PORTRAITS of CHILDREN OF THE MOBILITY
By Percival Leigh
Drawn From Nature By John Leech
With Memoirs And Characteristic Sketches By The Author Of "The Comic
English Grammar," Etc.
1841
[Illustration: 009]
[Illustration: 010]
VIGNETTE ON THE TITLE-PAGE.
Armorial Bearings op the Mobility, viz:--
Quarterly,
1, Azure, a Tile dilapidated, or shocking bad Hat, Argent, banded Sable,
for TAG.
2, Gules, between two Clays in saltire Argent, in base a Pot of Heavy,
frothed of the second, for SWIPES.
3, Sable, & Bunch of Fives proper, for RAG.
4, Or, a Neddy Sable, passant, brayant, panniered proper, cabbaged and
carroted.
Gules, for BOBTAIL.
Motto.--Kim aup.
Crest.--On a wreath a Bull-dog's head guardant proper, issuant out of a
Butcher's tray, surmounted by & scroll with the motto BOW WOW.
CHILDREN OF THE MOBILITY
OF THE MOBILITY IN GENERAL
The Mobility are a variety of the human race, otherwise designated,
in polite society, as "The Lower Orders," "The Inferior Classes," "The
Rabble," "The Populace,"
"The Vulgar," or "The Common People." Among political philosophers, and
promulgators of Useful Knowledge, they are known as "_The_ People," "The
Many," "The Masses," "The Millions." By persons of less refinement, they
are termed "The Riff-raff," and "The Tag-rag-and-bobtail." Figuratively,
they are also denominated "The Many-headed;" although in England, in
common with the other members of the body politic, they have but one
head. May it be long before that one is replaced by another! In some
foreign countries, as in America, they change their head very often; and
in a neighbouring kingdom (where they are called "The Canaille"), their
head is, strange to say, their target.
We write solely for the benefit of the superior classes, that is to say,
of the Nobility, Gentry, Clergy, and so many of the Public in general as
will condescend to patronise our work. These individuals, if we may so
call them, inhabiting a different sphere from that of the Mobility, are
not (with the exception, of course, of the Magistracy and the Clergy,)
in the habit of meeting them; some account, therefore, of this
little-known class, introductory to an exhibition of their offspring,
may be reasonably expected of us. Our gentle readers, we apprehend,
have but little regarded the Mobility in passing through our public
thoroughfares. When employed in taking the air, they move in a loftier
line than that of the pavement, and, occupied with the momentous cares
of the Senate, the Opera, and the Ball, are too deeply absorbed in
meditation to cast their eyes below.
The Mobility are the antipodes to the Nobility: the one race of men
being at the top of the world, the other at the bottom of it. The word
Mobility is said to be derived from the Latin term _Mobilis_, fickle,
or moveable; as Nobility is from _Nobilis_, noble. But what can be
more fickle than fashion, what more vulgar than constancy? The heads
of society, too, are quite as moveable as its tails. The Nobility are
continually in motion; moving in good company, moving in Parliament,
moving about the world. If we are to take up the Mobility as vagrants,
we must set down the Nobility as tourists; * if the former are _moved_
by Punch and Shakspere, the latter are equally so by Rubini and Bellini.
There are some who think that Mobility comes from _Mobble_, to dress
inelegantly; a surmise more ingenious than correct. The humbler classes
were perhaps originally named, as in former times they were governed, by
arbitrary power. As to an opinion that the opposite term, Nobility, is
derived from _Nob_, a word which in the vocabulary of certain persons
signifies head, we only mention it to show the horrid ideas of etymology
which some minds are capable of forming.
* There are some real travellers among the Mobility, though
most of their _journeymen_ lead a sedentary life.
The property most common to all the Mobility is poverty; that is to say,
no property at all. It is not usual to describe them as a respectable
body, but they are an influential one, and their influence has, of
late years, been much augmented. Perhaps, also, as they constitute the
operative part of the community, and its physical force, they may
be regarded as being, in a national point of view, of some little
importance: but all who have any pretensions to delicacy look upon them
as disagreable persons. Those of them who are, so to speak, at large,
inhabit the huts and hovels of our villages, and the fearful dens in
the less known and more unpleasant regions of our towns and cities.
Here they are chiefly to be found, according to medical men and other
adventurous travellers, in places analogous to those in which our wine
is kept, and where our menials repose, the garrets and cellars. Many
thousands of them are contained in ships and barracks, and also in
penitentiaries, prisons, workhouses, and other places of punishment for
indigence and dishonesty.
The difference between the words Mobility and Nobility is merely a
letter. So, between individuals belonging to the two classes, a single
letter may constitute a distinction. There are some names peculiar to
the Nobility, and some to the Mobility. Jenkins, for example, is one of
the names of the Mobility, but it assumes an aristocratic character by
being spelt Jenkyns. The addition of a letter, or the addition of one
and the alteration of another, is sometimes necessary to effect this
change. Thus, Brown and Smith are ennobled by being converted into
Browns and Smythe. Persons who have acquired their property by dealing
in cheese and so forth, are, some of them, aware of this fact, and hence
it is that the butterfly state of a sugar-baker is often denoted by such
a transformation, and that Gubbynses and Chubbes enrich the aristocracy
of Tooting.
Castlemaine, Mortimer, Percy, Howard, Stanley, Vere and Conyers, are
well known as being among the names of the Nobility. In like manner,
Tupp, Snooks, Pouch, Wiggins, Blogg, Scroggins, and Hogg, are names
characteristic of the Mobility. Dobson, Jobson, and Timson, are
appellations of the same order. How shocking it would be to impose
any one of them on the hero of a fashionable novel! Johnson may _now_,
perhaps, be tolerated; but we think John_stone_ decidedly preferable.
The names which the Mobility derive from their sponsors may be Christian
names; but some of them are, nevertheless, very shocking. No refined
grammarian could venture to call them _proper_ names; and to dream of
disgracing a scutcheon by them would horrify any one but a savage. The
mind shrinks, so to speak, at the bare idea of such an association of
names as Ebenezer Arlington, Jonathan Tollemache, Moses Montague, Jacob
Manners, or Timothy Craven. An attempt to emulate the higher ranks in
the choice of Christian names is sometimes made by the Mobility, but
their selection is chiefly confined to the theatrical or romantic
species; as Oscar Pugsley, Wilhelmina Briggs, Orlando Bung, and the
like. The Mobility, moreover, have seldom more than two names; though
some of them, under peculiar circumstances, assume several, _pro
tempore_, with the intervention of an _alias_. They very generally,
too, neglect a practice universally adopted in the exclusive circles,
of christening a child by a surname. It is to be wished that they would
adopt this custom, for such combinations as Brown Green, Tubb Waters,
White Smith, or Bull Bates, would certainly be highly amusing.
The Mobility are also in the habit of using abbreviations in addressing
each other, as Jim, Bill, Dick, &c.; an eccentricity which, we are sorry
to say, has proved contagious.
It is frequently said of the Mobility that they are houseless and
homeless, and so, we believe, many of them are. But all of them
are houseless, as contradistinguished from proper characters, and
particularly from the Nobility, each of whom can boast of belonging to a
house, although no house should belong to him.
Whereas the Nobility, without exception, have coats of arms, the
Mobility, with some few exceptions, have none; and the arms of their
coats are often out at elbows.
The costume of the Mobility, though not elegant, is in general
picturesque; but for this it is indebted, like a ruin, more to the hand
of Time than to that of the builder. And, as in the case with ancient
edifices, it is diversified by various repairs of a later date, which,
while they detract a little from its uniformity, considerably augment
its effect. When, too, it is most remote from graceful, it is usually,
for an obvious reason, airy.
There is one dreadful omission in point of dress of which the Mobility
are universally guilty, that of going about the streets with their hands
naked; an enormity which we hope will soon be put a stop to by law. It
is not customary with them to dress for dinner; and although they talk
of going sometimes to _court_, they do not always on such occasions
consider it necessary to change their habiliments; notwithstanding which
they aspire to a higher honour than that of kissing _hands_.
The commanding presence, beautiful features, eagle eyes, chiselled lips,
aristocratic noses, and silken tresses of the Nobility, are matters of
daily observation. In personal appearance the Mobility do not resemble
them. Among the lower classes, _lusus naturae_ (a Latin phrase which
signifies _objects or frights_) are very common. We are inclined to
consider these people as a sort of step-children of Nature, who now and
then indulges herself in a little jocosity at their expense, for the
diversion of the better orders. She gives them funny legs and great
hands and feet, she twists their lips about, and makes their eyes
converge, with a whimsical look towards the nose, and the latter she
turns up in a manner quite ludicrous. In short, to venture a bold
expression, she _snubs_ them. We beg, however, to observe, that the
Nature who is a _step-mother_, is what is said to be a _second_ Nature,
Use; and that the singularities above mentioned are a kind of heir-looms
which the habits of preceding generations have entailed upon their
remote posterity. Besides, too many of the Mobility, insensible of the
advantages of an agreeable exterior, imprudently venture into chimneys
and other places, handle hard and rough substances, and go about in huge
heavy boots, from which incautious behaviour their appearance in many
respects sustains great detriment.
The use of the Mobility is, to produce food, habitation, and clothing,
for the superior classes, and to perform for them those various offices,
which, though essential to existence, are not of a dignified quality.
Like some of the canine tribes, they are also employed for purposes of
defence; for which, with some little drilling and correction, they may
be rendered eminently serviceable. During war-time, they are caught and
trained for the water; but on the expediency of this proceeding there is
some difference of opinion.
The manners of the Mobility are neither sweet nor refined; there is none
of the lump-sugar of humanity in them. It is true that one laundress
will address another as "Ma'am," and that the driver of a public
cabriolet will speak of a locomotive vegetable vender as "that other
gentleman;" still people of this description, when they salute one
another at all, do so in a very inelegant manner. It is a great pity
that they do not take a lesson in this respect from the French, as they
would then relinquish their strange practices of nodding and winking,
and poking each other in the side. But on points like these we must be
brief; a glimpse only of the horrible is always sufficient. Will our
readers believe it? the Mobility, in conversation, accuse each other
without scruple, in terms not to be mistaken, of wilfully erroneous
assertions! and, not content with this, often accompany the insult by a
backward movement of the left thumb over the shoulder! But what can be
expected of those who smoke pipes of tobacco in the open streets?
The taste of the Mobility is not delicate. As regards aliment, it is
one which Louis Eustache Ude never, we are sure, thought of consulting.
Their diet is said to include such articles as _tripe, cow-heel, (?)
&c._ if any one knows what those things are. Their literary appetite,
that, at least, of those who can read, tends chiefly to certain
publications which come out weekly, are mostly sold for the small charge
of one penny, and are filled with vituperation of the higher orders. The
Mobility are also very fond of "Last Dying Speeches and Confessions;"
indeed they regard all information, connected with the administration of
the criminal law, with a peculiar interest.
The Mobility have various amusements, most of which are exceedingly low,
and which have been in these enlightened times judiciously curtailed by
the Legislature. Indeed they can scarcely indulge in any of them without
impropriety; for they are supposed, during six days, to be continually
occupied, and on the seventh to be enjoying, like the better classes,
the sweets of domestic life. Instead of that, they go, on Sundays, to a
public-house, provided there may be no pecuniary obstacle to their doing
so. There, it is said, they used to play at _skittles, bowls, and
nine pins_; in lieu of which, those games being now illegal on all
but working days, they content themselves with getting inebriated.
Occasionally, on evenings during the week, some of them repair to the
theatres, where those of our readers who may chance to have honoured the
performances with their presence may have heard them, high aloft and far
back, in a place allotted to them, making a noise. Their leisure,
also, when they have any, is sometimes beguiled by dramatic and musical
entertainments, paid for on the voluntary principle, and appropriately
performed in the open air. These exhibitions are transferable from place
to place; a very fortunate circumstance, as the crowds which collect to
view them might otherwise incommode the higher orders, by obstructing
their carriages. The Mobility, in certain amusements of theirs,
present a curious and humiliating parallel to those of a portion of
the Nobility. They are slightly addicted to games of chance, although
instead of throwing dice, they usually toss pence, and for rouge et
noir, engage in what is termed _blind hookey_. We _could_ mention _some_
persons who appear to have learned one of these delightful sports from
them; we mean, the _thimble rig_. They are prone, too, in their way, to
the pleasures of the field; for instance, the pursuit of the rat, which,
although not a noble recreation, like the chase of the fox, is yet a
species of hunting. The badger likewise contributes, occasionally,
to their fund of harmless enjoyment. They do not, it is true, perform
nocturnal gymnastics on knockers and bell-wires, such presumption on
their part being severely punishable; but it must be confessed that at
an election or an illumination they evince a strong predilection for
very similar exploits.
The language of the Mobility is very incorrect in point of grammar, and
rather abounds in strong and forcible, than in soft and elegant terms.
Perhaps, in treating of the Children of the Mobility more particularly,
we shall unavoidably be forced to quote a little of it; but we shall be
as chary as a Poor Law Commissioner of what we put into their mouths,
recollecting that those introduced by us are intended as _companions_
to the Children of the Nobility. For, as the moralist informs us in the
copybook, "Evil communications corrupt good manners."
The Children of the Mobility are distinguished by a remarkable
circumstance, at their very birth, from those of the Nobility. The
latter are said to enter the world with a certain silver implement
in their mouths; at all events, they have one placed there so soon
as almost to warrant the idea that it was really bestowed on them by
Nature. The former, on the contrary, are endowed with no such thing;
and if they were, it would infallibly be transferred, with all possible
expedition, to the hands of a particular relative. In short, it would
be made a means of procuring the nutriment which a less costly article
would serve as effectually to insert.
Further, the Children of the Nobility, justly compared in various
poetical effusions to delicate plants and tender flowers, are, with
great propriety, reared in a nursery. But the Children of the Mobility,
who are the subjects of no effusions but those of indignation at their
appetite or their cries, vegetate, many of them, like kitchen stuff, in
the open air, and are never grown, if under shelter at all, in any place
resembling a _hot_-house.
It is, perhaps, to the supply of moisture which, in consequence of their
exposure, they receive, that their preservation is owing; for we might
otherwise reasonably question how they are induced to live.
The Children of the Mobility are not, in early infancy, interesting
creatures; they are invested with none of those angelic attributes so
peculiar to the aristocratic babe. It will be well, therefore, to pass
over this period of their lives, and to consider them as they exhibit
themselves, at a somewhat more advanced age, in the streets.
Those talented artists who have so laudably devoted their lofty
energies to the delineation of the youthful forms of the Children of
the Nobility, have correctly represented them as replete, in all their
actions, with elegance. Sleeping on banks of flowers, sitting on
rocks and musing o'er flood and field, contemplating with youthful
but reflective eye, the beauties of a leaf or rose-bud, standing
self-enraptured and Narcissus-like in some exquisite attitude before a
mirror, or playing, in unconscious boldness, with a large dog, they seem
to us like the denizens of a brighter sphere. Such, indeed, they may
with truth be said to be; for, in the spacious park, the fragrant
_parterre_, and the splendidly furnished drawing-room, their delicious
existence glides away. This, together with their innate refinement,
accounts, perhaps, for that beautifully indescribable something that
mingles with all they do. So, conversely, the inherited bias, and
surrounding circumstances incidental to the Children of the Mobility,
may be supposed to explain the very opposite "something" so peculiar
to them. We find them perched on stiles and gates, and loitering about
lanes and ditches, peering into periwinkles, hopping up and down the
steps of door-ways, or setting a couple of mongrels together by the
ears. They are not gentle--they are not sylph-like--we search in vain
for a nameless grace in their steps, and a depth of hidden meaning
in their young eyes. They have never been taught to dance, and their
complexions have been sadly neglected.
Aided by Mr. Leech's pictures, we shall now take the liberty of
introducing our young plebeians into the drawing-room.
PLATE I. Miss Margaret Flinn, Master Gregory Flinn, Miss Katherine O'Shaughnessy, and Master Donovan
These young persons are the Children of a Mobility said to be the finest
in the universe. The scene of their existence is a place denominated
the Rookery, a region situated in those obscure territories among which
Oxford Street terminates. This district is very appositely named, and
we are surprised that there is no corresponding neighbourhood, of an
aristocratic character, denominated an Aerie. It is a place remarkable,
like an actual abode of rooks, for the noisy, pugnacious, and predatory
character of its inhabitants, who however, unlike those birds, are
not very active in feeding their young. Their building propensities,
however, are just as remarkable. Humble as they are, it cannot be denied
that they have much to do in the raising of the noblest houses; and if
any part of the Mobility may lay claim to heraldic honours, these, as
well as the proudest landlords, are entitled to bear the "Bricklayers'
Arms." Their children display a peculiarly imperfect state of costume,
owing to a practice, too common among their parents, of devoting the
family revenues to the purchase of a certain spirituous liquor, and of
converting, for this purpose, their wardrobes into ready money; conduct
highly reprehensible, since, if oppressed by _ennui_, or incommoded by
the calls of appetite, they ought to have recourse to the consolations
of philosophy.
The Flinns, the O'Shaughnessys, and the Donovans are, as we have hinted,
of Hibernian extraction. Miss Margaret Flinn was born January 10, 1824,
and is now consequently in her eighteenth year. Her brother, Master
Gregory Flinn, is in his ninth; his birth took place on December 28,
1832. They are the sole remaining issue of Cornelius and Mary Flinn, the
remainder of whose family, amounting to ten, all died in their infancy,
with the exception of their sixth son, Michael Flinn, whose afflicting
death at the age of five, in St. Bartholomew's Hospital, in consequence
of his clothes catching fire, was lately recorded in the journals. Miss
Katherine O'Shaughnessy (born June 10, 1834) is the eldest of the
seven children, the remainder of whom are males, of Judith and Terence
O'Shaughnessy. It will be recollected that the late Mr. O'Shaughnessy
was killed in scaling a chimney. Master Patrick Donovan is virtually an
orphan, his parents, Jane and Peter Donovan, being necessitated, from
some mistake with respect to property, to pass their existence in exile.
He was born March 18, 1830.
The sensitive mind is condemned to meet with some things in
this sublunary scene which are cruelly harrowing to its delicate
susceptibilities. We intimated, a little above, that the Children of the
Mobility, generally, have no pretensions to beauty; there is no rule,
however, without an exception, and Miss Margaret Flinn is an exception
here. Her mild dewy eyes, of a bright lustrous grey, softly shaded by
her dark and pencilled brows; her small and exquisitely-formed nose;
her sweet lips, well-turned chin, graceful neck, lovely complexion, and
almost perfect figure, form a _tout ensemble_ decidedly prepossessing.
Now is it not distressing to see such charms in so uncultivated a state?
Who does not breathe an anxious wish that a wreath of roses
should encircle that brow,--that gems should deck those _petites
oreilles_,--that the gentle coercion of the corset should add the one
thing wanting to that admirable but untutored waist? And then those
feet--now so disgraced!--Would we could see thee, fair Child of
the Mobility, arrayed in hues of beauty by the hand of Fashion, and
irradiating with the beams of thy loveliness the circles of Ton! But it
may not be! the decrees of Destiny are inscrutable, and we weep in
There are few, we apprehend, to whom the following beautiful lines are
not familiar:--
The Minstrel Boy to the war is gone,
In the ranks of death you'll find him;
His father's sword he has girded on,
And his wild harp slung behind him."
Now, girding on, or putting on their fathers' things, appears to be
a national peculiarity of the Minstrel boy's young countrymen. So, at
least, it would seem from the coat of Master Gregory Flinn; though it is
very possible that the said vestment may properly belong to some other
young gentleman's papa. Our readers may, perhaps, have read of a set of
people called Socialists, whose chief characteristic is a community of
property, and of almost everything else; and who, besides, live huddled
together in colonies, and are not very scrupulous in their behaviour.
This description applies so closely to the Rookery, that we cannot but
think that it is actually one of these people's establishments. Its
inhabitants evidently possess their clothes in common; no private
individual having any of his own, but putting on, as occasion may
require, the first thing that he finds lying about. Hence it happens
that, as the pairs of shoes, for instance, in the settlement, do not
nearly equal the number of wearers, some are obliged to go without any
shoes at all, and others, as in the case of Master Gregory Flinn, to be
content with one. In this latter predicament, also, is Master Patrick
Donovan; while in the former is Miss Katherine O'Shaughnessy. The
excellence of the Social system is further exemplified by this
interesting group, not only in respect of their apparel, but also in
what they exhibit of the domestic economy of their connexions. The loaf
which Miss Katherine O'Shaughnessy is carrying is the family loaf, and
the tankard at her lips contains the family beverage, of which, in the
simvainplicity of innocence, she is taking her little share. Master
Patrick Donovan has just obtained possession of a herring--probably on
Social principles, and is conveying it, with the kettle, which the fire
of some neighbouring Socialist has warmed, homewards for breakfast.
He is a youth of a lively turn, and the jest that hangs on his lip is
called forth by the contemplative look,--(oh that such eyes should rest
on such an object!) with which Miss Margaret Flinn is regarding his
finny prize. He is facetiously inquiring whether she would like a
_soldier_; that term being, in the language of the Mobility, applied to
the delicacy in question.
Master Gregory Flinn, to whom Master Patrick Donovan's sally seems to
have given great amusement, is provided, it will be observed, with a
hoop. It is fit that the superior classes, who are so apt to be guilty
of misplaced charity, an amiable but fatal weakness, should know, that
the Children of the Mobility are in many instances possessed of the
superfluity of toys; which, of course, if they were really hungry, they
would dispose of, and get something to eat. We certainly think that
the country should not be saddled with the expense of maintaining those
Children of the Mobility who can afford to keep hoops.
There is one circumstance which, in considering the Children of the
Mobility in general, and particularly this part of them, strikes us very
forcibly indeed. We mean, the style of their _chevelure_. How easy it
would be to part Master Gregory Flinn's hair in the middle, or to
bid waving ringlets to stray down the shoulders of Miss Katherine
O'Shaughnessy, instead of allowing elf-locks to dangle about her ears!
and what an improvement would thereby be effected in the personal
appearance of both! To require farther attentions to this department
of the toilet on the part of such persons as the Mobility, may perhaps
appear a little unreasonable; but we must say, that did we belong to
that description of persons, we would decidedly debar ourselves of the
common necessaries of life, as long as Nature would permit us so to do,
in order to procure those (to us) indispensable articles on which the
gloss and brilliancy of the hair depend.
Another little improvement, and one unattended by the slightest
expense, might so easily be made in the condition of the Children of
the Mobility, that we wonder that no benevolent individual has hitherto
endeavoured to effect it. A glance at the group now under consideration
must convince the most tasteless observer that the youthful personages
therein depicted are supporting themselves on their feet in the most
ungraceful posture imaginable. Whoever looks at the portraits of the
Children of the Nobility, will see that some are represented as standing
in the first; others in the second position; while others again are
resting, with all the elegance of a Cerito, upon the very tips of their
very little feet. Dove-like in everything else, they are as unlike that
bird as possible in their attitudes. Why should the young Mobility
tread the earth like pigeons, when the opposite mode of standing and of
progression is so much more becoming?
Before we take leave of these young,--we might say
unfledged,--inhabitants of the Rookery, we may remark, that they are
much addicted to an amusement greatly conducive to the advantage of the
pedestrian, that of displacing the superfluous matter which is apt to
accumulate upon crossings. They also pursue an employment which, were
it a legal one, we might compare to that of the Solicitor General. Or we
might describe its followers as probationers belonging to the Society
of Mendicants; an order, it would seem, which Henry VIII. could not
entirely suppress.
LINES TO MISS MARGARET FLINN.
Hadst thou, by Fortune's hest, been born
Th' Exclusive Circles to adorn,
Thy beauty, like a winged dart,
Had pierced my unresisting heart!
Those charms should grace the lordly hall,
The gay salon, the brilliant ball,
Where Birth and Fashion, Rank and Style,
Might bask enraptured in thy smile.
There, there, methinks I see thee glide,
Distinguish'd Persons at thy side;
Illustrious Foreigners around,
Whose gentle hearts thy spell hath bound.
Thee, fair one, meeting haply there,
While flutt'ring o'er the gay parterre,
This fickle bosom then might be
Perchance attun'd to Love and Thee!
PLATE II. Master Jim Curtis, Master Mike Waters, and Master Bill Sims.
Youths in full, such prolixity being, among the Order of Mobility to
which they belong, a thing entirely unknown. The group last described,
we might have represented as taken from the genus, "Ragamuffin;" this,
in like manner, we may consider as pertaining to the tribe, "Varlet."
Masters Curtis, Waters, and Sims, are members of that numerous republic
of boys frequenting, like the canine race, (indeed it is not unusual
to hear them described as "young dogs,") all manner of public walks,
squares, streets, and alleys. Pot-boys, butchers' boys, bakers' boys,
errand-boys, doctors' boys, and all other boys whose professed character
is that of being generally useful, but whose real one is that of being
generally idle, come under this head. Our readers, while in their
breakfast-parlours, have no doubt often heard them notifying their
presence at the area railings by noises peculiar to each. Our refined
taste revolts at the idea of having to describe such characters; but
the task, however repugnant to our feelings, must be performed. We will
endeavour to do this with as much delicacy as the nature of the subject
will admit of; and we hope that while apparently sinning against
Refinement, we shall be earning the palliative merit of a stern fidelity
to Truth.
"Happy Land!--Happy Land!--Hallo, Bill?" Such is the greeting with
which Master Mike Waters, pausing in his song, and halting in his trot,
accosts Master Bill Sims, whom he meets at the turning of a corner in a
place called Bloomsbury Square. "How are yer, my tulip?" exclaims Master
Jim Curtis, who, arriving at the same moment, completes the group. We
have not expressed the Christian names of the above-mentioned.
[Illustration: 030]
Of the parentage of these young gentlemen we shall say nothing. Master
Jim Curtis, we learn from undoubted authority, to any question touching
the name of his father, would infallibly answer "Hookey Walker;" a
reply, to say the least of it, of an evasive character. As certainly
would Master Bill Sims respond "Vot odds;" while Master Mike Waters
would only notice the demand at all, by applying the tip of his thumb to
the end of his nose, and twiddling his fingers.
Master Jim Curtis and Master Mike Waters, but particularly Master
Curtis, are amusing themselves by _chaffing_, or, according to their
pronunciation, "charfin," Master Bill Sims. _Chaffing_, translated into
intelligible language, signifies, "quizzing," "rallying," or
"persiflage" Thus understood, it will at once be recognised as a species
of intellectual diversion often indulged in by those moving in good
society. No one, for example, who has paid attention, either temporary
or permanent, to a young lady, can be otherwise than aware of this fact.
"Chaffing," indeed, is a very venerable recreation. Shakspere represents
it as practised among the ancient Romans. Witness his "Antony and
Cleopatra," Act II. Scene 7.
_Lepidus_ (supposed to be in a state of wine)--"What manner of thing is
your crocodile?"
_Antony_. "It is shaped, Sir, like itself; and it is just as broad as
it hath breadth; it is just so high as it is, and moves with its own
organs; it lives by that which nourisheth it; and the elements once out
of it, it transmigrates."
See also Henry IV. (first part) Act II. Scene 4.
Our readers may perhaps wish to know what the nature of the "chaffing,"
of which Master Sims is the object, may be: hoping that in attempting to
gratify their curiosity, we shall not outrage their feelings, we present
them with the following scene:--
Master Mike Waters. "Crikey, Bill!"
Master Bill Sims. "Well; Wot?"
Master Jim Curtis. "My eye, Bill, wot a swell we are!"
Bill. "Wot d'ye mean? I dessay you think yourself very clever,--don't
yer now?"
Jim. "I say, Bill, do your keep that 'ere collar button'd ven you has
yer grub?"
Bill. "Wot odds?"
Jim. "That 'ere letter of yourn's post-haste, I s'pose, Bill?"
Bill. "Do yer? How long have them muffins bin 'All Hot? '"
Jim. "As long agin as half. I 'll bet you I know who that letter's for."
Bill. "I 'll bet yer you don't!"
Mike. "My eye! what a plummy tile!"
Bill. "It's as good as yourn any day, spooney!"
Jim. "I say, Mike, twig the yaller."
Mike. "Ho! ho! ho!"
Bill. "Wot a pretty laugh!"
Jim. "Do your Missus keep a buss, Bill?"
Bill. "Find out."
Jim. "Cos you'd do uncommon well to get up behind--wouldn't he, Mike?"
Mike. "I b'lieve yer. Benk! Benk!"
Jim. "Helephant! C'tee, C'tee!"
Mike. "Now, Sir! Now, Sir!"
Jim. "Now, marm, goin' down! goin' down!"
Bill. "I tell you wot, you fellers; you'd just best cut your stick. I
ain't goin' to stand bein' bullied by you, I can tell yer."
Jim. "I say, Mike, his monkey's up."
Mike. "Don't you stand it, Bill; pitch into him--punch 'is 'ed."
Jim. "Lor bless yer, his Missus won't let him spile his beauty; she's
too fond of him."
Bill. "Yaa! you great fool! You've got enough to do to mind your own
business. There's them people at 24 a-waitin' for you. Won't you catch
it!--that's all."
Jim. "See any green, Bill? Good b'ye."
Mike. "Never you mind, Bill, Good b'ye--Happy land! happy land," &c.
Master Jim Curtis is one of those youths whose office it is to supply
the tea-tables of the higher classes with muffins and crumpets,
nominally all hot, but really, owing to the colloquial propensities
of the bearers, in general not at all hot. Among his compeers he is
considered a peculiarly accomplished lad. He is always sure to be
acquainted with the last new song, for shocking as the idea appears,
there are "last new songs," in streets as well as in drawing-rooms--we
are informed that the present popular favourite is "Happy Land;" it
having succeeded "Sitch a gittin' up stairs;" previously to which the
alleys were taught by our young Mobility to echo the atrocious "Jim
Crow." These various airs Master Jim Curtis is also in the habit of
whistling as he runs along; his execution being characterised by great
power, particularly in the higher notes; though his compass, perhaps,
is not very extended. He is likewise a first-rate performer on that
classical instrument the Jews'-harp. In all those various games of
skill which consist in tossing coins and buttons about in gutters, his
attainments are unrivalled; and he is equally expert at the pastime
called "leap-frog," and similar gymnastic exercises. Genius, it is said,
is shown in striking out new paths; and Master Curtis, in the language
of his acquaintance, is an "out-and-outer" (a low term for a person of
talent) at striking out a slide. In a general way, so remarkable is
his intellectual acumen, that he is said by all who know him to be
perpetually--we cannot avoid the phrase--wide awake. In disposition he
has somewhat of a satirical turn, and his caustic powers are not only
evinced in "chaffing" his equals, but also, whenever an opportunity
occurs, at the expense of his superiors.
Master Mike Waters is connected with the press, in the capacity of
an acting distributor of diurnal literature. He is a cultivator, to a
certain extent, of those elegant pursuits in which Master Curtis has
made such striking progress. His natural endowments, indeed, are not
of so brilliant a class as those of the latter; as a vocalist, for
instance, he does not rise much above mediocrity, his notion of a tune
being generally not quite perfect, and his memory seldom serving to
retain more than the first line of a song. He appears, however, to be
very diligent in his musical studies, and what he does know, is almost
continually in his mouth. There is, too, one particular science for
which he certainly has a decided taste; namely, Natural Philosophy, and
he may frequently be seen on a day fit for the purpose, that is, on a
wet one, performing pneumatic experiments on loose stones and cellar
plates.
Of the nature of these experiments it may be necessary that we should
give a brief description. Their object is to elevate the paving stones
or plates from the situation which they occupy, and is thus effected:
A disc of leather is procured, and to its centre is fixed a strong piece
of cord or string of about a yard in length. The leather, having been
deposited at the side of the kerb-stone, a sufficient time to effect its
perfect saturation with moisture, is applied, in its wet state, to
the body intended to be raised, and trodden flat on its surface. The
experimenter, then, pressing down the circumference of the leather with
his feet (a process requiring peculiar dexterity), raises the centre of
it by means of the piece of string. A vacuum is thus produced between
the leather and the stone; and the pressure of the atmosphere retains
them, with considerable power, in contact. By repeated efforts the stone
is at length loosened, and at last, sometimes, actually displaced.
This scientific recreation is now and then suppressed by the hand
of authority: and certainly, were it ever practised in a fashionable
neighbourhood, the interference of the Executive would be necessary; as,
for obvious reasons, it is highly detrimental to the _chaussure_.
To return, however, to Master Waters. Notwithstanding the moderate
nature of his abilities and acquirements, he occupies a respectable
place in the esteem of his associates; as there is scarcely any matter
of amusement which he is not ready to promote, and in which he is unable
to share. Naturally, too, of a placid disposition, he is ever desirous
of shining himself, or of taking the shine, as his comrades express
it, out of others. He thus avoids exciting envy and resentment in their
breasts; a misfortune which his friend Master Curtis does not always
escape. A circumstance, also, which strongly tends to render him a
general favourite, is, that though not very witty himself, he has a
great capacity for appreciating wit,--that species of it, at least,
which he is in the habit of hearing among his acquaintance. Nor is a
sally, of which he is himself the object, less pleasing to him than one
directed against another party; he receives it with an open, tranquil,
reflective, and cheerful countenance, indicating that he is on the
best terms with all around him, and on better still, if possible, with
himself. There is one peculiarity in his disposition which must not be
forgotten,--he is a youth of a very large appetite. This fact seems, on
inspection of his mouth, to confirm the phrenological axiom that size
is, other circumstances being equal, a measure of power.
Master Bill Sims rejoices in the prettily-sounding title of Page. We
say, rejoices, only by a figure of speech; for the various remarks which
his appearance calls forth from his extensive circle of young friends,
render his situation a not very pleasant one. He is not aware, moreover,
of the romantic associations connected with the office which he holds,
and, if he were, the circumstance that he is a Page, not to a Noble
Lord, but to an elderly lady, would rather serve to embitter than
to sweeten his reflections. What makes him so keenly alive to
animadversions on his costume, is, that on being first inducted into it,
he felt particularly proud of his exterior, which certainly underwent
at that time a change for the better, as he was then a newly transformed
Charity Boy. We should mention that before he had been three months in
place, his altered diet made it necessary that he should have a fresh
suit of livery; that with which he was at first invested having become
much too small to accommodate his increasing proportions. The notion
that he is happily situated as to alimentary comforts, has much to do
in provoking the taunts of his juvenile acquaintances, who take a rather
invidious view of his good fortune in that respect. They do not consider
that this is very dearly purchased. Master Sims being forced to forego,
almost entirely, all those little gratifications in which they, during
their leisure hours, can indulge without limitation. In particular, he
is precluded, both from the tenseness of his attire, and the necessity
which he is under of keeping it clean, both of which circumstances
prohibit kneeling, and--we believe we express ourselves
correctly--knuckling down--from partaking of the diversion of marbles,
of which he is passionately fond.
We have now a few observations to make, generally, on that particular
set of the Children of the Mobility with which Masters Curtis, Waters,
and Sims are connected, which may tend, perhaps, to place the characters
of those young gentlemen in a clearer light; though we fear that many
fine minds have been already sufficiently tried by the picture which we
have drawn.
Their curiosity is remarkable. Any person who attracts their attention
by a conspicuous dress--as, for instance, a Highlander in full
costume--is sure to be followed by a crowd of them, and very likely,
provided they are certain of impunity, to be assailed by them with
stones and other missiles. A delinquent of any kind, proceeding, under
the auspices of the Executive, to his state apartments, is invariably
pursued by a train of them. They never fail, also, to collect around the
subject, whether human or brute, of a street accident.
It is desirable that their manners should be a little more respectful
than they at present are. In the use of all titles of honour they are
exceedingly economical, seldom dignifying any one with the term, "Sir,"
but a Policeman.
Strangely enough, they are, in their way, votaries of Fashion. Besides
their songs, they have various phrases, which have, as dogs are said to
do, their day. Many of these will not bear mentioning; but the last in
vogue, which embodies an inquiry after the health of the Mamma of the
person addressed, is not, perhaps, so objectionable as the majority.
They have, also, particular seasons for their various amusements. Thus,
"hop-scot," or "hop-scotch," is "in," as the phrase is, at one time;
marbles, or "dumps," at another. Now hoops, then kites are all the rage.
There is one species of recreation, however, which is practised among
them at all times, denominated "overing a post;" for which Charity Boys
are especially renowned; a certain peculiarity of their singular attire,
combined with the remarkable lightness of their limbs and bodies,
rendering them particularly adroit at this feat.
In connection with the genus of the Children of the Mobility now under
consideration, we beg to call attention to their habit of hopping
alternately from side to side during a conversation. From this
the philosophical observer will perhaps infer, that the graceful
accomplishment of dancing is the offspring of an instinct of Nature.
PLATE III. Master "Young Spicy," and Master "Tater Sam."
These hopeful scions of our Mobility are engaged in "an affair of
honour." We apprehend that the names by which they are above designated,
and by which they are commonly known, are not, _bona fide_, their own,
but have been imposed upon them by the suffrages of their acquaintance,
probably with reference to the occupations of their respective parents,
and partly, perhaps, in conformity with the custom which generally
attaches a _sobriquet_ to fistic proficiency. Master "Tater Sam" is
attended by Master "Lanky Tim," a student attached to a parochial
seminary. Master "Young Spicy"--for street encounters are not always
characterised by the strictest regularity--has no professed second;
though the place of one may be considered as supplied by the
exhortations of the spectators generally. As to the young gentleman
midway behind the two combatants, a retainer of one of the Knights of
the Azure Vest, his attentions are bestowed alternately on both; his
object being, to enjoy to the full what he regards as a "prime lark;"
the reciprocation of as large an amount of blows as possible. The
extremity of the by-standers' delight may be read in their animated and
dilating eyes; even the soul of yonder small boy in the corner, who,
but for the evident care with which he has been enveloped in his cloak,
might have been suspected of having left his home without maternal
cognisance, is on fire. The contrast presented by the vivacious
ardour of the juvenile group to the subdued complacency with which
the approving elders overlook the scene, is as interesting as it is
remarkable.
[Illustration: 040]
The hostile encounter may be supposed to have originated, and to proceed
in the following manner. The parties are at first engaged in that
particular game at marbles technically termed "shoot ring."
Tater. "Now then, Spicy, knuckle down; 'fend dribbling."
Spicy. "Come, then, stand out of the sunshine."
Tater. "In! Three clayers and a alley. Game! Hooray!"
Spicy. "Oh ah! I dare say. It's no go; play agin."
Tater. "No, no, it's my game."
Spicy. "I say t'an't."
Tater. "I say 'tis."
Spicy. "You'm a story!"
Tater. "Y ou'm another!"
Spicy. "Come, give me my alley, will yer?"
Tater. "No I sharn't!"
Spicy. "Won't yer though?"
Tater. "No I won't, frizzle wig!"
Spicy. "Won't yer, puggy nose? Come, I say, leave go!"
(Here a scuffle ensues.)
Tater. "Don't yer wish yer may get it?"
Spicy. "You'm a strong feller, arn't you?"
Tater. "D 'ye think I'm afeard o' you?"
Spicy. "D 'ye think I'm afeard o' you then?"
Tater. "Ah! jist you hit me!"
Spicy. "You hit me first; that's all!"
Tater. "Well, there then!"
Spicy. "Here's at yer!"
(The contest now commences.)
Cries of "Hallo! here's a mill!"
"Here's a scrimmage!"
"A battle, a battle! 'tween two sticks and a rotten apple!" &c. from
various quarters. (A ring formed.)
Butcher Boy. "Now then! Fair play! fair play! Go it!"
A Boy. "'It im ard; he've got no friends."
Second Boy. "Give it im, Spicy! 'It im a peg in the mouth!"
Third Boy. "At im, Tater!"
Charity Boy. "Fetch im a wipe 'tween the heyes!"
Butcher Boy. "Well done, little un, great un's biggest!"
First Boy. "Well done, Tater! My eye wot a whop!"
Second Boy. "Brayvo! Spicy. Had im there!"
Hackney Coachman. "A nasty vun, that ere!"
Cabman. "Rayther."
Charity Boy. "Go in at im, Tater,--that's it!"
(The combatants close and wrestle. Both fall; Spicy under. At this stage
of the proceedings a sanguine stream is seen escaping from Spicy's nose;
his eyes, too, are in a state of incipient tumefaction. The size of
Tater's lip appears considerably augmented; and he bleeds copiously at
the mouth. After a short pause, hostilities are resumed.)
Butcher Boy. "That's the time o' day. 'It im, Spicy! Skiver im, Tater.
That's it, my cocks!"
Third Boy. "One for his nob! That's the ticket!"
Charity Boy. "Under the ribs! Well done!"
First Boy. "That's a vinder for im!"
Third Boy. "Tater, keep your pecker up, old chap!"
Butcher Boy. "Right and left! Hooroar! Fake away!"
All science is now abandoned, and they rush together, pell-mell; but in
the heat of the conflict a Policeman appears, and advancing to the scene
of action, separates, with some difficulty, the incensed opponents.
After a little additional altercation, they are persuaded to shake
hands, and each gathering up his cap from the field of battle, returns
home, accompanied by his partisans, the victory remaining undecided.