lodged in Mr. Thomas Thompson's house just one month next _Toosday_
week--I _think_ it's _Toosday_; but howsomever, that's neither here nor
there. I'm a young man from the country, your worship; a tailor _by
trade_; and so is Mr. Thomas Thompson--only he's a _master_, and I'm a
_man_! (His worship smiled.) Last night, your worship, Sir, I met a _foo_
friends, and when I went home I had a great deal of trouble to open the
street door--("No doubt of it," observed his worship)--and somehow or
other, when I got in, instead of getting into my own room, I got into the
yard: it's a sort of timber-yard: and there I was, poking about among the
timber, please your worship--I'm sure for a good long hour, and I couldn't
find my road out of it for the life of me!--and at last I found myself in
Mr. Thomas Thompson's bed-room; but I'll be hanged if ever I touched his
wife, or struck him; and I'll give you my honour that I did not go there
intentionally."
His worship had no faith in the _honour_ of Mr. Walters, and he was
ordered to find bail for the assault, in default whereof he was handed
over to the gaoler.
BEEF VALOUR.
James Green, alias _Jemmy Green_, a short, squat, spherical-phizzed,
poodle-pated, seedy subject--between a buck and a bumpkin, said to be the
identical hero of the Moncriefian, Adelphian, Tom and Jerry-extinguishing,
nondescript gallimaufry, yclep'd "_Jemmy Green_ in France;" and Launcelot
Snodgrass, were brought up from the almost bottomless pit of St. Clement's
watch-house, charged with sundry midnight disorders in an alamode
beef-house; and also with an outrageous assault upon Edmund Speering,
Esq., of New Inn, and divers other persons--subjects of our Sovereign Lord
the King.
It appeared by the evidence of the said Edmund Speering, Esq., that as he
was passing through Clare-court, between one and two o'clock in the
morning, he heard a great row and uproar in Thomas's alamode
beef-shop--the shrill voices of women in distress, and the hoarse clamour
of numerous throats masculine. Hearing this, he looked towards the said
shop, and saw through the beef-besteamed windows and the salads three or
four men, and as many women, in personal conflict with each other; and,
like a true knight, he rushed into the midst of the affray, demanding of
the distressed damsels whether or not they wished to be rid of their
unmanly opponents? They answered in a joint and corporate voice--"Oh! yes,
we do!" Whereupon the said Edmund seized one fellow by the nape of the
neck, and another by the waistband of his breeches, and with pith and
power propelled them from the premises. This accomplished, he turned to
seize the others; when _Jemmy Green_, who appeared to be the most violent
among them, seized the said Edmund by the collar, and strenuously
endeavoured to floor him; but it would not do--Jemmy Green was out-done
both in length and strength, and was compelled to give way before the
superior pith of his adversary; and just as Jemmy was flung headlong from
the door, Launcelot Gobbo--we beg his pardon, Launcelot Snodgrass, struck
the conquering Edmund a blow on the back of his head with an umbrella, and
laid him horizontally on the floor. But Edmund rebounded to the
perpendicular in an instant, and was preparing to renew the combat, when
the watch came up, and Jemmy and Launcelot were both carried off to the
watch-house as contemners of the public peace.
The magistrate asked how this disgraceful uproar began.
The landlady, and her barmaid, and Nicholas the waiter, all gave evidence
on that part of the subject; and it appeared, by their account, that Jemmy
Green, Launcelot Snodgrass, and two other gentlemen, came in late, and
full of gin, and ate alamode beef in such quantities, that at length the
spicery of the beef, the gin, and the beer, concocting together, produced
a fume which got the better of what little sense they carried about them,
and made them all agog for what "the Fancy" calls a "_spree_." In this
state they rushed into the privacy of the bar, upset the salads, insulted
the mistress, milled the waiter, and demolished the barmaid's head gear.
It was at this juncture the above-mentioned Edmund came to their relief;
and the barmaid swore positively that Launcelot not only knocked down the
said Edmund with his umbrella as aforesaid, but that he also "knocked her
down up a-top of him," and how she got off again she did not know.
The accused were called upon for their defence; and Jemmy Green made the
first essay; but, unfortunately for him, the fumes of the commingled gin
and hot-spiced beef had not entirely evaporated--his brain seemed clogged
with beefy vapour, notwithstanding the unctuous dews which distilled
copiously from his forehead, and he found it impossible to make any
defence at all. So he was ordered to find bail for his appearance at the
Sessions, and he waddled out of the office under the superintendence of
the turnkey.
Launcelot then addressed himself to speak; and to the astonishment of all
the witnesses, he smilingly denied--firstly, that he had ever been in the
house at all; and secondly, that he ever in the whole course of his life
carried an umbrella--_ergo_, he could neither have been there, nor could
he have knocked the said Edmund down with an umbrella, as falsely alleged
by Mary Mulready, the barmaid. He admitted having witnessed the affair
from the court; and that, though prudence "bade him budge, he budged
not"--like his prototype, honest _Gobbo_, he scorned running with his
heels, and so he remained looking on, till he was seized by a watchman and
conveyed to durance.
In proof of this, he called a gentleman, his friend, who was present with
him; and this gentleman said, "every word, what Mr. Launcelot Snodgrass
speaks, is true as possible."
But this worthy witness, unluckily for Launcelot, admitted that he himself
was very drunk at the time, and also that he had an umbrella in his hand;
and the magistrate--being of opinion that Launcelot might have _borrowed_
this umbrella for the purpose of knocking down the aforesaid Edmund
Speering, believed all that the witnesses had said, and ordered Master
Launcelot to find bail also. Whereupon he was handed over to the turnkey,
who instantly locked him up with his friend Jemmy Green.
JEMMY LENNAM AND THE JEW.
Mr. Nathan Nathan, a slender, shapely, shewily-clad Israelite--"a tall
fellow of his hands," but having only "a younger brother's having in that
ancient Jewish indispensable--a beard;" thereby seeming to signify that he
was, as yet, scarcely arrived at years of discretion, was brought up among
a squad[30] of disorderly Christians from Covent-garden watch-house, and
charged with having created a disturbance in Drury-lane theatre on the
preceding night; and also with having assaulted Jemmy Lennam--time out of
mind, Old Drury's little-wigg'd, big, old watchman.
It appeared by the testimony of the aforesaid Jemmy Lennam, that after the
performances were over, "and the company had well nigh all departed
dacently to their beds," this Mr. Nathan Nathan came into the hall,
"brim-full of the cratur, and _coming the gentleman_ over the folks,
according to the present blackguard fashion;" that is to say, by
manifesting a supreme contempt for the _genteel_, insulting the women and
making as much noise as he could, just to show that he considered himself
quite _at home_ anywhere and everywhere. So much for generalities, as
Jemmy Lennam said; and then for particularities, he pretended to be
_mighty swate_ upon every modest woman that came out, obstructed the free
passage of the company, mocked the servants when they called the coaches,
put the said servants upon a wrong scent, and out-roared the loudest
link-boys in bellowing "coach _on_-hired!" Jemmy Lennam bore all this with
a not-very-easily-suppressed indignation; and at last, when he could bear
it no longer, he "just took a civil twist of the young gentleman's
cravat," and handed him over to some of the patrol; but as he was doing
this, he received "two hard strokes on the right cheek-bone from the fist
of him."
This was the substance of Jemmy Lennam's charge, and the patrol bore him
out in it as far as they were concerned in the matter.
Mr. Nathan Nathan, in his defence, declared upon his honour, that Jemmy
Lennam was the first aggressor--by refusing to let him wait in the hall
for "the party of ladies and gentlemen to whom he _belonged_!" and by
calling him "a Jew pickpocket!" and he appealed to the "gentlemen of the
patrol," whether he did not place himself under their protection from
Jemmy Lennam's _wiolence_.
"The gentlemen of the patrol" said they heard a great noise in the hall,
and going to see what it was about, they found Jemmy Lennam's fist locked
in Mr. Nathan Nathan's collar, and Mr. Nathan Nathan's fist working away
at Jemmy Lennam's face--and that was all they had to say in the business.
So Mr. Nathan Nathan was ordered to find bail, and a pair of
Holywell-street vendors of seedy[31] apparel became his sureties.
WOLF _versus_ WELLDONE.
Mrs. Winifred Welldone, widow, of Monmouth-street, Seven Dials, was
charged with having assaulted Mrs. Mary Wolf of the same place, spinster.
Mrs. Wolf, as her name would seem to signify, is bony and gaunt, and
grim--a lady of most voracious aspect, and much more like an assault_er_
than an assault_ee_. But the proverb saith--"judge not by outward
appearances--they too often prove deceitful;" and they did so in this
case; for Mrs. Welldone was so overdone with fat--so round, so soft, so
puffy, and so short withal, that nobody would have supposed her capable of
bruising even a pound of butter; and yet she contrived to give Mrs. Wolf a
black eye! How she had reached so high as the eye of Mrs. Wolf, was matter
of wonder to everybody; for she was by no means well made for jumping, and
Mrs. Wolf was nearly double her height.
It appeared by the evidence adduced on both sides, that Mrs. Welldone
occupies a house in Monmouth-street--that far-famed street which is
sometimes, though _maliciously_, yclep'd "_Rag_-fair." Here she carries on
a thriving trade in the "_translating_ line,"--that is to say, she employs
sundry ingenious craftsmen in translating _old shoes_ into new ones--an
art that will be dignified to all posterity, as being that art by which
the patriot PRESTON procured _bub_ and _grub_[32] for his family. These
shoes, thus translated, or "revivified," Mrs. Welldone sells at a small
profit to those persons, and they are not a few, whose destinies forbid
them to purchase their shoes of the shoe-_maker_. Beneath the shop, or
parlour, in which she carries on this trade, she has two
cellars--_under-ground apartments_ she calls them, and perhaps it is the
_genteeler_ term; and it was these two cellars, or under-ground
apartments, that brought her in contact with Mrs. Wolf. Mrs. Wolf is of a
profession nearly allied to _translating_, only she operates upon gowns,
and petticoats, and "_chemises_," instead of _shoes_.--As Robert Burns
would say,
"----She--wi' her needle and her shears,
Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new."
Now it so happened that Mrs. Wolf was in want of a place in which to vend
the garments she thus redeems from the jaws of the paper mill; and
wandering along Monmouth-street, in search of some such place, she saw the
under-ground apartments of Mrs. Welldone. They were to let, she liked them
vastly, and she became Mrs. Welldone's tenant--with an express stipulation
between them that Mrs. Welldone should stick to her _shoes_, and Mrs. Wolf
to her _shifts_, &c.; so that neither of them might at all interfere with
the trade of the other. Mrs. Wolf took possession of the under-ground
apartments that same evening; but it would appear that she had more of the
fox in her composition than the wolf, for she was no sooner safely housed,
or _cellar'd_, than she broke the agreement, by making a grand display of
translated shoes all around the sill of her cellar window. "Is this well
done, Mrs. Wolf?" cried the astonished Mrs. Welldone--"if you don't take
them away this moment, I'll kick them all down upon your false head!" Mrs.
Wolf looked up from her subterranean abode, and grinned defiance--like the
wolf that General Putnam pulled out of the cavern by his tail whilst the
people pulled the General out by his hind leg. Mrs. Welldone repeated her
threat of kicking down the shoes, and Mrs. Wolf grinned again, and told
her she would _ramshackle_[33] her if she did. Then Mrs. Welldone, not
having the fear of _ramshackleing_ before her eyes, swept the shoes into
the cellar-hole upon the false head of Mrs. Wolf, and Mrs. Wolf emerged
from her cavern amidst the cloud of flying shoes, "her soul in arms and
eager for the 'fray." Mrs. Welldone gave back when she saw her, and it was
well she did; for Mrs. Wolf came on like a tigress, as all the witnesses
averred, and they thought it a miracle (_a-la-Hohenlohe_) that she was not
torn to bits at the first rush. Mrs. Welldone, however, was not the woman
to _back out_ of anything--she concentrated her powers--her eyes flashed
like diamonds in dough, Mrs. Wolf closed upon her, they wrestled together
like Death and the Dumpling, and when they were dragged apart by the
bystanders, Mrs. Wolf's right eye was in mourning.
This was all the witnesses could say about the matter, and the magistrate
told Mrs. Welldone, she had done ill in committing the first assault.
"I admit it, your worship," said Mrs. Welldone, "but it was enough to make
any woman mad to have the bread taken out of one's mouth by _stratygim_ in
that manner. _Howsever_, I don't know that I should have minded _that_ so
much if she had not _undersold_ me."
"Sold _under_ you, you mean," said his worship--"If you sold in the
parlour, and she sold in the cellar, she sold under you, of course."
"Aye, _coarse_ enough, your worship, and a coarse piece of goods she
is--look at her which way you will," rejoined Mrs. Welldone. Well versed
as Mrs. Welldone was in mending the _understandings_ of others, she
herself, had not understanding enough to take this pun.
His worship decided that they had both been much to blame; and he ordered
the warrant to be suspended _in terrorem_ over Mrs. Welldone, and
recommended Mrs. Wolf to seek other cellars as soon as possible.
MR. O'FLINN, AND HIS FRIEND'S MISTRESS.
Miss Susanna Smith, a very pretty young woman, attired in the newest
fashion, was brought before the magistrate, on an assault warrant issued
at the suit of one Mr. O'Flinn, a tall, well-dressed, sprightly native of
the Emerald Isle, who had complained to his worship that he had been
grievously assaulted by the said Susanna.
Mr. William O'Flinn, it seems, had a friend, who is the especial
_protector_ of the fair defendant. He went the other night, to deliver a
letter to this friend, at the house in which Susanna resides. His friend
was not at home, but he saw Susanna, and she--totally laying aside the
delicacy of her sex, "and all the rest of it"--gave him one of the most
scurvy receptions imaginable; viz., he was standing in the hall, inquiring
at the landlady for his friend, when suddenly the parlour door opened, and
out rushed Susanna with the velocity of a nine-pounder--"And pray what
would you be after wanting with that gentleman?"--she asked, at the same
time attempting to snatch the letter from Mr. O'Flinn's hand. "It isn't
yourself that the letter is for at all, my jewel," replied Mr. O'Flinn,
slipping the letter into his pocket--"and as for what I want with that
gentleman, you have no right to be asking me the question." "'Faith, we'll
see that," said the lady, and instantly placed her fair back against the
front door, evidently with the intention of cutting off Mr. O'Flinn's
retreat. Well, what was to be done now? It was growing late, and as Mr.
O'Flinn very justly observed, if he was detained there he could not go
elsewhere. So, after trying what remonstrance would do, and finding it had
no effect whatever, he took hold of the fair hand of the lady and
endeavoured to remove her from the door by a little gentle force; but, to
his utter astonishment, she instantly disengaged her hand, and in the
twinkling of an eye, as it were, he received two or three sound boxes on
either ear, and a kick on the abdomen, which for some moments materially
interfered with his faculty of breathing. Astonished that a lady should
_kick_, but nothing daunted, he again advanced to the attack, or,
Corinthianly speaking, to the _scratch_, taking care, this time, to
advance in an attitude of defence--_a-la-Spring_. His caution was
useless, however, for the lady broke through his guard in an instant,
boxed his ears again soundly, or rather _soundingly_, and planted another
kick on his _bowel-case_, with her dexterous little foot, in the self-same
spot as before! This was an extremely awkward bit of business, and Mr.
O'Flinn felt it so. He could not, consistently with his character as a
gentleman, and an Irish gentleman in particular, use greater violence to a
lady; and he might have gone on, as before, till he had not an ear left
for her to box, or a pair of trowsers for her to kick. He, therefore,
declined coming to the _scratch_ again; and contented himself with calling
upon the comely landlady of the dwelling, who all this while had been
quietly holding the candle for them. He peremptorily told her commodious
landladyship, that unless he was instantly suffered to go about his
business, he would consider himself as detained by her connivance, and
have his action against her for false imprisonment accordingly. This
produced the desired effect--the landlady interfered, a parley ensued, and
at last Mr. O'Flinn was liberated.
In support of this statement Mr. O'Flinn called the landlady aforesaid.
The landlady (an immense personage) declared she saw neither kicks nor
slaps. Miss Susanna certainly put her back against the door to prevent Mr.
O'Flinn from going, until she knew what he wanted with her _friend_; and a
sort of scuffle took place in consequence; and that was all she knew about
it.
Here Mr. O'Flinn lifted up his bands and eyes in astonishment; for, as he
said, the landlady held the candle to them all the while, and could not
avoid seeing every bit of it.
The magistrate now asked Miss Susanna what _she_ had to say to it?
The poor girl told a sad tale. She first burst into tears, and for some
seconds was unable to speak. She then spoke of her former respectable and
happy situation in life before she became what she now is--a
kept-mistress. "But," said she, "Mr. ---- has promised to marry me, and I
trust in heaven he will!" Here she wept again, and was proceeding to make
some further general remarks, when the magistrate desired her to confine
herself to the charge of having assaulted Mr. O'Flinn.
She then admitted having prevented Mr. O'Flinn's departure from the house,
and said she was induced to do so, because she verily believed he came
with the intention of injuring her in the opinion of the only friend she
had in the world--Mr. ----, her _protector_. As to the kicking, &c., she
denied it; though not very positively.
She was ordered to find bail for her appearance at the Sessions, and Mr.
O'Flinn said he should certainly prosecute her; but the magistrate told
him he thought it would be better to let such an affair pass over without
further notice.
JONAS TUNKS.
Mr. Jonas Tunks, a young gentleman in a jacket of divers colours,
well-patched canvas trowsers, no stockings, and shoes curiously contrived
to let in the fresh air at the toes, was brought before the sitting
magistrate, charged, under the Stat. 1 Geo. IV., with wilfully and
maliciously damaging the property of Mrs. Deborah Clutterbuck--the comely
landlady of a public-house in the purlieus of St. Giles's proper.
It appeared by the evidence of Mr. Jonathan Dobbs, an operative
veterinarian (_vulgo_, a journeyman farrier), that Mr. Jonas Tunks, who is
a wandering melodist (_vulgo_, a ballad-singer) by profession, went into
the public-house in question, where Mr. Jonathan Dobbs, and several other
gentlemen, were taking a _dejeuner a-la-fourchette_ of sheep's-head and
pickled cabbage. He entered the room singing, at the very top of his
voice, the favourite _aria_, "Oh, Judy! my darling!" and one of the
gentlemen politely desiring him to shut his potato-trap, and not make such
a noise, he seized a pint of _heavy_ and drank it off to the gentleman's
better manners. The gentleman to whom the _heavy_ belonged, now swore that
Mr. Jonas Tunks should _post the blunt_ for it--that is to say, he should
pay for it. But Mr. Jonas Tunks would do no such thing--"Base is the slave
that pays!" he exclaimed; and immediately called for "a quartern of gin of
three outs," with which he offered to treat--or as a Corinthian would
say,--to "_sluice the ivories_" of the gentlemen present. The gentlemen,
however, would not accept his treat, and "Turn out the blackguard!" was
the universal cry; but Mr. Jonas Tunks was awake to the "_spree_," and
before his enemies could say "Jack Robinson," he capsized three pots of
_heavy_, scattered the pickled cabbage upon the floor, and very nearly
_bolted_ with the better half of a sheep's face! But, unfortunately, just
as he was clearing the threshold of the door, he received the well-shod
foot of the veterinarian in the rear, about seven inches and a half
below the waistband of his trowsers, and the concussion sent him half
across the street, without once touching the pavement! The veterinarian
and his friends, nothing doubting but Jonas was done with, laughed aloud,
and returned into the house; but Jonas was not the man to walk off quietly
under this dishonourable visitation of tanned calfskin, and before their
shout of laughter was over, he had dashed six panes of glass to pieces in
the front window of the house--or, to use a very expressive Eganism he had
_milled the glaze_ gloriously! He was immediately overpowered with
numbers, and handed over to the strong grasp of the Police.
[Illustration: JONAS TUNKS.]
The magistrate having heard the complaint (for the valiant Jonas scorned
to say a word in defence) immediately sentenced him, under the statute
above-mentioned, to pay the value of the glass he had broken--viz.
twenty-five shillings; and in default of so doing, he was consigned to
three months' imprisonment in Bridewell.
Now really this was a very ill-natured prosecution against Mr. Jonas
Tunks; for, after all, what was his offence but a trifling matter of
"_back slum_" Corinthianism?--as the great chronicler of _Life in London_
would phrase it--a mere trifling ebullition of vitality--a slight
manifestation of those lively principles which constitute a true
"Corinthian," whether in Dyott-street or Pall mall.
MISS HANNAH MARIA JULIANA SHUM AND HER BEAU.
There was a damsel--one Miss Hannah Maria Juliana Shum, charged by the
books of Covent Garden watch-house, with having robbed a young gentleman
of a golden sovereign. The young gentleman made such a pathetic appeal
against the publication of his name--being, as he said, "a young man just
verging into the affairs of the world," that we shall content ourselves
(and our readers also, we hope) with saying, he was simply a young
gentleman of little person--and that little made the most of, _secundum
artem_; that is to say, the boot-maker had lengthened him at one end, and
the hair-dresser at the other; whilst his tailor had done all, that
padding could do, to increase his bulk longitudinally.
The damsel--Miss Hannah Maria Juliana Shum, was not the purest damsel in
existence perhaps--certainly not the purest in attire; and her face,
pretty as it was, would have been all the prettier for a commodity of soap
and water. But in describing the persons of this rather ill-matched pair,
we shall forget their adventures. They were thus then:--