal Palace throughout the season. Having achieved this great
feat, he made the best of his way back to the partner of his bosom, to
gratify her with the tidings of the successful issue of his errand.
Then, of course, came the important inquiry as to what dress Mrs.
Sandboys should make her appearance in at the ceremony, and it was
unanimously declared, as usual, that the lady had not “a thing to put
on;” woman like, she had much rather stay at home unless she could
appear “decent, at least,” on the auspicious occasion; she had no
particular wish to go, and Cursty could take Jobby with him in her
place.
Mr. Christopher Sandboys, though he found that his funds—what with the
losses and expenses that he had incurred since his departure from
Cumberland—were getting unpleasantly low, still, to obtain that domestic
peace and quietude, which, as an aspiring philosopher, he valued above
all earthly things, at length, with becoming resignation, submitted to
the infliction of a new dress, a mantle, and bonnet for the occasion.
On the eventful morning, Mrs. Sandboys was up and stirring long before
the sparrows, and they, according to the celebrated ornithologist (who
sat up every night for a whole year, in order to discover the usual
hours of getting up among the different species of the feathered race),
are the earliest risers of all the early birds. Nor would the impatient
Aggy allow Cursty to enjoy those extra forty winks for which he prayed,
before proceeding to the operations of his toilet.
But though Mrs. Sandboys was going to take part in the opening of the
Great Exhibition, Ann Lightfoot, her maid, felt in no way inclined to
have her night’s rest curtailed of its fair proportion, in order that
Mr. Sandboys’ shaving-water might be ready some few hours before the
usual time.
It was in vain that Mrs. Sandboys pulled, and pulled, at the bed-room
bell; for though peal followed peal in smart succession, still no Ann
Lightfoot made her appearance in answer to the summons.
At length the patience of Mrs. Sandboys became exhausted; for, though it
was hardly daylight, she felt satisfied they would be hours too late for
the ceremony, unless the tedious operation of shaving could be
immediately performed by her husband; and the lady accordingly insisted
that Mr. Sandboys should slip on his trousers and proceed to the maid’s
door, with the view of rousing the sluggard from her slumbers. She would
go herself, she said, but swarming as the establishment was with
foreigners, and considering her late perilous adventure with one of the
French lodgers, she did not consider it prudent to hazard a repetition
of the circumstances.
Cursty therefore proceeded to do the bidding of his wife, and groping
his way in the twilight—for it was not yet morning—to the apartment of
their serving-maid, he mounted the stairs as softly as he could, so that
he might not alarm the other sleepers in the house.
On gaining the landing that led to Ann Lightfoot’s room, the sounds of a
gentle tapping caught Mr. Sandboys’ ear, and in the dusk he could just
perceive the figure of a man standing outside the door. He paused for a
minute, and then heard the individual, as he softly repeated the
tapping, request, in broken English, that the “angel” would get up and
heat him a flat iron at the kitchen fire.
Now Mr. Sandboys had been informed by the partner of his fortunes and
four-poster of the pattern of a huge pair of moustachios, in black wax,
having been discovered imprinted on the cheek of Ann Lightfoot, after
her late visit to the Frenchmen’s apartment, and no sooner heard the
term “angel” applied to the maid, than immediately a shrewd suspicion
flashed across his mind, that the individual then at the girl’s door was
none other than the owner of the original moustachios, of which Ann had
borne away so faithful a copy.
In an instant he made a rush at the hirsute gentleman, and, seizing him
by the shoulders, proceeded to shake him violently, and to rate him in
no very gentle terms, threatening to throw the scoundrel over the
stairs.
The proprietor of the moustachios immediately grew as indignant as the
hot-blooded native of Cumberland, and declaring, with several violent
taps of his bosom, that his honour had been mortally wounded, demanded
the gentleman’s card, in order that he might obtain satisfaction for the
insult.
Mr. Sandboys, though unused to such a mode of redressing injury, and far
more disposed to use his fists than pistols as a means of settling a
quarrel, still was sufficient of the gentleman to fall in upon such an
occasion with the French, rather than the English mode of terminating a
dispute. Accordingly he thrust his hand into his breeches’ pocket, and
drawing forth his pocket-book, gave the foreigner the first piece of
card-board that he could lay his hands upon, and received in exchange
the address of his adversary; after which, having seen the gentleman
safely down the stairs, he proceeded to rouse the girl, and then
returned to his apartment.
Cursty, as he descended to his room, decided within himself that it
would be better not to inform his wife of the occurrence until he saw
what turn the affair might take. The consequence was, that his
pocket-book, once consigned to its usual abiding place, was not opened
again. This was especially unfortunate, for, had he done so, he could
not have failed to have discovered, that in the excitement of the moment
and the darkness of the morning he had parted with his season ticket to
the Great Exhibition instead of his card of address.
At length the toilet of the Cumbrian couple was settled, and Mr. and
Mrs. Sandboys proceeded forth on their way to the “World’s Show,” happy
in the unconsciousness of the loss they had sustained, and overjoyed at
the idea of the attainment of the object of their visit to London being
so near at hand.
After considerable difficulty, and some hours’ delay, they were at
length able to procure a couple of seats in the Putney omnibus, one
“in,” and the other “out.” While Mrs. Sandboys was stowed away in the
interior of the vehicle, Cursty proceeded to mount the roof, already
covered with the sight-seers as thick as a house-top on a coronation
day. Mr. Sandboys, being what his dearest Aggy delighted to term a
remarkably fine man, was no “feather-weight,” and as he took his seat on
the exterior of the long conveyance, the roofing, already considerably
depressed with the load, was seen to belly downwards, very much like a
fat sailor’s hammock.
All went safely, however, until the omnibus reached the little bridge
that spans the muddy moat alongside of the Brompton Cemetery; here, as
the vehicle gave a sudden jolt in ascending the curve of the bridge,
that minute increase of force which is said to break the back of the
over-burdened camel, was applied to the roof of the over-laden vehicle.
Crash! went the boards directly beneath the seat of the luckless Mr.
Christopher Sandboys, and immediately the lower extremities of the
Cumberland gentleman were kicking and plunging amidst the affrighted
“insides,” committing a terrible amount of havoc among the new or “best”
bonnets and gowns of the ladies consigned to the Exhibition.
As Fate would have it, Mrs. Sandboys no sooner heard the crash and saw
the legs, and recognised the pantaloons of her lord and master dangling
in the interior of the conveyance, than with a scream she scrambled to
his assistance. The consequence was that, with each fresh plunge of the
intruding limbs, some fresh damage was done to the new lace mantilla, or
white chip bonnet, that Mrs. Sandboys had purchased expressly for the
occasion.
And when, by the united efforts of the conductor and driver, assisted by
the strongest of the male passengers, poor Sandboys was lifted out of
his perilous situation, the Cumberland couple presented a most
melancholy spectacle: the nether garments of the wretched Cursty were
almost in the same tattered condition as when he had made his first
essay in pig-driving; while the flounces, the flowers, the ribbons, and
laces of his beloved Aggy were nearly as dusty and ragged-looking as
cobwebs.
At first, the couple felt inclined to return home, and abandon all
further attempts at “enjoying themselves” as a vain and fruitless
endeavour; but on second thoughts, they could hardly make up their
minds, after the money they had invested in their season-tickets, to
forego the opportunity of being present at a ceremony to which all the
world seemed to be then flocking, eager to obtain the faintest glimpse
of the show.
Accordingly the lady sought out the nearest milliner’s, and the
gentleman the shop of a neighbouring tailor, there to have their
garments cobbled into something like decency; and after some half-hour’s
delay, they once more set forth on their journey, looking as respectable
and happy as was possible under the circumstances.
As they neared the Exhibition, the crowd of sight-seers became more and
more dense. The pathways were as black with human beings as a grocer’s
window with flies in the dog-days, and the carriage-ways were filled
with long lines of vehicles, jammed almost as tight as the blocks in the
wood pavement.
On entering the Prince of Wales Gate, dense groups of people were
clustered round the south transept, clamouring and pushing their way
towards the doors. Upon the top of the building were several workmen,
fastening the flag-staffs of the various countries to their respective
positions, while here and there were seen flying the different national
ensigns.
It was as much as Mr. and Mrs. Sandboys could do to force their way
towards the doors. When they had passed within the gates, and the
“authorities” had demanded of the couple their tickets of admission,
then the unconscious Cursty drew forth the pocket-book that through all
the crowd he had grasped firmly with his hand in his pocket. On opening
it, to his great dismay he discovered, for the first time since his
adventure, that the ticket which he had placed securely in it among his
cards on the previous evening was nowhere to be found.
For a time he was utterly at a loss to conceive what could possibly have
come of the precious piece of pasteboard. At length, however, as he
turned his cards over and over again, his eye fell upon the name and
address of the Frenchman, and then the truth darted upon his mind.
What was to be done?
It was impossible to purchase another ticket at that time; and for Mrs.
Sandboys to trust herself alone in such a crowd was more than he or she
felt inclined to hazard. And yet it was hard,—after all they had gone
through, in order to get to the Great Exhibition,—now that they stood on
the very threshold of the building, to be obliged to return home.
Mr. Sandboys endeavoured to explain the circumstances to the officers;
but many would not listen to him; those who did could hardly refrain
from laughing at his misfortune.
The authorities were ruthless; and some, who were more suspicious, and
consequently did not hesitate to look upon the circumstance as a trick
to obtain admission to the building without payment, were more
unceremonious than the rest; so, finding the gentleman still loitering
in the lobby, they at length thrust him and his lady outside the gates.
When Mr. Sandboys and his wife had been ejected from the building, they
stood for a few minutes looking with envy at the people showing their
cards, and obtaining admission to the interior. Cursty, then, to his
supreme annoyance, saw the identical Frenchman whom he had encountered
that morning at his maid’s door present—what he felt satisfied was the
card that he himself had given him, and pass in to the interior of the
building.
Aggy, to whom Mr. Sandboys had communicated all the circumstances
immediately on the discovery of his loss, was convinced, from the
inquiry she had made, that the Frenchman, who had obtained admission
with their season ticket, was none other than the wretch who had pursued
her in the dead of the night through the corridors of Miss Wewitz’
establishment.
After vowing all kinds of vengeance against the foreigner, and making up
their minds to have justice done them immediately on their return home,
the Sandboys began to think, when their wrath had in a measure cooled
down, that, if Fate had denied them the privilege of witnessing the
“pageant” from the interior, which they had paid the sum of five guineas
to be enabled to do, they might as well, now that they were there, make
the best of their bargain, and enjoy a gratuitous sight of the
procession from without.
Accordingly, they proceeded to push their way, as well as they could,
towards the north side of the Transept, where they were informed the
Queen was to make her entrance. Here, on the Serpentine, a miniature
frigate lay at anchor; and on board were several youths making
preparations for the royal salute. Youths and men were seen climbing the
trees on the south bank; some sitting astride a forked branch, and
others standing on the spreading boughs; while some few urchins, who had
attained the topmost part of the trees, caused the branches to bend
beneath their weight. Every minute the crowd round about the building
grew thicker; the pressure against the bars, and the squeezing of the
masses of people, grew greater and greater; so that, when the police
began to clear the road, and to make way for the carriages, that were
rapidly advancing one after another with the officers of State, the
crush became terrific.
Mrs. Sandboys, eager to obtain a peep at the Queen at all risks, was at
first in no way daunted at the sight of the crowd, and sought, under the
care of her husband, to get as near as possible to the Transept; but
though Cursty was as powerful a man as any there, it was useless for him
to strive to keep the pressure of the throng off his wife; they had not
been in the thick of the crowd more than a few minutes before—what with
the police driving back the people in front, and what with the people at
the back pressing forwards—poor Mrs. Sandboys was so crammed in and
jammed in, so jostled and hustled, and so pushed and crushed, that all
of a sudden her senses went from her, and she fell like a lifeless lump
into her Cursty’s arms.
Then and then only was it possible for them to get extricated from the
dense mass of human beings that hemmed them in on all sides; for
immediately it was made known that the lady had fainted, a passage was
made for Mr. Sandboys, so that he might carry her to some more open
part.
On “coming to herself,” Aggy was in no way inclined to venture into the
crowd a second time; and accordingly, she and her husband proceeded, as
best they could, to the other side of the Serpentine. Here they stood
for some little time on the bank, till, the multitude growing
inconveniently great as the hour for the opening drew near, they both
agreed that it would be far better and safer for them to take a seat in
one of the boats of the watermen, who were there plying for hire up and
down the river.
Their minds were no sooner made up on this point than they hailed the
first boatman that passed, and entering his wherry they proceeded to
seat themselves therein, and were rowed up and down the small river
under the safe conduct of the sculler.
This was pleasant enough for a short time, and the Sandboys amused
themselves by observing the freaks of the crowd. Across the Park, they
could see the people coming in streams from all directions, like ants to
a nest. There were men in flannel jackets; women with children in their
arms; hawkers, some with Programmes of the Procession, others with long
panoramic pictures of the Lord Mayor’s Show fluttering in the wind,
which they were crying as “a correct view” of the opening of the Great
Exhibition by the Queen in State; countrymen some in their smockfrocks,
and others in their fluffy beaver hats. Never was there such a crowd
congregated in any part of London, and certainly in no other part of the
world. The multitudes that had entered the Building were but as a few
grains of sand collected, as it were, from the vast shore of human
beings without.
It has been said that not less than half a million of people were
gathered together in the Parks alone, and doubtlessly with truth, for it
had been declared a general holiday, as it were by universal
acclamation, throughout the metropolis.
Some few of the shops had opened for an hour or two, but finding all
their customers had departed to the “Great Show,” the masters had
followed their customers’ example, and, putting up their shutters, had
started with their families to have a peep at the sight themselves. The
omnibuses had many of them begun running from all parts of the suburbs
to the Crystal Palace from six o’clock in the morning. The “Atlases,”
the “Paragons,” the “Waterloos,” the “King’s Crosses,” the
“Paddingtons,” the “Camberwells,” &c., had all abandoned their
accustomed routes, and taken to carry passengers, for the time being, to
Knightsbridge—many of them being covered with large placards of “To the
Exhibition,” pasted over their wonted destinations. Most of the ’busses,
too, had a very gay appearance, with their new reins and trappings, the
large rosettes at their horses’ ears, and bows on their whips, with long
streamers flying, and bunches of flowers in the button-holes of the
coachmen’s coats.
Through the streets travelled excursion-vans, with the curtains
festooned and looped up, with huge bunches of flowers and evergreens at
each fastening, and filled with holiday folk, with a table in the
centre, and a barrel of beer at the end.
Not a part of London but what bad poured forth its countless throngs.
The main thoroughfares, that were usually almost impassable at mid-day,
were as still and deserted as in the dead of night. Not a cab was to be
seen in the streets; and even the fruit-stalls had left their accustomed
corners. The sparrows hopped and chirruped in the middle of the
causeways. A stray Jack in the Green might occasionally be seen, but
though the musician blew his pipes with all his might, and beat his drum
with all his force, not a boy was to be drawn after them—not a child to
be attracted to the windows by the sound, even though, owing to the
stillness of the streets, the drum and pipes sounded doubly as loud and
shrill as usual.
Every one had gone to the Great Exhibition! and certainly the multitudes
assembled in the Park were proof demonstrative of the fact.
The Sandboys, as they flitted across the Serpentine, could hear the
shouts of the people, as some well-known Minister or nobleman was
recognised in his carriage by the populace. Then, as they stood up in
the boat, they could catch sight of the bright breast-plates and helmets
of the Life Guards, as they galloped rapidly by. Next they could see the
scarlet and gold coats of the royal coachmen dart along between the open
spaces of the trees; then they heard the hoarse cheers of the multitude,
as the Queen entered the Crystal Palace; and they saw the solitary
Sapper-and-Miner, standing beside the flag-staff, on the topmost curve
of the crystal roof, hoist the Royal Standard immediately her Majesty
crossed the threshold.
For a short time afterwards all was still and silent, with the exception
of the cries of the hawkers, who, immediately that the cheers had
ceased, might be heard again shouting at the tops of their voices their
“full and correct Programmes of the Procession—only a penny.” Presently
they could catch by gusts the faint sound of the organ, peeling forth
its full rich harmonious tones within the Crystal Palace.
Then the sculler pulled the boat down towards the spot where the mimic
frigate lay at anchor, so that Mr. and Mrs. Sandboys might see the
signal made, telling those on board that the Queen had declared the
Great Exhibition to be opened.
Once more they stood up in the boat, so as to obtain a better view of
the movements of the man on the roof. In a few minutes they beheld the
soldier prepare to raise the flag, and no sooner had he lifted it high
in the air, than the guns of the frigate thundered forth a deafening
“broadside.” Poor Mrs. Sandboys was standing up in the boat with her
back to the frigate, and being in no way prepared for the shock, she was
so startled with the suddenness and intensity of the noise, that she
staggered as if stunned by it, and fell back head-foremost into the
river.
It was the act of a moment for Cursty to dive after her, and presently
up the two came together.
Mrs. Sandboys, in her terror, threw her arms round about her husband’s
neck, so as effectually to prevent his rendering her the least
assistance; and so tightly did she cling to him, that it was some
considerable time before even the waterman could manage to lift either
the one or the other into the boat.
In a short while, however, the men of the Humane Society were on the
spot, attracted by the shrieks of the affrighted Mrs. Sandboys in the
water, and the sympathizing ladies on the shore.
The wretched Mrs. Sandboys, by the time she was extricated from the
flood, was, what with the fright and the water she had swallowed, almost
insensible, while Cursty had been held down sufficiently long by his
wife in the river to feel “far from himself.”
The moist and miserable couple were immediately carried to the Society’s
Receiving House, where, having been stripped of their drenched apparel,
and placed in warm beds, the attendants proceeded, some to rub them till
they were nearly flayed, and others to inflate their lungs, by means of
a pair of bellows being inserted up their nostrils.
Here they remained for some considerable time between the blankets of
the Humane Society, and when they were sufficiently invigorated to be
thought fit to leave the establishment, their dried clothes were brought
to them, in order that they might prepare for their return home.
Mrs. Sandboys, when she saw the limp and ungainly state of her
two-guinea chip bonnet, the artificial flowers of which looked as if
they had been boiled,—for the colours had run one into the other, and
dyed the once white bonnet like “Joseph’s coat of many colours,”—Mrs.
Sandboys, we repeat, when she saw the wreck of her former loveliness,
could not help bursting into tears, and indulging in the feminine luxury
of a “good cry.” Her green satin dress, which she had bought, as they
say, “expressly for the occasion,” had lost all its gloss and a good
part of its colour, which had run into her petticoats, till both the
satin and under clothing were about as green and attractive as a gingham
umbrella. Her bronze shoes she had left in the bed of the river, there
to astonish and puzzle some future geologist, when examining the fossils
in the miocene formation of the tertiary deposits; her auburn front,
too, had been unfortunately dried by a quick fire, so that the
foundation had shrivelled up, and the natural parting had been scorched
into a deep brown, while the hair looked as fuzzy and rusty as cocoa-nut
fibre.
At length, having made herself look as decent as she could under the
circumstances, and having been provided with a pair of list slippers at
the expense of the Society, Aggy was ushered into the presence of the
sharer of her sorrows and her “ducking;” and after many mutual
congratulations on their lucky escape, and consolations under their
afflictions, the melancholy Sandboys set out at dusk on their way back
to the establishment of Mrs. Wewitz; and as they rode along in the cab,
they did not forget to attribute the whole of their disasters to that
wretch of a Frenchman.
Before they reached “Parthenon House,” they had formed the conclusion
that Fate had irrevocably forbid their ever seeing the Great Exhibition;
and come what may, they were determined immediately to return to the
peace and happiness of their native mountains of Buttermere.
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