statements were making, now entered upon his defence in form and manner
following:--
"She is a _villain_, and will swear anything!" (Thumping the table and
bursting into tears.) "But I don't blame her, I blame her evil advisers."
(Another thump and more tears.) "She has been heard as a woman, and now
let me be heard as a man!" (A louder voice, a heavier thump, and a greater
flood of tears.) "I was a bright man before I knew her!--Her name is not
_Julia Cob_. She has deceived many a man under the name of '_Julia Cob_.'
Her right name is Jane Spencer! and she knows it. I don't want to go near
her, I tell you!" (A fresh supply of tears.) "I love her better than my
own heart's blood; but I don't care--I won't be used in this manner--I'll
be d----d if I will! Confound her and them altogether, I say! But I don't
blame her--I blame the devils she has got about her. She said to me one
day, says she, 'Come, M'Gillies,' says she, 'let you and I go down upon
our bare knees and swear to be true to each other for ever and ever!' and
now she uses me in this manner!--Oh! oh! oh!" (Lots of tears.) "What am I
brought here for? What have I done? Answer me that!--Oh! oh! oh!" &c.
Mr. Robert M'Gillies filled up the pauses in this speech, by licking in
with his tongue the tears, &c. which flowed plentifully through the
stubble on his upper lip; and having made an end of speaking--
The magistrate told him he was a very foolish man, and Miss Julia Cob was
not a bit better than she should be; nevertheless she must not be
subjected to personal violence, and he therefore must put in bail to keep
the peace towards her--himself in 50_l._ and two sureties in 25_l._ each.
It appeared, however, that his friends had previously been bound for him
in a charge of assault upon the same lady, and the magistrate declaring
their recognizances forfeited by this his subsequent violence, they
declined coming forward again.
So Mr. Robert M'Gillies was consigned to his own lamentations in the
dreary dungeons of Tothill-fields' Bridewell, and the false-hearted _Julia
Cob_ returned to her new lover in Norfolk-street.
[Illustration]
TIPSY JULIA.
Miss Julia Johnson was charged by a watchman with infesting his _bate_ in
a state of _bastely_ drunkenness. "It was King-street, your honour, that
same I'm now spaking about," thundered Phelim O'Donaghue, "and she
_wouldn't_ come out of it anyhow, _becase_ the beer had got the best of
her, an' she _couldn't_, your honour; an' so I gathered her up, with her
silks an' satins, an' put 'em altogether in the watch-house, your honour."
"Did she _abuse_ you?" asked his worship.
"Fait, an' she hadn't _sense_ enough for that, your honour!" replied the
strong-lunged Phelim.
Miss Julia's "silks and satins" gave manifest proof that she had not been
able to keep her feet; and, as she had nothing but tears to offer in her
defence, she was adjudged to be drunken and disorderly, and ordered to
find sureties for her better behaviour in future.
AN EVENING'S PLEASURE.
A schoolmaster of Greenwich, an apothecary of Plymouth, and a London
sheriff's-officer,--"three good fellows and true," were brought before
the bench, charged with having "shown off" a little too much in the pit of
the Olympic Theatre.
Their situation in the office, when the magistrate took his seat on the
bench, was thus:--The sheriff's-officer dead drunk on the floor of the
outer passage; the apothecary dead drunk on the benches within the office;
and the schoolmaster very drunk, but very sprightly withal, upon his legs
before the magisterial table. Then as to their personal condition:--the
sheriff's-officer had only half a coat--the entire sinister side having
been torn away vertically; and he was moreover so grievously bedaubed with
blood about the face, that his features were indistinguishable. The
apothecary had his garments entire, but the exterior case of his olfactory
apparatus was marvellously swollen and distorted--more like the budding
proboscis of an infant elephant, than the nose of a Christian compounder
of medicine. The schoolmaster's countenance was like that of his friend,
the sheriff's-officer, excessively bloody; and his left eye was closed by
a large blue and green tumour--from an orifice in the centre of which the
_claret_ flowed continually towards the corner of his mouth, as if in
mockery of the bumpers that had brought him before the bench.
As to their achievements, it appeared by the evidence of sundry theatrical
prompters, scene-shifters, firemen, constables, and deputy-constables,
that they entered the theatre arm in arm, with each a flaming cigar in his
mouth. That they had no sooner got within the pit than they began to shout
lustily for the music. That the music not answering to their shouts the
schoolmaster rushed gallantly forward over the heads of the more
un-Corinthian part of the audience--to the infinite detriment of sundry
Leghorn and other bonnets--and clearing the barrier of the orchestra, at
one audacious leap he dashed into the regions beneath the stage in search
of the musicians. That he was thence expelled by the united efforts of
supernumeraries attached to the concern; and that, as the said
supernumeraries of the concern attempted to get him back over the barrier
of the orchestra, the sheriff's-officer and the apothecary scrambled
forward to his assistance, and prevented his being so put back with all
their might. That a general fight ensued--that many people left the
theatre in dismay--that others who were entering refused to complete their
_entree_--that at length the riotous _trio_ were got over by dint of
numbers--that they were carried to this office--and that the manager was
positively determined to prosecute!
To all this the schoolmaster was the only one of the three who could say
anything in reply; but then he was a host in himself. He, as in duty bound
by the nature of his calling, was the "_Logic_" of the "_spree_;" but
unfortunately his logical powers were mystified with old port and beating,
and he could make little or nothing of it. He began his defence with three
distinct emissions of the fumes of the old Port above-mentioned, and then
told the magistrate how they were all three Devonshire men, and old
friends, who had met for an evening's pleasure, after a long and tedious
separation--how the apothecary had never been in London in all his life
before, and had been let into a secret by that night's adventure--how he
himself had taken his tea before he set out from Greenwich to meet the
apothecary--how the apothecary dined, and how he did not--how they met
with the sheriff's-officer--how they got drunk at the Shades at London
Bridge, at the expense of the apothecary--how they got more drunk in
Fleet-street, at the expense of himself (the schoolmaster)--and how they
got drunk in the superlative degree, "somewhere hereabouts"--how somebody
gave them orders for the Olympic--how they went there, and found the pit
as silent as the grave--how they called for music, and no music came--how
the schoolmaster dashed into the _cellar_ in search of the _fiddlers_,
but couldn't find any--how the folks felt themselves offended at his
interference--how a devil of a row ensued--how he might have escaped, but
scorned to do so--how they were finally captured--and how they were vastly
sorry for all of it.
Lots of conversation ensued upon these premises, and the manager, after
two or three private conferences, declared himself satisfied, but the
magistrate said he was not. "If poor men," said his worship, "were brought
before me, charged with such mischievous absurdities, they would be
inevitably sent to prison, unless they could find bail; and I will not
suffer others to escape, because they may have certain means of satisfying
those they injure."
So the schoolmaster and the sheriff's-officer were held to bail for their
appearance at the sessions; and the apothecary was suffered to return to
his disconsolate family _unscathed_, because he had not been quite so
obstreperous as his companions.
A LAMPLIGHTER'S FUNERAL.
An elderly matron, one Mrs. Bridget Foggarty--the lady of an operative
architect (_vulgo_ a bricklayer) was charged with having wantonly
assaulted a patrol, whilst in the execution of his duty.
It seems that a deceased lamplighter was interred, the evening before, in
St. Pancras' burying ground, with much funeral pomp--there being more than
two hundred of his brother _illuminati_ present, each bearing a flaming
torch in celebration of his obsequies. This, it was said, is the universal
mode of lighting a lamplighter to "that bourne from whence no traveller
returns," and, of course, the spectacle attracted crowds of people.
Wherever crowds of people are collected, there the patrol very properly
repair, to prevent disorder: and the officer in question was there for
that meritorious purpose, when Mrs. Bridget Foggarty abruptly gave him a
slap on the cheek with her own right hand--that hand being all begrimed
with tar, in consequence of her having held one of the half-melted funeral
torches while the bearer of it took a little of _Deady's_ consolatory[12]
on his way back from the mournful ceremonies.
This was the assault complained of; but the officer said he did not wish
to be hard with Mrs. Foggarty; neither would he have taken her into
custody, had not the surrounding multitude echoed the blow with such a
shout of exultation as gave the lady a very evident intention of repeating
it.
Mrs. Bridget Foggarty, when asked by the magistrate what she had to say
for herself, wept audibly, and assured his worship that she took the
gentleman for a friend of her husband's, or she never should have taken
such a liberty as that 'ere. She declared that it was not _tar_ upon her
hand, but _soot_--plain, ordinary soot, "off of a chimney-sweeper;" and,
if his worship pleased, she would tell him all about it.
His worship did not object, and she proceeded to state that she had been
to see her husband, then lying ill in the hospital; that on her return,
she went to see the lamplighter's burying, and that the folks were all
very merry, "and quite _larkish_ in a manner;" that being curious to see
what sort of a coffin it was, she _skrouged_ herself through the mob till
she reached the brink of the grave, and she had no sooner done so, than
the mob pushed a chimney-sweeper into it, and pushed her atop of him; and
that was the way her hands were blacked.
The magistrate told her he thought her visit to her sick husband should
have disposed her more seriously, than to be mingling in such a
disgraceful scene; and desired her to go home, and conduct herself more
decently in future.
Mrs. Foggarty was very thankful for the lenity shown to her, and departed
courtesying and drying her eyes.
LATE HOURS AND OYSTERS.
Two gentlemen of pretty considerable respectability--one tall, and the
other short--were charged with having assaulted the watch; and no fewer
than five "ancient and quiet watchmen" appeared, to testify against them.
Dennis Mack was the first in order. He said he found the two gentlemen at
the door of the oyster shop in New-street, Covent-garden, between one and
two o'clock in the morning, kicking up a great row with a hackney-coach
and two ladies. He told them to go home to bed, and not be making such a
bother as all that, when the short one laid hold of his staff, and tried
to twist it out of his hand, whereupon he sprung his rattle for
assistance, &c.
Thomas Robinson was the next. He was a smart, upright, _Corporal
Trim_-like sort of a watchman, and his discourse was somewhat "stuffed
with epithets of war." He heard the _rattle-call_ of his _comrade_, and
_advanced_ to his _relief_--he made his _approaches_ with caution in order
to _reconnoitre_ the party--having so done, he challenged the offenders to
_surrender_, and received the point-blank charge of a fist in his
belly--saving his worship's presence.
"What are you?" asked the magistrate, struck by the novelty of his
phraseology.
"I have been a soldier, your honour," he replied; "but since I was
discharged from the army, I have endeavoured to fulfil the part of a
cobbler."
Patrick Donaghue, a six-foot Emerald Islander, with an astonishing
perpendicular expansion of countenance, was the third in order. He heard
the _hubbuboo_ as he was _paceably_ walking his _bate_, and went, right on
end, to _larn_ the rights of it; and the biggest of the two--without
saying "by yer _lave_,"--took him a mighty _dacent_ stroke over the
_jaws_.
Two other watchmen followed; but, as they said, they only came in at the
tail of the _row_, and therefore they did not see the beginning of it.
However, they bore testimony to the extreme repugnance of the gentlemen
to go to the watch-house.
The gentlemen were now called upon for their defence, and the short one
undertook the task of making it. It appeared that he and his tall friend
were out so late _because_ they were eating _oysters_, consequently the
oysters were solely to blame, as far as late hours were concerned. Then,
as they were coming out of the oyster-shop, they found two _ladies_, who
also had been up stairs eating oysters, sitting in a hackney coach at the
door. There was nothing extraordinary in this; but somehow or other the
coachman had got it into his head that these two unlucky gentlemen had
ordered the coach for the use of the ladies, then comfortably sitting
therein, and of course he looked to them for the fare. The _ladies_
themselves encouraged the coachman in this "iniquitous idea," and seemed
to enjoy it very much; but our oyster-eaters were not to be had in this
way. They _re_-sisted the "abominable demand," the coachman _per_-sisted,
the ladies laughed, the watch came up, and the oyster eaters were hauled
off to durance, most unjustly. As to the blow on the belly, the _dacent_
stroke on the jaws, &c., they denied all that sort of thing _in toto_.
They were nevertheless held to bail for their appearance at the sessions;
and, doubtless, should they ever be taken with an oyster fit again, they
will try to get it over earlier.
SUPPING OUT.
Messrs. Theodore Planque (a very tall gentleman), Hugh Jackson (a very
short one), and Robert Thomas Huff (neither tall nor short, but, as it
were, between both), and a _bamboo cane_, almost as long and large as a
little scaffold-pole, were brought before the magistrates from the
subterraneous saloons of St. Martin's watch-house, charged with dreadful
doings among the _Charleys_.[13]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
It appeared by the statements _pro_ and _con._, that the prisoners are
very respectable people, and that on Friday night they went to sup with an
unquestionably highly respectable tradesman in Long-acre. This supper was
given on the occasion of his brother, who is a captain in the navy, having
returned from a long and perilous voyage; and, of course, on such an
extraordinary occasion, they drank deeper than ordinary. It is really
surprising what a quantity of thirsty sentiments an occasion of this kind
gives rise to. At last the tall gentleman--or, as one of the watchmen
called him, "the _long_ one"--was found stretched out at his length on the
pavement before the door, completely done up. It was a _charley_ who found
him, and a very honest charley too, as times go; but whilst he was
endeavouring to gather him up, the short gentleman came behind and floored
poor charley himself, with the great _bamboo_, above mentioned. He was
soon up again, however--though, as he said, he never was floored by such a
queer thing in his life before, nor half so _clanely_. Once on his legs
again, round went his rattle, and in half-a-dozen seconds up came
half-a-dozen of his brethren. The short gentleman with his bamboo, seeing
this, laid about him lustily--ribs, canisters,[14] or lanterns, it was all
one to him. But "who can control his fate?" or what can one single arm do
against a dozen? He was _bundled_ up, or enveloped as it were, in a
_posse_ of _charleys_, all in full _tog_, enough to smother up a Hercules;
and after some little ineffectual sprunting, he, and "the long one," and
the "middle-sized one," and the great bamboo, were all safely lodged in
the watch-house; where the long one, having shaken off his drunken
slumbers, committed divers outrageous assaults upon the night constable
and his men, as they were putting them down into the cellars.
In their defence before the magistrate, they admitted the drunkenness, but
denied the violence; and begged his worship to believe that it was
"entirely a case of _simple intoxication_."
[Illustration: BUNDLING UP.]
The magistrate ordered the long one to find bail upon four distinct
assaults; the short one to find bail upon two distinct assaults; and the
middle-sized one was discharged on payment of his fees.
A GREAT MAN IN DISTRESS.
A personage, who described himself as "General Sarsfield Lucan, Viscount
Kilmallock in Ireland, a peer of France, and a descendant of Charlemagne,"
presented himself before the magistrates to solicit a few shillings to
enable him to proceed on important business to Wexford.
General Sarsfield Lucan wore an old brown surtout, with the collar turned
up behind to keep his neck warm, and a scrap of dirty white ribbon
fastened to one of the button-holes; a black velvet waistcoat, powdered
with tarnished silver _fleurs-de-lis_, and an ancient well-worn _chapeau
bras_, surmounted with a fringe of black feathers. He carried under his
arm a large roll of writings, and all his pockets were stuffed with tin
cases, pocket-books, and bundles of papers: his "fell of hair" was
ruefully matted; an enormous tawny whisker covered either cheek and his
upper lip and chin,--which, for want of shaving, "showed like a
stubble-field at harvest home,"--was all begrimed with real Scotch.
He said he was a native of Wexford in Ireland, and had spent the last
seven years in Paris, where his cousin, Louis XVIII., nominated him a
peer, and gave him a decoration (the bit of white ribbon above mentioned);
but his instalment had been postponed by the then recent change in the
ministry; his cousin (Louis XVIII.) assuring him, that as soon as his
present ministers were kicked out, he should come in. In the meantime his
father had died, and willed him certain lands and houses in Wexford;
whereupon he wrote to his sisters, who were resident there, to desire them
to send him the proceeds of his estates forthwith; but instead of so
doing, they had themselves administered to the will, and were dissipating
his patrimony. Under these circumstances, his cousin, the king, advised
him to set out immediately for Ireland, and seek redress in person.
"Journeying with this intent," he landed at Dover a few days before, but
on reaching London he found his finances exhausted, and he was now driven
to the unpleasant necessity of applying to their worships for a few
shillings, to enable him to proceed.
Sir R. Birnie said, he wondered his royal cousin had not furnished him
with the means of prosecuting his journey.
"Sir! I scorned to trouble him at all on such a _palthry_ subject as
money," replied the general, with some warmth; and he then went on to
state, that in order to satisfy his coach-hire from Dover to London, he
had been necessitated to give up possession of his working tools.
"Your _working tools_!" said the magistrate; "and pray may I ask what
trade your lordship follows?"
"No trade in the world at all," replied the general; "I am not the person
to be after following trades.--The tools I am _spaking_ about are what I
used in some of the greatest inventions the world ever saw. I invented a
_happaratus_ for extracting stone and gravel from the _blather_, without
any operation at all. I invented a machine for fishing up vessels
foundered at sea, as _aisy_ as fishing up an oyster; and I invented
another machine for making _accouchement_ the most _aisy_ thing in
existence--a mere _fla-bite_ to the most tender lady imaginable! And it
was partly these inventions, indeed, that brought me to this country
now--because I did not choose to be giving foreigners the benefit of
them."
"Pray, Sir," said Mr. Minshull, "will you give me leave to ask whether you
were ever confined?"
The General--"_Confined!_ for what would I be confined?"
Mr. Minshull--"If you do not understand the nature of my question, I am
sorry I put it; but it certainly appeared to me possible that----"
The General--"Sir, you appear to me to be after _taalking_ in a very queer
kind of a way to a _jontleman_! You ought to know what is due to a
respectable and _graat_ man, even though he is in distress."
Mr. Minshull--"Well, Sir, I will speak as plainly to you as you do to me.
It is my opinion, and the opinion, I believe, of every person present,
that you are out of your mind; and that if you have never been confined,
it is high time you were so."
The General angrily declared he was altogether _mens sana in corpore
sano_; and professed himself astonished that any body should entertain a
contrary opinion; then taking from his side-pocket a round tin case,
nearly as large as a demi-culverin, he offered to produce from it
documents to show that he was really the important personage he professed
himself to be.
The magistrates, however, had no faith in the matter; they told him it
might be all very true, but they had no funds to assist him with; and, as
he appeared very incredulous on this subject, they at length ordered him
to withdraw upon pain of being committed to prison under the Vagrant Act.
This was an awful alternative, which the gallant "General" did not think
proper to risk; so gathering up his patents and papers, he put his
feather-fringed _chapeau_ upon his head, and taking an ample pinch of
snuff--so ample, indeed, that it rushed through his olfactory labyrinth
with the noise of a mighty cataract--he stalked majestically out of the
office, muttering anathemas as he went.
MRS. WILLIAMS'S PETTICOAT.
This was a proceeding under the Pawnbrokers' Act, by which Mrs. Priscilla
Williams sought to recover a compensation in damages for the loss of
certain property pledged with a Mr. Simmons.
Mrs. Priscilla Williams is a bouncing buxom belle, of five-and-thirty or
thereabouts, who, having occasion to raise the sum of eighteen-pence on
some sudden emergency, was fain to carry her best black bombasine
petticoat--or _bum-be-seen_ petticoat, as she called it--to Mr. Simmons,
of Seven Dials, a diminutive elder, who gathereth profit unto himself
daily, by lending to the poor: in common _parlance_, a pawnbroker; or,
poetically speaking, "_My Uncle!_" This Mr. Simmons received the
petticoat; held it up to the light; observed that "it might well be called
a _bum-be-seen_ petticoat, for the moths had riddled[15] it sadly;" and
finally, he lent the money required; but when she applied to redeem the
petticoat, he told her it was lost, and refused to make her any
compensation for it.
Mr. Simmons, in his defence, admitted having received the petticoat, and
also having lost it; but he declared Mrs. Priscilla Williams had deluged
him with abominable abuse; and he humbly submitted that the said abuse
ought to go as a set-off against the lost petticoat.
Mrs. Priscilla Williams protested against any such settlement as that. She
readily admitted having "blown Mr. Simmons up a bit," and she thought he
richly deserved it; for he d----d her and her petticoat too, in the most
_notoriousest_ way imaginable:--"I shouldn't have minded his d----g me,"
she added, "because it couldn't hurt me, but I thought it extremely
_ongenteel_ in him to d----n my _petticoat_."
The magistrate ordered that Mr. Simmons should pay the value of the
petticoat, with full costs of suit.
"INCHING IT BACKERT."