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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 19:58:13 -0700 |
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diff --git a/32773-h/32773-h.htm b/32773-h/32773-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..50c675a --- /dev/null +++ b/32773-h/32773-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6941 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>About London, by J. Ewing Ritchie</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.gutsumm { margin-left: 5%;} + P.poetry {margin-left: 3%; } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } +table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;} + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-weight: normal; + color: gray; + } + img { border: none; } + img.dc { float: left; width: 50px; height: 50px; } + div.gapspace { height: 0.8em; } + div.gapline { height: 0.8em; width: 30%; } + div.gapshortdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; + margin-left: 40%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid; } + div.gapdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 50%; + margin-left: 25%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; margin-left:40%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + img.floatleft { float: left; + margin-right: 1em; + margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.floatright { float: right; + margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.clearcenter {display: block; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em} + --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg eBook, About London, by J. Ewing Ritchie + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: About London + + +Author: J. Ewing Ritchie + + + +Release Date: June 11, 2010 [eBook #32773] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ABOUT LONDON*** +</pre> +<p>Transcribed from the 1860 William Tinsley edition by David +Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<h1>ABOUT LONDON.</h1> +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">by</span></p> +<p style="text-align: center">J. EWING RITCHIE,</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Author of “Night Side of +London;” “The London Pulpit;”<br /> +“Here and There in London,” &c.</p> +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">“The boiling town +keeps secrets ill.”—<span class="smcap">Aurora +Leigh</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">LONDON:<br /> +WILLIAM TINSLEY, 314, STRAND.<br /> +1860.</p> +<h2><!-- page iii--><a name="pageiii"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. iii</span>ADVERTISEMENT.</h2> +<p>The author of the following pages, must plead as his apology +for again trespassing on the good nature of the public, the +success of his other books. He is aware that, owing to +unavoidable circumstances, the volume here and there bears marks +of haste, but he trusts that on the whole it may be considered +reliable, and not altogether unworthy of the public favour.</p> +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p><span class="smcap">Finchley</span>,<br /> + <i>June</i> 16<i>th</i>, 1860.</p> +<h2><!-- page v--><a name="pagev"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +v</span>CONTENTS.</h2> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER I.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">page</span>.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Newspaper People</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page1">1</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER II.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Spiritualism</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page12">12</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER III.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">About Coal</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page23">23</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER IV.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Highgate</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page44">44</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER V.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Tom Tiddler’s Ground</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page60">60</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER VI.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Westminster Abbey</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page68">68</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER VII.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">London Charities</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page76">76</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER VIII.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Pedestrianism</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page84">84</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER IX.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Over London Bridge</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page92">92</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER X.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The House of Commons and the +Early-Closing Movement</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page101">101</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XI.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Town Morals</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page110">110</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: center"><!-- page vi--><a +name="pagevi"></a><span class="pagenum">p. vi</span>CHAPTER +XI.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The same subject continued</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page121">121</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XII.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">London Matrimonial</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page131">131</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XIII.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Breach of Promise Cases</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page141">141</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XIV.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Commercial London</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page149">149</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XV.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">London Gents</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page158">158</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XVI.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The London Volunteers</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page165">165</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XVII.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Criminal London</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page174">174</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XVIII.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Concerning Cabs</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page185">185</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XIX.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Free Drinking Fountains</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page193">193</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: center">CHAPTER XX.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Conclusion</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page203">203</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<h2><!-- page 1--><a name="page1"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +1</span>CHAPTER I.<br /> +NEWSPAPER PEOPLE.</h2> +<p>What would the Englishman do without his newspaper I cannot +imagine. The sun might just as well refuse to shine, as the +press refuse to turn out its myriads of newspapers. +Conversation would cease at once. Brown, with his morning +paper in his hand, has very decided opinions indeed,—can +tell you what the French Emperor is about,—what the Pope +will be compelled to do,—what is the aim of +Sardinia,—and what is Austria’s little game. I +dined at Jenkins’s yesterday, and for three hours over the +wine I was compelled to listen to what I had read in that +morning’s <i>Times</i>. The worst of it was, that +when I joined the ladies I was no better off, as the dear +creatures were full of the particulars of the grand Rifle +Ball. When I travel by the rail, I am gratified with +details of divorce cases—of terrible accidents—of +dreadful shipwrecks—of atrocious murders—<!-- page +2--><a name="page2"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 2</span>of +ingenious swindling, all brought to light by means of the +press. What people could have found to talk about before +the invention of newspapers, is beyond my limited +comprehension. They must have been a dull set in those dark +days; I suppose the farmers and country gentlemen talked of +bullocks, and tradespeople about trade; the ladies about +fashions, and cookery, and the plague of bad servants. We +are wonderfully smarter now, and shine, though it be with a +borrowed light.</p> +<p>A daily newspaper is, to a man of my way of thinking, one of +the most wonderful phenomena of these latter days. It is a +crown of glory to our land. It is true, in some quarters, a +contrary opinion is held. “The press,” Mr. +David Urquhart very seriously tells us, “is an invention +for the development of original sin.” In the opinion +of that amiable cynic, the late Mr. Henry Drummond, a newspaper +is but a medium for the circulation of gossip; but, in spite of +individuals, the general fact remains that the press is not +merely a wonderful organization, but an enormous power in any +land—in ours most of all, where public opinion rules more +or less directly. Our army in the Crimea was saved by the +<i>Times</i>. When the <i>Times</i> turned, free-trade was +carried. The <i>Times</i> not long since made a panic, and +securities became in some cases utterly unsaleable, and some +seventy stockbrokers were ruined. The <i>Times</i> says we +don’t want a Reform Bill, and Lord John can scarce drag his +measure through the Commons. But it is not of the power, +but of the organization of the press I would speak. +According <!-- page 3--><a name="page3"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 3</span>to geologists, ages passed away before +this earth of ours became fit for human habitation; volcanic +agencies were previously to be in action—plants and +animals, that exist not now, were to be born, and live, and +die—tropical climates were to become temperate, and oceans, +solid land. In a similar way, the newspaper is the result +of agencies and antecedents almost equally wondrous and +remote. For ages have science, and nature, and man been +preparing its way. Society had to become +intellectual—letters had to be invented—types had to +be formed—paper had to be substituted for papyrus—the +printing-press had to become wedded to steam—the +electric-telegraph had to be discovered, and the problem of +liberty had to be solved, in a manner more or less satisfactory, +before a newspaper, as we understand the word, could be; and that +we have the fruit of all this laid on our breakfast-table every +morning, for at the most five-pence, and at the least one-penny, +is wonderful indeed. But, instead of dwelling on manifest +truisms, let us think awhile of a newspaper-office, and those who +do business there. Externally, there is nothing remarkable +in a newspaper-office. You pass by at night, and see many +windows lighted with gas, that is all. By daylight there is +nothing to attract curiosity, indeed, in the early part of the +day, there is little going on at a newspaper-office. When +you and I are hard at work, newspaper people are enjoying their +night; when you and I are asleep, they are hard at work for +us. They have a hot-house appearance, and are rarely +octogenarians. <!-- page 4--><a name="page4"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 4</span>The conscientious editor of a daily +newspaper can never be free from anxiety. He has enough to +do to keep all to their post; he must see that the leader-writers +are all up to the mark—that the reporters do their +duty—that the literary critic, and the theatrical critic, +and the musical critic, and the city correspondent, and the +special reporter, and the host of nameless contributors, do not +disappoint or deceive the public, and that every day the daily +sheet shall have something in it to excite, or inform, or +improve. But while you and I are standing outside, the +editor, in some remote suburb, is, it may be, dreaming of +pleasanter things than politics and papers. One man, +however, is on the premises, and that is the manager. He +represents the proprietors, and is, in his sphere, as great a man +as the editor. It is well to be deferential to the +manager. He is a wonder in his way,—literary man, yet +man of business. He must know everybody, be able at a +moment’s notice to pick the right man out, and send him, it +may be, to the Antipodes. Of all events that are to come +off in the course of the year, unexpected or the reverse, he must +have a clear and distinct perception, that he may have +eye-witnesses there for the benefit of the British public. +He, too, must contrive, so that out-goings shall not exceed +receipts, and that the paper pays. He must be active, +wide-awake, possessed of considerable tact, and if, when an Irish +gentleman, with a big stick, calls and asks to see the editor or +manager, he knows how to knock a man down, so much the +better. Of course, managers are not required for the +smaller <!-- page 5--><a name="page5"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 5</span>weeklies. In some of the offices +there is very little subdivision of labour. The editor +writes the leaders and reviews, and the sub-editor does the +paste-and-scissors work. But let us return to the daily +paper;—outside of the office of which we have been so rude +as to leave the reader standing all this while.</p> +<p>At present there is no sign of life. It is true, already +the postman has delivered innumerable letters from all quarters +of the globe—that the electric telegraph has sent its +messages—that the railways have brought their +despatches—that the publishers have furnished books of all +sorts and sizes for review—and that tickets from all the +London exhibitions are soliciting a friendly notice. There +let them lie unheeded, till the coming man appears. Even +the publisher, who was here at five o’clock in the morning, +has gone home: only a few clerks, connected with the financial +department of the paper, or to receive advertisements, are on the +spot. We may suppose that somewhere between one and two the +first editorial visit will be paid, and that then this chaos is +reduced to order; and that the ideas, which are to be represented +in the paper of to-morrow, are discussed, and the daily organs +received, and gossip of all sorts from the clubs—from the +house—from the city—collected and condensed; a little +later perhaps assistants arrive—one to cull all the sweets +from the provincial journals—another to look over the files +of foreign papers—another it may be to translate important +documents. The great machine is now getting steadily at +work. Up in the <!-- page 6--><a name="page6"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 6</span>composing-room are printers already +fingering their types.</p> +<p>In the law-courts, a briefless barrister is taking +notes—in the police-courts, reporters are at work, and far +away in the city, “our city correspondent” is +collecting the commercial news of the hour—and in all parts +of London penny-a-liners, like eagles scenting carrion, are +ferreting out for the particulars of the last +“extraordinary elopement,” or “romantic +suicide.” The later it grows the more gigantic +becomes the pressure. The parliamentary reporters are now +furnishing their quota; gentlemen who have been assisting at +public-dinners come redolent of post-prandial eloquence, which +has to be reduced to sense and grammar. It is now midnight, +and yet we have to wait the arrival of the close of the +parliamentary debate, on which the editor must write a leader +before he leaves; and the theatrical critic’s verdict on +the new play. In the meanwhile the foreman of the printers +takes stock, being perfectly aware that he cannot perform the +wonderful feat of making a pint bottle hold a quart. Woe is +me! he has already half a dozen columns in excess. What is +to be done? Well, the literature must stand over, +that’s very clear, then those translations from the French +will do to-morrow, and this report will also not hurt by +delay—as to the rest, that must be cut down and still +further condensed; but quickly, for time is passing, and we must +be on the machine at three. Quickly fly the +minutes—hotter becomes the gas-lit room—wearier the +editorial <!-- page 7--><a name="page7"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 7</span>staff. But the hours bring +relief. The principal editor has done his leader and +departed—the assistants have done the same—so have +the reporters, only the sub-editor remains, and as daylight is +glimmering in the east, and even fast London is asleep, he +quietly lights a cigar, and likewise departs; the printers will +follow as soon as the forms have gone down, and the movements +below indicate that the machine, by the aid of steam, is +printing.</p> +<p>We have thus seen most of the newspaper people off the +premises. As we go out into the open air, we may yet find a +few of them scorning an ignoble repose. For instance, there +is a penny-a-liner—literally he is not a penny-a-liner, as +he is generally paid three-farthings a line, and very good pay +that is, as the same account, written on very thin paper, called +flimsy, is left at all the newspaper-offices, which, if they all +insert, they all pay for, and one short tale may put the +penny-a-liner in funds for a week. The penny-a-liner has +long been the butt of a heartless world. He ought to be a +cynic, and I fear is but an indifferent Christian, and very so-so +as head of a family. His appearance is somewhat against +him, and his antecedents are eccentric; his face has a beery +appearance; his clothes are worn in defiance of fashion; neither +his hat nor his boots would be considered by a swell as the +correct stilton; you would scarce take him as the representative +of the potent fourth estate. Yet penny-a-liner’s +rise; one of them is now the editor of a morning paper; another +is the <!-- page 8--><a name="page8"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +8</span>manager of a commercial establishment, with a salary of +almost a thousand a year; but chiefly, I imagine, they are jolly +good fellows going down the hill. Charles Lamb said he +never greatly cared for the society of what are called good +people. The penny-a-liners have a similar weakness; they +are true Bohemians, and are prone to hear the chimes at +midnight. Literally, they take no thought for to-morrow, +and occasionally are put to hard shifts. Hence it is +sub-editors have to be on their guard with their dealings with +them. Their powers of imagination and description are +great. They are prone to harrow up your souls with horrors +that never existed; and as they are paid by the line, a harsh +prosaic brevity is by no means their fault. Occasionally +they take in the papers. Not long since a most +extraordinary breach of promise case went the round of the +evening papers, which was entirely a fiction of the +penny-a-liners. Yet let us not think disparagingly of +them—of a daily newspaper no small part is the result of +their diligent research. And if they do occasionally +indulge in fiction, their fictions are generally founded on +fact. The reader, if he be a wise man, will smile and pass +on—a dull dog will take the matter seriously and make an +ass of himself. For instance, only this very year, there +was a serious controversy about Disraeli’s literary +piracies, as they were called in the <i>Manchester +Examiner</i>. It appears a paragraph was inserted in an +obscure London journal giving an account of an evening party at +Mr. Gladstone’s, at which Mr. Disraeli had been <!-- page +9--><a name="page9"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +9</span>present—an event just as probable as that the +Bishop of Oxford would take tea at Mr. Spurgeon’s. +Mr. Disraeli’s remarks were reported, and the +paragraph—notwithstanding its glaring absurdity—was +quoted in the <i>Manchester Examiner</i>. Some acute reader +remembered to have read a similar conversation attributed to +Coleridge, and immediately wrote to the <i>Examiner</i> to that +effect. The letter was unhandsomely inserted with a bold +heading,—several letters were inserted on the same subject, +and hence, just because a poor penny-a-liner at his wits’ +end doctored up a little par, and attributed a very old +conversation to Mr. Disraeli, the latter is believed in +Cottonopolis guilty of a piracy, Cottonopolis being all the more +ready to believe this of Mr. Disraeli, as the latter gentleman is +at the head of a party not supposed to be particularly attached +to the doctrines of what are termed the Manchester School. +Really editors and correspondents should be up to these little +dodges, and not believe all they see in print.</p> +<p>I would also speak of another class of newspaper +people—the newspaper boy, agile as a lamp-lighter, sharp in +his glances as a cat. The newspaper boy is of all ages, +from twelve to forty, but they are all alike, very disorderly, +and very ardent politicians; and while they are waiting in the +publishing-office for their papers they are prone to indulge in +political gossip, after the manner of their betters at the +west-end clubs. On the trial of Bernard, the excitement +among the newspaper boys was <!-- page 10--><a +name="page10"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 10</span>very +great. I heard some of them, on the last day of the trial, +confess to having been too excited all that day to do anything; +their admiration of the speech of Edwin James was intense. +A small enthusiast near me said to another, “That ere James +is the fellow to work ’em; didn’t he pitch hin to the +hemperor?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said a sadder and wiser boy; “yes, +he’s all werry well, but he’d a spoke on +t’other side just as well if he’d been +paid.”</p> +<p>“No; would he?”</p> +<p>“Yes, to be sure.”</p> +<p>“Well, that’s wot I call swindling.”</p> +<p>“No, it ain’t. They does their best. +Them as pays you, you works for.”</p> +<p>Whether the explanation was satisfactory I can’t say, as +the small boy’s master’s name was called, and he +vanished with “two quire” on his youthful head. +But generally these small boys prefer wit to politics; they are +much given to practical jokes at each other’s expense, and +have no mercy for individual peculiarities. Theirs is a +hard life, from five in the morning, when the daily papers +commence publishing, to seven in the evening, when the second +edition of the <i>Sun</i> with the <i>Gazette</i> appears. +What becomes of them when they cease to be newspaper boys, must +be left to conjecture. Surely such riotous youths can never +become tradesmen in a small way, retailers of greens, itinerant +dealers in coal. Do not offend these gentry if you are a +newspaper proprietor. Their power for mischief is +great. At the <i>Illustrated </i><!-- page 11--><a +name="page11"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 11</span><i>News</i> +office I have seen a policeman required to reduce them to +order.</p> +<p>Finally, of all newspaper people, high or low, let me ask the +public to speak charitably. They are hard-worked, they are +not over-paid, and some of them die prematurely old. Ten +years of night-work in the office of a daily newspaper is enough +to kill any man, even if he has the constitution of a horse; one +can’t get on without them; and it is a sad day for his +family when Paterfamilias misses his paper. Whigs, tories, +prelates, princes, valiant warriors, and great lawyers, are not +so essential to the daily weal of the public, as newspaper +people. In other ways they are useful—the great +British naturalist, Mr. Yarell, was a newspaper vendor.</p> +<h2><!-- page 12--><a name="page12"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +12</span>CHAPTER II.<br /> +SPIRITUALISM.</h2> +<p>In the <i>Morning Star</i>, a few months since, appeared a +letter from William Howitt, intimating that if the religious +public wished to hear a man truly eloquent and religious, a +Christian and a genius, they could not do better than go and hear +the Rev. Mr. Harris. Accordingly, one Sunday in January, we +found ourselves part of a respectable congregation, chiefly +males, assembled to hear the gentleman aforesaid. The place +of meeting was the Music Hall, Store-street; the reverend +gentleman occupying the platform, and the audience filling up the +rest of the room. It is difficult to judge of numbers, but +there must have been four or five hundred persons present. +Mr. Harris evidently is an American, is, we should imagine, +between thirty and forty, and with his low black eye-brows, and +black beard, and sallow countenance, has not a very prepossessing +appearance. He had very much of the conventional idea of +the methodist parson. I do not by this imply that the +conventional idea is correct, but simply that we have such a +conventional idea, and that Mr. Harris answers to it. As I +<!-- page 13--><a name="page13"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +13</span>have intimated that I believe Mr. Harris is an American, +I need not add that he is thin, and that his figure is of +moderate height. The subject on which he preached was the +axe being laid at the foot of the tree, and at considerable +length—the sermon lasted more than an hour—the +reverend gentleman endeavoured to show that men lived as God was +in them, and that we were not to judge from a few outward signs +that God was in them, and, as instances of men filled and +inspired by God’s Spirit, we had our Saxon Alfred, Oliver +Cromwell, and Florence Nightingale. In the prayer and +sermon of the preacher there was very little to indicate that he +was preaching a new gospel. The principal thing about him +was his action, which, in some respects, resembled that of the +great American Temperance orator, Mr. Gough. Mr. Harris +endeavours as much as possible to dramatise his sermon. He +stands on tiptoe, or he sinks down into his desk, he points his +finger, and shrugs up his shoulders. He has a considerable +share of poetical and oratorical power, but he does not give you +an idea of much literary culture. He does not bear you away +“far, far above this lower world, up where eternal ages +roll.” You find that it was scarce worth while coming +all the way from New York to London, unless the Rev. Gentleman +has much more to say, and in a better manner, than the sermon +delivered in Store-street. Of course I am not a +Spiritualist. I am one of the profane—I am little +better than one of the wicked, though I, and all men who are not +beasts, feel that man is spirit as well as <!-- page 14--><a +name="page14"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 14</span>flesh; that +he is made in the image of his Maker; that the inspiration of the +Almighty giveth him understanding. Spiritualism in this +sense is old as Adam and Eve, old as the day when Jehovah, +resting from his labours, pronounced them to be good. But +this is not the Spiritualism of Mr. Harris, and of the organ of +his denomination, <i>The Spiritual Magazine</i>. That +spirits appear to us—that they move tables—that they +express their meaning by knocks, form the great distinctive +peculiarity of Spiritualism, and they are things which people in +our days are many of them more and more beginning to +believe. At any rate the Spiritualists of the new school +ought not to be angry with us. Mr. Howitt writes, +“Moles don’t believe in eagles, nor even skylarks; +they believe in the solid earth and earth-worms;—things +which soar up into the air, and look full at the noon sun, and +perch on the tops of mountains, and see wide prospect of the +earth and air, of men and things, are utterly incomprehensible, +and therefore don’t exist, to moles. Things which, +like skylarks, mount also in the air, to bathe their tremulous +pinions in the living æther, and in the floods of golden +sunshine, and behold the earth beneath; the more green, and soft, +and beautiful, because they see the heavens above them, and pour +out exulting melodies which are the fruits and streaming delights +of and in these things, are equally incomprehensible to moles, +which, having only eyes of the size of pins’ heads, and no +ears that ordinary eyes can discover, neither <i>can</i> see the +face of heaven, nor hear the music <!-- page 15--><a +name="page15"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 15</span>of the +spheres, nor any other music. Learned pigs don’t +believe in pneumatology, nor in astronomy, but in +gastronomy. They believe in troughs, pig-nuts, and +substantial potatoes. Learned pigs <i>see</i> the wind, or +have credit for it—but that other +Πνευμα, which we translate <span +class="smcap">Spirit</span>, they most learnedly ignore. +Moles and learned pigs were contemporaries of Adam, and have +existed in all ages, and, therefore, they <i>know</i> that there +are no such things as eagles, or skylarks and their songs; no +suns, skies, heavens, and their orbs, or even such sublunary +objects as those we call men and things. They <i>know</i> +that there is nothing real, and that there are no genuine +entities, but comfortable dark burrows, earthworms, pig-troughs, +pig-nuts, potatoes, and the like substantials.” If +this be so,—and Mr. Howitt is an old man and ought to know, +especially when he says there are not in London at this time +half-a-dozen literary or scientific men who, had they lived in +Christ’s time, would have believed in him—well, there +is no hope for us. Spiritualism is beyond our reach; it is +a thing too bright for us. It is high, we cannot attain +unto it. The other Sunday night, Mr. Harris was very +spiritual, at any rate, very impractical and unworldly. At +the close of the service he informed us that some few of his +sermons, containing an outline of his religious convictions, were +for sale at the doors, and would be sold at one penny and a half, +a mere insignificant sum, just sufficient to cover the expense of +paper and printing. On inquiring, we found, of the three +sermons, one was <!-- page 16--><a name="page16"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 16</span>published at three-halfpence, one at +twopence, and one at fourpence, prices which, if we may judge by +the copy we purchased, would yield a fair profit, if the sale +were as great as it seemed to be on Sunday night.</p> +<p>But Mr. Harris is a poet—there is not such another in +the universe. <i>The Golden Age</i> opens thus:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“As many ages as it took to form<br /> +The world, it takes to form the human race.<br /> +Humanity was injured at its birth,<br /> +And its existence in the past has been<br /> +That of a suffering infant. God through Christ<br /> +Appearing, healed that sickness, pouring down<br /> +Interior life: so Christ our Lord became<br /> +The second Adam, through whom all shall live.<br /> +This is our faith. The world shall yet become<br /> +The home of that great second Adam’s seed;<br /> +Christ-forms, both male and female, who from Him<br /> +Derive their ever-growing perfectness,<br /> +Eventually shall possess the earth,<br /> +And speak the rythmic language of the skies,<br /> +And mightier miracles than His perform;<br /> +They shall remove all sickness from the race,<br /> +Cast out all devils from the church and state,<br /> +And hurl into oblivion’s hollow sea<br /> +The mountains of depravity. Then earth,<br /> +From the Antarctic to the Arctic Pole,<br /> +Shall blush with flowers; the isles and continents<br /> +Teem with harmonic forms of bird and beast,<br /> +And fruit, and glogious shapes of art more fair<br /> +Than man’s imagination yet conceived,<br /> +Adorn the stately temples of a new<br /> +Divine religion. Every human soul<br /> +<!-- page 17--><a name="page17"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +17</span>A second Adam, and a second Eve,<br /> +Shall dwell with its pure counterpart, conjoined<br /> +In sacramental marriage of the heart.<br /> +God shall be everywhere, and not, as now,<br /> +Guessed at, but apprehended, felt and known.”—p. +1.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I will take, says Mr. Howitt, as a fair specimen of the poetry +and broad Christian philosophy of this spiritual epic, the recipe +for writing a poem. In this, we see how far the +requirements of Spiritualism are beyond the standard of the +requirements of the world in poetry. They include the +widest gatherings of knowledge, and still wider and loftier +virtues and sympathies.</p> +<blockquote><p>“To write a poem, man should be as pure<br +/> +As frost-flowers; every thought should be in tune<br /> +To heavenly truth, and Nature’s perfect law,<br /> +Bathing the soul in beauty, joy, and peace.<br /> +His heart should ripen like the purple grape;<br /> +His country should be all the universe;<br /> +His friends the best and wisest of all time.<br /> +He should be universal as the light,<br /> +And rich as summer in ripe-fruited love.<br /> +He should have power to draw from common things<br /> +Essential truth!—and, rising o’er all fear<br /> +Of papal devils and of pagan gods,<br /> +Of ancient Satans, and of modern ghosts,<br /> +Should recognise all spirits as his friends,<br /> +And see the worst but harps of golden strings<br /> +Discordant now, but destined at the last<br /> +To thrill, inspired with God’s own harmony,<br /> +And make sweet music with the heavenly host.<br /> +<!-- page 18--><a name="page18"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +18</span>He should forget his private preference<br /> +Of country or religion, and should see<br /> +All parties and all creeds with equal eye;<br /> +His the religion of true harmony;<br /> +Christ the ideal of his lofty aim;<br /> +The viewless Friend, the Comforter, and Guide,<br /> +The joy in grief, whose every element<br /> +Of life received in child-like faith,<br /> +Becomes a part of impulse, feeling, thought—<br /> +The central fire that lights his being’s sun.<br /> +He should not limit Nature by the known;<br /> +Nor limit God by what is known of him;<br /> +Nor limit man by present states and moods;<br /> +But see mankind at liberty to draw<br /> +Into their lives all Nature’s wealth, and all<br /> +Harmonious essences of life from God,<br /> +And so, becoming god-like in their souls,<br /> +And universal in their faculties,<br /> +Informing all their age, enriching time,<br /> +And blinding up the temple of the world<br /> +With massive structures of eternity.<br /> +He shall not fail to see how infinite<br /> +God is above humanity, nor yet<br /> +That God is throned in universal man,<br /> +The greater mind of pure intelligence,<br /> +Unlimited by states, moods, periods, creeds,<br /> +Self-adequate, self-balanced in his love,<br /> +And needing nothing and conferring all,<br /> +And asking nothing and receiving all,<br /> +Akin by love to every loving heart,<br /> +By nobleness to every noble mind,<br /> +By truth to all who look through natural forms,<br /> +And feel the throbbing arteries of law<br /> +In every pulse of nature and of man.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p><!-- page 19--><a name="page19"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +19</span>The peculiar doctrine of the Spiritualists seems to be +the belief in Spiritual intercourse, and in mediums; as <i>The +Spiritual Magazine</i> tells us “the only media we know +accessible to the public are Mrs. Marshal and her niece, of 22, +Red Lion-street, Holborn,” we need not give ourselves much +trouble about them. Concerning intercourse with departed +spirits, an American Judge writes, “The first thing +demonstrated to us is that we can commune with the spirits of the +departed; that such communion is through the instrumentality of +persons yet living; that the fact of mediumship is the result of +physical organization; that the kind of communion is affected by +moral causes, and that the power, like our other faculties, is +possessed in different degrees, and is capable of improvement by +cultivation,” and from this doctrine the believers gather +comfortable assurances. The Judge adds, “These things +being established, by means which show a settled purpose and an +intelligent design, they demonstrate man’s immortality, and +that in the simplest way, by appeals alike to his reason, to his +affections, and to his senses. They thus show that they +whom we once knew as living on earth do yet live, after having +passed the gates of death, and leave in our minds the +irresistible conclusion, that if they thus live we shall. +This task Spiritualism has already performed on its thousands and +its tens of thousands—more, indeed, in the last ten years +than by all the pulpits in the land—and still the work goes +bravely on. God speed it; for it is doing what man’s +unaided reason has for ages tried <!-- page 20--><a +name="page20"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 20</span>in vain to +do, and what, in this age of infidelity, seemed impossible to +accomplish. Thus, too, is confirmed to us the Christian +religion, which so many have questioned or denied. Not, +indeed, that which sectarianism gives us, nor that which descends +to us from the dark ages, corrupted by selfishness or distorted +by ignorance, but that which was proclaimed through the +spiritualism of Jesus of Nazareth in the simple +injunction—‘Thou shalt love the Lord thy God, with +all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy +mind. This is the first and great commandment; and the +second is like unto it—Thou shalt love thy neighbour as +thyself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the +prophets.’”</p> +<p>In the case of Mr. Harris, it seems to us, he lays his stress +upon these peculiar doctrines, and rather aims at a universal +Christianity; in all sects he sees goodness, and he would combine +them all into his own. He and his disciples have found what +all the rest are seeking after. His Christianity is the +faith which all good spirits own, which all angels +reverence. Christ came to reveal this faith: the whole +world is but an expression of it; the whole universe but an +illustration of it; and as we become Christ-like, in the +renunciation of self, and the acceptance of the great law of +service in the Lord and to the Lord, more and more we attain to +an internal perception of the verities of that faith. The +Word is opened before us, and the natural universe is perceived +to be its outward illustration. The new church takes its +stand upon this fundamental doctrine of regeneration, and it is +<!-- page 21--><a name="page21"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +21</span>to the putting forth of this in art, science, +literature, poetry, preaching, in all the uses of an ordered +life, that the energy of the true churchman is continually, in +the Divine Providence, directed. And to those thus +regenerated it is given to become mediums. Mr. Harris, in +his sermon preached at the Marylebone Literary and Scientific +Institution, May 29, 1859, says: “Any man, good or bad, can +become a medium for spirits. I have seen the vilest and the +most degraded made the organs through which spirits utterly lost, +yet with something of the beams of the fallen archangel’s +faded brightness lingering in the intellect—I say I have +seen such, as well as others, earnest, sincere, and worthy, +become the organs of communication between the visible and +invisible spirits. But no man can become a medium, an organ +or oracle for the Spirit, for the Word made flesh, giving to +every man according to his will, until he hath passed through the +door of penitence—until he hath gone up through the gateway +of a sincere conversion, or turning from his evil—until he +hath consecrated himself to the great law of right—until he +hath voluntarily taken up all the burdens which God in his +providence, whether social, or domestic, or moral, has imposed +upon him—until, at any cost or any hazard, he hath sought +to do, in his daily life, those things which God in His word doth +most authoritatively and continually command. All such may, +all such do, become, all such are, the <i>mediums</i> of the Lord +Christ, omnipotent, omnipresent, and eternal, walking, as the +Divine Man, in the midst of the paradise <!-- page 22--><a +name="page22"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 22</span>of the +angels. Breathing forth His breath, and so vivifying the +very air which the angels respire and live, He breathes down that +great <i>aura</i> upon us continually. In prayer, and in +the good self-sacrificing life, we drink in that +<i>aura</i>. The breath of God inflows into the lungs; the +thought of God streams into consciousness; the energies of God +are directed to the will; man, weak, becomes strong; man, +ignorant, becomes wise; man, narrow, becomes broad; man, +sectarian, becomes catholic and liberal; man, self-conceited, +becomes reverent and humble; man, transformed from the image of +the tiger, the ape, the serpent, takes upon himself, in Christ, +the angels’ image. And as we drink in more and more +of this Divine Spirit, our path in life—the path of humble +uses (not the path of self-seeking ambition; not the path of +prying curiosity), groweth brighter and brighter unto the perfect +day.”</p> +<h2><!-- page 23--><a name="page23"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +23</span>CHAPTER III.<br /> +ABOUT COAL.</h2> +<p>I am sitting by my sea-coal fire, and, from the clear way in +which it burns, and the peculiarly pleasant warmth it seems to +give out, I have every reason to believe that the thermometer is +below the freezing point, that the ground is hard as iron, and +that before to-morrow’s sun rises, Jack Frost will not only +have lavishly strewn the earth with pearls, but have sketched +fairy landscapes innumerable on my window-panes. Ah, well, +it matters little to me:</p> +<blockquote><p>“The storm without might rain and ristle,<br +/> +Tam did na mind the storm a whistle.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The respected partner of my joys and sorrows has retired to +roost, far away in the nursery the maternal pledges of our +affection have done ditto. Unless an amorous member of that +inestimable class of public servants—the metropolitan +police—be at this moment engaged in a furtive flirtation +with the cook, I have no reason to believe that, beside myself, +any of my limited establishment is awake. My boots are +off—I have an old coat on—I have done my day’s +work—I don’t owe <!-- page 24--><a +name="page24"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 24</span>anybody any +money (the reader need not believe this)—I poke the +fire—I light a cigar—and think there is nothing like +a good fire after all.</p> +<p>I am thankful I am not in Paris now: I take down my French +Pocket Dictionary, published by Orr in 1850, and cannot find the +French for fire-place; I find firearms, fire-ball, fire-brand, +fire-brush, fire-cross, fire-lock, but no fire-place. Ah, +here it is (fire-side, <i>foyer</i>—substantive, +masculine); but, to make quite sure, I turn to the +French-English, and I turn up <i>foyer</i> there; and, here, I +find it means, “heat, tiring-room, green-room,” and +so on. Well, am I not right? there is nothing like an +English fire-place after all. The Germans are not much +better off than the French; the German porcelain stove, for +instance, standing in the middle of the room, like a monument, +and nearly filling it, is not for a second to be compared with a +jolly English fire; besides, it is very dangerous, and, when the +flue gets stopped is, I was going to write, as great a murderer +as a medical man. Can I ever forget how when I lived in the +Kirchen Strasse of a far-famed and delightful city, distant about +700 miles from where I write, how one morning I came down-stairs +to have my <i>frühstück</i>, and how, in the very +middle of my meal, I felt an uncomfortable sensation, as a +gigantic Dane was reading to me a memorial he was about to +address to the British government? May I tell the reader +how at first I thought the document to which I have referred +might have something to do with it? Will he forgive me, if +I narrate how, at length, I gradually <!-- page 25--><a +name="page25"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 25</span>came to the +conclusion that the cause was in the atmosphere, which seemed to +be splitting my head, and swelling out my body to the point of +bursting? can he imagine my deplorable situation when I became +insensible, and when I recovered consciousness found that I had +been poisoned by the fumes of charcoal, and that I should then +and there have shuffled off this mortal coil, had not my Danish +friend, for a wonder, lifted up his eyes from his precious +document, and, seeing me go off, thrown open the window, and, in +a polyglottic way, called for help? Truly, then, may I say, +that, for comfort, and for safety, and for warmth, if you can +have it pretty nearly all to yourself, and do one side thoroughly +first before you roast the other, there is nothing like an +English fireplace in the world.</p> +<p>Woe is me! the present generation,—a generation most +assuredly wise in its own eyes, can never know what I, and others +verging on forty, know—the real luxury of an English fire +after travelling all night as an outside passenger on the top, +say, for instance, of the Royal London and Yarmouth mail. +Pardon my emotion, but I must shut my eyes, and endeavour to +recall the past. It is six o’clock on a night cold as +that in which I now write; I am at the ancient hostelry, now gone +to the dogs, known as the White Horse, Fetter Lane, on the top of +the mail aforesaid. The many-caped coachman, has clambered +up into his seat; I sit by his side, perched somewhat like a +mummy; outside and in we are full of passengers. The +red-coated guard blows <!-- page 26--><a name="page26"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 26</span>cheerily on the far-resounding +horn. “Let them go,” says the coachman, and +four faultless greys, impatient of restraint, rush forth with +their living load: in a twinkling we stoop under the ancient +gateway, and turn into Fetter Lane; now we cautiously descend +Holborn Hill, skilfully we are steered through Cheapside, past +the Mansion House, through Cornhill, along dark and sullen +Leadenhall, Whitechapel, all glaring with gas and butcher’s +meat; our driver gives the horses their heads, and our pace +becomes pleasant. We pass Bow Church, and the bridge at +Stratford, and now we have left the gaslights far behind, above +us is the grand dome of heaven studded with its myriads of +stars. Hedge and field far and near are covered with a +mantle of virgin snow. The traffic on the road has trodden +it into firmness, and on we speed till we reach Romford, not then +as now known all over London for its ales. I believe these +ales are the occasion of an anecdote, which I may here +repeat:—Two friends went into a public-house and were +regaled plentifully with them, but not finding them so strong as +they wished were much disgusted, and rose to go; however, they +had not gone far before the ale began to tell; one traveller soon +found himself in a ditch on one side of the road, while his +friend was prostrate in another. “Holloa,” said +the one to the other, “that ale war’nt so bad as I +thought.” “No, no,” was the reply of his +now apparently-satisfied friend. But here we are at +Romford. Fresh cattle are standing ready to take the place +of the four who have gallantly drawn us hither. But there +is <!-- page 27--><a name="page27"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +27</span>time to jump down, and “have a drop of summut +short,” to catch a glimpse from the most glorious of fires, +and to feel for the buxom landlady, and her clean and +rosy-cheeked Hebes, very strong feelings of personal +regard. “All ready,” cries the ostler, and away +we rush from this fairy land, as it seems to us, out into the +cold dark night; the guard blows his horn; curtains are drawn on +one side as we pass, that, out of warm rooms, curious eyes may +look on us. The pikekeeper bids us, for him, an unusually +cheerful good-night, and by this time some of the old pilots +returning to Southwold, or Lowestoft, or Yarmouth, after having +been with vessels up the Thames, cheered by the contents of +various libations, wake the dull ear of night with songs +occasionally amatory, but chiefly of a nautical character; and if +there is a chorus,—why, we can all join in that; are we not +jolly companions, every one? Does not this beat railway +travelling? “I believe you, my boys.” I +say the present race of men have no conception of this. +Why, look at a London omnibus; for nine months out of the twelve +a cockney can’t ride, even from the Bank to Pimlico, +without getting inside. A friend of mine, one of the good +old sort, rides into town winter and summer outside a distance of +about nine miles. “Of course you wear a +respirator,” said a young cockney to him. My friend +only laughed. When the Royal Yarmouth Mail ran its gay +career, there were no respirators then. What if the night +were cold—what if snow laid heavily on the +ground—what if railway rugs were not; did we not sit <!-- +page 28--><a name="page28"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +28</span>close together and keep each other warm—did we not +smoke the most fragrant of weeds—did we not, while the +coach changed horses, jump down, and, rushing into the cosiest of +bar-parlours (forgive us, J. B. Gough), swallow brandy-and-water +till our faces were as scarlet peonies, and we tingled, down to +the very soles of our feet, with an unwonted heat? A coal +fire then was a sight to cheer the cockles of one’s heart, +to look forward to for one long stage, and to think of for +another. But times change, and we with them. The +other day I met one of our mail-coachmen ingloriously driving a +two-pair buss between the City and Norwood; he looked down at his +horses and then up at us with an expression Robson might have +envied. Let me return to coal. Gentle reader, did you +ever go down a coal-pit?—I once did, and I think, with +Sheridan, it is hardly worth while going down one, when you might +just as well say you had been. I was a stranger then to +coal-pits and collieries, rather greener then than I am now, and +had on a bran-new suit of clothes and patent-leather boots, and +thus accoutred I was let down into the bowels of the earth, +wandered along little ways in beds of coal, past little nooks +where black men were at work, or resting on lumps of coal dining +on bread-and-bacon, and drinking cold tea; and then there were +tramways, and horses drawing the coal to the mouth of the pit, +and boys to drive the horses, and boys to hold lamps, and all +around you was black coal, save where it shone with the +reflection of your light, and beneath you trod in mud, all made +of coal-dust and water, of a <!-- page 29--><a +name="page29"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 29</span>character to +ruin patent-leather for ever. I was not sorry, I assure +you, when I left the lower regions, and was hauled up to the +light of day. Once upon a time, an exciseman at Merthyr +Tydvil was overcome by liquor (for excisemen are but men) and +fell asleep. Excisemen are not generally a very popular +class of Her Majesty’s subjects, and there are many who owe +them a grudge. This was the case with our hero. +Accordingly, the enemy, in the shape of half-a-dozen dusky +colliers, made their appearance, and deposited their unconscious +prize,</p> +<blockquote><p>“Full many a fathom deep,”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>as Mr. Campbell says, in a coal pit. Alas! the +inspiration of wine is but short-lived. From his glorious +dreams of marble halls the exciseman awoke; wonderingly he opened +his eyes and looked around. Where was he? To what +dark and dolorous shades had he been conveyed? That +conscience which does make cowards of us all answered the +question:—he had been for his sins conveyed to that fearful +locality which a popular clergyman once told his hearers he would +not shock their feelings by naming in so well-bred and +respectable an assembly; there he was, far away from the light of +the sun and the haunts of men. Everything around him was +dark and drear. At length a faint glimmer of light appeared +in the distance. It came nearer and nearer, by its light he +saw a form he thought resembled the human, but of that he was not +quite sure. The exciseman felt with Hamlet:</p> +<blockquote><p><!-- page 30--><a name="page30"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 30</span>“Be thou a spirit of health or +goblin damned.<br /> +Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell,<br /> +Be thy intents wicked or charitable,<br /> +Thou comest in such a questionable shape<br /> +That I will speak to thee.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Accordingly he spoke, and very naturally asked the new-corner, +“Who are you?” “Why, I was when I lived +on earth an exciseman, but now I am—” +“You don’t say so,” exclaimed the interrogator, +as sober as he ever was in his life. But the joke had now +been carried far enough, and the exciseman gladly returned to the +light of day, and the society of his fellow-man.</p> +<p>A coal pit, or rather a coal country, such as that you see +around Merthyr Tydvil, or as you speed on by the Great Northern +to Newcastle, does not give you a bad idea of Pandemonium. +A coal pit is generally situated by the side of some bleak hill +where there are but few signs of life. A cloud of smoke +from the engine, or engines, hangs heavily all round. The +workmen, of whom there may be hundreds, with the exception of a +few boys, who stand at the mouth of the pit to unload the coal +waggons as they come up, or to run them into the tram-road that +connects them with the neighbouring railroad, or canal, are all +under-ground. If you descend, a lighted candle is put into +your hand, and you must grope your way as best you can. If +the vein of coal be a pretty good one you will be able to walk +comfortably without much trouble, but you must mind and not be +run over by the coal waggons always <!-- page 31--><a +name="page31"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 31</span>passing +along. As you proceed you will observe numerous passages on +each side which lead to the stalls in which the men work, and +hard work it is, I can assure you: a great block is first +undermined, and then cut out by wedges driven into the solid +coal; I believe the work is chiefly contracted for at so much a +ton. In these little stalls the men sit, and dine, and +smoke. Little else is to be seen in a coal pit. There +are doors by which the air is forced along the different +passages; there are engines by which the water is drained off; +there is constant communication between the upper and the lower +world, all going on with a methodical exactness which can only be +violated with loss of life. Let the engines cease, and +possibly in a couple of hours the pit may be filled with +water. Let a workman, as is too often the case, enter his +stall with a candle instead of with a safety lamp, and an +explosion may occur which may be attended with the loss of many +lives; but the rule is care and regularity, each man doing his +part in a general whole. The mortality in coal mining is +still unusually great. It is ascertained that of the total +number of 220,000 persons employed as colliers, 1000 are killed +annually—that is to say, the poor collier has 1000 more +chances of being killed at his work than any one of the whole +travelling public has of being killed or injured on English +railways. Dr. Philip Holland read a paper on the subject at +a recent meeting of the Society of Arts. He stated that out +of 8015 deaths by accidents in eight years, 1984 (or about +one-fourth) were caused by explosions. <!-- page 32--><a +name="page32"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 32</span>Remarkable it +is, that in the northern counties of Durham and Northumberland +(in which one-fourth of the coal is raised, and one-fifth of the +collier population employed) the average deaths per annum from +explosions do not exceed 21 out of 248; and as the average of +such deaths for the whole country, including the Yorkshire, +Lancashire, and Staffordshire districts, is 105, so 143 lives +yearly are lost because the precautions against explosion proved +to be effectual in the extreme north are neglected in all the +other districts. Equally remarkable it is that falls of +roof have caused nearly 1000 more deaths in the eight years than +explosions, although the latter chiefly excite public +feeling. Here, again, the extreme northern district affords +a gratifying contrast with the others, as, out of an average of +371 such accidents yearly, only 49 occur there. It is +suggested that the comparative immunity of the north from this +cause of accident is attributable to the fact, that one man in +six belongs to the safety staff, who are charged with the +superintendence of ventilation, road, and prop making, +&c. In other parts no such person is employed, and the +men in their anxiety to get coal neglect these salutary means of +safety. The next greatest number of fatal accidents occurs +in the shafts, 1734 in the eight years. Here, again, the +cautious north exhibits its superiority, its proportion of +fatalities from this source not being more than a fifth part of +the proportion throughout the country. Other fatalities +there are, principally the result of bad discipline, the <!-- +page 33--><a name="page33"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +33</span>employment of too large a proportion of boys under +fifteen years, the use of machinery where hand-pulling would be +preferable, the narrowness of the galleries, and such like. +Dr. Holland notices that the system of government inspection has, +in the southern coal districts, led to the discontinuance of the +services of “viewers,” or mine engineers, to direct +the operations, which it never was intended to do. Either +these viewers must, as a rule, be reinstated, or the government +system of inspection must be enormously increased. Among +the means suggested to prevent accidents is that of making the +coal owner civilly responsible for accidents caused by the +obvious neglect of reasonable precautions in the working. +In the course of the discussion which followed, it was urged that +the workers should no more be exempted from the penal +consequences of neglect than the employers.</p> +<p>Fancy—I can do it easily, over my sea-coal +fire—fancy the coal dug out of the pit, put into a waggon, +that waggon put on a railway—travelling, it may be, some +distance, and depositing its precious burden in a collier’s +hold; imagine this collier put to sea, and safely arrived in the +Thames. As Mr. Cobden said, “What next, and +next?” Here a new agency comes into play, the coal +cannot come right to my fire. We leave the collier at +Gravesend and land, let us say, at Billingsgate—never mind +the fish, nor the porters, nor the fair dealers in marine +products. Come right away into Thames Street—cross it +if you can, for this street, of <!-- page 34--><a +name="page34"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 34</span>all London +streets, bears away the palm for being blocked up at all times +and seasons, and this morning there has been a block lasting a +couple of hours; but the people here are used to it, and do not +think it worth while to have recourse to hard words, nor to +repeat sounds very much like oaths, nor to grow red in the face +and threaten each other, as is the case with the angry Jehus of +Cheapside and Holborn Hill. We enter a handsome building by +a semi-circular portico, with Roman Doric columns, and a tower +106 feet high. A beadle in magnificent livery, and of an +unusually civil character—for beadledom is generally a +terror to our species—meets us. We wish to see our +friend; right into the middle of a busy group of coal dealers and +factors the beadle rushes, and repeats the name of our friend; up +one story, and then another, and then another, the sound ascends; +our friend hears it, and, rapidly descending, gives us a welcome +as warm as his own fire-side. We begin our voyage of +discovery:—first we descend and examine a Roman well, in +excellent preservation, discovered in excavating the foundation +of the new building. The water looks thick and muddy, but +they tell you it is clear: but the fact that it ebbs and flows +seems to connect it with the Thames; and Thames water, when taken +opposite Billingsgate, is not generally considered clear. +We again ascend to the ground-floor, which is a rotunda sixty +feet in diameter, covered by a glazed dome seventy-four feet from +the floor. This circular <!-- page 35--><a +name="page35"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 35</span>hall has +three tiers of projecting galleries running round it; the floor +is composed of 4000 pieces of inlaid wood, in the form of a +mariner’s compass; in the centre is the city shield, +anchor, &c., the dagger blade in the arms being a piece of +mulberry tree, planted by Peter the Great when he worked as a +shipwright in Deptford Dockyard. The place is worth coming +to see—country cousins ought to look at it; the entrance +vestibule, Mr. Timbs, in his “Curiosities of London,” +informs us, is richly embellished with vases of fruit, arabesque +foliage, terminal figures, &c. In the rotunda, between +the Raphaelesque scroll-supports, are panels painted with +impersonations of the coal-bearing rivers of England—the +Thames, Mersey, Severn, Trent, Humber, Aire, Tyne, &c.: and +above them, within flower borders, are figures of Wisdom, +Fortitude, Vigilance, Temperance, Perseverance, Watchfulness, +Justice, and Faith. The arabesques in the first story are +views of coal mines—Wallsend, Percy, Pit Main, +Regent’s Pit, &c. The second and third storey +panels are painted with miners at work; and the twenty-four ovals +at the springing of the dome have, upon a turquoise blue ground, +figures of fossil plants found in coal formations. The +minor ornamentation is flowers, shells, snakes, lizards, and +other reptiles, miners’ tools and nautical +subjects;—there you can see all the process of coal mining, +without troubling yourself to go down a mine, and in a small +museum, too small for such a grand building and such a wealthy +trade, curious specimens <!-- page 36--><a +name="page36"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 36</span>of fossil +products and coal will make the observer still more learned; but +let us look at the living mass beneath. Some of the men +below are famous city names. There sometimes you may see +Sir James Duke, who came to London a clerk, poor and under-paid, +on board a man-of-war, and who on this Coal Exchange has made a +colossal fortune, and who was made a baronet, he being at the +time Lord Mayor, when the New Exchange was opened by Prince +Albert, on the 29th Oct., 1849, accompanied by the Prince of +Wales and the Princess Royal. Here oftener you may see Hugh +Taylor, M.P., who began life as a cabin-boy, then became a +captain, then was developed into a coal-owner, and who is said to +be a perfect Midas, and possesses an art, very much, thought of +by city people, of turning everything he touches into gold. +On a door just below where we stand is inscribed the name of Lord +Ward, for even noblemen don’t mind sullying their fingers +with vulgar trade, if anything is to be made by it. And +there is the name of a Welsh coal-owner, who, some fifty years +back, was a clerk in a certain timber merchant’s, at a +guinea a week, and who now, I believe, can raise and ship a +couple of thousand tons of coal a day. Depend upon it there +is some money made by these black diamonds, and the corporation +of London know it, for they have managed to get a tax levied of +one penny on every ton of coals, whether brought by sea or rail +within thirty miles of where we stand. What they do with +the <!-- page 37--><a name="page37"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +37</span>enormous sum thus collected it is impossible to say; it +is true they built this handsome Exchange, at a cost altogether +of £91,167. 11s. 8d., but that is a small part of their +receipts. When the tax was first levied it did not much +matter; about the year 1550 one or two ships sufficed for the +coal trade of London. On Friday, December 2nd, 1859, the +number of ships with cargoes for sale on that day was not less +than 340—and on an average each ship employed in the coal +trade carries 300 tons of coal. In the month of October +alone there were brought into the London markets 283,849 tons by +sea, and by rail 95,195 tons and three-quarters. Of course +in winter time the trade is very brisk. The retail dealers +in the metropolis will tell you that a few cold days make an +enormous difference in the sale of coals, and the large dealers +are driven to their wits’ end as to how they can find +enough waggons and horses to enable them to supply their +customers. In the large coal-yards in the winter time the +men are at work from five in the morning till late, very late, at +night. I am thankful for their industry, I hope they are +well paid.</p> +<p>But I have not yet said how the business at the Coal Exchange +is carried on. There are two classes of men connected with +the place,—the factors, who have a handsomely furnished +room up above, and who elect each other by ballot,—and the +merchants, who have a room below, to which they pay so much a +year, and to the use of which they also are elected by +ballot. On <!-- page 38--><a name="page38"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 38</span>the topmost story of all are the +offices of the gentlemen who collect the city dues, and render +themselves useful in similar ways. When the colliers arrive +at Gravesend, a messenger is sent up with their names and the +number of coals on board, and so on. Each ship is consigned +to a London factor, and in the official room is a large case full +of pigeon-holes, in which the papers for each factor are +deposited; these papers are collected by the factor’s +clerks, and with these the factor goes into the market to sell; +for if he does not sell—unless the charter party permit him +to wait for a second market day—he has to pay a demurrage +of three-halfpence a ton, a demurrage, however, often submitted +to rather than the coals should be sold at a loss of a shilling +per ton. A bell rings at twelve, and all at once you see, +by the sudden apparition of merchants and factors from the +surrounding offices, that business has commenced; however, little +is done till towards the close at two, the factors till then +holding out for high prices, and the merchants holding +back. I may add that there is very little speculation in +this trade, all is fair and above-board. In the rooms of +the factors, as well as of the merchants, is a daily list of what +vessels have arrived at Gravesend, with what amount of cargo, and +what vessels are on their way, and how many are going up to the +north in ballast; thus the buyer knows as much about the state of +the trade as the seller—and as he thinks the factor must +sell before the market is over, he waits till the very last +before he concludes his bargain. At the end of the market, +when there is a <!-- page 39--><a name="page39"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 39</span>heavy sale, people get a little +excited. They are also rather more numerous and noisy than +when you first entered, and, besides the regular dealers, a good +many others are present: sailors out of curiosity, captains who +want to know who are the purchasers of their coals, and where +they are to deliver them to; general dealers, who do not belong +either to the Factor’s Society or that of the Coal +Merchants’; and here and there a lady may be seen gazing +with curious eyes on the groups below. When the sales are +effected, the broker pays the city dues—for bulk must not +be broken till then under a penalty of five hundred +pounds—and a gentleman attests the purchases, and publishes +them in a list, sent that evening to all subscribers as the real +authenticated state of the markets for that day. I may as +well say that the market-days are Monday, Wednesday, and +Friday. By way of compendium, I add, that the price of +coals, as given in the daily newspapers, is the price up to the +time when the coals are <i>whipped</i> from the ship to the +merchants’ barges. It includes, 1st, the value of the +coals at the pit’s mouth; 2nd, the expense of transit from +the pit to the ship; 3rd, the freight of the ship to London; 4th, +the dues; and 5th, the whipping. The public then has to +pay, 6th, the merchant for taking it to his wharf and keeping it +there, and his profit; and, 7th, the retailer for fetching it +from the merchant’s, and bringing it to their doors. +Of course you may save something by going at once to the +merchant’s. The poor cannot do this, and have to pay +<!-- page 40--><a name="page40"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +40</span>an extra price on this, as on almost everything they +consume.</p> +<p>And now once more I am by my sea-coal fire, burning up +cheerily in this bleak winter night. Let me light up +another cigar, and indulge in a reverie. I am in a Welsh +port on the Bristol Channel. Yesterday it was a small +borough, with an ancient castle, and an appearance of dirt, and +poverty, and age. To-day its moors have become docks, or +covered with iron roads, its few streets, but lately deserted, +now stretch far away and are teeming with busy life. Where +the heron flew with heavy wings,—where the sportsman +wandered in search of fowl,—where idle boys played, +thousands of habitations and warehouses have been planted. +There the snort of the iron horse is heard morning, noon, and +night. There the ships of almost every country under heaven +float. There you meet German, and French, and Dane, and +American, and Italian, and Greek. What collects that +many-coloured and many-language-speaking crowd? Where has +come the money to build those big warehouses, to excavate those +capacious docks, to plant those iron rails, to make on this +ancient desert a Babel busier and more populous than Tyre or +Sidon of old? The answer is soon given. Up those +bleak hills, a few miles away, are the coal-works, a little +further still are more, a little further still are more, beyond +them are the iron-works, and thus we go on, coal and iron +everywhere, all fast being changed by magic industry into +gold. Nature has destined England to be the workshop of the +world. <!-- page 41--><a name="page41"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 41</span>She sent here the Saxon race, she +filled the bowels of the land with ores more valuable than those +of Potosi. To France and Spain she gave wine; to the +countries lying on the Baltic, timber and grain; to Russia, hemp +and tallow; to Lombardy, its rich silk; to Calabria, its oil; to +Ceylon, its spices; to Persia, its pearls; to America, its +cotton; to China, its tea; to California, its glittering gold; +but she has given us the iron and the coal—without which +all her other gifts were vain—and with which all the others +can be bought. To the rank we take amidst the nations of +the earth, from the first we were destined. Ours is not the +blue sky of Italy, nor the warm breath of the sunny south, but it +is an atmosphere that fits man for persevering industry and daily +toil. Let us, then, brace ourselves up for our +mission. Let us proclaim the dignity of labour—its +beneficent effects—its more than magical results. Let +us honour the workman, whether he stand at the loom or plough the +field—or sail</p> + +<blockquote><p> “—Beyond +the sunset<br /> +Or the baths of all the western stars,”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>or labour in the dark and dangerous recesses of the +mine. Thus shall we build up a barricade against the +murderous art of war, teach all the world the advantages of +peace, and make manifest to the nations how to live.</p> +<p>One word more—don’t let the reader go away with +the idea that there is likely to be a dearth of coals in his +time. Let him make merry by his own fireside, and not vex +his small brain about what the world will be when the years have +died away. A writer in the <!-- page 42--><a +name="page42"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 42</span><i>Times</i>, +of May 24th, 1860, says, “As a good deal of anxiety has +been recently shown regarding the probable extinction of the +resources of steam coal in Wales, it may be interesting to state +that, by the successful results of the prosecution for the last +five years of the operations of the Navigation Works at Aberdare, +near Merthyr, all fears upon the subject may be discarded. +This pit is the largest in the world, being 18 feet in diameter +and 370 yards in depth. The estimate of its workings is +1000 tons per day. The expenses thus far have been +£130,000, exclusive of the value of waggons, +&c.—£35,000. The ground is of a most +difficult nature, the layers often extending 15 feet without a +bed, crack, fissure, or any opening whatever. The rock had +all to be blasted with gunpowder. The resources of the seam +are comparatively boundless, the property extending seven miles +from Taff up to Cwm Neal, and three miles in width, covering 4000 +to 5000 acres of ‘4 foot coal.’ The royalty is +for 99 years, and is held by a firm, composed of Mr. John Nixon, +the well-known colliery proprietor at Merthyr; Mr. Hugh Taylor, +M.P. for Tynemouth; and Mr. W. Cory, the large coal contractor of +London. The commencement of the use of this smokeless coal +afloat began about 1840, on board the Thames steamboats, to work +Penn’s engines. In the same year a cargo was shipped +to Nantes, and given away to the French for trial, with the sole +condition that the engineer should throw it into the furnaces and +leave it alone to stoke itself. Next, the sugar refiners +<!-- page 43--><a name="page43"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +43</span>adopted it, as they suffered considerably if the steam +was not kept up to a pressure of 50lbs., and if allowed to fall +below that rate their works were completely stopped. With +the Welsh coal they cleaned out their fires but once instead of +twice, and thereby effected a saving in the working day of three +hours and a half. The French river steamers followed, and +here the only objection raised was, that without the long trail +of smoke from the funnel their customers would not be able to see +their vessels approaching from a distance. The French +Government then became convinced of its efficiency, and, adopting +it, have adhered to its exclusive use ever since. Other +Governments have likewise profited by its advantages: but, +although it is consumed in the Peninsular and Oriental +Company’s fleet, the Royal Mail, Cunard’s, and +others, the English Government has not hitherto availed itself of +it. The embryo town of Mountain Ash, with already a +population of 5,000, has recently been the scene of great +rejoicings, as the ‘winning’ or striking of so +enormous a seam it is expected will bring with it additional +prosperity and considerable increase to its +neighbourhood.”</p> +<h2><!-- page 44--><a name="page44"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +44</span>CHAPTER IV.<br /> +HIGHGATE.</h2> +<p>If I were inclined to be dull, I would say Highgate is a +village to the north of London, with an ancient history, a great +deal of which the reader, if he be not a fool, can imagine, and +with a very fine geological formation, indicative of salt-water +where it is now very difficult to find fresh. In order, +also, that I may not weary my reader, and establish a cheap +reputation for a great deal of learning, I will frankly confess +that Highgate, means High Gate, and nothing more. In old +times, right away from Islington Turnpike-Gate to Enfield Chase, +there was a magnificent forest, and part of this forest extended +as far as Highgate. Down in the very heart of it, in +Hornsey, the Bishop of London had a castle, and of the Park +attached to it Highgate formed a part. When the old road to +the north was found impassable, a new one was formed over the +hill, and through the Bishop’s Park. In those days +pious bishops levied toll; to collect this toll a gate was +erected, and here was Highgate, and truly does it deserve the +name. It is said the hill is 400 feet <!-- page 45--><a +name="page45"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 45</span>above the top +of St. Paul’s. Be this as it may, near London, a +lovelier spot is rarely to be met with. Artists, poets, +parties in search of the picturesque, cannot do better than visit +Highgate. At every turn you come to the most beautiful +prospects. When London will consume its own smoke, if that +time ever does arrive, the view from Highgate, across the great +city, will be the grandest in the world. On a clear day, +standing in the Archway Road—that road esteemed such a +wonder of engineering in its day, and forming such a disastrous +property for its shareholders (the £50 shares may be bought +at about 18s. a share)—you may see across the valley of the +Thames as far as the Kent and Surrey hills looming obscurely in +the distance. Close to the Archway Tavern, but on the other +side of the road, is a lofty old-fashioned brick mansion, said to +have been inhabited by Marshal Wade, the military hero who did so +much for the wars of Scotland, and whose memory is still +preserved in the following very remarkable couplet:</p> +<blockquote><p>“Had you seen these roads before they were +made,<br /> +You would lift up your hands and bless General Wade.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Well, from the top of this mansion you can see no less than +seven English counties. The number seems almost fabulous, +and if, in accordance with a well-established rule in such cases, +we only believe half we hear, enough is left to convince us that +the view is one of no common kind; all that is wanted to make the +scene perfect is a little bit of water. From every part of +the <!-- page 46--><a name="page46"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +46</span>hill, in spite of builders and buildings, views of +exquisite beauty may be obtained. Going down towards +Kentish Town, the hill where her Majesty was nearly dashed to +pieces by the running away of the horses of her carnage (her +royal arms on a public-house still preserves the tradition and +the memory of the man who saved her at the peril of his life), +past where Mr. Bodkin the Barrister lives, past where William and +Mary Howitt live, past where the rich Miss Burdett Coutts has a +stately mansion, which, however, to the great grief of the +neighbourhood, she rarely adorns with her presence, what pleasant +views we have before us. It is the same going down past St. +Joseph’s Retreat to Holloway; and in Swain’s Lane, +another lane leading back to Kentish Town, you might fancy you +were in Arcady itself. Again, stand on the brow of the +hill, with your backs to London, looking far away to distant +Harrow, or ancient Barnet, what a fair plain lies at your feet, +clothed with cheerful villas, and looking bright and warm. +“Upon this hill,” says Norden, “is most +pleasant dwelling, yet not so pleasant as healthful, for the +expert inhabitants there report that divers who have been long +visited with sicknesse not curable by physicke, have in a short +time repaired their health by that sweet salutary +air.” In 1661, the Spanish Ambassador, Count +Gondomar, excuses his absence from the English court on the plea +that he had gone to his retreat in Highgate “to take the +fresh aire.” The associations connected with Highgate +are of the most interesting character. It was <!-- page +47--><a name="page47"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +47</span>coming up Highgate Hill that Dick Whittington heard the +bells prophesying that if he would return he would be Lord Mayor +of London; a public-house still marks the spot. It was at +the bottom of Highgate Hill that the great Bacon—the wisest +and not the meanest of mankind, that lie is at length exploded, +and must disappear from history—caught the cold of which he +died. “The cause of his Lordship’s +death,” writes Aubrey, who professed to have received the +information from Thomas Hobbes of Malmesbury, “was trying +an experiment as he was taking the air in the coach with Dr. +Winterbourne, a Scotchman, physician to the king. Towards +Highgate snow lay on the ground, and it came into my Lord’s +thoughts why flesh might not be preserved in snow as in +salt. They were resolved they would try the experiment +presently. They alighted out of the coach, and went into a +poor woman’s house at the bottom of Highgate Hill, and +bought a hen and stuffed the body with snow, and my Lord did help +to do it himself. The snow so chilled him that he +immediately fell so ill that he could not return to his lodgings, +but went to the Earl of Arundel’s house at Highgate, where +they put him into a good bed warmed with a pan, but it was a damp +bed, that had not been laid in for about a year before, which +gave him such a cold, that in two or three days, as I remember, +he (Hobbes) told me he died of suffocation.” The +Arundel house here referred to does not seem to be the Arundel +House still existing in Highgate, on the left-hand side as you +come up the main <!-- page 48--><a name="page48"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 48</span>road from Islington. The house +now bearing that name is said to have been a residence of Nell +Gwynne, and during that period was visited by the merry monarch +himself. The creation of the title of Duke of St. Albans, +which is related to have been obtained by Nell Gwynne in so +extraordinary a manner from King Charles, is said to have taken +place at this house. A marble bath, surrounded by curious +and antique oak-work, is there associated with her name. As +the house is now in the possession of a celebrated antiquarian, +the Rev. James Yates, M.A., it is to be hoped that it will be as +little modernised as possible. More hallowed memories +appertain to the next house we come to.</p> +<p>Andrew Marvel, patriot, was born, 1620, at +Kingston-upon-Hull. After taking his degree of B.A. at +Trinity College, Cambridge, he went abroad, and at Rome he wrote +the first of those satirical poems which obtained him such +celebrity. In 1635, Marvel returned to England, rich in the +friendship of Milton, who a couple of years after, thus +introduced him to Bradshaw: “I present to you Mr. Marvel, +laying aside those jealousies and that emulation which mine own +condition might suggest to me by bringing in such a +coadjutor.” “It was most likely,” writes +Mrs. S. C. Hall, “during this period that he inhabited the +cottage at Highgate, opposite to the house in which lived part of +the family of Cromwell.” How Marvel became M.P. for +his native town—how he was probably the last representative +paid by his constituents, (a much better practice that than <!-- +page 49--><a name="page49"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +49</span>ours of representatives paying their +constituents)—how his “Rehearsal Transposed,” a +witty and sarcastic poem, not only humbled Parker, but, in the +language of Bishop Burnet, “the whole party, for from the +king down to the tradesman the book was read with +pleasure,”—how he spurned the smiles of the venal +court, and sleeps the sleep of the just in St. +Giles-in-the-Fields, are facts known to all. Mason has made +Marvel the hero of his “Ode to Independence,” and +thus alludes to his incorruptible integrity:</p> +<blockquote><p>“In awful poverty his honest muse<br /> + Walks forth vindictive through a venal land;<br /> +In vain corruption sheds her golden dews,<br /> + In vain oppression lifts her iron hand,—<br /> +He scorns them both, and armed with truth alone,<br /> +Bids lust and folly tremble on the throne.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>On the other side of the way is an old stately red-brick +building, now a school, and well known as Cromwell House. I +don’t find that Cromwell lived there, but assuredly his +son-in-law, Ireton, did. His arms are elaborately carved on +the ceiling of the state-rooms, the antique stair-case and +apartments retain their originality of character, and the mansion +is altogether one of very great interest. Mr. Prickett, in +his History of Highgate, tells us Cromwell House is supposed to +have been built by the Protector, whose name it bears, about the +year 1630, as a residence for General Ireton, who married his +daughter, and was one of the commanders of his army; it is, +however, said to have been the residence of Oliver <!-- page +50--><a name="page50"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +50</span>Cromwell himself, but no mention is made, either in +history or his biography, of his ever having lived at +Highgate. Tradition states there was a subterraneous +passage from this house to the Mansion House, which stood where +the new church now stands, but of its reality no proof has +hitherto been adduced. Cromwell House was evidently built +and internally ornamented in accordance with the taste of its +military occupant. The staircase, which is of handsome +proportions, is richly decorated with oaken carved figures, +supposed to have been of persons in the General’s army, in +their costumes, and the balustrades filled in with devices +emblematical of warfare. From the platform on the top of +the mansion may be seen a perfect panorama of the surrounding +country.</p> +<p>On the hill was the house of Mr. Coniers, Bencher and +Treasurer of the Middle Temple, from which, on the 3rd of June, +1611, the Lady Arabella escaped. Her sin was that she had +married Mr. Seymour, afterwards Marquis of Hertford. Her +fate was sad; she was recaptured and died in the Tower. Sir +Richard Baker, author of “The Chronicles of the Kings of +England,” resided at Highgate. Dr. Sacheverel, that +foolish priest, died at Highgate. But a greater man than +any we have yet named lived here. I speak of S. T. +Coleridge, who lived in a red-brick house in the +“Grove” twenty years, with his biographer, Mr. +Gillman, which house is now inhabited by Mr. Blatherwick, +surgeon. It is much to be regretted that Gillman’s +Life was never completed, but a monument <!-- page 51--><a +name="page51"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 51</span>in the new +church, and a grave in the old churchyard, mark the +philosopher’s connection with Highgate. Carlyle has +given us a description of what he calls Coleridge’s +philosophical moonshine. I met a lady who remembers the +philosopher well, as a snuffy old gentleman, very fond of +stroking her hair, and seeing her and another little girl +practise their dancing lessons. On one occasion Irving came +with the philosopher. As the great man’s clothes were +very shabby, and as he took so much snuff as to make her sneeze +whenever she went near him, my lady informant had rather a poor +opinion of the author of “Christabel” and the +“Ancient Mariner.” A contemporary writer, more +akin in philosophy to Coleridge than Thomas Carlyle, and more +able to appreciate the wondrous intellect of the man than the +little lady to whom I have already referred, says, “I was +in his company about three hours, and of that time he spoke +during two and three-quarters. It would have been +delightful to listen as attentively, and certainly as easy for +him to speak just as well, for the next forty-eight hours. +On the whole, his conversation, or rather monologue, is by far +the most interesting I ever read or heard of. Dr. +Johnson’s talk, with which it is obvious to compare it, +seems to me immeasurably inferior. It is better balanced +and squared, and more ponderous with epithets, but the spirit and +flavour and fragrance, the knowledge and the genius, are all +wanting. The one is a house of brick, the other a quarry of +jasper. It is painful to observe in Coleridge, that with +all the kindness <!-- page 52--><a name="page52"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 52</span>and glorious far-seeing intelligence +of his eye, there is a glare in it, a light half-unearthly and +morbid. It is the glittering eye of the Ancient +Mariner. His cheek too shows a flush of over-excitement, +the ridge of a storm-cloud at sunset. When he dies, +another, and the greatest of their race, will rejoin the few +immortals, the ill-understood and ill-requited, who have walked +this earth.” Had Coleridge ever a more genial +visitant than the farmer-looking, but eloquent and philanthropic +Chalmers, who in 1839 came from Scotland to London, and of course +clomb up Highgate Hill to pay a visit to Coleridge, he +says—“Half-an-hour with Coleridge was filled up +without intermission by one continuous flow of eloquent discourse +from that prince of talkers. He began, in answer to the +common inquiries as to his health, by telling of a fit of +insensibility in which, three weeks before, he had lain for +thirty-five minutes. As sensibility returned, and before he +had opened his eyes, he uttered a sentence about the fugacious +nature of consciousness, from which he passed to a discussion of +the singular relations between the soul and the body. +Asking for Mr. Irving, but waiting for no reply, he poured out an +eloquent tribute of his regard, mourning pathetically that such a +man should be throwing himself away. Mr. Irving’s +book on the ‘Human Nature of Christ’ in his analysis +was minute to absurdity; one would imagine that the pickling and +preserving were to follow, it was so like a cookery-book. +Unfolding then his own scheme of the Apocalypse—talking of +the <!-- page 53--><a name="page53"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +53</span>mighty contrast between its Christ and the Christ of the +Gospel narrative, Mr. Coleridge said that Jesus did not come now +as before, meek and gentle, healing the sick and feeding the +hungry, and dispensing blessings all around; but he came on a +white horse, and who were his attendants?—Famine and War +and Pestilence.”</p> +<p>The poets have always been partial to Highgate. William +and Mary Howitt live there at this day. Florence +Nightingale has also there taken up her abode. The German +religious reformer, Ronge, lives at the foot of Highgate +Hill. Nicholas Rowe was educated there. It was in one +of the lanes leading to Highgate that Coleridge met Keats and +Hunt. “There is death in the hand,” said he to +Hunt, as he shook hands with the author of Endymion. +Painters and artists have also been partial to Highgate. +George Morland would stay at the Bull, an inn still existing, +weeks at a time, and, we may be sure, ran up very handsome +scores. An incident that occurred to Hogarth while at +Highgate made an artist of him. The tale is thus told by +Walpole—“During his apprenticeship he set out one +Sunday with two or three companions on an excursion to +Highgate. The weather being very hot, they went into a +public-house, where they had not been long before a quarrel arose +between some persons in the same room; one of the disputants +struck the other on the head with a quart pot and cut him very +much; the blood running down the man’s face, together with +the agony of the wound, which had distorted the features into a +most hideous grin, presented Hogarth, <!-- page 54--><a +name="page54"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 54</span>who showed +himself thus early apprised of the mode nature had intended he +should pursue, with a subject too laughable to be +overlooked. He drew out his pencil, and produced on the +spot one of the most ludicrous figures that was ever seen. +What rendered the piece the more valuable was, that it exhibited +an exact likeness of the man, with the portrait of his +antagonist, and the figures in caricature of the principal +persons gathered around him.” One of the names +associated with Highgate I find to be that of Hogarth’s +enemy, Wilkes, patriot or demagogue. In his Life I read, +“Mr. Wilkes was of the Established Church, but after he was +married he often went to Meeting. He lived in a splendid +style, and kept a very elegant and sumptuous table for his +friends. Among the numerous persons who visited this family +were Mr. Mead, an eminent drysalter on London Bridge, with his +wife and daughter, who, being also Dissenters, frequently went to +the Meeting-house in Southwood Lane, Highgate, in Mr. +Wilkes’s coach, which was always drawn by six horses, such +was his love of external appearance.” Going still +further back, more renowned characters appear on Highgate +Hill. After the memorable battle of Bosworth Field, in +which the usurper, Richard, had been slain, it was at Highgate +that the victorious Richmond was met by the citizens of London on +his triumphal approach to the metropolis. “He was +met,” writes Lambert, “by the Lord Mayor and Aldermen +in scarlet robes, with a great number of citizens on +horseback.” The Gunpowder Plot is also connected <!-- +page 55--><a name="page55"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +55</span>with this interesting locality. It is said, while +that old villain, Guy Fawkes, was preparing “to blow up +king and parliament, with Jehu and Powdire,” the rest of +the conspirators had assembled on Highgate Hill to witness the +catastrophe; indeed, a driver of the Barnet mail—I fear not +the best authority in the world on antiquarian matters—went +so far on one occasion as to point out to the writer a bit of an +old wall, a little beyond Marvel’s house on the same side +of the way, as a part of the identical house in which those very +evil-disposed gentlemen met. A subterraneous way is also +said to have existed from the site of the present church to +Cromwell House, and thence to Islington. To me the story +seems somewhat doubtful, but the reader is at full liberty to +believe it or not as he likes. Let us now speak of the +institutions of Highgate: the most modern is the cemetery, which +was consecrated by the Lord Bishop of London in May, 1839, and +has therefore the merit of being one of the first, as it is +undoubtedly one of the most beautiful in situation, of any near +London. It contains about twenty acres of ground on the +side of the hill facing the metropolis. The approach to it +through Swain’s Lane conducts the visitor by a green lane +rising gradually to the Gothic building which forms the +entrance. Entering the grounds, the eye is struck by the +taste everywhere displayed. Broad gravel paths on either +side wind up the steep slope to the handsome new church of St. +Michael’s, which is seen to great advantage from almost +every part of the grounds. An hour may be very well <!-- +page 56--><a name="page56"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +56</span>spent here musing on the dead. Good and bad, rogue +and honest man, saint and sinner, here sleep side by side. +John Sadleir, but too well known as M.P., and chairman of the +London and County Bank, is buried here. Indeed all sects, +and callings, and professions, have here their representative +men. General Otway has one of the handsomest monuments in +the grounds. One of the most tasteful is that of +Lillywhite, the cricketer, erected by public subscription. +Wombwell, known and admired in our childish days for his +wonderful menagerie, reposes under a massive lion. One +grave has a marble pillar bearing a horse all saddled and +bridled. The inscription under commemorates the death of a +lady, and commences thus,</p> +<blockquote><p>“She’s gone, whose nerve could guide +the swiftest steed.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>On inquiry we found the lady was the wife of a celebrated +knacker, well skilled in the mysteries of horseflesh and the +whip. Holman, the blind traveller, is buried in Highgate +Cemetery, and very near him are the mortal remains of that prince +of newspaper editors and proprietors, Stephen Rintoul. On +the other side the cemetery is buried Bogue, the well-known +publisher of Fleet Street. In the Catacombs are interred +Liston, the greatest operator of his day, and Pierce Egan, a man +as famous in his way. It was only a few months since Sir W. +Charles Ross, the celebrated miniature painter, was buried +here. Frank Stone sleeps in the same cemetery, as also does +that well-remembered actress, Mrs. Warner. Haydn, +well-known for his Dictionary of Dates, and Gilbert à <!-- +page 57--><a name="page57"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +57</span>Beckett, still remembered for his comic powers, are +amongst the literary men that here await the resurrection +morn. A fairer place in which to sleep it would be +difficult to choose, in spite of the monstrous trophies of +affectation, or ostentation, or affection all round,—in +spite of the reminiscences of Cornhill and Cheapside, suggested +by every other grave. As a ride, you had better pass by +monuments unlooked at, they do but enumerate the virtues of the +illustrious obscure, and the wealth of their survivors.</p> +<p>Of the past we now recall another relic, Lord Byron, in +“Childe Harold,” writes,</p> +<blockquote><p>“Some o’er thy Thamis row the +ribbon’d fair,<br /> +Others along the safer turnpike fly;<br /> +Some Richmond-hill ascend, some scud to Ware,<br /> +And many to the steep of Highgate hie.<br /> +Ask ye, Bœotian shades! the reason why?<br /> +’Tis to the worship of the solemn Horn,<br /> +Grasped in the holy hand of Mystery,<br /> +In whose dread name both men and maids are sworn,<br /> +And consecrate the oath with draught, and dance till +mom.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>In the note from whence the above extract is taken, Lord Byron +says he alludes to a ridiculous custom which formerly prevailed +in Highgate of administering a burlesque oath to all travellers +of the middling rank who stopped there. The party was sworn +on a pair of horns fastened, never to kiss the maid when he could +the mistress; never to eat brown bread when he could get white; +never to drink small beer when he could get <!-- page 58--><a +name="page58"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 58</span>strong; with +many other injunctions of the kind, to all which was added the +saving clause, “unless you like it best.” +Lambert tells us, “the oath formerly was tendered to every +person stopping at any of the public-houses of the village, which +are very numerous, and mostly distinguished by a large pair of +horns placed over the signs.” I need not add, no +horns are seen now. When a person consented to be sworn, he +laid his hand on a pair of horns fixed to a long staff, and the +oath was administered. This ridiculous ceremony being over, +the juror was to kiss the horns and pay a shilling for the oath, +to be spent among the company to which he or she belonged. +To complete the incongruous character of the ceremony, the +father, for such was the style of the person administering the +oath, officiated in a wig and gown, with the addition of a +mask. The origin of this custom is completely lost, but it +was so common at one time, that one man is said to have sworn one +hundred and fifty in a day. It appears to have been the +fashion to make up parties to Highgate for the purpose of taking +the oath, and as a prerequisite for admission to certain +convivial societies now no more, the freedom of Highgate was +indispensable. The father facetiously said if the son, as +the individual sworn was termed, was too poor to pay for wine +himself, he was recommended to call for it at the first inn, and +to place it to his father’s score, “and now, my good +son,” the formula continued, “I wish you a safe +journey through Highgate and this life.” If the <!-- +page 59--><a name="page59"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +59</span>father’s good wishes were realized, one is almost +inclined to regret that the ceremony exists no longer. +Another ancient institution is the grammar school, founded in +1562 by Sir Roger Cholmeley, Lord Chief Baron of the Exchequer, +and after that Chief Justice of the King’s Bench.</p> +<p>But we must leave Highgate, now the retreat of the wealthy +citizen, and the great North Road, along which coaches galloped +almost every minute, and along which lords and ladies posted, ere +that frightful leveller, the railroad had been formed. By +the Favourite omnibuses it is but a sixpenny ride to Highgate +from the Bank, but in the good old times, the fare by the stage +was half-a-crown. It would do aldermen good to go up its +hill, and the city clerk or shopman cannot frequent it too +much. Highgate has much the air of a provincial town. +It has its Literary Institution, and its police office, and +water-works, and gas, its seminaries for ingenious youth of +either sex, and its shops filled with miscellaneous wares. +The great city is creeping up the hill, and seeking to encircle +it with its chains of brick, but it resists lustily, and with its +quaint old houses, and fine old trees, will not assume a cockney +appearance. I honour it for its obstinacy, and trust that +it will be long before it shall have the wicked, busy, towny +appearance of the Modern Babylon.</p> +<h2><!-- page 60--><a name="page60"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +60</span>CHAPTER V.<br /> +TOM TIDDLER’S GROUND.</h2> +<p>Barry Cornwall tells us that when he was a little boy he was +told that the streets of London were all paved with gold; and it +must be admitted that, to the youthful mind in general, the +metropolis is a sort of Tom Tiddler’s ground, where gold +and silver are to be picked up in handfuls any day. There +is a good deal of exaggeration in this, undoubtedly. To +many, London is dark and dismal as one of its own fogs, cold and +stony as one of its own streets. The Earl of Shaftesbury, a +few years back, calculated there were 30,000 ragged, houseless, +homeless children in our streets. The number of persons who +died last year in the streets of London, from want of the +necessaries of life, would shock a Christian. Last year the +total number of casual destitute paupers admitted into the +workhouses of the metropolitan districts amounted to 53,221 +males, 62,622 females, and 25,710 children. We cannot +wonder at this when we remember that it is said 60,000 persons +rise every morning utterly ignorant as to the wherewithal to feed +and maintain themselves <!-- page 61--><a name="page61"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 61</span>for the day. Wonderful are the +shifts, and efforts, and ingenuities of this class. One +summer-day, a lady-friend of the writer was driving in one of the +pleasant green lanes of Hornsey, when she saw a poor woman +gathering the broad leaves of the horse-chestnut. She asked +her why she did so. The reply was that she got a living by +selling them to the fruiterers in Covent Garden, who lined the +baskets with them in which they placed their choicest +specimens. One day it came out in evidence at a +police-court, that a mother and her children earned a scanty +subsistence by rising early in the morning, or rather late at +night, and tearing down and selling as waste-paper, the broad +sheets and placards with which the dead walls and boardings of +our metropolis abound. The poor sick needlewomen, stitching +for two-and-six-pence a-week, indicate in some quarters how hard +is the London struggle for life. But one of the worst +sights, I think, is that of women (a dozen may be seen at a +time), all black and grimy, sifting the cinders and rubbish +collected by the dustmen from various parts, and shot into one +enormous heap.</p> +<p>The last dodge exposed for making money is amusing. A +writer in the <i>Times</i> wanted to know how it was we see +advertisements in London papers for a million of +postage-stamps. A writer in reply says all the stories +about severe papas, who will not let their daughters marry till +they have papered a room with them, are false. He says if +the reader will go to some of the purlieus of the Borough +(leaving his watch and purse at home) he will <!-- page 62--><a +name="page62"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 62</span>very possibly +be enlightened. He will be accosted by a hook-nosed man, +who will pull out a greasy pocket-book, and produce some +apparently new postage-stamps, not all joined together, but each +one separate, and will offer them for sale at about 2d. a +dozen. If the enterprising stranger looks very closely, +indeed, into these stamps, he may perhaps detect a slight join in +the middle. They are made by taking the halves which are +unobliterated of two old stamps and joining them, regumming the +backs and cleaning the faces. This practice is, it is said, +carried on to a great extent, in the low neighbourhoods of +Ratcliff-highway, and the Borough.</p> +<p>During the year 1858 it appears 10,004 persons died in the +public institutions of London: 5,535 in the workhouses, 57 in the +prisons, and 4,412 in hospitals. Of the latter number 317 +belong to the Greenwich and the Chelsea hospitals, 211 to the +military and naval hospitals. About one in six of the +inhabitants of the metropolis dies in the public institutions, +nearly one in eleven dies in the workhouses. Only think of +the population of London. In 1857 that was estimated by the +Registrar-General at 2,800,000; since then the population has +gone on steadily increasing, and it may be fairly estimated that +the London of to-day is more than equal to three Londons of +1801. Now, amidst this teeming population, what thousands +of vicious, and rogues, and fools there must be; what thousands +suddenly reduced from affluence to poverty; what thousands +plunged into distress by sickness or the loss of friends, and +parents, and other benefactors; to <!-- page 63--><a +name="page63"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 63</span>such what a +place of pain, and daily mortification, and trial London must +be!</p> +<p>But, on the other hand, from the time of Whittington and his +cat, London has abounded with instances showing how, by industry +and intelligence, and—let us trust—honesty, the +poorest may rise to the possession of great wealth and +honour. Indeed all the great city houses abound with +examples. Poor lads have come up to town, friendless and +moneyless, have been sober and steady, and firm against London +allurements and vices, have improved the abilities and +opportunities God has given them, and are now men of note and +mark. The late Lord Mayor was but an office-lad in the firm +of which he is now the head. Mr. Herbert Ingram, M.P. for +Boston, and proprietor of the <i>Illustrated News</i>, blackened +the shoes of one of his constituents. Mr. Anderson, of the +Oriental Steam Navigation Company, and formerly M.P. for the +Orkneys, rose in a similar manner. Sir Peter Laurie was +originally in a humble position in life, so was Mr. Dillon, of +the house of Dillon and Co. Our great Lord Chancellor, when +employment was scarce and money ditto, held a post as reporter +and theatrical critic on the <i>Morning Chronicle</i> +newspaper. Mr. Chaplin, the late Salisbury M.P., was an +extraordinary instance of a man rising from the humblest +rank. Before railways were in operation Mr. Chaplin had +succeeded in making himself one of the largest coach proprietors +in the kingdom. His establishment, from small beginnings, +grew till, just <!-- page 64--><a name="page64"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 64</span>before the opening of the London and +North Western line, he was proprietor of sixty-four +stage-coaches, worked by fifteen hundred horses, and giving +yearly returns of more than half a million sterling. Mr. +Cobden began life in a very subordinate position in a London +warehouse. Sir William Cubitt when a lad worked at his +father’s flour-mill. Michael Faraday, England’s +most eminent chemist, was the son of a poor blacksmith. Sir +Samuel Morton Peto worked for seven years as a carpenter, +bricklayer, and mason, under his uncle, Mr. Henry Peto. The +well-known Mr. Lindsay, M.P. for Sunderland, was a cabin +boy. The editor of one morning paper rose quite from the +ranks, and the editor of another well known journal used to be an +errand-boy in the office before, by gigantic industry and +perseverance, he attained his present high position. Mr. J. +Fox, the eloquent M.P. for Oldham, and the +“Publicola” of the <i>Weekly Dispatch</i>, worked in +a Norwich factory. The great warehouses in Cheapside and +Cannon-street, and elsewhere, are owned by men who mostly began +life without a rap. Go to the beautiful villas at Norwood, +at Highgate, at Richmond, and ask who lives there, and you will +find that they are inhabited by men whose wealth is enormous, and +whose career has been a marvellous success. Fortunes in +London are made by trifles. I know a man who keeps a +knacker’s yard, who lives out of town in a villa of +exquisite beauty, and who drives horses which a prince might +envy. Out of the profits of his vegetable pills <!-- page +65--><a name="page65"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +65</span>Morrison bought himself a nice estate. Mrs. +Holloway drives one of the handsomest carriages you shall meet in +the Strand. Sawyer and Strange, who the other day were +respectable young men unknown to fame, paid the Crystal Palace +Company upwards of £12,000, as per contract, for the +liberty to supply refreshments for a few months. In the +city there, at this time, may be seen the proprietor of a +dining-room, who drives a handsome mail-phaeton and pair daily to +town in the morning to do business, and back at night. +Thackeray has a tale of a gentleman who married a young lady, +drove his cab, and lived altogether in great style. The +gentleman was very silent as to his occupation; he would not even +communicate the secret to his wife. All that she knew was +what was patent to all his neighbours—that he went in his +Brougham in the morning, and returned at night. Even the +mother-in-law, prying as she was, was unable to solve the +mystery. At length, one day the unfortunate wife, going +with her dear mamma into the city, in the person of a street +sweeper clothed in rags, and covered with dirt, she recognised +her lord and master, who decamped and was never heard of +more. The story is comic, but not improbable, for London is +so full of wealth, you have only to take your place, and it seems +as if some of the golden shower must fall into your mouth. +Mr. Thwaites, when examined before the Parliamentary Committee on +the Embankment of the Thames, said, “The metropolis +contributes very largely to the taxation of the country. +<!-- page 66--><a name="page66"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +66</span>The value of the property assessed under Schedule A, is +£22,385,350, whilst the sum for the rest of the kingdom is +£127,994,288; under Schedule D the metropolis shows +£37,871,644, against £86,077,676. The gross +estimated rental of the property of the metropolis assessed to +the poor rates is £16,157,320, against £86,077,676 +from the rest of the kingdom.” The speculations on +the Stock Exchange embrace a national debt of 800 millions, +railway shares to the extent of 300 millions, besides foreign +stock, foreign railway shares, and miscellaneous investments of +all kinds. Land has been sold in the neighbourhood of the +Exchange and the Bank at the rate of a million pounds an +acre. The rateable value of the property assessed to the +poor rates in the districts of the metropolis in 1857 amounted to +£11,167,678. A Parliamentary Return shows that the +total ordinary receipts of the Corporation of the city for the +year 1857 amounted to £905,298, the largest item being the +coal duty, £64,238. The London omnibuses pay +government a duty of no less than £70,200 a year. The +Thames even, dirty and stinking as it is, is full of gold. +One fact will place its commercial value in the clearest +light. In 1856 the Customs’ duties entered as +collected from all parts of the United Kingdom were +£19,813,622, and of this large sum considerably more than +half was collected in the port of London,—the +Customs’ duties paid in the port of London alone being +£12,287,591, a much larger sum than paid by all the +remaining ports of the United Kingdom put together. No +wonder that the <!-- page 67--><a name="page67"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 67</span>Londoners are proud of the +Thames. Why, even the very mudlarks—the boys who +prowl in its mud on behalf of treasure-trove—earn, it is +said, as much as £2,000 to £3,000 by that miserable +employment in the course of a year.</p> +<p>But we stop. The magnitude of Loudon wealth and even +crime can never be fully estimated. It is a boundless +ocean, in which the brave, sturdy, steady swimmer—while the +weak are borne away rapidly to destruction—may pick up +precious pearls.</p> +<h2><!-- page 68--><a name="page68"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +68</span>CHAPTER VI.<br /> +WESTMINSTER ABBEY.</h2> +<p>On Monday, Jan. 9, 1860, we formed part of a crowd who had +assembled in the Poet’s Corner, Westminster Abbey, to view +the burial of the only man of our generation who, by means of his +literary and oratorical efforts, has won for his brow a +coronet. Of Babington Macaulay, as essayist, poet, orator, +historian, statesman, we need not speak. What he was, and +what he did, are patent to all the world. Born in 1800, the +son of Zachary Macaulay, one of the brilliant band of +anti-slavery agitators of which Mr. Wilberforce was the head, +young Babington commenced life under favourable +circumstances. At Trinity College, Cambridge, where he was +educated, the world first heard of his wondrous talent. In +1830 he was returned by Lord Lansdowne for his borough of Calne; +the Reform agitation was then at its height, and how bitterly, +and fiercely, and eloquently Macaulay spoke we remember at this +day. Then, in 1834, commenced his Indian exile, at the end +of which he returned to Parliament with a competency. <!-- +page 69--><a name="page69"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +69</span>His Essays in the Edinburgh Review and his History were +the chief business of his life. He might have shone as a +poet had he not betaken himself to prose; but in this department +he remained unrivalled, and the result was riches and fame. +On one occasion, it is said, his publisher gave him a cheque for +£20,000, and he was made by the Whigs a peer. His +burial at Westminster Abbey, at the foot of Addison, was a +fitting climax to his career of wondrous achievement and gorgeous +success. Men most distinguished in literature—in +science—in law—in statesmanship—in +divinity—in rank—were present. The funeral was +not as touching as might have been expected. It may be that +the choral service itself interferes with the inner feeling of +sadness the death of such a man arouses in every mind; it may be +that the human voice is inadequate to express the power, and +pathos, and majesty of the form of words used on such occasions; +and it is certain that the many ladies present were dressed in +the most unbefitting costumes, and that ribbons, and bonnets, and +dresses of all the colours of the rainbow were quite out of +keeping with the place and the occasion. The saddest sight, +the one most suggestive of deep feeling, was that of one or two +ladies, high up in a recess above the grave. They were real +mourners. Indeed, it was said one of them was the sister of +the deceased peer. Lord John Russell also exhibited an +emotion for which the general public will scarce give him +credit. At the grave he was so much overcome, that it +seemed as if he would have fallen had <!-- page 70--><a +name="page70"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 70</span>not the Duke +of Argyle held him up. Well might his Lordship be moved to +tears. Could he keep from thinking, while standing there, +how soon his own turn would come, and how well and worthily he, +who slept the sleep of death in the plain coffin at his feet, had +fought the battle of the Whigs in their palmy days? We +looked back, as we stood there, to other days. We saw a +theatre in Gower Street filled with intelligent youths. A +winter session had been closed: all its work and competition were +over; to the successful candidates prizes were to be +awarded. The fathers and mothers, the friends and sisters +of such had come together from far and near. Seated in a +chair was a stout, mild, genial man, with face somewhat pale, and +hair scant and inclined to grey. He rose, and was received +with rapturous applause; he spoke in plain language—with +little action, with a voice rather inclined to be harsh—of +the bright future which rises before the rapt eye of youth. +He spoke—and as he did so, as he mounted from one climax to +another, every young heart filled and warmed with the +speaker’s theme. That was Macaulay, just come from +India, with an honourable competence, to consummate the fame as a +man he had acquired in younger years. Again, we thought of +that last speech in the House of Commons, when, at an early hour +on a beautiful summer evening, the Parks, and Clubs, and Rotten +Row had been deserted, for it had gone forth to the world that +Macaulay was about to speak. Poor Joseph Hume had moved the +adjournment of the debate, <!-- page 71--><a +name="page71"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 71</span>and, as a +matter of right, was in possession of the House; but the calls +for Macaulay on all sides were so numerous, that even that most +good-natured of men, as Hume was, grew a little angry and +remonstrated; but it was in vain that he sought the attention of +the House: all were anxious for the next speaker, and no sooner +had Hume sat down than Macaulay delivered, in his hurried +feverish way, one of those speeches which not merely delight, but +which influence men’s votes and opinions, and may be read +with delight when the occasion which gave rise to them has long +since passed away. We have heard much in favour of +competition in the civil service, at home and in India, since +then, but never was the argument more clearly put—more +copiously illustrated, more clothed in grace and beauty; and then +came a few short years of infirmity of body, of labour with the +pen, and sudden death, and the burial at Westminster Abbey. +Out of the thousands standing by the grave, few could ever expect +to see the career of such another genius. He is gone, and +we may not hope to see his work finished. In vain we call +up him—</p> +<blockquote><p> “Who left untold,<br /> +The story of Cambuscan bold.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Since then another public funeral has taken place in +Westminster Abbey; only the other day we saw deposited there the +ashes of Sir Charles Barry, and here, as year by year passes over +our heads, richer, and dearer, and wider are the associations +which cluster around that venerable pile. I don’t +envy the man who can point a <!-- page 72--><a +name="page72"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 72</span>sneer at +Westminster Abbey; how placid and beautiful is the outside, how +eloquently it speaks to the ambitious lawyer, the busy merchant, +the statesman bent on fame, the beauty armed for conquest; what a +testimony it bears to the religious spirit of the age which +witnessed its erection, and of the brain or brains which +conceived its magnificent design.</p> +<p>The Abbey is open to public inspection between the hours of +eleven and three daily, and also in the summer months between +four and six in the afternoon. The public are not admitted +to view the monuments on Good Friday, Christmas Day, or fast +days, or during the hours of Divine Service. The nave, +transept, and cloisters are entirely free. The charge for +admission to the rest of the Abbey, through which you are +accompanied by a guide, is sixpence each person. The +entrance is at the south transept, better known as Poet’s +Corner. It will do you good to walk in there any Sunday +during Divine Service. The appearance of the place is +singularly striking. The white-robed choristers; the +benches filled with well-dressed people the dark religious +columns; the lofty and fretted roof; the marble monuments and +busts looking down on you from every wall and corner; the gleams +of mellow sunlight streaming in from richly painted +windows—all tend to produce an effect such as you can find +nowhere else—an effect of which you must be sensible if you +care not for the rich notes of the organ, or sleep while the +parson preaches.</p> +<p><!-- page 73--><a name="page73"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +73</span>The Abbey, originally a Benedictine monastery—the +Minster west of St. Paul’s London—was founded +originally in what was called Thorney Island, by Sebert, King of +the East Saxons, 616. The patron Saint, Peter himself, is +said to have consecrated it by night, and in a most miraculous +manner. Till the time of Edward the Confessor the Abbey +does not seem to have made much way; but the meek-minded Prince +was led to give the Abbey a patronage which led to the building +becoming what it is. It seems the Prince had been ill, and +vowed to take a journey to the Holy Land if he should +recover. But, as often is the case with vows made in +sickness, the Prince, when well, found it exceedingly +inconvenient to fulfil his vow. The only course left for +him was to appeal to the Pope. The Holy Father, of course, +was appealed to, and freed the pious king from his vow on one +condition—that he should spend the money that the journey +would have cost him in some religious building. The Prince, +too happy to be freed from the consequences of this foolish vow, +gladly promised to do so; and, whilst he was considering as to +what building he should favour with his royal patronage, one of +the monks of Westminster—rather an artful man, we +imagine—was reported to have had a wonderful dream, in +which no less a personage than St. Peter himself appeared to him, +and charged him to take a message to the King, to the effect that +his celestial saintship hoped he would not overlook the claims of +Westminster. Of course, to so pious a prince as Edward, +<!-- page 74--><a name="page74"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +74</span>the saintly wish was law; and on Westminster were +lavished the most princely sums. Succeeding kings followed +in the same steps. Henry III. and his son, Edward I., +rebuilt it nearly as we see it now. It is difficult to say +what the building must have cost its royal patrons. In our +own time, its repairs have amounted to an enormous sum.</p> +<p>As the last resting place of the great, Westminster Abbey must +always be dear to Englishmen. It was a peerage or +Westminster Abbey that urged Nelson on. Old Godfrey Kneller +did not rate the honour of lying in Westminster Abbey quite so +highly. “By God,” exclaimed the old painter, +“I will not be buried in Westminster! They do bury +fools there.” It is difficult to say on what +principle the burials there take place. Byron’s +monument was refused, though Thorwaldsen was the sculptor; and +yet Prior has a staring one to himself—that Prior whose +Chloe was an alehouse drab, and who was as far inferior to Byron +in genius as a farthing rushlight to the morning star.</p> +<p>Another evil, to which public attention should be drawn, is +the expense attending a funeral there. When Tom Campbell +(would that he were alive to write war lyrics now!) was buried, +the fees to the Dean and Chapter amounted to somewhere between +five and six hundred pounds. Surely it ought not to be +so. The Dean and Chapter are well paid enough as it is.</p> +<p>If, reader, pausing on the hallowed ground, you feel inclined +to think of the past, remember that beneath you <!-- page 75--><a +name="page75"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 75</span>sleep many +English statesmen,—Clarendon, the great Lord Chatham, Pitt, +Fox, and Canning; that there</p> +<blockquote><p>“The mighty chiefs sleep side by side.<br /> +Drop upon Fox’s grave the tear,<br /> +’Twill trickle to his rival’s bier.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Remember that—</p> + +<blockquote><p> “Bacon +there<br /> +Gives more than female beauty to a stone,<br /> +And Chatham, eloquence to marble life;”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>that of poets; Chaucer, Spenser, Ben Jonson, Dryden, Congreve, +Addison, Sheridan, and Campbell, and others, there await the +sound of the last trumpet; that old Sam Johnson there finds rest; +that there the brain of a Newton has crumbled into dust; and, as +if to shew that all distinctions are levelled by death, Mrs. +Oldfield, Mrs. Bracegirdle, and other favourites of the stage, +are buried there. As a burial place Westminster Abbey +resembles the world. We jostle one another precisely so in +real life. “The age is grown so picked, that the toe +of the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, he galls +his kibe.”</p> +<h2><!-- page 76--><a name="page76"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +76</span>CHAPTER VII.<br /> +LONDON CHARITIES.</h2> +<p>When Guizot visited London the principal thing that struck him +was the nature and the extent of London Charities. +Undoubtedly the English are a more charitable people than the +French. When the ruinously low prices of the Funds forbade +a loan, the loyalty-loan brought forth the name of a Lancashire +cotton-spinner, the father of the lamented statesman, Sir Robert +Peel, who subscribed £60,000; and when George the Third +sent the Minister Pitt to compliment him on this truly loyal and +patriotic subscription, he simply replied that another +£60,000 would be forthcoming if it was wanted for the +defence of the country. Did Napoleon, or any French +monarch, ever possess such a patriotic subject? The spirit +is still the same. What sums the nation subscribed for the +relief of the wives and widows and orphans of the Crimean +heroes. What an amount was raised at once for the victims +of the Indian mutiny. An Englishman likes to make money, +and makes many a sacrifice to do it; but then how lavishly and +with what <!-- page 77--><a name="page77"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 77</span>a princely hand he gives it. +And in this respect the Londoner is a thorough +Englishman—his charity covers a multitude of sins. I +am aware some of this charity is of a doubtful character. A +draper, for instance, may subscribe to the funds—of such an +institution as that for early closing—a very handsome sum, +merely as a good business advertisement; other tradesmen may and +undoubtedly do the same. There is also a spirit of rivalry +in these matters—if Smith saw Jones’ name down for +£50, he, thinking he was as good as Smith any day, and +perhaps a good deal better, puts his name down for +£100. Somehow or other we can scarce do good things +without introducing a little of the alloy of poor human nature; +but London charities undoubtedly cover a multitude of sins.</p> +<p>Associations for the voluntary relief of distress, the +reclamation of the criminal, and diffusion of Christian truth, +are a noble characteristic of the English people. There is +no city in the world possessing an equal number of charitable +institutions to those of the British capital. Taking the +whole of London, and not exempting, from their distance, such as +may be correctly classed as metropolitan institutions, as +Greenwich Hospital, &c., we find there are no less than 526 +charitable institutions, exclusive of mere local endowments and +trusts, parochial and local schools, &c.</p> +<p>According to Mr. Low, the charities comprise—</p> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">12</p> +</td> +<td><p>General medical hospitals.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">50</p> +</td> +<td><p>Medical charities for special purposes.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><!-- page 78--><a +name="page78"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 78</span>35</p> +</td> +<td><p>General dispensaries.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">12</p> +</td> +<td><p>Societies and institutions for the preservation of life +and public morals.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">18</p> +</td> +<td><p>Societies for reclaiming the fallen, and staying the +progress of crime.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">14</p> +</td> +<td><p>Societies for the relief of general destitution and +distress.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">35</p> +</td> +<td><p>Societies in connection with the Committee of the +Reformatory and Refuge Unions.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">12</p> +</td> +<td><p>Societies for relief of specific description.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">14</p> +</td> +<td><p>Societies for aiding the resources of the industrious +(exclusive of loan funds and savings’ banks).</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">11</p> +</td> +<td><p>Societies for the deaf and dumb, and the blind.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">103</p> +</td> +<td><p>Colleges, hospitals, and institutions of almhouses for the +aged.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">16</p> +</td> +<td><p>Charitable pension societies.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">74</p> +</td> +<td><p>Charitable and provident societies, chiefly for specified +classes.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">31</p> +</td> +<td><p>Asylums for orphan and other necessitous children.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">10</p> +</td> +<td><p>Educational foundations.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">4</p> +</td> +<td><p>Charitable modern ditto.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">40</p> +</td> +<td><p>School societies, religious books, Church aiding and +Christian visiting societies.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">35</p> +</td> +<td><p>Bible and missionary societies.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">526</p> +</td> +<td><p>(This includes parent societies only, and is quite +exclusive of the numerous “auxiliaries,” &c.)</p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p>These charities annually disburse in aid of their respective +objects the extraordinary amount of £1,764,733, of which +upwards of £1,000,000 is raised annually by voluntary +contributions; the remainder from funded property, sale of +publications, &c.</p> +<p>The facility with which money can be raised in London <!-- +page 79--><a name="page79"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +79</span>for charitable purposes is very astonishing. A +short time back it was announced that the London Hospital had +lost about £1,500 a year by the falling in of +annuities. It was, therefore, necessary, if the Hospital +was to continue its charities to the same extent as heretofore, +that additional funds should be raised. In an incredibly +short space of time £24,000 were collected. The +<i>Times</i> makes an appeal about Christmas time for the refuges +of the destitute in the metropolis, and generally it raises +somewhere about £10,000—a nice addition to the +regular income of the societies. The Bishop of London, +since he has been connected with his diocese, has consecrated 29 +new churches, accommodating 90,000 persons, erected by voluntary +subscriptions. We may depend upon it the various sects of +dissenters are equally active in their way. During last +year the Field Lane Refuge supplied 30,302 lodgings to 6,785 men +and boys, who received 101,193 either six or eight ounce loaves +of bread. At the same time 840 women were admitted during +the year, to whom were supplied 10,028 lodgings, averaging 11 +nights shelter to each person, by whom 14,755 loaves were +consumed. On the whole it appears that 10,000 persons +annually participate in the advantages of this institution, and +1,222 of the most forlorn and wretched creatures in London were +taken from the streets and placed in a position where they might +earn their own bread, and all this at the cost of 3s. 6d. each +per annum. In 1851 the original Shoeblack Society sent five +boys into the street to get an honest <!-- page 80--><a +name="page80"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 80</span>living by +cleaning boots rather than by picking and stealing, and now their +number is about 350. Mr. Mayhew calculates the London +charities at three millions and a half per annum. In +estimating London charities we must not be unmindful of those +required by law. According to a return published a couple +of years since, I find, in the districts of the metropolis, the +average amount expended for the relief of the poor was 1s. +6¾d. in the pound. The total number of casual +destitute paupers admitted into the workhouses of the +metropolitan districts during the year amounted to 53,221 males, +62,622 females, and 25,716 children. The quantity of food +supplied to these paupers varies much in the several districts, +as also the nature of the work required. In some cases no +work at all is exacted from the casual poor, but where it is, the +demand appears to be chiefly for picking oakum and breaking +stones. In some cases the dietary includes bread and +cheese, with gruel, and sometimes even the luxury of butter is +added. In other cases bread and water (very meagre fare, +and insufficient to support life for any length of time), are all +that is allowed. Women suckling infants are supplied tea, +broth, or gruel in lieu of water; we can scarce wonder the poor +prefer going to jail. I have seen in jails, and convict +establishments, dinners better served than are earned even by +many of the industrious poor. I find during the last year +the 339 agents of the London City Mission had paid 1,528,162 +visits during the year; 117,443 of these visits being <!-- page +81--><a name="page81"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 81</span>to +the sick and dying. By their means a large number of Bibles +and Tracts had been distributed, 11,200 children had been sent to +school, and 580 fallen females restored to virtue. At the +annual meeting of the Ragged School Union it was stated that in +170 Ragged School institutions, there were 199 Sunday Schools, +with 24,860 scholars; 146 day schools with 15,380 scholars, and +215 evening schools, with 9,050 scholars: of teachers 400 were +paid, and 9,690 were voluntary. There were fifteen refuges +in which 600 inmates were fed, lodged, clothed, and +educated. The midnight meeting movement, of which we have +heard so much, and respecting which opinions so much differ, +according to its report, has been very successful; through the +instrumentality of the committee seven meetings had been called; +1700 women had been addressed; 7500 scriptural cards and books +had been circulated; and 107 had been reclaimed and placed in +homes, through the agency of which, they would, it was hoped, be +restored to society. In addition to these five had been +restored to their friends, one to her husband, two placed in +situations, and one had been married. In the general +charities of England London has its share. It not merely +takes the initiative but it subscribes by far the larger +part. When the Crimean war broke out a fund was raised for +the wives and families of the soldiers engaged in it, amounting +to £121,139; £260,000 were subscribed for the relief +of the victims of the Indian mutiny. Well it was in <!-- +page 82--><a name="page82"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +82</span>London that the most liberal donations were made. +Again, look at the Religious Societies. In last year the +income of the Church Missionary Society was £163,629. 1s. +4d.; of the Bible Society £162,020. 13s. 5d. Of the +Wesleyan Missionary Society, £141,000. 5s. 11d. Of +the London Missionary Society, £93,000. Thus gigantic +and all-persuading are the charities of London. The +almshouses erected by private individuals or public subscriptions +are too numerous to be described, except we refer to the London +Almshouses erected at Brixton to commemorate the passing of the +Reform Bill; nor would I forget the Charter House with its jovial +and grateful chorus:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Then blessed be the memory<br /> + Of good old Thomas Sutton,<br /> +Who gave us lodging, learning,<br /> + And he gave us beef and mutton.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Nor Christ’s Hospital, with its annual income of +£50,000; nor the Foundling Hospital, with its 500 children; +nor Alleyn’s magnificent gift of Dulwich; nor the Bethlehem +Hospital, with its income of nearly £30,000 a year; nor the +Magdalene. But we must say a few words about the Hospitals; +of the more than 500 Charitable Institutions of the metropolis, +one quarter consists of general medical hospitals, medical +charities for special purposes, dispensaries, &c. In +1859, in Bartholomew’s, I find there were patients +admitted, cured, and discharged, 5,865 in, 86,480 out; <!-- page +83--><a name="page83"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 83</span>in +St. Thomas’s 4,114 in, 44,744 out; the Charing Cross +Hospital has, I believe, on an average 1,000 inpatients, 17,000 +out. Guy’s, with its annual income of £30,000, +has an entire average of in and outpatients of 50,000. But +we stop, the list is not exhausted, but we fear the patience of +the reader is.</p> +<h2><!-- page 84--><a name="page84"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +84</span>CHAPTER VIII.<br /> +PEDESTRIANISM.</h2> +<p>I am a great advocate of Pedestrianism, and take it to be a +very honest way of getting through the world. If you ride +in a carriage you may be upset; if you throw your leg across a +horse’s back you may meet with the fate of Sir Robert Peel; +and as to getting into a railway carriage, the fearful +consequences of that require for their description a more +vigorous pen than mine. I like to see a good walker; how +delightful his appetite, how firm his muscle, how healthy his +cheek, how splendid his condition. Has he a care, he walks +it off; is ruin staring him in the face, only let him have a +couple of hour’s walk, and he is in a condition to meet the +great enemy of mankind himself. Has his friend betrayed +him—are his hopes of fame, of wealth, of power +blighted?—is his love’s young dream rudely +broken? Let him away from the circles of men out on the +green turf, with the blue sky of heaven above, and in a very +little while the agony is over, and “Richard’s +himself again.” Were it only for the sake of the +active exercise it inculcates <!-- page 85--><a +name="page85"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 85</span>and requires +I would say—Long live the Rifle Corps movement. The +other day a gallant little band in my own immediate neighbourhood +set out for an evening’s march. They were in capital +spirits; they were dressed in their Sunday best; they had a band +playing at their head; a miscellaneous crowd, chiefly juvenile, +with a few occasional females behind, brought up the rear. +A deputy of the London Corporation and his brother formed part of +the devoted troop. Gaily and amidst cheers they marched +from the bosoms of their families, leaving “their girls +behind them.” On they went, up-hill and down-hill, +many a mile, amidst Hornsey’s pleasant green lanes, till at +length the London deputy turned pale, and intimated—while +his limbs appeared to sink beneath him, and his whole body was +bathed in sweat—that he could stand it no longer. The +spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak. A halt was +ordered—beer was sought for for the London deputy, and with +considerable difficulty they got the martial hero home. Had +that gallant man been a good pedestrian, would he not have +scorned the beer, and laughed at the idea of rest? Look at +Charles Dickens—I am sure he will forgive me the +personality, as no harm is intended—why is he ever genial, +ever fresh—as superior to the crowd who imitate his +mannerism, but fail to catch his warm, sunny, human spirit, as +the Koh-i-noor to its glass counterfeit, but because no man in +town walks more than he? What a man for walking was the +great Liston, foremost operator of his age. The late Lord +Suffield, who fought all <!-- page 86--><a +name="page86"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 86</span>the Lords, +including the bench of Bishops, in order to win emancipation for +the slave, was one of the most athletic men of his day. On +one occasion he ran a distance of ten miles before the Norwich +mail as a casual frolic, without any previous training, and he +assured Sir George Stephen that he never experienced any +inconvenience from it. When we talk of a man being weak on +his pins, what does it imply but that he has been a rake, or a +sot, or a fool who has cultivated the pocket or the brain at the +expense of that machine, so fearfully and wonderfully made, we +call man. The machine is made to wear well, it is +man’s fault if it does not. The pedestrian alone +keeps his in good repair; our long livers have mostly been great +walkers. Taylor, the water-poet, says of old +Parr—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Good wholesome labour was his exercise,<br +/> +Down with the lamb, and with the lark would rise,<br /> +In mire and toiling sweat he spent the day,<br /> +And to his team he whistled time away.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>People are getting more fond of physical exercise than they +were. We may almost ask—Are we returned back to the +days of the Iliad and the Odyssey? The gentlemen of the +Stock Exchange greet Tom Sayers as if he were an emperor, and, it +is said, peers and clergymen think it right to assist at a +“mill.” We have heard so much about muscular +Christianity—so much stress has been laid upon the +adjective—that we seem in danger of forgetting the +Christianity altogether. Undoubtedly our fathers are to +blame in some <!-- page 87--><a name="page87"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 87</span>respect for this. Good +Christians, thinking more of the next world than of this, +merchants, and tradesmen, and even poor clerks, hastening to be +rich, scholars aiming at fame, and mothers of a frugal turn, have +set themselves against out-door life and out-door fun, and have +done with sports and pastimes—as Rowland Hill said the +pious had done with the tunes—<i>i.e.</i> let the devil +have all the good ones. In vain you war with nature, she +will have her revenge, the heart is true to its old +instincts. Man is what he was when the Greek pitched his +tent by the side of the much-sounding sea, and before the walls +of Troy; when Alexander sighed for fresh worlds to conquer; when +the young Hannibal vowed deathless hate to Rome; when the rude +ballad of “Chevy Chase,” sung in baronial hall, +stirred men as if it were the sound of a trumpet; when Nelson +swept the seas, and when Wellington shattered the mighty hosts of +France. Thus is it old physical sports and pastimes never +die, and perhaps nowhere are they more encouraged and practised +than by the population of our cities and towns.</p> +<p>The other day some considerable interest was excited in the +peculiar circles given to the study of <i>Bell’s Life</i>, +by the fact that Jem Pudney was to run Jem Rowan for £50 +a-side, at the White Lion, Hackney Wick. The winner was to +have the Champion’s Cup. Far and near had sounded and +resounded the name of Pudney the swift-footed—how he had +distanced all his competitors—how he had done eleven miles +under the hour—were facts patent to all sporting England; +but against him <!-- page 88--><a name="page88"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 88</span>was this melancholy reality, that he +was getting old—he was verging on thirty-two. +However, when, after a weary pilgrimage through mud, and sleet, +and rain, we found ourselves arrived at the classic spot. +The betting was very much in Pudney’s favour. The +race was to have commenced at five, but it did not begin before +six. We had plenty of time to look around. Outside we +had passed a motley multitude. There were cabs, and +Hansoms, and Whitechapel dog-carts in abundance. Monday is +an off-day as regards many of the operatives and mechanics of +London, and they were thronging round the door, or clambering up +the pales, or peeping through the boards, or climbing some +neighbouring height, to command a view of the race on strictly +economical principles. Several owners of horses and carts, +with their wives and families, were indulging in a similar +amusement; an admission fee of one shining enabled us to +penetrate the enclosure. We pay our money and enter. +The scene is not an inviting one. Perhaps there are about a +thousand of us present, and most of us are of a class of society +we may denominate rough and ready. Even the people who have +good clothes do not look like gentlemen. They have very +short hair, very flat and dark faces; have a tremendous +development of the lower jaw, and, while they are unnaturally +broad about the chest, seem unnaturally thin and weak as regards +their lower extremities. Most of the younger ones are in +good sporting condition, and would be very little distressed by a +little set-to, whether <!-- page 89--><a name="page89"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 89</span>of a playful or a business nature, +and could bear an amount of punishment which would be fatal to +the writer of this article, and, I dare say, to the reader as +well. Time passes slowly. Jones hails Brown, and +offers him seven to four. (After the race had terminated, I +saw Jones cash up a £100 fresh bank-note, which I thought +might have been more usefully invested.) Robinson bets +Smith what he likes that he does not name the winner; and one +gent, with an unpleasing expression of countenance, offers to do +a little business with me, which I decline, for reasons that I am +not particularly desirous to communicate to my new +acquaintance. I am glad to see a policeman or two present, +for one likes to know the protection of the law may be invoked in +an extremity, and I keep near its manifest and outward +sign. The White Lion is doing a fine business; there is an +active demand for beer and tobacco; and a gentleman who deals in +fried fish soon clears off his little stock of delicacies, as +likewise does a peripatetic vendor of sandwiches of a mysterious +origin. The heroes of the night slowly walk up and down the +course, wearing long great coats, beneath which we may see their +naked legs, and feet encased in light laced shoes. Their +backers are with them, and a crowd watches with curious +eyes. At length the course is cleared, a bell is rung, and +they are off. Six times round the course is a +mile—six times ten are sixty. Sixty times must they +pass and repass that excited mob. The favourite takes the +lead at a steady running; he maintains it some time; he is longer +than <!-- page 90--><a name="page90"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +90</span>his opponent, but the latter is younger, and looks more +muscular in his thighs. Both men, with the exception of a +cloth round the loins, are naked as when born; and as they run +they scatter the mud, which mud thus scattered descends upon them +in a by no means refreshing shower. As round after round is +run the excitement deepens; the favourite is greeted with cheers; +but when at the end of the third mile he is passed by his +competitor excites an enthusiasm which is intense. Now the +bettors tremble; the favourite attempts to get his old position; +he gains on his foe—they are now neck and neck—cheer, +boys, cheer—“Go it, Jem!” is the cry on many +sides. Jem the winner does go it; but, alas! Jem the loser +cannot. It is in vain he seeks the lead. Fortune has +declared against him, and in a little while he gives up—no +longer the swiftest and fleetest of England’s sons—no +longer the holder of the Champion’s Cup. One +involuntarily feels for fallen greatness, and as Pudney was led +away utterly beaten, I could not find it in my heart to +rejoice. I left a crowd still on the grounds. I left +Rowan still running, as he was bound to do, till he had completed +his ten miles: and I left the White Lion, in-doors and out, doing +a very considerable business. It seemed to me the White +Lion was not such a fool as he looked, and that he felt, let who +will win or lose, he with his beer and brandy would not come off +second best. This, undoubtedly, was the worst part of the +business. The race over, for further excitement, the +multitude would rush to the White Lion—<!-- page 91--><a +name="page91"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 91</span>the losers to +drown their sorrow, the winners to spend their gains; the many, +who were neither winners nor losers, merely because others did +so; and thus, as the hours pass, would come intoxication, anger, +follies, and, perhaps, bitterness of heart for life.</p> +<p>May I here enumerate the heroes of pedestrianism? Let me +name Robert Skipper, who walked a thousand miles in a thousand +successive half-hours—let me not forget Captain Barclay, +who walked a thousand miles in a thousand successive +hours—let me record the fame of Captain John T. G. +Campbell, of the 91st, who, accoutred in the heavy marching order +of a private soldier, on the Mallow and Fermoy road, did ten +miles in 107¼ minutes. All honour be to such! long +may their memories be green! Let me beg the considerate +reader not to forget West, who ran forty miles in five hours and +a half. Ten miles an hour is done by all the best +runners. It is said West accomplished 100 miles in 18 +hours. I read in a certain work devoted to manly exercises, +“at the rate of four miles an hour a man may walk any +length of time.” The writer begs to inform the reader +that he doubts this very much.</p> +<h2><!-- page 92--><a name="page92"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +92</span>CHAPTER IX.<br /> +OVER LONDON BRIDGE.</h2> +<p>Mr. Commissioner Harvey is particularly fond of figures. +The other day he caused an account to be taken of the number of +persons entering the city within a given period. The result +shows that the amazing number of 706,621 individuals passed into +the city by various entrances during the 24 hours tested; and as +the day selected, we are told, was free from any extraordinary +attraction to the city, there can be no doubt that the return +furnishes a fair estimate of the average daily influx. Of +this large number it appears only one-fourteenth, or 49,242, +entered the city in the night—that is, between the hours of +11 p.m. and 7 a.m. Now this enormous population in very +large numbers patronises London Bridge for many reasons—the +principle argument with them in its favour undoubtedly is, that +it is the shortest way from their homes to their places of +business, or <i>vice versâ</i>. Last year, for +instance, the North London Railway carried nearly six millions of +passengers; the London and South Western more than four millions; +the <!-- page 93--><a name="page93"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +93</span>Blackwall nearly five millions; while 13,500,000 +passengers passed through the London Bridge Station. Mr. +Commissioner Harvey, however, makes the importance of London +Bridge still clearer. On the 17th of March last year he had +a man engaged in taking notes of the traffic, and he furnished +Mr. Commissioner Harvey with the following figures:—In the +course of the twenty-four hours it appears 4,483 cabs, 4,286 +omnibuses, 9,245 wagons and carts, 2,430 other vehicles, and 54 +horses led or ridden, making a total of 20,498, passed over the +bridge. The passengers in the same period were, in vehicles +60,836, on foot 107,074, total, 167,910. As we may suppose +this traffic is an increasing one. The traffic across the +old bridge in one July day, 1811, was as follows:—89,640 +persons on foot, 769 wagons, 2,924 carts and drays, 1,240 +coaches, 485 gigs and taxed carts, and 764 horses. We must +recollect that in 1811 the bridges across the Thames were +fewer. There was then no Waterloo Bridge, no Hungerford +Suspension Bridge, no bridge at Southwark, no penny steamboats +running every quarter of an hour from Paul’s Wharf to the +Surrey side, and London Bridge was far more important than +now. The figures we have given also throw some light on the +manners and customs of the age. Where are the gigs now, +then the attribute of respectability? What has become of +the 1,240 coaches, and what a falling off of +equestrianism—the 764 horses of 1811 have dwindled down (in +1859) to the paltry number of 54. Are there no night +equestrians in London <!-- page 94--><a name="page94"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 94</span>now. It is early morn and we +stand on London Bridge, green are the distant Surrey hills, clear +the blue sky, stately the public buildings far and near. +Beneath us what fleets in a few hours about to sail, with +passengers and merchandize to almost every continental +port. Surely Wordsworth’s Ode written on Westminster +Bridge is not inapplicable:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Earth has not anything to show more +fair.<br /> +Dull would he be of sense who could pass by,<br /> +A sight so touching in its majesty;<br /> +This city now doth like a garment wear<br /> +The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,<br /> +Shops, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie<br /> +Open unto the fields, and to the sky,<br /> +All bright and glittering in the smokeless air;<br /> +Never did sun more beautifully steep<br /> +In his first splendour valley, arch, or hill;<br /> +Ne’er saw I, never felt a calm so deep,<br /> +The river glideth at his own sweet will,<br /> +Dear God! the very houses seem asleep<br /> +And all that mighty heart is lying still!”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Of the traffic by water visible from London Bridge as you look +towards Greenwich, the best idea may be gathered by a few +figures. A Parliamentary Return has been issued, showing +that the amount of tonnage cleared from the port of London was in +1750, 796,632 tons, in 1800 the tonnage entered was 796,632; and +that cleared was 729,554. In 1857 the tonnage entered had +risen to 2,834,107, and that cleared to 2,143,884.</p> +<p><!-- page 95--><a name="page95"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +95</span>The traffic on London Bridge may be considered as one of +the sights of London. A costermonger’s cart, laden +with cabbages for Camberwell, breaks down, and there is a block +extending back almost all the way to the Mansion House. +Walk back and look at the passengers thus suddenly checked in +their gay career. Omnibuses are laden with pleasure seekers +on their way to the Crystal Palace. Look, there is +“affliction sore” displayed on many a countenance and +felt in many a heart. Mary Anne, who knows she is +undeniably late, and deserves to be left behind, thinks that her +young man won’t wait for her. Little Mrs. B. sits +trembling with a dark cloud upon her brow, for she knows Mr. B. +has been at the station since one, and it is now past two. +Look at the pale, wan girl in the corner, asking if they will be +in time to catch the train for Hastings. You may well ask, +poor girl. Haste is vain now. Your hours are +numbered—the sands of your little life are just +run—your bloodless lip, your sunken eye, with its light not +of this world—your hectic cheek, from which the soft bloom +of youth has been rudely driven, make one feel emphatically in +your case that “no medicine, though it oft’ can cure, +can always balk the tomb.” What have you been—a +dressmaker, stitching fashionable silks for beauty, and at the +same time a plain shroud for yourself? What have you +been—a governess, rearing young lives at the sacrifice of +your own? What have you been—a daughter of sin and +shame? Ah, well, it is not for me to cast a stone at +you. Hasten on, every moment now <!-- page 96--><a +name="page96"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 96</span>is worth a +king’s ransom, and may He who never turned a daughter away +soften your pillow and sustain your heart in the dark hour I see +too plainly about to come. What is this, a chaise and four +greys. So young Jones has done it at last. Is he +happy, or has he already found his Laura slow, and has she +already begun to suspect that her Jones may turn out “a +wretch” after all. I know not yet has the sound of +his slightly vinous and foggy eloquence died away; still ring in +his ears the applause which greeted his announcement that +“the present is the proudest of my life,” and his +resolution, in all time to come, in sunshine and in storm, to +cherish in his heart of hearts the lovely being whom he now calls +his bride; but as he leans back there think you that already he +sees another face—for Jones has been a man-about-town, and +sometimes such as he get touched. This I know—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Feebly must they have felt<br /> +Who in old time attired with snakes and whips<br /> +The vengeful furies.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>And even Jones may regret he married Laura and quarrelled with +Rose,</p> +<blockquote><p>“A rosebud set with little wilful thorns<br +/> + And sweet as English air could make her.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>What a wonderful thing it is when a man finds himself married, +all the excitement of the chase over. Let all Jones’ +and Laura’s and persons about to marry see well that they +are really in love before they take the final plunge. But +hear that big party behind in a <!-- page 97--><a +name="page97"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 97</span>Hansom, using +most improper language. Take it easy, my dear sir, you may +catch the Dover train, you may cross to Calais, you may rush on +to Paris, but the electric telegraph has already told your crime, +and described your person. Therefore be calm, there is no +police officer dogging you, you are free for a few hours +yet. And now come our sleek city men, to Clapham and +Norwood, to dine greatly in their pleasant homes. The world +goes well with them, and indeed it ought, for they are honest as +the times go: are they slightly impatient, we cannot wonder at +it, the salmon may be overboiled, just because of that infernal +old coster’s cart. Hurra! it moves, and away go +busses, and carriages, and broughams, and hansoms, and a thousand +of Her Majesty’s subjects, rich and poor, old and young, +saint and sinner, are in a good temper again, and cease to break +the commandments. Stand here of a morning while London yet +slumbers; what waggons and carts laden with provisions from the +rich gardens of Surrey and Kent, come over London Bridge. +Later, see how the clerks, and shopmen, and shopwomen, +hurry. Later still, and what trains full of stockbrokers, +and commission agents, and city merchants, from a circle +extending as far as Brighton, daily are landed at the London +Bridge Stations, and cross over. Later still, and what +crowds of ladies from the suburbs come shopping, or to visit +London exhibitions. If we were inclined to be uncharitable, +we might question some of these fair dames; I dare say people +connected with <!-- page 98--><a name="page98"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 98</span>the divorce courts might insinuate +very unpleasant things respecting some of them; but let us hope +that they are the exception, and that if Mrs. C. meets some one +at the West End who is not Captain C., and that if the Captain +dines with a gay party at Hampton Court, when he has informed his +wife that business will detain him in town; or that if that +beauty now driving past in a brougham has no business to be +there, that these sickly sheep do not infect the flock, and, in +the language of good Dr. Watts, poison all the rest. Yet +there are tales of sin and sorrow connected with London +Bridge. Over its stony parapets, down into its dark and +muddy waters, have men leaped in madness, and women in shame; +there, at the dead of night, has slunk away the wretch who feared +what the coming morrow would bring forth, to die. And here +woman—deceived, betrayed, deserted, broken in heart, and +blasted beyond all hope of salvation—has sought +repose. A few hours after and the sun has shone brightly, +and men have talked gaily on the very spot from whence the poor +creatures leapt. Well may we exclaim—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Sky, oh were are thy cleansing waters<br /> +Earth, oh where will thy wonders end.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The Chronicles of Old London Bridge are many and of eternal +interest. When Sweyn, king of Denmark, on plunder and +conquest bent, sailed up the Thames, there was a London Bridge +with turrets and roofed bulwarks. From 994 to 1750, that +bridge, built and rebuilt many <!-- page 99--><a +name="page99"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 99</span>times, was +the sole land communication between the city and the Surrey bank +of the Thames. In Queen Elizabeth’s time the bridge +had become a stately one. Norden describes it as adorned +with “sumptuous buildings and statelie, and beautiful +houses on either syde,” like one continuous street, except +“certain wyde places for the retyre of passengers from the +danger of cars, carts, and droves of cattle, usually passing that +way.” Near the drawbridge, and overhanging the river, +was the famed Nonsuch House, imported from Holland, built +entirely of timber, four stories high, richly carved and +gilt. At the Southwark end was the Traitor’s Gate, +where dissevered and ghastly heads were hung suspended in the +air. In 1212, the Southwark end caught fire, and 3000 +persons perished miserably in the flames. In 1264 Henry +III. was repulsed here by Simon de Mountfort, earl of +Leicester. Thundering along this road to sudden death +rushed Wat Tyler, in 1381. Here came forth the citizens, in +all their bravery, ten years after, to meet Richard II. +Henry V. passed over this bridge twice, once in triumph, and once +to be laid down in his royal tomb. In 1450, we hear a voice +exclaiming: “Jack Cade hath gotten London Bridge, and the +citizens fly and forsake their houses;” and thus the +chronicle goes on. Nor must we forget the maid servant of +one Higges, a needle-maker, who, in carelessly placing some hot +coals under some stairs, set fire to the house, and thus raised a +conflagration which appears to have been of the most extensive +character. <!-- page 100--><a name="page100"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 100</span>On London Bridge lived Holbein and +Hogarth. Swift and Pope used to visit Arnold the bookseller +on this bridge. From off this bridge leaped an industrious +apprentice to save the life of his master’s infant +daughter, dropped into the river by a careless nursemaid; the +father was Lord Mayor of London. The industrious apprentice +married the daughter, and the great-grandson of the happy pair +was the first duke of Leeds. On the first of August, 1831, +New London Bridge was opened with great pomp by King William IV., +and since then the stream of life across the bridge has rushed +without intermission on.</p> +<h2><!-- page 101--><a name="page101"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 101</span>CHAPTER X.<br /> +THE HOUSE OF COMMONS AND THE EARLY-CLOSING MOVEMENT.</h2> +<p>When is common sense to reign over man? According to Dr. +Cumming, in a few years we are to have the Millennium. Will +it be then? I fear not. At any rate, I am certain it +will not be before.</p> +<p>Look, for instance, at the House of Commons: the Lords meet +for debate a little after five, p.m., and separate generally a +little before six, p.m., and it is perfectly astonishing what an +immense amount of business they get through; but the Commons meet +at four, p.m., and sit till one or two, a.m.; the consequence is, +that very little business is done: that we have a great deal too +much talking; that really conscientious members, who will not +forsake their duties, but remain at their posts, are knocked up, +and have to cut Parliament for a time; and that what business is +done is often performed in the most slovenly and unsatisfactory +manner. A few minutes’ reflection will make this +clear. A bill is introduced, or, rather, leave is given to +a member to bring <!-- page 102--><a name="page102"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 102</span>it in. It is read a first +time. To the first reading of a bill generally little +opposition is made. The member who introduces it makes a +long speech in its favour, and little discussion takes +place. The real fight is when it is read a second +time. There are many ways of throwing out a bill without +the discourtesy of a positive rejection. The first of these +means consists in giving a preference to other +“orders;” the second is, moving “the previous +question.” Another is, moving “that the second +reading take place this day six months.” If the bill +get over the second reading, it then goes into committee, when +objectionable clauses are struck out and fresh ones added, till +the original proposer of the bill can hardly recognise his +offspring. The bill is then read a third time, and +afterwards sent up to the Lords. Possibly the Lords object +to some parts of it; a conference with the Commons is then +desired, which accordingly takes place, the deputation of the +Commons standing with uncovered heads, while the Lords, with hats +on, retain their seats. The matter being amicably arranged, +and a disagreeable collision avoided, the bill is passed through +the Lords, where it usually creates a far more orderly and less +passionate debate than it has done in the Commons. The +Lords being assembled in their own House, the Sovereign, or the +Commissioners, seated, and the Commons at the bar, the titles of +the several bills which have passed both Houses are read, and the +King or Queen’s answer is declared by the clerk of the +Parliaments in Norman-French. <!-- page 103--><a +name="page103"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 103</span>To a bill +of supply the assent is given in the following +words:—“<i>Le roy</i> (or, <i>la reine</i>) +<i>remercie ses loyal subjects</i>, <i>accepte leur +bénévolence et ainsi le veut</i>.” To a +private bill it is thus declared:—“<i>Soit fait comme +il est desiré</i>.” And to public general +bills it is given in these terms:—“<i>Le roy</i> (or, +<i>la reine</i>) <i>le vent</i>.” Should the +Sovereign refuse his assent, it is in the gentle language of +“<i>Le roy</i> (or, <i>la reine</i>) +<i>s’aviser</i>.” As acts of grace and amnesty +originate with the Crown, the clerk, expressing the gratitude of +the subject, addresses the throne as follows:—“<i>Les +prélats</i>, <i>seigneurs</i>, <i>et commons</i>, <i>en ce +present Parliament assemblés</i>, <i>au nom de tout vous +autres subjects</i>,<i> remercient très-humblement votre +majesté</i>, <i>et prient à Dieu vous donner en +santé bonne vie et longue</i>.” The moment the +royal assent has been given, that which was a bill becomes an +Act, and <i>instantly</i> has the force and effect of law, unless +some time for the commencement of its operation should have been +specially appointed. Occasionally a bill is introduced in +the form of a motion, at other times as a resolution, but +generally the bill is the favourite form. Any bill which +the Lords can originate may be introduced and laid on the table +by any individual peer, without the previous permission of the +house; but in the Commons, no bill can be brought in unless a +motion for leave be previously agreed to. Mr. Dodd tells +us, “During the progress of a bill the House <i>may</i> +divide on the following questions:—1. Leave to bring it +in. 2. When brought in, whether it shall then be read a +first time, and if not, when? 3. On <!-- page 104--><a +name="page104"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 104</span>the first +reading. 4. On the second reading. 5. That it be +committed. 6. On the question that the Speaker do leave the +chair, for the house to resolve itself into such committee. +7. That the report of the committee be received. 8. That +the bill be re-committed. 9. That it be engrossed. +10. That it be read a third time. 11. That it do +pass. 12. The title of the bill. These are quite +exclusive of any divisions concerning the particular days to be +appointed for proceeding with any stage of the measure, or of any +proceedings in committee, or any amendments, or any clauses added +to or expunged from the measure in or out of +committee.” Thus it is Acts of Parliament often made +in one sense are ruled by the judges to have another, and we have +Acts to amend Acts in endless succession. Tom Moore tells +us of an Act of Parliament referring to a new prison, in which it +was stated that the new one should be built with the materials of +the old, and that the prisoners were to remain in the old prison +till the new one was ready. This is an extreme case, but +blunders equally absurd are made every day.</p> +<p>What is the remedy? Why, none other than the panacea +recommended by Mr. Lilwall as applicable to every earthly +ill—the Early-closing Movement. Early closing in the +House of Commons would shut up the lawyers, who want to make long +speeches—the diners-out, who enter the House ofttimes in a +state of hilarity more calculated to heighten confusion than to +promote business—the young swells, to whom the House of +Commons <!-- page 105--><a name="page105"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 105</span>is a club, and nothing more. +We should have a smaller house, but one more ready to do +business; and if we should lose a few lawyers on promotion, and, +consequently, very industrious, very active, and very eloquent, +that loss would be compensated by the addition to the House of +many men of great talent and political capacity, who cannot stand +the late hours and the heated atmosphere, and the frightfully +lengthy speeches, and the furious partisanship of the House as at +present constituted.</p> +<p>I have seen it suggested that a large board should be placed +behind the Speaker’s chair; and that when any member makes +a point, or advances an argument, the point or argument, whether +for or against the measure, should be noted down and numbered; +that a speaker, instead of repeating the point or argument, as is +now the case, should simply mention the No. 1, 2, or 3, as the +case may be, and say, “I vote for the bill because of No. +1,” and so on. We should then have no vain +repetitions; business would be done better, and more speedily; +members would not be confused; the reporters would not have so +much trouble as now; and the patient public would be spared the +infliction in their daily organs of column after column of +parliamentary debate. The advantage of the Early-closing +Movement in the House of Commons would be, that it would compel +the House to adopt some measure of the kind. It is curious +to trace the increase of late hours. In Clarendon’s +time “the House met always at eight o’clock and rose +at <!-- page 106--><a name="page106"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +106</span>twelve, which were the old parliamentary hours, that +the committees, upon whom the great burden of the business lay, +might have the afternoon for their preparation and +despatch.” Sometimes the House seems to have met at +cock-crowing. In the journals and old orders of the House +we find such entries as the following:—“March 26, +1604. Having obtained permission of her Majesty to attend +at eight, the Commons previously met at six to treat on what +shall be delivered tending the reason of their +proceedings.” Again, “May 31, 1614. +Ordered, that the House shall sit every day at seven +o’clock in the morning, and to begin to read bills for the +first time at ten.” The journals record that on +Sunday, August 8, 1641, at six o’clock a.m., the Commons go +down to St. Margaret’s, and hear prayers and a sermon, +returning to the House at nine. This, however, was +occasioned by the eagerness of the members to prevent the +king’s journey to Scotland, and a minute was made that it +should not be considered as a precedent. The Long +Parliament resolved, “that whosoever shall not be here at +prayers every morning at eight o’clock shall pay one +shilling to the poor.” James I. mentioned as an +especial grievance, that the Commons brought the protestation +concerning their liberties into the House <i>at six o’clock +at night</i>, <i>by candle-light</i>! “I move,” +said Serjeant Wylde, “against sitting in the +afternoon. This council is a grave council and sober, and +ought not to do things in the dark.” Sir A. +Haselrigge said he never knew good come of candles. Sir +William Waddington <!-- page 107--><a name="page107"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 107</span>brought in two from the clerk +against the direction of the House, and was committed to the +Tower next morning. Having sat on the occasion till seven, +Sir H. Vane complained, “We are not able to hold out +sitting thus in the night.” After the Revolution +matters got worse. Bishop Burnet complains that the House +did not meet till twelve; and in the next generation Speaker +Onslow adds, “This is grown shamefully of late, even to two +of the clock.” In the time of Pitt and Fox the evil +reached its climax. The motion for the Speaker leaving the +chair on Fox’s India Bill was put to the vote at half-past +four in the morning. During the Westminster scrutiny the +House sometimes sat till six a.m. Pitt, speaking on the +slave-trade, introduced his beautiful quotation relative to the +sun as it was then just bursting on his audience. Sir +Samuel Romilly tells us that he would not unfrequently go to bed +at his usual time, and rising next morning somewhat earlier than +usual would go down to be present at the division. I think +it was during the Reform debates that an hon. M.P., having been +present at the discussion the previous night, and being desirous +to secure a good place the next evening, went down to the House +early in the morning for that special purpose, and found the +debate, at the commencement of which he had been present, and +which he thought had long been over, proceeding hotly and +furiously. In the last session of parliament the house +sinned greatly in this respect. I am told this state of +things is for the advantage of the lawyers, who otherwise would +not be <!-- page 108--><a name="page108"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 108</span>able to attend in the House at all; +but it may be questioned whether this is such a benefit as some +suppose, and certainly the midnight hour, especially after mind +and body have alike been jaded by the strain of a long debate, is +not the best for passing measures of a legislative character; and +yet it is in the small hours, when members are weary, or, we +fear, in some cases slightly vinous, or indifferent and +apathetic, that most of the real business of the nation is +performed. Now against this bad habit for many years Mr. +Brotherton waged an incessant but unsuccessful war. As soon +as ever midnight arrived the hon. gentleman was on his legs, +warning honourable members of its arrival, and of the injury +which late hours must necessarily occasion to their own health, +and to the satisfactory progress of public business. In his +attempts Mr. Brotherton then was aiming as much at the good of +the nation as well as the advantage of the members of the +House. Many were the scenes occasioned by Mr. +Brotherton’s importunity. Mr. Grant says, “I +have seen one look him most imploringly in the face, and heard +him say, in tones and with a manner as coaxing as if the party +had been wooing his mistress, ‘Do not just yet, Mr. +Brotherton; wait one half hour until this business be disposed +of.’ I have seen a second seize him by the right arm, +while a third grasped him by the left, with the view of causing +him to resume his seat, and when his sense of duty overcame all +these efforts to seduce or force him from its path, I have seen a +fourth honourable gentleman <!-- page 109--><a +name="page109"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 109</span>rush to the +assistance of the others, and taking hold of the tail of his +coat, literally press him to his seat. I have seen Mr. +Brotherton, with a perseverance beyond all praise, in his +righteous and most patriotic cause, suddenly start again to his +feet in less than five minutes, and move a second time the +adjournment of the House, and I have again had the misfortune to +see physical force triumph over the best moral purposes. +Five or six times have I witnessed the repetition of this in one +night. On one occasion, I remember seeing an honourable +member actually clap his hand on Mr. Brotherton’s mouth, in +order to prevent his moving the dreaded adjournment.” +Constant ill-success damped Mr. Brotherton’s ardour. +There was a time when his object seemed attained, but in the last +session he attended the Commons were as bad as ever. Mr. +Brotherton having made a futile attempt when the session was +young, in favour of the Early-closing Movement, abandoned his +position in despair. The call for Brotherton ceased to be a +watchword with our less hopeful senators, and Mr. +Bouverie’s view, that more business was got through after +twelve o’clock at night than before, appeared to be +generally acquiesced in, with a species of reluctant despair +which was unanswerable. Still it is true that early to bed +and early to rise will make the Commons more healthy and wise, +though the general practice seems to be the other way.</p> +<h2><!-- page 110--><a name="page110"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 110</span>CHAPTER XI.<br /> +TOWN MORALS.</h2> +<p>Have you seen Charles Matthews in “Used Up?” +Sir Charles Coldstream represents us all. We are +everlastingly seeking a sensation, and never finding it. +Sir Charles’s valet’s description of him describes us +all:—“He’s always sighing for what he calls +excitement—you see, everything is old to +him—he’s used up—nothing amuses him—he +can’t feel.” And so he looks in the crater of +Vesuvius and finds nothing in it, and the Bay of Naples he +considers inferior to that of Dublin—the Campagna to him is +a swamp—Greece a morass—Athens a bad +Edinburgh—Egypt a desert—the pyramids humbugs. +The same confession is on every one’s lips. The boy +of sixteen, with a beardless chin, has a melancholy +<i>blasé</i> air; the girl gets wise, mourns over the +vanity of life, and laughs at love as a romance; a +heart—unless it be a bullock’s, and well +cooked,—is tacitly understood to be a mistake; and +conscience a thing that no one can afford to keep. Our +young men are bald at twenty-five, and woman is exhausted still +sooner. I am told Quakers <!-- page 111--><a +name="page111"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 111</span>are +sometimes moved by the spirit. I am told mad Ranters sing, +and preach, and roar as if they were in earnest. I hear +that there is even enthusiasm amongst the Mormons; but that +matters little. We are very few of us connected with such +<i>outre</i> sects, and the exceptions but prove the rule.</p> +<p>But a truce to generalities. Let us give modern +instances. Look at Jenkins, the genteel stockbroker. +In autumn he may be seen getting into his brougham, which already +contains his better-half and the olive-branches that have blessed +their mutual loves. This brougham will deposit the +Jenkinses, and boxes of luggage innumerable, at the Brighton +Railway Terminus, whence it is their intention to start for that +crowded and once fashionable watering-place. Jenkins has +been dying all the summer of the heat. Why, like the +blessed ass as he is, did he stop in town, when for a few +shillings he might have been braced and cooled by sea breezes, +but because of that monotony which forbids a man consulting +nature and common sense. Jenkins only goes out of town when +the fashionable world goes; he would not for the life of him +leave till the season was over.</p> +<p>Again, does ever the country look lovelier than when the snows +of winter reluctantly make way for the first flowers of +spring? Is ever the air more balmy or purer than when the +young breath of summer, like a tender maiden, kisses timidly the +cheek, and winds its way, like a blessing from above, to the +weary heart? Does ever the sky look bluer, or the sun more +glorious, or the <!-- page 112--><a name="page112"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 112</span>earth more green, or is ever the +melody of birds more musical, than then? and yet at that time the +<i>beau monde</i> must resort to town, and London drawing-rooms +must emit a polluted air, and late hours must enfeeble, and +bright eyes must become dull, and cheeks that might have vied in +loveliness with the rose, sallow and pale.</p> +<p>It is a fine thing for a man to get hold of a good cause; one +of the finest sights that earth can boast is that of a man or set +of men standing up to put into action what they know to be some +blessed God-sent truth. A Cromwell mourning the flat Popery +of St. Paul’s—a Luther, before principalities and +powers, exclaiming, “Here stand I and will not move, so +help me God!”—a Howard making a tour of the jails of +Europe, and dying alone and neglected on the shores of the Black +Sea—a Henry Martyn leaving the cloistered halls of +Cambridge, abandoning the golden prospects opening around him, +and abandoning what is dearer still, the evils of youth, to +preach Christ, and Him crucified, beneath the burning and fatal +sun of the East—or a Hebrew maiden, like Jepthah’s +daughter, dying for her country or her country’s +good,—are sights rare and blessed, and beautiful and +divine. All true teachers are the same, and are glorious to +behold. For a time no one regards their testimony. +The man stands by himself—a reed, but not shaken by the +wind—a voice crying in the wilderness—a John the +Baptist nursed in the wilds, and away from the deadening spell of +the world. <!-- page 113--><a name="page113"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 113</span>Then comes the influence of the +solitary thinker on old fallacies; the young and the enthusiastic +rush to his side, the sceptic and the scoffer one by one +disappear, and the world is conquered; or if it be not so, if he +languishes in jail like Galileo, or wanders on the face of the +earth seeking rest and finding none, like our Puritan +forefathers; or die, as many an hero has died, as the Christ did, +when the power of the Prince of Darkness prevailed, and the veil +of the Temple was rent in twain; still there is for him a +resurrection, when a coming age will honour his memory, collect +his scattered ashes, and build them a fitting tomb. Yet +even this kind of heroism has come to be but a monotonous +affair.</p> +<p>Now-a-days the thing can be done, and in one way—a +meeting at Exeter Hall, a dinner at Freemasons’ tavern, +Harker for toast-master, a few vocalists to sing between the +pieces, and for chairman a lord by all means; if possible, a +royal duke. The truest thing about us is our +appetite. Our appreciation of a hero is as our appreciation +of a coat; a saviour of a nation and a Soyer we class together, +and do justice to both at the same time. We moderns eat +where our fathers bled. Our powers we show by the number of +bottles of wine we can consume; our devotion is to our dinners; +the sword has made way for the carving-knife; our battle is +against the ills to which gluttonness and wine-bibbing flesh is +heir; the devil that comes to us is the gout; the hell in which +we believe and against which we fight is indigestion; our means +of grace are blue pill and <!-- page 114--><a +name="page114"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 114</span>black +draught. All art and science and lettered lore, all the +memories of the past and the hopes of the future—</p> +<blockquote><p>“All thoughts, all passions, all +delights—<br /> +Whatever stirs this mortal frame,”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>now-a-days, tend to dinner. Our sympathy with the +unfortunate females, or the indigent blind, with the propagation +of the Gospel in foreign parts, or with the diffusion of useful +knowledge at home—with the Earl of Derby or Mr. +Cobden—with Lord John Russell or Mr. Disraeli—with +the soldier who has blustered and bullied till the world has +taken him for a hero—with the merchant who has bound +together in the peaceful pursuits of trade hereditary +foes—with the engineer who has won dominion over time and +space—with the poet who has sat</p> +<blockquote><p> “In the +light of thought<br /> + Singing hymns unbidden,<br /> + Till the world is wrought<br /> +To sympathy, with hopes and joys it heeded not,”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>finds a common mode of utterance, and that utterance to all +has a common emphasis. Even the Church apes the world in +this respect; and even that section which calls itself +non-conforming, conforms here. When dinner is concerned, it +forgets to protest, and becomes dumb. Dr. Watts might +sing,</p> +<blockquote><p>“Lord, what a wretched land is this<br /> + That yields us no supplies;”</p> +</blockquote> +<p><!-- page 115--><a name="page115"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +115</span>but his successors do not. I read of grand +ordination dinners, of grand dinners when a new chapel is erected +or an old pastor retires. But lately I saw one reverend +gentleman at law with another. Most of my readers will +recollect the case. It was that of Tidman against +Ainslie. Dr. Tidman triumphs, and the Missionary Society is +vindicated. What was the consequence?—a dinner to Dr. +Tidman at the Guildhall Coffee-house, at which all the leading +ministers of the denomination to which he belonged were +present.</p> +<p>The Queen is the fountain of honour. What has been the +manner of men selected for royal honour? The last instance +is Lord Dudley, who has been made an earl. Why? Is it +that he lent Mr. Lumley nearly £100,000 to keep the +Haymarket Opera House open? because really this is all the +general public knows about Lord Dudley. The other day Lord +Derby was the means of getting a peerage for a wealthy and +undistinguished commoner. Is it come to this, then, that we +give to rich men, as such, honours which ought to be precious, +and awarded by public opinion to the most gifted and the most +illustrious of our fellows. If in private life I toady a +rich swell, that I may put my feet under his mahogany, and drink +his wine, besides making an ass of myself, I do little harm; but +if we prostitute the honours of the nation, the nation itself +suffers; and, as regards noble sentiments and enlightened public +spirit, withers and declines.</p> +<p>Guizot says—and if he had not said it somebody <!-- page +116--><a name="page116"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +116</span>else would—that our civilization is yet +young. I believe it. At present it is little better +than an experiment. If it be a good, it is not without its +disadvantages. It has its drawbacks. Man gives up +something for it. One of its greatest evils perhaps is its +monotony, which makes us curse and mourn our fate—which +forces from our lips the exclamation of Mariana, in the +“Moated Grange”—</p> +<blockquote><p>“I’m a aweary, aweary—<br /> +Oh, would that I were dead;”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>or which impels us, with the “Blighted Being” of +Locksley Hall, to long to “burst all bonds of habit and to +wander far away.” Do these lines chance to attract +the attention of one of the lords of creation—of one +who,</p> +<blockquote><p>“Thoughtless of mamma’s alarms,<br /> +Sports high-heeled boots and whiskers,”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>—what is it, we would ask, most magnanimous Sir, in the +most delicate manner imaginable, that keeps you standing by the +hour together, looking out of the window of your club in Pall +Mall, in the utter weariness of your heart, swearing now at the +weather, now at the waiter, and, anon, muttering something about +your dreaming that you dwelt in marble halls, but that very +monotony of civilization which we so much deprecate? Were +it not for that, you might be working in this working +world—touching the very kernel and core of life, instead of +thus feeding on its shell. <!-- page 117--><a +name="page117"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 117</span>And if it +be that the soft eye of woman looks down on what we now write, +what is it, we would ask, O peerless paragon, O celestial +goddess, but the same feeling that makes you put aside the last +new novel, and, in shameless defiance of the rules taught in that +valuable publication and snob’s <i>vade +mecum</i>—“Hints on the Etiquette and the Usages of +Society,” actually yawn—aye, yawn, when that gold +watch, hanging by your most fairy-like and loveliest of forms, +does not tell one hour that does not bear with it from earth to +heaven some tragedy acted—some villainy achieved—some +heroic thing done: aye, yawn, when before you is spread out the +great <i>rôle</i> of life, with its laughter and +tears—with its blasts from hell—with its odours +coming down from heaven itself. A brave, bold, +noble-hearted Miss Nightingale breaks through this monotony, and +sails to nurse the wounded or the dying of our army in the East, +and “Common Sense” writes in newspapers against such +a noble act; and a religious paper saw in it Popery at the very +least. What a howl has there been in some quarters because +a few clergymen have taken to preaching in theatres! Even, +woman’s heart, with its gushing sympathies, has become dead +and shrivelled up, where that relentless scourge—that demon +of our time, the monotony of civilization—has been suffered +to intrude. It is owing to that, that when we look for +deeds angels might love to do, our daughters, and sisters, and +those whom we most passionately love, scream out Italian songs +which neither they <!-- page 118--><a name="page118"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 118</span>nor we understand, and bring to us, +as the result of their noblest energies, a fancy bag or a chain +of German wool. Such is the result of what Sir W. Curtis +termed the three R’s and the usual accomplishments. +Humanity has been stereotyped. We follow one another like a +flock of sheep. We have levelled with a vengeance; we have +reduced the doctrine of human equality to an absurdity—we +live alike, think alike, die alike. A party in a parlour in +Belgrave Square, “all silent and all d---d,” is as +like a party in a parlour in Hackney as two peas. The beard +movement was a failure; so was the great question of hat reform, +and for similar reasons. We still scowl upon a man with a +wide-a-wake, as we should upon a pick-pocket or a +cut-throat. A leaden monotony hangs heavy on us all. +Not more does one man or woman differ from another than does +policeman A1 differ from policeman A 999. Individuality +seems gone: independent life no longer exists. Our very +thought and inner life is that of Buggins, who lives next +door. The skill of the tailor has made us all one, and man, +as God made him, cuts but a sorry figure by the side of man as +his tailor made him. This is an undeniable fact: it is not +only true but <i>the</i> truth. One motive serves for every +variety of deed—for dancing the polka or marrying a +wife—for wearing white gloves or worshipping the Most +High. “At any rate, my dears,” said a +fashionable dame to her daughters when they turned round to go +home, on finding that the crowded state of the church to which +they repaired would not admit of their worshipping <!-- page +119--><a name="page119"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +119</span>according to Act of Parliament,—“At any +rate, my dears, we have done the genteel thing.” By +that mockery to God she had made herself right in the sight of +man. Actually we are all so much alike that not very long +since in Madrid a journeyman tailor was mistaken for a +Prince. It is not always that such extreme cases happen; +but the tendency of civilization, as we have it now, is to work +us all up into one common, unmeaning whole—to confound all +the old distinctions by which classes were marked—to mix up +the peasant and the prince, more by bringing down the latter than +elevating the former; and thus we all become unmeaning, and +monotonous, and common-place. The splendid livery in which +“Jeames” rejoices may show that he is footman to a +family that dates from the Conquest: it may be that he is footman +to the keeper of the ham and beef shop near London Bridge. +The uninitiated cannot tell the difference. A man says he +is a lord; otherwise we should not take him for one of the nobles +of the earth. A man puts on a black gown, and says he is a +religious teacher: otherwise we should not take him for one who +could understand and enlighten the anxious yearnings of the human +heart. The old sublime faith in God and heaven is +gone. We have had none of it since the days of old Noll: it +went out when Charles and his mistresses came in. But +instead, we have a world of propriety and conventionalism. +We have a universal worshipping of Mrs. Grundy. A craven +fear sits in the hearts of all. Men dare not be generous, +high-minded, and true. A <!-- page 120--><a +name="page120"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 120</span>man dares +not act otherwise than the class by which he is surrounded: he +must conform to their regulations or die; outside the pale there +is no hope. If he would not be as others are, it were +better that a millstone were hung round his neck and that he were +cast into the sea. If, as a tradesman, he will not devote +his energies to money-making—if he will not rise up early +and sit up late—if he will not starve the mind—if he +will not violate the conditions by which the physical and mental +powers are sustained—he will find that in Christian +England, in the nineteenth century, there is no room for such as +he. The externals which men in their ignorance have come to +believe essential to happiness, he will see +another’s. Great city +“feeds”—white-bait dinners at Blackwall, and +“genteel residences,” within a few miles of the Bank +or the bridges—fat coachmen and fiery +steeds—corporation honours and emoluments,—a man may +seek in vain if he will not take first, the ledger for his +Gospel, and mammon for his God. It is just the same with +the professions. Would the “most distinguished +counsel” ever have a brief were he to scorn to employ the +powers God has given him to obtain impunity for the man whose +heart’s life has become polluted with crime beyond the +power of reform. Many a statesman has to thank a similar +laxity of conscience for his place and power.</p> +<h2><!-- page 121--><a name="page121"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 121</span>CHAPTER XI.<br /> +THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED.</h2> +<p>I am not in the best of humours. The wind and weather of +the last few months have been bad enough to vex the temper and +destroy the patience of a saint. I wish the papers would +write a little more about reforms at home, and not trouble +themselves about the Emperor of the French. I wish country +gentlemen, when airing their vocabularies at agricultural +dinners, would not talk so much of our friends across the water +being desirous to avenge the disgrace of Waterloo, as if there +were any disgrace to France, after having been a match, +single-handed, for all Europe for a generation, in being +compelled to succumb at last. I wish we could be content +with trading with China, without sending ambassadors to Pekin, +and endeavouring by fair means or foul to make that ancient city, +as regards red-tapeism and diplomatic quarrels, as great a +nuisance as Constantinople is now. I wish Mr. George +Augustus Sala, with that wonderful talent of his for imitating +Dickens and Thackeray, would quite forget there was such <!-- +page 122--><a name="page122"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +122</span>gentlemen in the world, and write independently of +them. And I wish the little essayists, who copy Mr. George +Augustus Sala, and are so very smart and facetious by his aid, +would either swim without corks, or not swim at all. Thank +heaven, none of them are permanent, and most of them speedily +sink down into limbo. Where are the gaudily-covered +miscellanies, and other light productions of this class? if not +dead, why on every second-hand book-stall in London, in vain +seeking a sale at half-price, and dear at the money. But +the spirit of which they are the symptom, of which they are the +outward and visible sign, lives. Directly you take up one +of these books, you know what is coming. But after all, why +quarrel with these butterflies, who, at any rate, have a good +conceit of themselves, if they have but a poor opinion of +others? Fontaine tells of a motherly crab, who exclaimed +against the obliquity of her daughter’s gait, and asked +whether she could not walk straight. The young crab +pleaded, very reasonably, the similarity of her parent’s +manner of stepping, and asked whether she could be expected to +walk differently from the rest of the family?</p> +<p>This fable throws me back on general principles; our +writers—our preachers—our statesmen, are fearful, and +tremble at the appearance of originality. The age overrules +us all, society is strong, and the individual is consequently +weak. We have no patrons now, but, instead, we have a +mob. Attend a public meeting,—the speaker who is the +most applauded, is the man most <!-- page 123--><a +name="page123"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 123</span>given to +exaggeration. Listen to a popular preacher,—is he not +invariably the most commonplace, and in his sermons least +suggestive, of men? When a new periodical is projected, +what care is taken that it shall contain nothing to offend, as if +a man or writer were worth a rap that did not come into collision +with some prejudices, and trample on some corns. In +describing some ceremony where beer had been distributed, a +teetotal reporter, writing for a teetotal public, omitted all +mention of the beer. This is ridiculous, but such things +are done every day in all classes. Society exercises a +censorship over the press of the most distinctive +character. The song says,</p> +<blockquote><p>“Have faith in one another.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I say, have faith in yourself. This faith in oneself +would go far to put society in a better position than it +is. A common complaint in everybody’s mouth is the +want of variety in individual character—the dreary monotony +we find everywhere pervading society. Men and women, lads +and maidens, boys and girls, if we may call the little dolls +dressed up in crinoline and flounces, and the young gentlemen in +patent-leather boots, such, are all alike. Civilization is +a leveller of the most destructive kind. Man is timid, +imitative, and lazy. Hence, it is to the past we must turn, +whenever we would recall to our minds how sublime and great man, +in his might and majesty, may become. Hence it is we can +reckon upon but few who dare to stand alone in devotedness to +truth and human right. Most men are <!-- page 124--><a +name="page124"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 124</span>enslaved by +the opinions of the little clique in which they move; they can +never imagine that beyond their little circle there can exist +anything that is lovely or of good report. We are the men, +and wisdom will die with us, is the burden of their song. +We judge not according to abstract principles, but conventional +ideas. Ask a young lady, of average intelligence, +respecting some busy hive of industry, and intelligence, and +life. “Oh!” she exclaims, “there is no +society in such a place.” Ask an evangelical +churchman as to a certain locality, and he will reply, “Oh +it is very dark, dark, indeed;” as if there was a spot on +this blessed earth where God’s sun did not shine. The +dancing Bayaderes, who visited London some fifteen years back, +were shocked at what they conceived the immodest attire of our +English dames, who, in their turn, were thankful that they did +not dress as the Bayaderes. All uneducated people, or +rather all unreflective people, are apt to reason in this way; +orthodoxy is my doxy, heterodoxy, yours. But we English, +especially, are liable to this fallacy, on account of our insular +position, and the reserve and phlegm of our national +character. Abroad people travel more, come more into +collision with each other, socially are more equal. We can +only recognize goodness and greatness in certain forms. +People must be well-dressed, must be of respectable family, must +go to church, and then they may carry on any rascality. Sir +John Dean Paul, Redpath, and others, were types of this +class. Hence it is society stagnates—such is a +description of a <!-- page 125--><a name="page125"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 125</span>general law, illustrated in all +history, especially our own. Society invariably sets itself +against all great improvements in their birth. Society +gives the cold shoulder to whatever has lifted up the human +race—to whatever has illustrated and adorned +humanity—to whatever has made the world wiser and +better. Our fathers stoned the prophets, and we continue +the amiable custom. Our judgment is not our own, but that +of other people. We think what will other people think? our +first question is not, Is a course of action right or wrong? but; +What will Mr. Grundy say? Here is the great blunder of +blunders. John the Baptist lived in a desert. +“If I had read as much as other men,” said Hobbes, +“I should have been as ignorant as they.” +“When I began to write against indulgences,” says +Luther, “I was for three years entirely alone; not a single +soul holding out the hand of fellowship and coöperation to +me.” Of Milton, Wordsworth writes, “his soul +was like a star, and dwelt apart.”</p> +<p>The great original thinker of the last generation, John +Foster, actually fled the face of man. What a life of +persecution and misrepresentation had Arnold of Rugby to endure, +and no wonder, when we quote against the conclusions of common +sense the imaginary opinions of an imaginary scarecrow we term +society. This deference to the opinion of others is an +unmitigated evil. In no case is it a legitimate rule of +action. The chances are that society is on the wrong side, +as men of independent thought and action are in the minority, +<!-- page 126--><a name="page126"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +126</span>and even if society be right; it is not from a desire +to win her smile or secure her favour that a man should +act. It is not the judgment of others that a man must seek, +but his own; it is by that he must act—by that he must +stand or fall—by that he must live—and by that he +must die. All real life is internal, all honest action is +born of honest thought; out of the heart are the issues of +life. The want of exercising one’s own understanding +has been admirably described by Locke. It is that, he says, +which weakens and extinguishes this noble faculty in us. +“Trace it, and see whether it be not so; the day labourer +in a country village has commonly but a small pittance of +knowledge, because his ideas and notions have been confined to +the narrow bounds of a poor conversation and employment; the low +mechanic of a country town does somewhat outdo him—porters +and cobblers of great cities surpass him. A country +gentleman, leaving Latin and Learning in the University, who +returns thence to his mansion-house, and associates with his +neighbours of the same strain, who relish nothing but hunting and +a bottle; with these alone he spends his time, with these alone +he converses, and can away with no company whose discourses go +beyond what claret and dissoluteness inspire. Such a +patriot, formed in this happy day of improvement, cannot fail, we +see, to give notable decisions upon the bench at quarter +sessions, and eminent proofs of his skill in politics, when the +strength of his purse, and party, have advanced him to a more +<!-- page 127--><a name="page127"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +127</span>auspicious situation. * * * To carry this a little +further: here is one muffled up in the zeal and infallibility of +his own sect, and will not touch a book, or enter into debate, +with a person that will question any of those things which, to +him, are sacred.” People wonder now-a-days why we +have so many societies—the cause is the same. Men +cannot trust themselves; to do that requires exercise of the +understanding. A man must take his opinions from society; +he can do no battle with the devil unless he have an association +formed to aid him. At Oxford the example of an individual, +Dr. Livingstone, created a generous enthusiasm. A society +was formed under distinguished patronage, subscription lists were +opened, a public meeting was held, and the most renowned men of +the day—the Bishop of Oxford and Mr. Gladstone—lent +to the meeting not merely the attraction of their presence, but +the charm of their oratorical powers. The result is a very +small collection, and a talk of sending out six missionaries to +christianize Africa. When societies are formed there is no +end to the absurdities they are guilty of. Just think of +the men of science at Aberdeen, all rushing over hill and dale to +Balmoral, where they were permitted, not to converse with majesty +(that were too great an act of condescension), but to have lunch +in an apartment of the royal residence. Then, again, what +murmurs were there at Bradford, because, at the close of the +meeting, the younger members of the Social Reform Congress were +not permitted to dance the polka. If old <!-- page 128--><a +name="page128"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 128</span>Columbus +were alive now a new world would never have been +discovered. We should have had a limited liability company +established for the purpose. A board of lawyers, and +merchants, and M.P.’s, as directors, would have been +formed. Some good-natured newspaper editors would have +inserted some ingenious puffs,—the shares would have gone +up in the market,—the directors would have sold out at a +very fair rate of profit. Columbus would have made one or +two unsuccessful voyages—the shares would have gone +down—the company would have been wound up—and no +western continent, with its vast resources, would ever have been +heard of. I like the old plan best; I like to see a +man. If I go into the House of Commons I hear of men, +somewhat too much talk of men is there; on one side of the house +Pitt is quoted, on another Fox, or Peel, or Canning. If +Pitt, and Fox, and Canning, and Peel had done so depend upon it +we should never have heard their names. It is a poor sign +when our statesmen get into this habit; it is a mutual confession +of inability to act according to the wants and necessities of the +age. They quote great men to hide their littleness. +They imagine that by using the words of great statesmen they may +become such, or, at any rate, get the public to note them for +such themselves. They use the names of Pitt and Fox as +corks, by means of which they may keep afloat. Well, I must +fain do the same; while I rail against custom, I must e’en +follow her.</p> +<p>“He seems to me,” said old Montaigne, “to +have <!-- page 129--><a name="page129"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 129</span>had a right and true apprehension of +the power of custom, who first invented the story of a +country-woman who, having accustomed herself to play with and +carry a young calf in her arms, and daily continuing to do so as +it grew up obtained this by custom, that when grown to a great ox +she was still able to bear it. For, in truth, custom is a +violent and treacherous schoolmistress. She by little and +little, slyly and unperceived, slips in the foot of her +authority, but having by this gentle and humble beginning, with +the benefit of time, fixed and established it, she then unmasks a +furious and tyrannical countenance, against which we have no more +the courage or the power so much as to lift up our eyes. We +see it at every turn forcing and violating the rules of +nature. <i>Usus efficacissimus rerum omnium +magister</i>. Custom is the greatest master of all +things.”</p> +<p>And now I finish with a fable. A knight surprised a +giant of enormous size and wickedness sleeping, his head lying +under the shade of a big oak. The knight prayed to heaven +to aid his strength, and lifting his battle-axe dashed it with +all his might on the giant’s forehead. The giant +opened his eyes, and drowsily passing his hand over his eyes, +murmured, “The falling leaves trouble my rest,” and +straight he slumbered again. The knight summoned his +energies for another stroke, again whirled his axe in the air, +and furiously dashed it to the utter destruction of the +giant’s scull. The latter merely stirred, and said, +“The dropping acorns disturb my sleep.” The +knight flung down his <!-- page 130--><a name="page130"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 130</span>axe and fled in despair from an +enemy who held his fiercest blows and his vaunted and well-tried +might but as falling leaves and dropping acorns. Reader, so +do I. My hardest blows shall seem but as leaves and acorns +to the giant with whom I am at war, and would fain destroy.</p> +<h2><!-- page 131--><a name="page131"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 131</span>CHAPTER XII.<br /> +LONDON MATRIMONIAL.</h2> +<p>Last year 25,924 couples were married in the metropolis. +The Registrar-General tells us the increase of early marriages +chiefly occurs in the manufacturing and mining districts.</p> +<p>In London 2.74 of the men and 12.11 of the women who married +were not of full age. There is an excess of adults in the +metropolis at the marrying ages over 21; and there are not +apparently the same inducements to marry early, as exist in the +Midland counties.</p> +<p>Sir Cresswell Cresswell must have but a poor opinion of +matrimony. At the very moment of my writing, I am told +there are six hundred divorce cases in arrear; that is, after the +hundreds whose chains he has loosened, there are, it appears, +already twelve hundred more of injured wives and husbands eager +to be free. The evil, such as it is, will extend +itself. Under the old system there was, practically +speaking, no redress, and a man and woman tied together would +endeavour to <!-- page 132--><a name="page132"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 132</span>make the best of it; now, if they +feel the more they quarrel and disagree with each other, the +better chance they have of being at liberty, it is to be feared, +in some cases, husband and wife will not try so heartily to +forget and forgive, as husbands and wives ought to do. I do +not say there ought not to be liberty, where all love has long +since died out, and been followed by bad faith and cruelty, and +neglect. I believe there should be, and that the Divorce +Act was an experiment imperatively required. Where mutual +love has been exchanged for mutual hate, it is hard that human +law should bind together, in what must be life-long +misery—misery perhaps not the less intense that it has +uttered no word of complaint, made no sign, been unsuspected by +the world, yet all the while dragging its victim to an early or +premature grave. But human nature is a poor weak thing, and +many a silly man or silly woman may think that Sir Cresswell +Cresswell may prove a healing physician, when their malady was +more in themselves than they cared to believe. I hear of +one case where a lady having £15,000 a-year in her own +right, has run off with her footman. Would she have done +that if there had been no Sir Cresswell? I fancy not. +Again, another married lady, with £100,000 settled on her, +runs off with the curate. Had it not occurred to her that +Sir Cresswell Cresswell would, in due time, dissolve her union +with her legitimate lord, and enable her to follow the bent of +her passions, would she not have fought with them, and in the +conquest of them <!-- page 133--><a name="page133"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 133</span>won more true peace for herself, +than she can ever hope for now? I believe so. In the +long commerce of a life, there must be times, when we may think +of others we have known, when we may idly fancy we should have +been happier with others; but true wisdom will teach us that it +is childish to lament after the event, that it were wiser to take +what comfort we can find, and that, after all, it is duty, rather +than happiness, that should be the pole-star of life. +Southey told Shelley a man might be happy with any woman, and +certainly a wise man, once married, will try to make the best of +it. But to return to Sir Cresswell Cresswell, I wish that +he could give relief without stirring up such a pool of stinking +mud. Who is benefitted by the disgusting details? It +is a fine thing for the penny papers. They get a large +sale, and so reap their reward. The <i>Times</i>, also, is +generally not very backward when anything peculiarly revolting +and indecent is to be told; but are the people, high or low, rich +or poor, the better? I find it hard to believe they +are. How husbands can be false, how wives can intrigue, how +servants can connive, we know, and we do not want to hear it +repeated. If Prior’s Chloe was an ale-house drab, if +the Clara of Lord Bolingbroke sold oranges in the Court of +Requests, if Fielding kept indifferent company, we are amused or +grieved, but still learn something of genius, even from its +errors; but of the tribe Smith and Brown I care not to +hear—ever since the Deluge the Smiths and Browns have been +much the same. What am I the better for <!-- page 134--><a +name="page134"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 134</span>learning +all the rottenness of domestic life? Is that fit reading +for the family circle? I suppose the newspapers think it +is, but I cannot come to that opinion. Can it have a +wholesome effect on the national feeling? Can it heighten +the reverence for Nature’s primary ordinance of +matrimony?</p> +<p>In the Book of Common Prayer I read that matrimony is +“holy;” that it was instituted of God in the time of +man’s innocency, signifying unto us the mystical union that +is between Christ and his Church, which holy estate Christ +adorned and beautified with his presence and first miracle that +he wrought in Cana of Galilee; and is commended of St. Paul to be +honourable among all men, and, therefore, is not by any to be +enterprised, “nor taken in hand unadvisedly, lightly, or +wantonly, to satisfy men’s carnal lusts or appetites, like +brute beasts that have no understanding; but reverently, +discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God, duly +considering the causes for which matrimony was +ordained.”</p> +<p>Alas! our age is not a marrying age; and, therefore, I fear it +is an unholy one: neither our young men nor our young maidens +honestly fall in love and marry now-a-days. I don’t +know that the Registrar-General’s report says such. I +know that many of his marriages are affairs of convenience; +unions of businesses, or thousands, or broad lands; not marriages +“holy,” in the sense of the prayer-book and of +God. A man who marries simply for love, exposes himself to +ridicule; the modern ingenuous youth is not so green as all that; +if <!-- page 135--><a name="page135"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +135</span>he marries at all, it must be an heiress, or, at any +rate, one well dowered. The last thing your modern +well-bred beauty does, is to unite her fate with that of a man in +the good old-fashioned way. She has learnt to set her heart +upon the accidents of life,—the fine house, the +establishment; and if these she cannot have, she will even die an +old maid. The real is sacrificed to the imaginary; the +substance, to the shadow; the present, to the morrow that never +comes. A man says he will become rich; he will sacrifice +everything to that; and the chances are he becomes poor in heart +and purse. The maiden—</p> +<blockquote><p>With the meek brown eyes,<br /> +In whose orb a shadow lies,<br /> +Like the dusk in evening skies—</p> +</blockquote> +<p>loses all her divinity, and pines away, and becomes what I +care not to name; and the world—whose wisdom is +folly—sanctions all this. It calls it prudence, +foresight. A man has no business to marry till he can keep +a wife, is the cuckoo cry; which would have some meaning if a +wife was a horse or a dog, and not an answer to a human need, and +an essential to success in life. The world forgets that man +is not an automaton, but a being fearfully and wonderfully +framed. No machine, but a lyre responsive to the breath of +every passing passion: now fevered with pleasure; now toiling for +gold; anon seeking to build up a lofty fame; and that the more +eager and passionate and daring he is—the more eagle is his +eye, and the loftier his aim, the more he needs woman—<!-- +page 136--><a name="page136"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +136</span>the comforter and the helpmeet—by his side. +Our fathers did not ignore this, and they succeeded. +Because the wife preserved them from the temptations of life; +because she, with her words and looks of love, assisted them to +bear the burdens and fight the battles of life; because she stood +by her husband’s side as his helpmeet; bone of his bone, +flesh of his flesh; soothing each sorrow; aiding each upward aim: +it was thus they became great; and it is because we do not thus, +we pale before them. It is not good for man to be +alone. Man has tried to disobey the divine law, and lived +alone; and what has been the result?—even when tried by men +of superior sanctity, as in the case of the Romish Church, has +the world gained in happiness or morality? I trow +not. Take the limited experience of our own age, and +fathers and mothers know, to their bitter cost, I am right. +The manhood, brave and generous, much of it wrecked in our great +cities, will bear me out. But matrimony is more than +this. It spite of the hard matter-of-fact, sceptical, and +therefore sensual character of the passing day, will it not be +confessed that the union of man and woman, as husband and wife, +is the greatest earthly need, and is followed by the greatest +earthly good? Unhappy marriages there may be; imprudent +ones there may be; but such are not the rule; and very properly +our legislators have agreed to give relief in such cases. +“Nature never did betray the soul that loved her;” +and nature tells men and women to marry. Just as the young +man is entering upon life—just as he comes to independence +<!-- page 137--><a name="page137"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +137</span>and man’s estate—just as the crisis of his +being is to be solved, and it is to be seen whether he decide +with the good, and the great, and the true, or whether he sink +and be lost for ever, Matrimony gives him ballast and a right +impulse. Of course it can’t make of a fool a +philosopher; but it can save a fool from being foolish. War +with nature and she takes a sure revenge. Tell a young man +not to have an attachment that is virtuous, and he will have one +that is vicious. Virtuous love—the honest love of a +man for the woman he is about to marry, gives him an anchor for +his heart; something pure and beautiful for which to labour and +live; and the woman, what a purple light it sheds upon her path; +it makes life for her no day-dream; no idle hour; no painted +shadow; no passing show; but something real, earnest, worthy of +her heart and head. But most of us are cowards and dare not +think so; we lack grace; we are of little faith; our inward eye +is dim and dark. The modern young lady must marry in style; +the modern young gentleman marries a fortune. But in the +meanwhile the girl grows into an old maid, and the youth takes +chambers—ogles at nursery-maids and becomes a man about +town—a man whom it is dangerous to ask into your house, for +his business is intrigue. The world might have had a happy +couple; instead, it gets a woman fretful, nervous, fanciful, a +plague to all around her. He becomes a sceptic in all +virtue; a corrupter of the youth of both sexes; a curse in +whatever domestic circle he penetrates. Even worse may <!-- +page 138--><a name="page138"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +138</span>result. She may be deceived, and may die of a +broken heart. He may rush from one folly to another; +associate only with the vicious and depraved; bring disgrace and +sorrow on himself and all around; and sink into an early +grave. Our great cities show what becomes of men and women +who do not marry. Worldly fathers and mothers advise not to +marry till they can afford to keep a wife, and the boys spend on +a harlot more in six months than would keep a wife six +years. Hence it is, all wise men (like old Franklin) +advocate early marriages; and that all our great men, with rare +exceptions, have been men who married young. Wordsworth had +only £100 a year when he first married. Lord Eldon +was so poor that he had to go to Clare-market to buy sprats for +supper. Coleridge and Southey I can’t find had any +income at all when they got married. I question at any time +whether Luther had more than fifty pounds a year. Our +successful men in trade and commerce marry young, like George +Stephenson, and the wife helps him up in the world in more ways +than one. Dr. Smiles, in his little book on Self-Help, +gives us the following anecdote respecting J. Flaxman and his +wife—“Ann Denham was the name of his wife—and a +cheery, bright-souled, noble woman she was. He believed +that in marrying her he should be able to work with an intenser +spirit; for, like him, she had a taste for poetry and art! and, +besides, was an enthusiastic admirer of her husband’s +genius. Yet when Sir Joshua Reynolds—himself a +bachelor—met <!-- page 139--><a name="page139"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 139</span>Flaxman shortly after his marriage, +he said to him, ‘So, Flaxman, I am told you are married; if +so, sir, I tell you, you are ruined for an artist.’ +Flaxman went straight home, sat down beside his wife, took her +hand in his, and said, ‘Ann, I am ruined for an +artist.’ ‘How so, John? How has it +happened? And who has done it?’ ‘It +happened,’ he replied, ‘in the church; and Ann Denham +has done it.’ He then told her of Sir Joshua’s +remark—whose opinion was well known, and has been often +expressed, that if students would excel they must bring the whole +powers of their mind to bear upon their art from the moment they +rise until they go to bed; and also, that no man could be a great +artist, unless he studied the grand works of Raffaelle, Michael +Angelo, and others, at Rome and Florence. ‘And +I,’ said Flaxman, drawing up his little figure to its full +height, ‘I would be a great artist.’ ‘And +a great artist you shall be,’ said his wife, ‘and +visit Rome, too, if that be really necessary to make you +great.’ ‘But how?’ asked Flaxman. +‘Work and economise,’ rejoined his brave wife: +‘I will never have it said that Ann Denham ruined John +Flaxman for an artist.’ And so it was determined by +the pair that the journey to Rome was to be made when their means +would admit. ‘I will go to Rome,’ said Flaxman, +‘and show the President that wedlock is for man’s +good rather than for his harm, and you, Ann, shall accompany +me.’ He kept his word.”</p> +<p>By forbidding our young men and maidens matrimony, <!-- page +140--><a name="page140"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 140</span>we +blast humanity in its very dawn. Fathers, you say you teach +your sons prudence—you do nothing of the kind; your +worldly-wise and clever son is already ruined for life. You +will find him at Cremorne and at the Argyle Rooms. Your +wretched worldly-wisdom taught him to avoid the snare of marrying +young; and soon, if he is not involved in embarrassments which +will last him a life, he is a <i>blasé</i> fellow; +heartless, false; without a single generous sentiment or manly +aim; he has—</p> +<blockquote><p>“No God, no heaven, in the wide +world.”</p> +</blockquote> +<h2><!-- page 141--><a name="page141"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 141</span>CHAPTER XIII.<br /> +BREACH OF PROMISE CASES.</h2> +<p>Every now and then, while the courts sit at Westminster, the +general public derives an immense amount of entertainment from +what are described as breach of promise cases. It is true +there is a wonderful sameness about them. The defendant is +amorous, and quotes a great deal of poetry. The court +vastly enjoys the perusal of his letters, and the papers quote +them entire and unabridged. The lady suffers much, and the +public sympathies are decidedly with her. Of course there +are some atrocious cases, for which the men who figure in them +cannot be punished too severely; but as a rule, we do think the +men have the worst of it. A young man is thrown into the +company of an attractive young female; they both have little to +do at the time, and naturally fall in love. She has as much +to do with the matter as he, and yet, if he begins to think that +he cannot keep a wife—that the marriage will not promote +the happiness of the parties concerned—that the affair was +rash, and had better be broken off—he is liable to an <!-- +page 142--><a name="page142"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +142</span>action for breach of promise. Such cases are +constantly occurring. The jury being decidedly +romantic—thinking love in a cottage to be +Elysium—forgetting the vulgar saying that when poverty +comes in at the door love flys out of the window—mark their +sense of the enormity of the defendant’s conduct in +refusing to make an imprudent marriage, by awarding to the lady +substantial damages.</p> +<p>Now, we can understand how English jurymen—generally men +with marriageable daughters, can easily make up their minds to +give damages in such cases, but we more than question the +invariable justice of such a course. When affection has +died out, we can conceive no greater curse than a marriage; yet +either that must be effected, or the jury will possibly agree to +damages that may ruin the defendant for life. This we deem +bad, nor do we think that a woman should always have before her +the certainty that the promise given in that state of mind, which +poets describe as brief insanity, an amiable jury will consider +as an equivalent to an I.O.U. to any amount they please. We +do protest against confounding a legal promise to marry with a +promise to pay the bearer on demand £1000. We rather +fear that this distinction is likely to be overlooked, not but +that occasionally an action for breach of promise has a very +happy effect. It serves as a moral lesson to ardent youths +of an amorous disposition. It also furnishes the +broken-hearted and forsaken fair with a dowry, which has been +known to purchase her a husband in almost as <!-- page 143--><a +name="page143"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 143</span>good a +state of preservation as the gentleman who was to have borne that +honoured name. All that we find fault with is the number of +such cases.</p> +<p>A gay deceiver is no enviable character for any respectable +man to wear. No man of mental or moral worth would +voluntarily assume it. But a spinster coming to a court of +justice, and saying to the defendant, “You have taken my +heart, give me your purse,” is no very desirable position +for a woman, though she may have the fortitude and strength of +mind of a Mrs. Caudle herself. At any rate, the legal view +of woman is very different to the poetical one, and for ourselves +we infinitely prefer the latter. The view of the jury is, +that a woman not marrying a man who has evidently no love for +her, or he would not have married another, is to the plaintiff an +injury—we think it is a happy escape—and an injury +which deepens as the courtship lengthens. The jury reasons +that the plaintiff, Mary Brown, is as good-tempered a girl as +ever lived—that provided she could but marry she did not +care who made her his wife. The position of the sexes is +reversed, and the woman sings—</p> +<blockquote><p>“How happy could I be with either,<br /> +Were t’other dear charmer away.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>According to the jury, if Jones had not married Mary Brown, +Jenkins would—consequently hers is a double loss. So +that if a woman reaches the ripe age of thirty, by this +arithmetic she is more wronged than she would have been had she +been a blooming lass of twenty. In <!-- page 144--><a +name="page144"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 144</span>the same +manner there is a delicate sliding-scale for defendants in such +cases. A bridegroom well-made and well-to-do has to pay no +end of sovereigns for the damage he has done; while a short time +since, a defendant who had been attacked with paralysis was let +off for £50. Woman, in this view of the case, is as +dangerous as a money-lender or a shark. Byron tells +us—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Man’s love is of man’s life a +thing apart—<br /> +’Tis woman’s whole existence.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>But our modern juries give us a very different reading. +We prefer, however, to abide by the old.</p> +<p>Most undoubtedly to win the affections of a woman and then +desert her is a crime—but it is of a character too ethereal +to be touched by human law. If the woman’s heart be +shattered by the blow, no amount of money-compensation can heal +the wound, and a woman of much worth and of the least delicacy +would shrink from the publicity such cases generally confer on +all the parties interested in them. But if the principle be +admitted, that disappointment in love can be atoned for by the +possession of solid cash—if gold can heal the heart wounded +by the fact that its love has been repelled—that its +confidence has been betrayed—we do not see why the same +remedy should not be within the reach of man. And yet this +notoriously is not the case. When anything of the sort is +tried the unhappy plaintiff seldom gets more than a farthing +damages. Besides, what upright, honourable man would stoop +for <!-- page 145--><a name="page145"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 145</span>a moment to such a thing; and yet, +in spite of all modern enlightment, we maintain that the injury +of a breach of promise on the part of a woman is as great as that +on the part of a man. In the morning of life men have been +struck down by such disappointments, and through life have been +blasted as the oak by the lightning’s stroke. With +his heart gone—demoralised, the man has lived to take a +fearful revenge for the first offence, possibly to become a cold +cynic—sceptical of man’s honour and woman’s +love. Yet breach of promise cases are not resorted to by +men, and we cannot congratulate our fair friends on the fact that +so many of them come into courts of law as plaintiffs in such +cases. Bachelors will fear that, after all, it is true +that—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by +glare,<br /> +And Mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>And the result will be that while the more impetuous of us +will commit ourselves at once, and come within the clutches of +law, the more cool and cunning will excite hopes, which deferred +will make sick the heart, and inspire an affection which may +exist but to torment the heart in which it had its birth. +Ay, beneath such mental grief the beauty and blessedness of life +may vanish, never to return, and yet all the while he who did the +deed may defy the power of human law.</p> +<p>Some letters which have recently appeared in the <i>Manchester +Examiner</i> may be taken as evidence that these breach of +promise cases interfere very materially <!-- page 146--><a +name="page146"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 146</span>with +marriages. In the immediate neighbourhood of Manchester the +question, Why don’t the men propose? appears to have +excited considerable interest. In that busy region men fall +in love and get married, and have families, and are gathered to +their fathers, just as do the rest of her Majesty’s +subjects in other parts of the United Kingdom. But it seems +the Lancashire witches are many of them still on their +parent’s hands. Paterfamilias gets anxious. +Deeply revolving the question under the signature of “A +Family Man,” he sends the following letter to the Editor of +the journal alluded to—</p> +<p>“Sir, Your cosmopolitan journal,” he writes to the +Editor, “must have many readers interested in the question +‘Why don’t the men propose?’ It would be +dangerous to say I have found the entire solution to this enigma, +for fear of disclosing a mare’s nest; but I will warrant +that one of the most powerful causes of the shyness of men in +matters matrimonial, is the frequency of breach of promise +prosecutions. A lady may be quite justified in prosecuting +the man who has deceived her, but is she wise in doing so? +Or if acting wisely for herself, does she not lower the character +of her sex? Men think so, depend upon it. Your +wavering, undecided, fastidious bachelor is a great newspaper +reader, and devours breach of promise cases, and after reading +that Miss Tepkins has obtained so many hundred pounds’ +damages against Mr. Topkins, +soliloquises:—‘Humph! It seems, then, that the +best salve for a wounded heart is gold. Bah! women only +marry for a home. It is clear <!-- page 147--><a +name="page147"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 147</span>the woman +is the only gainer, else why estimate her disappointment at so +many hundred pounds? She gives a man nothing for his +promise to marry but her heart (if that), and how much is +<i>it</i> worth? What recompense can he get from her should +she steal back the heart she professes to have given him! +I’ll take jolly good care I never make a promise of +marriage to a woman (which means a bond for so many hundred or +thousand pounds). No; if I marry, I marry; but catch me +promising.’ And thus, for fear of being trapped into +committing himself, he avoids the society of women (where he +might learn not only to really love, but to see the sophistry of +his reasoning), and eventually settles down into old +bachelorhood. What do the ladies say to this? +Don’t let them think I am a crusty old bachelor. +Heaven forfend! I protest my supreme admiration of the fair +sex, and had better say I am, <span class="smcap">A Family +Man</span>.”</p> +<p>“An unmarried young girl” replies: “Sir, In +looking over your valuable paper of to-day, I saw a letter +headed, ‘Why do not the men propose?’ which I read +with great interest, as I found that the writer, although of the +opposite sex, was of the same opinion as myself, in regard to +ladies prosecuting their late lovers for breach of promise of +marriage. I do think it shows in them a mean spirit of +revenge, of which a lady should not be guilty. It certainly +does look as if they thought more of a shelter, a name, and a +ring, than they do of a comfortable home and a loving and +affectionate husband. I do not think it wise of them, as it +must lower themselves <!-- page 148--><a name="page148"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 148</span>and all their sex in the estimation +of the other sex. Besides, it does not speak much of their +love for their lovers, for you know love hides many faults. +I have never been deceived by any man, and I hope I never may, +but the best advice I can give to my poor deceived sisters is to +try and forget their faithless swains, and leave them to the +stings and reflections of their own consciences, which will be a +far greater punishment to them than parting with thousands of +gold and silver. Let them be thankful that they have shown +themselves in their true colours before they had entered on a +life of unhappiness and misery, feeling assured that the man who +could deceive a fond, loving woman is a man of no principle at +all. For my own part, I would scorn the man who ever proved +false to a woman,—I would not trust him even in +business.” After this condemnation by a woman, let us +trust we shall hear less for the future of breach of promise +cases.</p> +<h2><!-- page 149--><a name="page149"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 149</span>CHAPTER XIV.<br /> +COMMERCIAL LONDON.</h2> +<p>In the Loudon Bankruptcy Court, at times, melancholy +revelations are made—revelations which, indeed, do +“point a moral,” though they can hardly be said +“to adorn a tale.” Too generally the +manifestations are the same—the hastening to be rich, which +to so many has been a snare—the vulgar attempt to keep up +appearances and impose on the world—the recklessness and +want of honour and principle which prevail where we should least +have expected it, in the middle classes, who, as the heart and +core of the nation, at times are apt to be too indiscriminately +eulogised. Last week an illustration of what we mean +occurred. It came out in evidence that a bankrupt had goods +from a London wholesale house, not for his legitimate trade, but +merely that, by their sale at less than cost price, funds might +be provided for the passing exigencies of the hour. These +goods were not unpacked, but at once sent up to a London +auctioneer and sold. Nor, it seems, was this an isolated +case—the custom is a common one; it is but what takes place +<!-- page 150--><a name="page150"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +150</span>every day. Again, a tradesman is in +difficulties—he goes to his principal creditor, who says, +“Well you must not stop yet—you must try and reduce +my debt first,”—goods are ordered from Manchester or +Birmingham—and, perhaps without being unpacked, taken to +the warehouse of the London creditor—the tradesman then +applies to the Bankruptcy Court, and, as his books are well kept, +a <i>sine qua non</i> with the Commissioners—and, as the +principal creditor makes things as smooth as possible, the man +gets a first-class certificate and begins again. Bill +discounters tell you of the number of forged bills which pass +through their hands, and which are sure to be taken up when +due. Even the oldest and proudest firms are not free from +shame. My readers need not that I remind them of the +conduct of Gurney, Overend, & Co. with reference to the +forged spelter warrants. A city lawyer, a man of +considerable practice and experience, once assured me he did not +believe there was such a thing as commercial morality—but +we must hope that he had seen so much of the dark side, as to +forget that there was a bright side at all, but that the true +feeling in the city is not of the highest character is evident if +we recall the sympathy displayed toward the directors of the +Royal British Bank—and again exhibited in the case of +Strachan and Sir John Dean Paul, or remember the ridiculous +manifestations of the gentlemen of the Stock Exchange and Mincing +Lane, of which Tom Sayers was the embarrassed subject. How +wide-spread was the delirium of the <!-- page 151--><a +name="page151"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 151</span>railway +mania—what rascalities have been laid bare by the bursting +of some of our insurance and other companies. Take that +list just published by Mr. Spachman, Jun., of the losses +sustained by public companies through the inadequate system of +the audit of accounts. The list is short, but not +sweet.</p> +<blockquote><p>“The Royal British Bank.—Stopped +payment in 1856. The failure was caused by making advances +to directors and others on improper and insufficient +securities. Capital, £200,000; deposits, +£540,000; on which 15s. in the pound has been returned; +deficiency, 5s. in the pound; £135,000; total, +£335,000.</p> +<p>“The Tipperary Bank.—Failure caused by the frauds +of Sadleir. Accounts were wilfully falsified. +Capital, £500,000; deposits, £700,000; total, +£1,200,000. The whole has been lost.</p> +<p>“The London and Eastern Bank.—In this case the +notorious Colonel Waugh appropriated to himself an amount equal +to the whole paid-up capital of the bank, and has since absconded +and set his creditors at defiance. The loss exceeds +£250,000.</p> +<p>“The Crystal Palace Company.—The frauds of Robson, +committed by tampering with the transfer-books, entailed a loss +of £100,000.</p> +<p>“The Great Northern Railway +Company.—Redpath’s frauds, committed in a similar +manner to Robson’s. The auditors here were greatly at +fault, as I understand that dividends were paid on a larger +amount of stock than had been issued. Loss, +£250,000.</p> +<p>“The Union Bank of London.—The frauds just +discovered, committed by the head cashier, William George +Pullinger, by means of a fictitious pass-book, representing the +account between the Union Bank and the Bank of England. The +frauds are said to have extended over a period of five years, and +with a proper check in the audit, ought to have been detected in +the first half-year.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p><!-- page 152--><a name="page152"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +152</span>The men who did these things—the Redpaths, and +Sadleirs, and Colonel Waughs—were men known and respected, +be it remembered, in London life.</p> +<p>The <i>Times</i> says our law is worthy a nation of +savages. We have a great deal to do yet, just remember the +Hudson testimonial. There were our merchant princes, men of +integrity, of talent, of skill—men who have made the name +of British merchant a term of honour as far as our flag can +reach. If London wished to reward successful industry, it +might have looked amongst them. In this great city there +was more than one lord of thousands, who came here with hardly a +penny in his pocket, or shoes on his feet. London might +have raised a testimonial to one of them; and had it done so, +every unfledged clerkling and embryo Rothschild would have glowed +as he saw how industry, and wealth, and honour, went hand in +hand. With what delight would the young aspirant for wealth +have returned to the study of those refreshing maxims in ethics +which grandmammas so zealously impress upon the juvenile mind, +and of which the British public are not a little fond. But +a testimonial was given to Mr. Hudson for none of these +things. It was not for honesty, or industry, or worth, that +he was rewarded. It was simply for speculation—for a +course of conduct utterly hostile to legitimate business, which +has made many a decent tradesman a bankrupt, and which has turned +many an honest man into a knave. England stamped with its +approval a system the morality of which is somewhat +questionable. It bade the young man eschew the dulness <!-- +page 153--><a name="page153"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +153</span>of the counter and the office for the magic wand of +speculation. It passed by the industrious merchant, the +philanthropist, the patriot, to worship the golden calf, as did +the Hebrews of old.</p> +<p>Eighteen hundred years back, on the plains of Palestine, +appeared a carpenter’s son, with a divine mission but a +human heart. He preached no cash gospel—He was no +prophet in the eyes of the rich. He had His +testimonial—He reaped it in the bad man’s deadly +hate. Alas! the Hebrew nature is the true and universal +one. In Mr. Hudson’s, there is the testimonial of the +rich—for the Christ, and those who would follow in His +steps, there is the thorny path and the open tomb. Let us +not imagine that we are one whit better than the Hebrew. +The Hudson testimonial proves a common paternity. Gold has +still more charms than God. As Mr. Bright, if not in so +many words, but in spirit, says, “Perish Savoy, rather than +not trade with France,” so the London merchant and +tradesman ignore too often honour and conscience, and morality, +for vulgar gain.</p> +<p>It requires great philosophy to get over the effects of City +Life. “Let any one,” says Addison, +“behold the kind of faces he meets as soon as he passes +Cheapside Conduit, and you see a deep attention and a certain +feeble sharpness in every countenance; they look attentive, but +their thoughts are engaged on mean purposes.” This +feeling is perpetuated. Addison remarks of a gentleman of +vast estate, whose grandfather was a trader, “that he is a +very honest gentleman in his <!-- page 154--><a +name="page154"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 154</span>principles, +but cannot for his life talk fairly; he is heartily sorry for it, +but he cheats by constitution, and overreaches by +instinct.” I heard of such a one the other +day—A, a city merchant, married his daughter to B. A +proposed that A and B should stock the cellar of the young couple +with vine—B agreed—A purchased the wine—got a +discount—and charged B full price for his share—yet A +was rich as Crœsus. I have seen this grasping +displayed by city boys. The writer was once accosted by +some little children with a request that he would contribute +something towards a “grotto,” on his declining any +assistance, he was politely informed that he was no good, as he +had “got no money.”</p> +<p>London abounds with Montagu Tiggs, and a genuine article of +any kind in any trade, if by any possibility it can be +adulterated, by painful experience we know it, is utterly +impossibly to buy. In trade, words have long ceased to +represent things. We need not dwell at length on the wrong +thus inflicted on the community at large, all feel the minor +evils resulting from such conduct, and occasionally we hear of +sickness induced, or of life lost,—and for what? merely +that Brown may get an extra farthing on the rascally rubbish he +sells as the genuine article. I fear these are not times in +which we may argue for the abolition of death punishments. +Such things as these sadly teach us that in London commercial +morality is in danger of undergoing gradual +demoralisation—that we are in danger of becoming absorbed +in the pursuit of material wealth, <!-- page 155--><a +name="page155"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 155</span>careless of +the price it may cost—that our standard of morality is not +now as it ought to be in a city that boasts its Christian life +and light, and that from London the evil circulates all over the +British realm.</p> +<p>In proof of this, we may appeal to the occurrences of every +day. Our great cities are shadowed over by the giant forms +of vice and crime. Like a thick cloud, ignorance, dense and +dark, pervades the land. Ascending higher to the well-to-do +classes, we find bodily comfort to be the great end of life; we +find everything that can conduce to its realization is +understood—that the priests and ministers of the sensual +are well paid—that a good cook, like a diamond, has always +value in the market. M. Soyer, as cook, in the Reform Club, +pocketed, we believe, £800 a year. Hood, in the dark +days of his life, when weakened by the fierce struggle with the +world and its wants, became the prey of the spoiler, and would +have died of starvation had not Government granted him a +pension. Many a man, in whose breast genius was a presence +and a power has been suffered to pine and starve; but who ever +heard of a cook dying of starvation? How is it, then, that +such is the case, that so much is done for the body, and so +little for the mind? that at this time the teacher of spiritual +realities can but at best scrape together as much salary as a +lawyer’s clerk? We are not speaking now of wealthy +fellows who repose on beds of roses, but of the busy earnest men +who from the pulpit, or the press, or the schoolmaster’s +desk, proclaim the morality and truth without which society <!-- +page 156--><a name="page156"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +156</span>would become a mass of corruption and death. How +is it that they are overlooked, and that honour is paid to the +soldier who gives up his moral responsibility, and does the +devil’s work upon condition that food and raiment be +granted him—to mere wealth and rank—to what is +accidental rather than to what is true and valuable in +life? The truth is our civilization is hardly worthy of the +name? We may say, in the language of Scripture, we have not +attained, neither are we already perfect. We have but just +seen the dim grey of morn, and we boast that we bask in the +sunshine of unclouded day. Our commercial morality brands +our civilization with a voice of thunder, as an imposture and a +sham.</p> +<p>Undoubtedly we are a most thinking, rational, sober, and +religious people. It is a fact upon which we rather pride +ourselves. It is one of which we are firmly convinced, and +respecting which we are apt to become somewhat garrulous, and not +a little dull. On this head we suffer much good-natured +prosing in ourselves and others. Like the Pharisees of old, +we go up into the temple and thank God that we are not +rationalists, like the Germans, or infidels, like the +French. We are neither Turks nor Papists, but, on the +contrary, good honest Christian men. It may be that we are +a little too much given to boasting—that we are rather too +fond of giving our alms before men—that when we pray, it is +not in secret and when the door is shut, but where the prayer can +be heard and the devotion admired; but we are what we +are—and we imagine we get on indifferently well. We +might, possibly, <!-- page 157--><a name="page157"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 157</span>be better—certainly we might +be worse; but, as it is, we are not particularly dissatisfied, +and have ever, on our faces, a most complacent smirk, testifying +so strongly, to our pleasing consciousness, of the many virtues +we may happen to possess, but in spite of all this we need a +considerable increase and improvement as regards what is called +commercial morality.</p> +<h2><!-- page 158--><a name="page158"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 158</span>CHAPTER XV.<br /> +LONDON GENTS.</h2> +<p>The newspapers, a few years since, contained an instance of +folly such as we seldom meet with, even in this foolish +generation. Two young men—gents, we presume—one +Sunday evening promenading Regent Street, the admired of all +beholders, met two young ladies of equally genteel manners, and +equally fashionable exterior. It is said,</p> +<blockquote><p>“When Greek meet Greek, then comes the tug +of war.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>In this case, however, the adage was reversed. The +encounter, so far from being hostile, was friendly in the +extreme. Our gay Lotharios, neither bashful nor prudent, +learned that their fascinating enchantresses were the daughters +of a Count, whose large estates were situated neither in the +moon, nor in the New Atlantic, nor in the “golden +Ingies,” nor in the lands remote, where a Gulliver +travelled or a Sinbad sailed, but in France itself. That +they had come to England, bringing with them simply their two +hundred pounds a quarter, that they might, in calm +retirement—without the <!-- page 159--><a +name="page159"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 159</span>annoyances +to which their rank, if known, would subject them—judge for +themselves what manner of men we were. The tale was simple, +strange, yet certainly true. Ladies of charming manners, +and distinguished birth—young—lovely—each with +two hundred pounds a quarter—cast upon this great Babylon, +without a friend—no man with the heart of an Englishman +could permit such illustrious strangers to wander unprotected in +our streets. Accordingly an intimacy was +commenced—letters written behind the counter, but dated +from the Horse Guards, signed as if the composer were a peer of +the realm, were sent in shoals to Foley-place. The result +was, that after our Regent Street heroes were bled till no more +money could be had, the secret was discovered, and they found +themselves, not merely miserably bamboozled, but a laughing-stock +besides.</p> +<p>But this tale has a moral. Ellam—he of the +ill-spelt letters and the Horse Guards—was a shopman +somewhere in Piccadilly. No person of any education could +have been taken in by so trumpery a tale. Did the young men +in our shops have time for improvement, could they retire from +business at a reasonable hour, could they be permitted to inform +and strengthen the mind, such a remarkable instance of folly as +that to which we have alluded could not possibly occur.</p> +<p>The gent of the Regent Street style, of whom poor Wright used +to sing to an Adelphi audience, was evidently a very +badly-dressed and ill-bred-fellow in spite of the fact that his +vest was of the last cut, that <!-- page 160--><a +name="page160"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 160</span>his tile +was faultless, that his boots were ditto, and that none could +more gracefully</p> +<blockquote><p>“puff a cigar.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The gents of to-day are the same. I was amused by +hearing of a party of them, connected with one of the city +houses, who went into the country one Easter Monday to enjoy +themselves; they did enjoy themselves, as all young fellows +should, thoroughly, but from their enjoyment they were recalled +to a sense of dignity, by a characteristic remark of one of them, +as he saw passers by, “Hush, hush!” he exclaimed, +“They will think we are retail.” A writer in +the <i>Builder</i> remarking the degeneracy of regular cocknies +attributes it to the want of good air, the expensive nature of a +good education, the sedentary employment of many of them. +And no doubt these reasons are the true ones, and of considerable +force. Well might Coleridge anticipate for his son as +prosperous career as compared with his own.</p> + +<blockquote><p> “I +was reared<br /> +In the great city, pent ’mid cloister dim,<br /> +And saw naught lovely but the sky and stars;<br /> +But <i>thou</i>, my babe, shall wander in the breeze,<br /> +By lakes and sandy shores, beneath the crags<br /> +Of ancient mountains; beneath the clouds<br /> +Which image in their arch both lakes and shores,<br /> +And mountain crags, so shall thou see and hear<br /> +The lovely shapes and sounds unchangeable,<br /> +Of that eternal language which thy God utters.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This is true, and hence, let us judge leniently of the lad +living within the sound of Bow Bells. Nature is <!-- page +161--><a name="page161"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +161</span>the best and truest teacher a man can have—and it +is little of nature that the cockney sees, or hears, and +feels. He goes to Richmond, but, instead of studying the +finest panorama in the world, he stupifies himself with doubtful +port; he visits the Crystal Palace, but it is for the sake of the +lobster-salad; he runs down to Greenwich, not to revel in that +park, beautiful still in spite of the attacks of London on its +purity, but to eat white-bait; he takes, it may be, the rail or +the steamboat to Gravesend, but merely that he may dance with +milliners at Tivoli. The only idea of a garden to a London +gent, is a place where there is dancing, and drinking, and +smoking going on. And this is a type of his inbred +depravity. He has no rational amusements. In the +winter time shut up the casinos, and do away with the half-price +at the theatres, and the poor fellow is <i>hors de combat</i>, +and has nothing left him but suicide or delirium tremens. +Literary and Scientific Institutions don’t answer in +London—even a place like the Whittington Club, where any +respectable young man belonging to the middle classes may find a +home, is by no means (so I have understood) a success.</p> +<p>Tom Moore says there is not in the world so stupid or boorish +a congregation as the audience of an English play-house. I +fear there is some truth in this as regards London. The +regular cockney is not a fine sample of the genus homo, in the +first place he is very conceited, and when a man is that, it is +little that will do him good; in the second place, he thinks only +of business and pleasure, he lives well, dresses well, goes to +church once <!-- page 162--><a name="page162"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 162</span>on the Sunday, and laughs at +new-fangled opinions, and wonders why people grumble, and +believes all he reads in the <i>Times</i>. If you want to +start any successful agitation you must begin it in the +provinces. The Anti-Corn Law League had its seat at +Manchester, the Reform agitation had its head quarters at +Birmingham. The wisest thing done by the United +Kingdom-Alliance, was to plant themselves in Manchester rather +than in London. Sydney Smith said it required a severe +surgical operation to make a Scotchman understand a joke, it is +almost as difficult to get a Londoner to understand anything new; +he is slow to recognise worth or virtue, and if any of his own +connection rise, he exclaims, with the writing-master, who would +not believe Newton was a good mathematician, “the fool, he +is an hour over a sum in the rule of three.”</p> +<p>The truth is we are a city of shopkeepers; and if intellectual +pursuits be denied to those engaged in trade, the consequence +must be the popular opinion must be that of those who know little +else than the business of the shop, and as a consequence a curse +will go forth to the remotest corner of the land. Bigotry, +prejudice, falsehood, and passion will be rampant and rife, and +truth and reason will be trampled under foot. Just as +manhood is forming, just as the moral and intellectual parts of +our nature are developing themselves, just as life becomes a +reality, and glimpses of the work to be done, and of the +blessedness of doing it, catch and charm the youthful eye, the +victim is compelled to stand <!-- page 163--><a +name="page163"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 163</span>behind the +counter, and is threatened with beggary if he fail practically to +remember that the pursuit of money, to the utter exclusion of +aught higher and nobler, is the end for which life is given +man. No wonder such a system fearfully avenges +itself—that the sensual is exalted—that we meet so +little in accordance with principle and truth. Debarred +from intellectual pursuits, what awaits our young men but +frivolous excitement? Ignorant, with the feelings of our +common nature unnaturally aroused—with minds enfeebled by +lack of healthy exercise—our middle class—the class +perhaps the most important in our land—stands by society in +its conventionalism and falsehood and wrong, and we mourn and +sigh over giant ills, that we cannot grapple with effectually +because we go the wrong way to work.</p> +<p>A great want of our age is education for the middle +classes. We want to have them taught to believe in +something else than the shop or the desk. We want them to +believe the mind as fully entitled to their care as the body, and +the money-bag but poor and impotent compared with the well-spent +life. We would publish the all-important truth—a +truth that shall live and fructify when the great city in which +we write shall have become a desert-waste—the truth that +man was made in the image of his maker, and that the heart that +beats within is capable of divinity itself. We may have +drawn in dark colours our national state. We fear the +picture is but too true; and that till something be done to burst +the bonds of habit, and educate the youth in our shops, <!-- page +164--><a name="page164"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +164</span>the picture will continue to be true. We write +not to deprecate the land of our birth; it is one dear to us by +every remembrance of the past and hope for the future. +Because we thus cling to it do we deplore and expose what we deem +to be wrong, and that our social condition may be healthy, that +our civilization may be complete that our faith may be a living +leavening power, do we ask the emancipation of the sons and +daughters of trade—that that long-looked-for hour may +quickly come.</p> +<h2><!-- page 165--><a name="page165"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 165</span>CHAPTER XVI.<br /> +THE LONDON VOLUNTEERS.</h2> +<p>In spite of Lord Palmerston’s injudicious attempt to +check the rifle movement in its infancy, there can be no doubt +now but that it is a complete success. The appeal to the +martial spirit—more or less strong in the hearts of all +Englishmen—has been most cheerfully responded to. +Something of the kind was evidently required to excite the +energies and to occupy the leisure hours of our numerous +youth. We are always in danger of becoming too peaceable a +folk. Our avocations, all of a mercantile or professional +character,—our amusements, less out-door, and more +sedentary, than ought to be the case,—the very humane +spirit which pervades all English society,—our enormous +wealth; all tend to make us peaceably disposed. None can be +alarmed at our warlike demonstrations. No nation in Europe +need fear a British invasion. No foreign government can +possibly pretend that the British government harbours designs of +active hostility against any European power. Indeed, the +naturally and necessarily peaceful intentions of this country are +candidly <!-- page 166--><a name="page166"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 166</span>acknowledged by the most eminent men +in France itself. Michel Chevalier, in his account of a +recent visit to this country, has done ample justice to our +moderation, and to our desire to be at peace with all the +world.</p> +<p>We may, then, view the increase of our volunteer riflemen +without any alarm—nay, rather with a considerable amount of +pleasure. People connected with fast life, tell us that the +falling off of the attendance of young men at the casinos is +something very remarkable; the reason of this is attributed to +the fact that they are engaged and interested in their +drill. It is with unmixed satisfaction, that we see, day by +day, the long columns of the <i>Times</i> filled with the names +of the towns which have just joined the movement, and the +proceedings of those which already possess a corps of +riflemen. The <i>Times</i> tells us, that already the force +thus raised consists of 170,000, of whom half nearly are +Londoners; but the movement, we trust, will continue to be +developed for some time to come. Every young man should +join it, as it gives him healthy recreation, soldier-like habits, +and a feeling that he is a son of our common mother—fine +Old England, the land of the brave and the free. We are +much in the habit of doing our work by proxy. Shareholders, +in companies, leave the management to a few directors, and learn, +too late, to curse their folly. Institutions of the most +excellent character, in the hands of a few become perverted, and +are often real stumbling-blocks in the way of reform. So it +is with our army and navy. We pay for them handsomely, we +intrust their <!-- page 167--><a name="page167"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 167</span>management to a few, and then we +wake up to find that we have been trusting on a broken reed; that +our guns, and muskets, are old-fashioned; that routine and +favouritism in office are more than a match for the cleverest of +officers and the bravest of men; and that we have almost all our +work to begin over again. Now, one great advantage of the +rifle movement is that it throws us back upon +ourselves—that it teaches us all to feel that we have a +personal stake in the defence of the country—that it +recalls the martial energy which we are fast in danger of losing, +and makes all panic-fear for the future impossible. Surely, +also, the moral effect of all this on Europe must be great. +The nation that arms itself is always respected. It is the +French army that makes the name of the French Emperor so famous +in all parts of the world. Again, the nation that is always +protected is safe from attack. People do not go to war with +strong states, but weak ones. In the fable, the wolf +quarrels not with the wolf, but the lamb. It ought not to +be so, we freely admit; but we must take the world as we find it, +and act accordingly. And the <i>morale</i> of all history +is that there is no such safeguard of peace as the knowledge that +a nation has set its house in order, and is thoroughly prepared +for war.</p> +<p>Look back at the olden time, when we triumphed at Agincourt, +Cressy, and Poictiers—when we won for England her foremost +place among the nations of earth. A writer in the +<i>Cambridge Chronicle</i> has collected all that he can find +relative to “<i>The Longbow of the past</i>, <!-- page +168--><a name="page168"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +168</span><i>the Rifle of the future</i>,” and done good +service by its republication under the title already given.</p> +<p>There is a muster-roll of the army of Henry V. preserved among +Rymer’s unprinted collection in the British Museum. +The Earl of Cambridge appears in it with a personal retinue of 2 +knights, 57 esquires, and 100 horse archers. The Duke of +Clarence brought in his retinue 1 earl, 2 bannerets, 14 knights, +222 esquires, and 720 horse archers. The roll includes +2,536 men-at-arms, 4,128 horse archers, 38 arblesters +(cross-bowmen), 120 miners, 25 master gunners, 50 servitor +gunners, a stuffer of bacinets, 12 armourers, 3 kings of +arms. A Mr. Nicholas Colnet, a physician, also brought 3 +archers, 20 surgeons, an immense retinue of labourers, artisans, +fletchers, bowyers, wheelwrights, chaplains, and minstrels. +Foot-archers were not enumerated, but the total number of +effective soldiers amounted to 10,731. These were the men +who gained the field at Agincourt. Philip de Comines +acknowledged that English archery excelled that of every other +nation, and Sir John Fortesque states “that the might of +the Realme of England standyth upon archers.” In the +reign of Henry II. the English conquests in Ireland were +principally owing, it is recorded, to the use of the long +bow. The victory gained over the Scots, by Edward I., in +1298, at the great battle of Falkirk, was chiefly won by the +power of the English bowmen. In 1333 Edward III., with +small loss, gained a signal victory at Halidown Hill, near +Berwick, when attacked by the Scots under the Earl of <!-- page +169--><a name="page169"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +169</span>Douglas. Speed gives, from Walsingham, the +following description of the battle:—“The chief feat +was wrought by the English archers, who first with their stiff, +close, and cruel storms of arrows made their enemies’ +footmen break; and when the noble Douglas descended to the charge +with his choicest bands, himself being in a most rich and +excellently tempered armour, and the rest singularly +well-appointed,—the Lord Percy’s archers making a +retreat did withal deliver their deadly arrows so lively, so +courageously, so grievously, that they ran through the +men-at-arms, bored the helmets, beat their lances to the earth, +and easily shot those who were more slightly armed through and +through.” Gibbon notes the singular dread with which +the English archers filled their enemies in the crusades, and +states, “that at one time Richard, with seventeen knights +and 300 archers, sustained the charge of the whole Turkish and +Saracen army.” In the reign of Richard II., in 1377, +the Isle of Wight was invaded by the French, who landed in great +force at Franche-Ville (called afterwards Newtown), which they +destroyed, and then directed their march to Carisbrooke Castle, +for the purpose of taking that stronghold. The news of the +invasion soon spread throughout the island, and no time was lost +in mustering the forces which it possessed. These forces +consisted chiefly of archers, who so admirably posted themselves +in ambush, that they rendered a good account of the advanced +division of the French. The other division of the enemy had +commenced an attack on Carisbrooke <!-- page 170--><a +name="page170"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 170</span>Castle, +when the victorious archers advanced to its relief, and soon +cleared the island of the intruders. The battle of +Shrewsbury, in 1403, was one of the most desperate encounters +ever seen in England. The archers on both sides did +terrible execution. Henry IV. and the Prince of Wales on +one side, and Earl Douglas with Henry Hotspur, son of the Earl of +Northumberland, on the other, performed prodigies of +valour. At length, Hotspur being slain and Douglas taken, +Henry remained master of the field.</p> +<p>The bow was the most ancient and universal of all +weapons. Our ancestors in this island, at a very early +period of their history, used the bow, like other nations, for +two purposes. In time of peace it was an implement for +hunting and pastime; and in time of war it was a formidable +weapon of offence and defence. It was not till after the +battle of Hastings that our Anglo-Saxon forefathers learned +rightly to appreciate the merit of the bow and the cloth-yard +shaft. Though a general disarming followed that event, the +victor allowed the vanquished Saxon to carry the bow. The +lesson taught by the superiority of the Norman archers was not +forgotten. From that period the English archers began to +rise in repute, and in course of time proved themselves, by their +achievements in war, both the admiration and terror of their +foes, and excelled the exploits of other nations. The great +achievements of the English bowmen, which shed lustre upon the +annals of the nation, extended over a period of more than five +centuries, many <!-- page 171--><a name="page171"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 171</span>years after the invention and use of +firearms. All the youth and manhood of the yeomanry of +England were engaged in the practice of the long bow. +England, therefore, in those times possessed a national voluntary +militia, of no charge to the government, ready for the field on a +short notice, and well skilled in the use of weapons. Hence +sprung the large bodies of efficient troops which at different +periods of English history, in an incredibly short time, were +found ready for the service of their country. These men +were not a rude, undisciplined rabble, but were trained, +disciplined men, every one sufficiently master of his weapon to +riddle a steel corslet at five or six score paces; or, in a body, +to act with terrific effect against masses of cavalry; while most +of them could bring down a falcon on the wing by a bird-bolt, or, +with a broad arrow, transfix the wild deer in the chase. +There is little at the present day in England to afford any +adequate idea of the high importance, the great skill, and the +distinguished renown of the English archers. Some few +places still retain names which tell us where the bowmen used to +assemble for practice,—as <i>Shooter’s Hill</i>, +<i>in Kent</i>; <i>Newington Butts</i>, <i>near London</i>; and +<i>St. Augustine’s Butts</i>, <i>near Bristol</i>. +Many of the noble and county families of Great Britain and +Ireland have the symbols of archery charged on their escutcheons; +as, for instance, the Duke of Norfolk, on his bend, between six +crosslets, bears an escutcheon charged with a demi-lion pierced +in the mouth with an arrow, within a double tressure flory and +counterflory. <!-- page 172--><a name="page172"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 172</span>This was an addition to the coat of +his Grace’s ancestor, the Earl of Surrey, who commanded at +Flodden Field, in 1513. There are also existing families +which have derived their surnames from the names of the different +crafts formerly engaged in the manufacture of the bow and its +accompaniments; as, for instance, the names of <i>Bowyer</i>, +<i>Fletcher</i>, <i>Stringer</i>, <i>Arrowsmith</i>, +&c. If we refer to our language, there will be found +many phrases and proverbial expressions drawn from or connected +with archery; some suggesting forethought and caution, as +“<i>Always have two strings to your bow</i>;” it +being the custom of military archers to take additional +bowstrings with them into the field of battle; “<i>Get the +shaft-hand of your adversaries</i>;” “<i>Draw not thy +bow before thy arrow be fixed</i>;” “<i>Kill two +birds with one shaft</i>.” To make an enemy’s +machinations recoil upon himself, they expressed by saying, +“<i>To outshoot a man in his own bow</i>.” In +reference to a vague, foolish guess, they used to say, +“<i>He shoots wide of his mark</i>;” and of +unprofitable, silly conversation, “<i>A fool’s bolt +is soon shot</i>.” The unready and the unskilful +archer did not escape the censure and warning of his fellows, +although he might be a great man, and boast that he had +“<i>A famous bow—but it was up at the +castle</i>.” Of such they satirically remarked that +“<i>Many talked of Robin Hood</i>, <i>who never shot in his +bow</i>.” Our ancestors also expressed liberality of +sentiment, and their opinion that merit belonged exclusively to +no particular class or locality, by the following pithy +expressions, “<i>Many a good bow besides one </i><!-- page +173--><a name="page173"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +173</span><i>in Chester</i>;” and “<i>An archer is +known by his aim</i>, <i>and not by his arrows</i>.”</p> +<p>And what was the result of all this practice with the +bow?—why, that we never feared invasion. Those were +not times when old ladies were frightened out of their +night’s sleep. Every Englishman was a free and +fearless soldier; the foe might growl at a distance, but he never +dared to touch our shores—to plunder our cities—to +massacre our smiling babes—and to do outrage worse than +death to our English womanhood; and so it will be seen now that +the bow has been superseded by the rifle, when our young lads of +public spirit respond to Tennyson’s patriotic appeal, +“Form, Riflemen, form!”</p> +<h2><!-- page 174--><a name="page174"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 174</span>CHAPTER XVII.<br /> +CRIMINAL LONDON.</h2> +<p>A <i>brochure</i> of fifty pages, full of figures and tables, +just issued, contains the criminal statistics of the metropolis, +as shown by the police returns. It is not very pleasant +reading, in any sense, but it no doubt has its value. We +learn from it that last year the police took into custody 64,281 +persons, of whom 29,863 were discharged by the magistrates, +31,565 summarily disposed of, and 2,853 committed for trial; of +the latter number 2,312 were convicted, the rest being either +acquitted or not prosecuted, or in their cases true bills were +not found. About twenty years ago, in 1839, the number +taken into custody rather exceeded that of last year, being +65,965; although since that period 135 parishes, hamlets, and +liberties, with, in 1850, a population of 267,267, have been +added to the metropolitan district, and although the entire +population must have greatly increased in the interval. +These returns exhibits strange variations in the activity of the +police; while last year the apprehensions were, as stated, +64,281, in 1857 they amounted <!-- page 175--><a +name="page175"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 175</span>to as much +as 79,364. The difference is 15,000, and of that number in +excess, not one-half were convicted, either summarily or after +trial, the rest forming an excess in the whole of those +discharged by the magistrates. It is a striking fact that +nearly half the number of all whom the police take into custody +are discharged, so that the discrimination of the police is far +from being on a par with its activity.</p> +<p>Criminal London spends some considerable part of its time at +Newgate, Clerkenwell, Wandsworth, Hollowway, and other +establishments well-known to fame, and descriptions of which are +familiar to the reader, but a favourite resort, also, is Portland +Goal, which, by the kindness of Captain Clay, we were permitted, +recently, to inspect. Portland Goal is situated on a neck +of land near Weymouth.</p> +<p>To reach it, the better way is to take a passage in one of the +numerous steamers which ply between Weymouth and Portland. +In half an hour you will find yourself at the bottom of the chalk +hill on which the prison is built. If you are sound in +limb, and not deficient in wind, in another half hour you will +find yourself at the principal entrance of the goal. But to +get at the Prison is no easy work. The Captain of the +steamer will tell you, you must take a trap the moment you get on +shore, but Jehu will ask you so long a price as to put all idea +of riding quite out of the question. The people on the +island will give you but little information, and that of rather a +contradictory <!-- page 176--><a name="page176"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 176</span>character. Undoubtedly the +better plan is to trust to your own sense and legs. On our +way we met an officer of the Royal Navy—a captain, we +imagine. Before us, at a little distance, was what we took +to be the prison, but we were not sure of the fact, and +accordingly asked the gallant officer. We trust he was not +a type of the service. He did not know what that building +was before him: he did not know whether there was a prison there; +and then he finished by asking us if we were one of the +officials. If the French do come, let us hope Her +Majesty’s fleet will have more acute officers than our +gallant acquaintance! We arrived at the principal entrance, +notwithstanding the non-success of our queries with the brave +marine, at a quarter to one. Before we enter, let us look +around. What a place for a man to get braced up in! +What a jolly thing it would be for many a London Alderman could +he come here for a few months. Just below is the prison, +clean, snug, and warm. At our feet is the stupendous +Breakwater, within which lie, as we trust they may ever lie, idle +and secure, some of the ships comprising the Channel Fleet. +Here, stealing into the bay like a bird with white wings, is a +convict ship, coming to bear away to the Bermudas some of the +convicts now shut up within those stone walls. If you look +well at her through the glass you can see her live freight on +board, for she only calls here for some fifty or +sixty,—who, however, have no wish to leave Portland for +harder work and a less healthy climate. Beyond is <!-- page +177--><a name="page177"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +177</span>Weymouth, and its comfortable hotels—its +agreeable promenade—and with, in summer time, its pleasant +bathing. Right across St. Albyn’s Head, and on the +other side the Dorset coast, and straight across some eighty +miles of the salt sea, is Cherbourg, with a breakwater far more +formidable than that above which we stand. It is a clear +bright sky above us, and in the light of the sun the scene is +beautiful almost as one of fairy land.</p> +<p>We ring the bell—hand in, through a window, our letter +of introduction—are ushered into a wooden cage in which the +janitor sits—enter our name in a book, and sit down. +The officers, consisting of about 160 men, exclusive of a small +guard of soldiers, are coming in from dinner. In appearance +they somewhat resemble our Coast-guard, are tall fine men, with +very red faces, and big black bushy whiskers. The principal +warden came to receive us; he has been here ever since the place +has been opened, and we could not have had a better guide, or one +more competent to explain to us the nature of the important works +carried on. And now we have passed into the very prison +itself, and stand surrounded by men who have committed almost +every species of crime. There are some fifteen hundred of +them here from all parts of England; stupid peasants from Suffolk +and Norfolk, and clever rascals (these latter are very +troublesome) from London, and Birmingham, and Liverpool, and +other busy centres of industry, and intelligence, and life. +Says our informant, <!-- page 178--><a name="page178"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 178</span>We have a good many captains in the +army here, and several merchants, nor are we surprised at the +information.</p> +<p>When we entered, the men had just dined, and were collected in +the yard previous to being examined and walked off in gangs, +under the charge of their respective officers, to work. The +gangs consisted of various numbers, of from fifteen to thirty; +each officer felt each man, to see that nothing was hidden, and +examined his number to see that it was all right, and as each +gang marches through the gate, the officer calls out the number +of the gang, and the number of men it contains, to the chief +officer, who enters it in his book. As soon as this +operation was over, the gangs marched out, some to quarry stones +for the Breakwater below; and others, by far the larger number, +to construct the enormous barricades and fortifications which the +Government has ordered as a defence for that part of the +world. The prisoners who cannot stand this hard work are +employed in mending clothes, in making shoes, in baking, and +brewing, in the school-room, and other offices necessary in such +an enormous establishment. In this latter employment no +less a personage than Sir John Dean Paul had been occupied till +very recently. The scene was a busy one; all around us were +convicts—here quarrying, there employed in the manufacture +of tools, or in carpenters’s or masons’s +work—all working well, and many of them cheerful in spite +of the presence of an official, and little apparently heeding the +sentry standing near with loaded gun ready to shoot, if need be, +a runaway. <!-- page 179--><a name="page179"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 179</span>We have heard gentlemen say that at +Bermuda and at Gibraltar, the convicts will not work. All +we can say is, that at Portland they do, and so effectually, as +to cost the country but little more than four or five pounds a +year. Our out door inspection over, we then went over the +sleeping apartments, and the chapel, and the kitchen, and +laundry, and bakery. The impression left on us was very +favourable. The food is of the plainest, but most +satisfactory character. The allowance for breakfast is 12 +oz. of bread, 1 pint of tea or cocoa. Dinner, 1 pint of +soup, 5½ oz. of meat, 1 lb. of potatoes, 6 oz., of bread +or pudding. Supper, 9 oz. of bread, 1 pint of gruel or +tea. The chapel is a handsome building, capable of +containing fifteen hundred people, and the sleeping apartments +were light and airy, and well ventilated. Each cell opens +into a corridor, there being a series of three or four storeys; +each sleeping apartment can contain from a hundred to five +hundred men; in each cell there is a hammock, and all that is +requisite for personal cleanliness, besides a book or two which +the convict is allowed to have from the library. Of course +the manner of life is somewhat monotonous. Before coming to +Portland, the prisoners have passed their allotted time, +(generally about nine months), in what is termed separate +confinement, at Pentonville, Millbank, Preston, Bedford, +Wakefield, or some other prison adapted for the first stage of +penal discipline. Upon their reception they are made to +undergo medical inspection, a change of clothes, and are required +to bathe; <!-- page 180--><a name="page180"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 180</span>they are then informed of the rules +and regulations of the prison, and moved to school for +examination in educational attainments, with a view to their +correct classification. Afterwards they receive an +appropriate address from the chaplain, and are allowed to write +their first letter from Portland to their relations. They +are then put to work, and are made to feel that their future +career depends in some measure on themselves. Thus there +are four classes, and the convict in the best class may earn as +much as two shillings-a-week, which is put to his credit, and +paid him when he becomes free, partly by a post-office order, +payable to him when he reaches his destination, and partly +afterwards. The dress consists of fustian, over which a +blue smock frock with white stripes is thrown. Convicts who +are dangerous, and have maltreated their keepers, instead of a +frock have a coat of a somewhat loud and striking +character. Then, again, a yellow dress denotes that the +convict has attempted to escape; and further, a blue cloth dress +denotes that the wearer, engaged as a pointsman, has but little +more time to stay, and has a little more freedom intrusted to +him. In the working days in summer the prison-bell rouses +all hands at a quarter-past five, allowing an hour for washing, +dressing, and breakfast. Then comes morning service in the +chapel. They are then marched off to labour, where they +remain till eleven, when they return to dinner. At +half-past twelve they are again paraded, and dismissed to labour +till six. Suppers are distributed to each cell at half-past +six, and at seven <!-- page 181--><a name="page181"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 181</span>evening service is held in the +chapel. The prisoners then return to their cells. In +winter-time they are recalled from labour at half-past four, +prayers are read at five, and supper is served at six; the +prisoners then return to their cells. At eight all lights +must be put out, and silence reigns in every hall, the slippered +night-guards alone gliding through the long and dimly-lighted +galleries like so many spectres. It may be that sorrow is +wakeful, but it is not so at Portland. If the men have +troubled consciences and uneasy hours, it is when they are at +work, and not during the period allotted to repose. They +are asleep as soon as ever the lights are put out, and till the +bell summons them to labour they sleep the sleep of the +just. Nor can we wonder at it. There is no sleep so +sweet and precious, as that earned by a long day’s work in +the open air.</p> +<p>Attendance at chapel and walking exercise in the open air, are +the two great features of the Sunday’s employment; and, as +a farther change, we may mention, each prisoner is allowed half a +day’s schooling per week. While at work, of course +they talk together,—it is impossible to prevent +that,—and they choose their companions, and have their +friendships as if they were free; and even, as in the case of Sir +John Dean Paul, maintain—or endeavour to do so—the +social distinctions which were accorded to them when supposed to +be respectable members of respectable society. Altogether +here, as at many a worse place than Portland, the convicts must +work hard, for the contractor depends <!-- page 182--><a +name="page182"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 182</span>on them for +the supply of stone which is sent down the tramway to the +Breakwater; but many of the men at Portland have been accustomed +to hard labour all their lives. They are chiefly young and +able-bodied, and here they are well cared for and taught. +Surely here, if anywhere, the convict may repent his crimes, and +be fitted to return to society a wiser and a better man! We +cannot exactly say what are the effects of all this; but surely +the convicts must be better from this separation from their usual +haunts and associates. Portland Prison is admirably adapted +for carrying out a great experiment in the treatment and +improvement of the criminal classes. It has now been in +existence twelve years, and the experiment hitherto has +succeeded. At any rate, if it is a blunder, it is not a +costly one, like some establishments nearer town.</p> +<p>It is now nearly ten years since transportation to the +colonies ceased to be a punishment for criminal offences. +The Tasmanian and Australian authorities refused to receive them; +and the government establishment at Norfolk Island was abandoned, +the home government resolving to make an effort to dispose of the +convict population in some other manner. The convict +establishment on the Island of Portland was the first scheme +proposed for the employment and reformation of offenders. +The principal object was to secure a place of confinement for +long-term convicts; the next, to systematically apply the labour +of such convicts to “national works of importance,” +the prosecution of which at once was profitable, <!-- page +183--><a name="page183"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +183</span>and afforded the means of training the convicts to +habits of industry. The Penal Servitude Act was passed in +1850, and under it the much-condemned ticket of leave came into +operation. It substituted sentences of penal servitude for +all crimes formerly visited by sentences of transportation to a +less period than 14 years. As few of such sentences, +comparatively, reached over that period, the Act practically +reduced the transportation sentences to a mere tithe of what they +were before—the average during the years from 1854 to 1857 +not being more than 235 out of 3200. In 1857 the +transportation sentences only amounted to 110, while the penal +servitude sentences were 2474. In that year an Act was +passed with a small proportionate remission of sentence as a +reward for good conduct. The advantages of the system thus +established, were considered to be—1st, Its deterring +effects. 2nd, Its affording encouragement to the +convict. 3rd, As giving the means of dealing with +refractory convicts; and 4th, As affording means of employment to +offenders on their discharge.</p> +<p>Portland Prison, as the chief punitive establishment under +this new system, is, of course, most deserving notice. In +1857, the total expenditure on this prison was +£48,782. The total value of the labour performed in +the same year was £41,855, which, divided by 1488 (the +average number of prisoners), gave £28. 2s. 7d. as the rate +per man. We doubt if the labour in our county prisons has +ever reached the half of this value. Large numbers of the +Portland prisoners have obtained employment <!-- page 184--><a +name="page184"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 184</span>at harbour +and other similar works since their discharge, and generally +their conduct has been satisfactory. The Discharged +Prisoners’ Aid Society regularly assists the well-behaved +convicts in finding employment on their release from confinement, +and that society’s operations have been remarkably +successful. Pentonville prison has ordinarily from five to +six hundred prisoners; while in Milbank the daily average number, +in 1857, was about 1100. Parkhurst prison is kept for boy +convicts, of whom the average daily number in 1857, was 431; and +Brixton, for females, of whom 784 in all were received in that +year. The Fulham Refuge is another female institution, in +which convicts are received previous to being discharged on +license, and in which they are taught a knowledge of household +work, such as cooking, washing, &c., calculated to improve +their chances of getting employment. Portsmouth, Chatham, +Lewes, and Dartmoor are also used as convict establishments; the +latter, however, is being gradually given up, as utterly unfitted +for such a purpose, its temperature in winter somewhat +approaching to that of Nova Zembla. It is difficult to say +what are the numbers requiring to be disposed of in these convict +prisons in the average of years, but they probably range about +7,000 males and 1,200 females. If the decrease of crime in +1858 continue in subsequent years, our home prisons will amply +suffice for the reception of our convict population.</p> +<h2><!-- page 185--><a name="page185"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 185</span>CHARTER XVIII.<br /> +CONCERNING CABS.</h2> +<p>One of the most blessed institutions of London is the +cab. I prefer it much to the ’bus—to equestrian +exercise—and if I had, which I have not, a carriage of my +own, I dare say I should prefer it even to that. If the +horse falls down, it is not yours that breaks its knees; if the +shafts suddenly snap asunder, they are not yours that are +damaged. And you need not be imposed on, unless you are +flat enough to ask cabby his fare, and then it serves you +right. The number of cabs now licensed in London is 4,500; +each common cab and the two horses with the appointments +requisite to work it are estimated to cost not more than +£60, so that the capital engaged is, in round numbers, +upwards of £270,000, provided by upwards of 1,800 small +owners. The waste of the capital committed by this +competition within the field of supply is visible to the eye, at +all times and all weathers, in full stands, or long files waiting +hour after hour, and in the numbers crawling about the streets +looking out for fares. The cost of the keep <!-- page +186--><a name="page186"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 186</span>of +each horse is estimated at 16s. 4d. per week—the +depreciation of horse stock is put down at 2s. 6d. per week each, +and of the vehicle at 8s. per week. The market value of the +labour of such a man as the driver of a cab may be set down in +London at 4s. per diem. The stable rent is at least 10s. +per week, per cab and horses, so that the capital invested for +man, horse, and vehicle, may be set down at more than one +shilling per hour lost during every hour of the twelve that cabs +are kept unemployed. On every cab-stand, where in foul +weather as well as fair a dozen cabs are seen constantly +unemployed, the administrative economist may see capital +evaporating in worse than waste at a rate of 12s. per hour, +£7. 4s. per diem, or at a rate of between two and three +thousand pounds per annum, to be charged to some one, <i>i.e.</i> +the public. If all were employed, as the usual rate of +driving is six miles per hour, they must be each employed at +least four hours per diem to pay for their keep. If, +however, the cabs were constantly employed daily, at least three +horses must be employed, which would augment the charge, by that +of an additional horse, at the rate of 4d. per hour. A +large proportion of the cabs are employed during the whole 24 +hours; but there are then two men, a night man and a day man, and +three horses. It is probably greatly below the fact to +state that at least one-third of the cabs are, the week through, +unemployed—that is to say, one-third of the capital +invested is wasted, a service for two capitals being competed for +by three, to the inevitable destruction of one. As in <!-- +page 187--><a name="page187"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +187</span>other cases of competition within the field, efforts +are made by violent manifestations of discontent at the legal +fare, by mendacity, and by various modes of extortion, to charge +upon the public the expense of the wasted capital. +Sometimes it is in the form of a piteous appeal that the driver +or the competitor has been out all day and has not before had +“one single blessed fare.” And yet the legal +charge for the frequently wretched service of the man, horse, and +vehicle is, when taken by the hour, nearly double, and by the +mile, nearly treble—when only two horses per diem are +used—its actual prime cost, which is, when driving at +little more than six miles an hour, 2d. or 3d. per mile, and when +waiting, 1s. 4d. per hour. But there is now a cry from the +cab proprietors that this charge of double the prime cost does +not pay, as it probably does not under such a ruinous system, and +an appeal is proposed to parliament for an augmentation of the +fares, but such augmentations, under this principle of +competition within the field, would only aggravate the evil, for +it would lead to an increased number of competitors, and instead +of there being a competition of three to do the work of two, +there would be a competition of two or more to do the work of +one—that is, a greater waste of capital to be paid for by +some one. Since the reduction of the fares in 1852, the +number of cabs in the metropolis, instead of being reduced, has +been increased from 3297 to 4507 in 1857.</p> +<p>The criminal returns afford melancholy indications of their +moral condition to those conversant with penal <!-- page 188--><a +name="page188"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +188</span>statistics. Thus, in the police returns we find, +under the head of “Coach and cabmen”—but it is +stated by the police to be chiefly of cabmen—a very heavy +list of offences. In the year 1854 it was 682; in the year +before that, 777. The recurring crimes are thus +denoted:</p> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: center">Apprehensions for</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">1853.</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: center">1854.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Offenses against the Hackney Carriage Act</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">369</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">335</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Simple larcenies</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">29</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">36</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Other larcenies</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">10</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">12</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Common assaults</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">54</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">42</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p> ,, on the police</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">24</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">11</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Cruelty to animals</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">57</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">27</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Disorderly characters</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">15</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">21</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Drunk and disorderly characters</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">66</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">62</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Drunkenness</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">82</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">73</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Furious driving</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">24</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right">18</p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p>In respect to this service of cabs, says a writer—from +whom I have taken these figures, I regret I cannot find out his +name, that I might quote it—“the analysed charges and +statistics show that by a properly-conducted competition by +adequate capital for the whole field—for which, in my view, +the chief police or local administrative authorities ought, as +servants of the public, to be made responsible—service +equal to the present might be obtained at 3d. or 4d. per mile; or +at the present legal fare of 6d. per mile, a service approaching +in condition to that of private carriages, might be insured out +of the waste which now occurs.”</p> +<p><!-- page 189--><a name="page189"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +189</span>A pleasant way of getting along is that of getting in a +Hansom, and bidding the driver drive on. A great +improvement, undoubtedly, on the old Hackney coach, or on that +first species of cab—consisting of a gig with a very +dangerous hood—on one side of which sat the driver, while +on the other was suspended yourself. Now as you dash +merrily along, with a civil driver, a luxurious equipage, and not +a bad sort of horse, little do you think that you may be driving +far further than you intended, to a dangerous illness and an +early grave.</p> +<p>A terrible danger threatens all who live in London, or who +visit it, by means of a custom—which ought not to be +tolerated for an instant—of carrying sick persons in cabs +to hospitals. No doubt the increase of smallpox in the +metropolis may be referred to this source. Put a case of +smallpox into a comfortable cab for an hour, then send the +vehicle into the streets; first a merchant sits in it for a +quarter of an hour, then a traveller from the railway gets his +chance of catching the disease, and so on for the next week or +two. When it takes, the victims have had no warning of +their impending danger, and wonder where they got it. They +in their turn become new centres of disease, and for the next few +weeks they infect the air they breathe, the houses they inhabit, +the clothing sent to the laundress, and everybody and everything +which comes within their influence, and it is impossible to say +where the infection ceases. The following arrangements +would easily, cheaply, and effectually do away with the +evil:—1. Make it penal to let or to <!-- page 190--><a +name="page190"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 190</span>hire a +public vehicle for the conveyance of any person affected with +contagious disease. 2. Every institution for the reception +of contagious disease should undertake to fetch the patient on +receipt of a medical certificate as to the nature of the +case.</p> +<p>Do not be too confidential with cabby, nor ask him what he +charges, nor hold out a handful of silver to him and ask him to +pay himself, nor give him a sovereign in mistake for a shilling, +and delude yourself with the idea that he will return it. +Don’t tell him you are in a hurry to catch the train. +I once offered the driver of a Hansom a shilling for a ride from +the Post Office to the Angel, Islington; he was so disgusted that +he plainly informed me that if he’d a known I was only +going to give him a shilling, he’d be blessed if he would +not have lost the mail for me. The repeal of the newspaper +stamp has done wonders for cabby. He now takes in his +morning paper the same as any other gentleman. To ride in a +cab is the extent of some people’s idea of happiness. +I heard of a clerk who had absconded with some money belonging to +an employer, he had spent it all in chartering a cab, and in +riding about in it all day. M.P.’s are much in the +habit of using cabs. On one occasion an M.P. who had been +at a party, hurrying down to a division, was changing his evening +costume for one more appropriate to business. +Unfortunately, in the most interesting part of the transaction, +the cab was upset and the M.P. was exhibited in a state which +would have made Lord Elcho very angry.</p> +<p><!-- page 191--><a name="page191"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +191</span>Cab drivers I look upon as misanthropic +individuals. I fancy many of them were railway directors in +the memorable year of speculation, and have known better +days. The driver of a buss is a prince of good fellows +compared with a cabman. The former has no pecuniary +anxieties to weigh him down, he is full of fun in a quiet way, +and in case of a quarrel he has his conductor to take his +side—he has his regular employment and his regular pay; the +cabby is alone, and has to do battle with all the world, and he +has often horses to drive and people to deal with that would tire +the patience of a Job. He is constantly being +aggravated—there is no doubt about that; the magistrates +aggravate him—the police aggravate him—his fares +aggravate him—his ’oss aggravates him—the +crowded state of the street, and the impossibility of getting +along aggravates him—the weather aggravates him—if it +is hot he feels it, and has a terrible tendency to get +dry—and if it is cold and wet not even his damp wrappers +and overcoats can keep out, I suspect, chilblains; and I know he +has corns, and he will use bad language in a truly distressing +manner. Then his hours of work are such as to ruffle a +naturally serene temper, and when he finds it hard work to make +both ends meet, and sees how gaily young fellows spend their +money—how he drives them from one public to another, and +from one place of amusement to another—and in what +questionable society,—one can scarce wonder if now and then +cabby is a little sour, and if his language be as rough as his +thoughts. Strange tales can he tell. <!-- page +192--><a name="page192"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 192</span>A +friend of the writer’s once hired a chaise to take him +across the country; their way led them through a turnpike-gate, +and, to my friend’s horror, the driver never once pulled up +to allow him to pay the toll. My friend expostulated; as +the toll had to be paid, he thought the better plan was to pay it +at once. “Oh, it’s all right,” said Jehu, +smiling, “they know me well enough—I am the man wot +drives the prisoners, and prisoners never pay.” Our +London cabby is often similarly employed, and, as he rushes by, +we may well speculate as to the nature and mission of his +fare. Cabby so often drives rogues that we cannot wonder if +in time he becomes a bit of a rogue himself.</p> +<h2><!-- page 193--><a name="page193"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 193</span>CHAPTER XIX.<br /> +FREE DRINKING FOUNTAINS.</h2> +<p>Till lately the London poor had no means of getting water but +the pump or the public-house. Of the latter we can have but +a poor opinion, nor all the former much better. It appears +that “the London pumps can never be otherwise than +dangerous sources of supply; the porous sod from which they suck +being that into which our cesspools and leaky drains discharge a +great part of their fluid—sometimes even a great part of +their solid contents, and in which, till very recently, all our +interments have taken place. It is a soil which +consequently abounds with putrid and putrefiable matter. +The water derived from it invariably contains products of organic +decomposition, more or less oxidised; and it is a mere chance, +beyond the power of water-drinkers to measure or control, whether +that oxidation shall at all times be so incomplete as to have +left the water still capable of a very dangerous kind of +fermentation.” We are further told that, “the +shallow well water receives the drainage of Highgate Cemetery, of +numerous burial grounds, and of innumerable <!-- page 194--><a +name="page194"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 194</span>cesspools +which percolate the soil on the London side of the Cemetery, and +flow towards the Metropolis. . . . That the pump-water also +becomes contaminated with the residual liquors of manufacturing +processes. . . . That a man who habitually makes use of +London pump-water, lives in perpetual danger of +disease.”</p> +<p>But one of the greatest and most unexpected sources of danger +is, that the sense of taste or smell fails to warn us of the +danger of using such water, since clearness, coolness, and +tastelessness, may exist, without being evidences of +wholesomeness. We are also told that “the carbonic +acid of the decomposed matter makes them sparkling, and the +nitrates they contain give them a pleasant coolness to the taste, +so that nothing could be better adapted to lure their victims to +destruction than the external qualities of these +waters—hence the worst of them are most popular for +drinking purposes.”</p> +<p>The nitrates with which these waters are charged generally +proceed from the decomposition of animal matter, such as the +corpses interred in London churchyards; hence the popularity of +some pumps near churchyards; and to such an extent are some of +these waters charged with this ingredient, that J. B. C. Aldis, +M.D., declares the water of a surface-well (though cool and +sparkling to the taste) twice exploded during the process of +incineration when he was analysing it!</p> +<p>Under these peculiar circumstances it does seem strange that +in London the weary, the thirsty, and the poor have thus +practically been driven to the public <!-- page 195--><a +name="page195"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 195</span>house, and +that they should have been left without an alternative. A +man toiling all day, bearing, it may be, heavy burdens in the +summer sun, miles it may be from his home, parched with thirst, +practically to quench that thirst has been compelled to resort to +the beer-shop or the gin-palace. And what has been the +consequence, that the man has been led to drink more than was +good for him—that he has got into bad company—that he +has wasted his time and his money, injured his health, and +possibly been led into the commission of vice and crime. +Every day the evil has been demonstrated in the most striking, in +the most alarming, and in the most abundant manner. A +benevolent gentleman at Liverpool was the first to see the evil, +and to devise a remedy. He erected fountains, elegant and +attractive in character, furnished with pure water, and in one +day of about thirteen hours twenty-four thousand seven hundred +and two persons drank at the thirteen fountains in that +town. Of that twenty-four thousand seven hundred and two +persons, many would otherwise have resorted to public-houses or +gin-palaces to quench their thirst. In smaller places, +where results are easier to ascertain, it has been found that in +reality the fountains do keep people from frequenting beer-shops, +and, therefore, do keep them sober. A gentleman who largely +employs workmen in ironworks in the town of Wednesbury, having +recently erected fountains for his workpeople, says that his +manager has since observed an improvement in their habits and +regularity <!-- page 196--><a name="page196"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 196</span>of attendance, attributable to their +discarded use of beer, in consequence of the facility of +obtaining pure water which the fountains afford. The +publicans in London understand this, as it appears from the +report of the committee of the Free Drinking Association, held at +Willis’s Rooms last week, when the drinking cups have been +missing they have invariably been found at some neighbouring +public-house. The movement, as we have intimated, commenced +at Liverpool; it was not long before it reached London. +According to Mr. Wakefield, the honorary secretary of the +Association, there was a greater need for this movement in London +than elsewhere, owing to the fact that the greater radiation of +heat from a larger surface of buildings, less shade, more smoke +and dust, and longer street distances, combines to make London a +more thirst-exciting place than any provincial town. Mr. +Samuel Gurney, M.P., was the first, who, in a letter published in +some of the Loudon papers, called attention to the grievous +privation which the want of these fountains inflicted on the +London poor, and subsequently by his great personal influence and +liberal pecuniary contributions, and unwearied exertions founded +the Association; the Earl of Shaftesbury, the Earl of Carlisle, +the Archbishop of Canterbury, and other distinguished noblemen +and gentlemen rallied around him. London parishes and +vestries have most of them come forward and contributed, and +already nearly a hundred drinking fountains have been erected by +this Association. It is inferred from the Liverpool <!-- +page 197--><a name="page197"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +197</span>statistics that at least 400 fountains might be +advantageously erected in London; these could not be constructed +and kept in repair at a less cost than £20,000. To +gain this sum the Association appeals to the public. Last +year the total receipts of the Association amounted to +£2,609; much more is required; a very good sign, indicative +of the appreciation on the part of Londoners of the boon offered +them, is found in the fact that the poor themselves are +contributing voluntarily and in an unostentatious manner to +defray the expenses of erection. The plan of attaching +moneyboxes to the fountains for the donations of friends has been +adopted, and the first money-box has been placed at the first +erected fountain on Snow Hill. So far as the experience of +four weeks justifies an opinion, it is very encouraging, and a +sum of 8d. a day has been deposited in small coins, varying from +farthings to two-shilling pieces. The experiment is to be +extended to five other fountains, when, if successful, it is +proposed to supply every fountain with a money-box, when the +erection will be more than self-supporting. “Of all +the efforts I have been called to make,” said the Earl of +Shaftesbury, “there is none that so strongly commends +itself to my feelings and my judgment as the Free Drinking +Fountain movement.” The Earl of Carlisle says, +“Erect drinking fountains, and habits of intemperance will +soon show a diminution, and with a diminution of intemperance +will be stopped the most prolific of all the sources of crime and +misery.” Most people will <!-- page 198--><a +name="page198"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 198</span>say the +same, and we look upon these fountains—elegant in +character, supplied with pure water—as a grateful +acknowledgment by the richer classes of the interest and sympathy +they feel for those in less happy circumstances.</p> +<p>As evidence of the grateful interest elicited by this movement +in the humblest classes, let the reader take the following +letters. The first was addressed, “for Mr. Samuel +Gurney Esquire who bilt the fountaine Newgate Street.”</p> +<blockquote><p>to Mr. Gurney esquire</p> +<p style="text-align: right">July 9</p> +<p>Kind Sir</p> +<p>i take liberty to giv you my best thanks fore the butiful +fountaine what you wos so kind to giv to us poor men for Newgate +Street and i would plese ask you sir to be so kind and giv us 2 +more cups extra fore wen in Newgate street i see the squeeging +and shovin for water for only the 2 cups of woman and little boys +is not enuff this verry hot days and God bless you Sir fore all +your goodness what you do</p> +<p style="text-align: right">from a poor man in London.</p> +</blockquote> +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: right">Monday June the 20th</p> +<p>Gentlemen of the Committee</p> +<p>I see by the paper of yesterday the working Men had a large +Meeting on the Fountain question. I think under your care +and good Management the Working Women could also form and do <!-- +page 199--><a name="page199"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +199</span>much good. Also the Ladies could associate with +the working Classes as their Subscriptions could be distinct from +ours; as of course our means are very limited; but surely we +could most of us become Subscribers at twopence per week in so +noble a cause that bids fair to drive the curse of Public Houses +from our land—King’s Cross wants one much, and there +is room in the open Square also at the Portland Road at the end +of Euston Road. They ought to be round or Square with 4 or +6 places to Drink from, with something of interest to mark to +whose honour they were raised. One Subject could be Prince +Edward suppressing the wine houses in Gibraltar, 1792. I +think nothing could be better for the purpose as we all feel +something must be done to stop this crying evil that is sending +thousands to Death and Madness—the other subject could be +Alderman Wood who rose from a poor Charity School Boy of Tiverton +Devonshire to plead the Duke of Kent’s return to England +that his child, our present good queen, should be born on British +ground; so we as a people have to thank the late Sir Matthew Wood +for that. I think the wives and daughters of freemasons +will give freely in respect to the late Duke of Kent who spent I +may say thousands to raise the standard of that noble order. . . +. Forgive these few remarks of A Soldier and a +Mason’s Daughter who has her country’s interest at +heart.</p> +<p>J. DUNN × 103 Euston Road Euston Sq. Gentlemen +forgive the intrusion on your time also my <!-- page 200--><a +name="page200"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 200</span>bad grammar +but remember I hear and see every Day the Curse of Drink.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>As evidence of the filthy nature of London water and of the +need of fountains, let the reader take the following letter from +Dr. Letheby, the City Medical Officer, addressed to the Honorary +Secretary of the Drinking Fountain Association; and let the +reader bear in mind that Dr. Letheby’s evidence is +confirmed by that of upwards of fifty other medical +gentlemen. Dr. Letheby says,—</p> +<blockquote><p>“From what I know of the habits of the poor +within this city, I am led to believe that the erection of +drinking fountains would be of especial service to them; for +although the average supply of water to the metropolis is +abundant, yet the distribution of it is so unequal that the +poorer classes do not obtain their proper proportion; in fact, +this has become so serious a matter in most of the courts and +alleys of this city, that I have great difficulty in dealing with +it. You are, no doubt, aware that the water companies have +been obliged to shorten the time of supply ever since they have +been compelled by the Act of Parliament to furnish filtered water +to the public; and, as the poor have not the means of altering +the present condition of the service, and adapting it to the new +arrangement, their receptacles are never filled during the short +time that the water is on. Every contrivance is, therefore, +<!-- page 201--><a name="page201"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +201</span>used to secure as much water as possible while it is +flowing; but, partly from the filthy state of the cisterns, and +partly from the fœtid emanations to which the water is +exposed in the over-crowded rooms in which it is kept, it is +rarely, if ever, drinkable. The poor, then, would be too +glad to avail themselves of the opportunities afforded by the +public fountains, and would, I am quite sure, hail them as boons +of the greatest value; and when it comes to be known that the +water which flows from the fountains is as pure as chemical and +other contrivances can render it, the boon will most assuredly be +prized by all.</p> +<p>“At present, the public wells of this city are largely +used by all classes of persons; and, knowing what I do of the +composition of these waters, I have looked with much concern at +the probable mischief that might be occasioned by them; for +though they are generally grateful to the palate, and deliriously +cool, they are rich in all kinds of filthy decomposing products, +as the soakage from sewers and cesspools, and the not less +repulsive matters from the over-crowded churchyards. What, +therefore, can be of greater importance to the public than the +opportunity of drinking water which shall not only be grateful +and cool, as that from the city pumps, but which shall have none +of its lurking dangers?</p> +<p>“As to the quality of the water that is now supplied by +the public companies I can speak in the fullest confidence, for +it is not merely the most available for <!-- page 202--><a +name="page202"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 202</span>your +purposes, but it is in reality the best supply that can be +obtained. I need not describe the admirable arrangements +that have been employed by the several companies for the +purification of the water, but I may state that there is not a +city in Europe that has so large a supply of good water as this +metropolis, and I do not know where or how you could obtain a +better. I say, therefore, without hesitation, that the +water supplied by the public companies is the best that can be +used for the fountains; and, seeing that it will be twice +filtered, and carefully freed from every kind of impurity by the +most perfect chemical and mechanical contrivances, there need be +no hesitation on the part of the most fastidious in freely +drinking at the public fountains.”</p> +</blockquote> +<h2><!-- page 203--><a name="page203"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 203</span>CHAPTER XX.<br /> +CONCLUSION.</h2> +<p>One bright May morning in the year of our Lord, 1445, the +streets of London presented an unusually animated +appearance. Here and there were quaint devices and rare +allegories, well pleasing alike to the rude eye and taste of +citizen and peer. From dark lane and darker alley poured +forth swarms eager to behold the stranger, who, young, +high-spirited, and beautiful, had come to wear the diadem of +royalty, and to share the English throne. The land of love +and song had given her birth. Her “gorgeous +beauty,” as our national dramatist describes it, had been +ripened but by fifteen summers’s suns. Hope told a +flattering tale. She discerned not the signs that +prophesied a dark and dreary future. A tempest rudely +greeted her as she landed on our shores. Sickness preyed +upon her frame. Those whose fathers’s bones were +bleaching on the battle-fields of France murmured that Maine and +Anjou, won by so free an expenditure of English blood and gold, +should be ceded to the sire of one who, dowerless, came to claim +the throne, and, as <!-- page 204--><a name="page204"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 204</span>it speedily appeared, to rule the +fortunes, of <span class="smcap">Henry Plantagenet</span>. +In mercy the sad perspective of thirty wintry years was hidden +from her view. She dreamt not of the cup of bitterness it +was hers to drink—how she should be driven from the land +that then hailed her with delight—how all that woman should +abhor should be laid to her charge—how, in her desolate +chateau, stripped of her power, and fame, and crown, lonely and +broken-hearted, she should spend the evening of her life in +unavailing sorrow and regret, till, with bloodshot eyes, and +wrinkled brow, and leprous skin, she should become all that men +shuddered to behold. But onward passed the procession, and +smiles were on her lips, and joy was in her heart. Bright +was her queenly eye, and beautiful was her flaxen hair, so well +known in romance or in the songs of wandering troubadour. +Around her were the children of no common race, gallant and +haughty, dark-eyed Norman barons, ready to keep, as their fathers +had won, with their own good swords, power and nobility upon +British soil.</p> +<p>Years have come and gone. The great ones of the earth +have felt their power slip from them. Crowns and sceptres +have turned to dust. Thrones have tottered to their fall; +but there was then that evolving itself of which succeeding ages +have witnessed but the more full development. In that +procession there were symptoms of a coming change—signs, +and warning voices, that told the noble that the power and pride +of the individual man was being torn from him—that he had +been weighed <!-- page 205--><a name="page205"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 205</span>in the balance and found +wanting. The trading companies—the sons of the Saxon +churl—<span class="smcap">the middle +classes</span>—for the first time appeared upon the scene, +and were deemed a fitting escort to royalty. History +herself has deigned to tell us of their show and +bravery—how, on horseback, with blue gowns and embroidered +shoes, and red hoods, they joined the nobles and prelates of our +land. Four hundred years have but seen the increase of +their wealth, of their respectability, and power. Their +struggle upwards has been long and tedious, but it has been safe +and sure. The wars of the red rose and the white—wars +which beggared the princes of England, and spilt the blood of its +nobles like water—were favourable to the progress of the +middle class. The battle of Barnet witnessed the fall and +death of the kingmaker, and with her champion feudalism +fell. The power passed from the baron. The most +thoughtless began to perceive that a time was coming when mere +brute strength would fail its possessor. Dim and shadowy +notions of the superiority of right to might were loosened from +the bondage of the past, and set afloat; discoveries, strange and +wonderful, became the property of the many; the fountains of +knowledge, and thought, and fame were opened, and men pressed +thither, eager to win higher honour than that obtained by the +intrigues of court, or the accidents of birth.</p> +<p>With all that was bright and good did the middle classes +identify themselves. In them was the stronghold of +civilization. The prince and peer were unwilling to <!-- +page 206--><a name="page206"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +206</span>admit of changes in polity, in religion, or in law, +which to them could bring no good, and might possibly bring +harm. Conventional usage had stamped them with a higher +worth than that which by right belonged to them; their +adulterated gold passed as current coin; hence it was their +interest to oppose every attempt to establish a more natural +test. The aristocracy ceased to be the thinkers of the +age. From the middle classes came the men whose words and +deeds we will not willingly let die. Shakspere, Milton, and +Cromwell shew what of genius, and power, and divine aim, at one +time the middle classes contained.</p> +<p>And now, once more, is there not an upheaving of humanity from +beneath? and over society as it is, does not once more loom the +shadow of a coming change? Does not middle-class +civilization in its mode of utterance and thought, betoken +symptoms of decay? Look at it as it does the genteel thing, +and sleeps an easy hour in Episcopalian church or Dissenting +chapel—as it faintly applauds a world-renovating principle, +and gracefully bows assent to a divine idea. Ask it its +problem of life, its mission, and it knows no other than to have +a good account at the bank, and to keep a gig; possibly, if it be +very ambitious, it may, in its heart of hearts, yearn for a +couple of flunkeys and a fashionable square. It is very +moral and very religious. Much is it attached to morality +and religion in the abstract; but to take one step in their +behalf—to cut the shop, for their sake, for an +hour—is a thing it rarely does. Often is it too much +<!-- page 207--><a name="page207"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +207</span>trouble for it to vote at a municipal election—to +employ the franchise to which it has a right—to support the +man or the paper that advocates its principles. That is, it +refuses to grapple with the great principle of ill with which man +comes into this world to make war; and, rather than lose a pound, +or sacrifice its respectability, or depart from the routine of +formalism into which it has grown, it will let the devil take +possession of the world.</p> +<p>Looked at from a right point of view, the world’s +history is a series of dissolving views. We have had the +gorgeous age of nobility, the money-making one of the +middle-classes—lower still we must go. Truth lies at +the bottom of the well; the pearls, whose lustre outshine even +beauty’s eye are hidden in the deep. The men who now +stamp their impress on the age—whose thought is genuine and +free—who shew the hollowness of shams—who demand for +the common brotherhood of man their common rights—who +herald a coming age—who are its teachers and +apostles—originally laboured in coal-mines, like +Stephenson; or mended shoes, like Cooper; or plied the shuttle, +like Fox; or stood, as did Burns and Nicoll, at the plough, with +<span class="smcap">God’s</span> heaven above them, and +<span class="smcap">God’s</span> inspiration in their +hearts.</p> +<p>The decline and fall of England has already found chroniclers +enough. Ledru Rollin and the Protectionists are agreed as +regards the lamentable fact. G. F. Young, the chairman of +the Society for the Protection of British Industry and Capital, +believed it as firmly as his own <!-- page 208--><a +name="page208"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +208</span>existence. A similar opinion is more than hinted +in the tedious History of Dr. Alison. At a still earlier +period the same doleful tale was ever on the lips and pervaded +the writings of Southey, the Laureate and the renegade. If +these gentlemen are right, then the melancholy conviction must be +forced upon us that England has seen her best days; that it will +never be with her what it was in time past, when she bred up an +indomitable race, when her flag of triumph fluttered in every +breeze, and floated on every sea. We must believe that +England’s sun is about to set; that, with its brightness +and its beauty, it will never more bless and irradiate the +world.</p> +<p>Against such a conclusion we emphatically protest. We +look back upon our national career, and we see that each age has +witnessed the people’s growth in political power; that +especially since that grand field-day of Democracy, the French +Revolution, that power has gone on increasing with accelerated +force; that it was to the increased ascendancy of that power that +we owed it that we rode in safety whilst the political ocean was +covered with wreck and ruin. If one thing be clearer than +another in our national history, it is that our greatness and the +power of the people have grown together. At a season like +the present it is well to remember this. Prophets often +fulfil their own prophecies. The Jeremiads of the weak, or +the interested, or the fearful, may damp the courage of some +hearts; and a people told that they are ruined, that the poor are +becoming poorer every day, that the <!-- page 209--><a +name="page209"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 209</span>end of all +labour is the workhouse or the gaol, that their life is but a +lingering death, may come to believe that the handwriting is upon +the wall, and that it is hopeless to war with fate.</p> +<p>The fact is, nations, when they die, die of +<i>felo-de-se</i>. The national heart becomes unsound, and +the national arm weak. The virtue has gone out of it. +Its rulers have usurped despotic powers, and the people have been +sunk in utter imbecility, or have looked upon life as a May-day +game, and nothing more. In our cold northern +clime—with the remains of that equality born and bred +amidst the beech-forests that bordered the Baltic—the +English people could never stoop to this; and hence our glorious +destiny. No nation under heaven’s broad light has +been more sorely tried than our own. We have taken into pay +almost every European power. Our war to restore the <span +class="smcap">Bourbons</span>, and thus to crush Liberalism at +home, and keep the Tories in office, was carried on at a cost +which only Englishmen could have paid; and yet from our long +seasons of distress—from our commercial panics, the result +of fettered trade—from our formidable continental +wars—we have emerged with flying colours, and indomitable +strength. Mr. Porter’s statistics showed what we had +done in the face of difficulty and danger, and the progress we +have made since Mr. Porter’s time is something +prodigious. Not yet has the arm of the people been weakened +or its eye dulled.</p> +<p>These are facts such as the united Croaker tribe can <!-- page +210--><a name="page210"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +210</span>neither refute nor deny. We understand the +meaning of such men when they raise a cry of alarm. What +such men dread does in reality infuse into the constitution fresh +vigour and life. Not national death, but the reverse is the +result. The removal of one abuse, behind which monopoly and +class legislation have skulked, is like stripping from the +monarch of the forest the foul parasite by which his beauty is +hidden and his strength devoured. From such operations the +constitution comes out with the elements of life more copious and +active in it than before. It finds a wider base in the +support and attachment of the people; it becomes more sympathetic +with them. It grows with their growth and strengthens with +their strength.</p> +<p>It is not true, then, that for us the future is more fraught +with anxiety than hope. The theory is denied by fact. +It is not true commercially, nor is it true morally. Our +progress in morals and manners is, at least, equal to our +progress in trade. The coarse manners—the brutal +intoxication—the want of all faith in spiritual realities, +held not merely by the laity but by the clergy as well of the +last century, now no longer exists. Reverend Deans do not +now write to ladies as did the bitter Dean of St. Patrick’s +to his Stella. Sure are we that Victoria cannot speak of +her bishops as, according to Lord Hervey, George II. did, and +justly, speak of his. No Prime Minister now would dare to +insult the good feeling of the nation by handing his paramour to +her carriage from the Opera in the presence of Majesty. +Fielding’s novels <!-- page 211--><a +name="page211"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 211</span>graphically +display a state of things which happily now no longer +exists. The gossip of our times reveals +enough—alas!—too much—of human weakness and +immorality; but the gossip of our times is as far superior to +that which Horace Walpole has so faithfully preserved, or to that +which Mrs. Manley in her “New Atlantis” sullied her +woman’s name by retailing, or to that which Count Grammont +thought it no disgrace to record, as light to darkness or as +dross to gold. Macaulay thus describes the country squire +of the seventeenth century:—“His chief pleasures were +commonly derived from field-sports, and from an unrefined +sensuality. His language and his pronunciation were such as +we should now only expect to hear from ignorant clowns. His +oaths, coarse jokes, and scurrilous terms of abuse were uttered +with the broadest accents of his province.” The +country squire of the nineteenth century is surely some +improvement upon this; nor has the improvement been confined to +him—it has extended to all classes. We still hear +much, for instance, of drunkenness, but drunkenness does not +prevail as it did when publicans wrote on their signs, as +Smollett tells us they did,—“You may here get drunk +for one penny, dead drunk for two pence, and clean straw for +nothing.”</p> +<p>After all, then, we lay down our pen in hope. We have +undergone struggles deep and severe, and such struggles we may +still continue to have. With a debt of eight hundred +millions like a millstone round our neck—with a population +increasing at the rate of a thousand a <!-- page 212--><a +name="page212"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +212</span>day—with Ireland’s ills not yet +remedied—with half the landed property of the country in +the hands of the lawyer or the Jew—with discordant colonies +in all parts of the globe—with large masses in our midst +degraded by woe and want—barbarians in the midst of +civilization—heathens in the full blaze of Christian +light—no man can deny that there are breakers ahead. +Rather from what we see around us we may conclude that we shall +have storms to weather, severe as any that have awakened the +energy and heroism of our countrymen in days gone by. But +the history of the past teaches us how those storms will be met +and overcome. Not by accident is modern history so rich in +the possession of the new creed and the new blood, for the want +of which the glory of Athens and Corinth, and of her “who +was named eternal” passed away as a dream of the +night. Not that England may perish does that new blood +course through the veins, and that new creed fructify in the +hearts of her sons. The progress we have made is the surest +indication of the progress it is yet our destiny to make. +Onward, then, ye labourers for humanity, heralds of a coming +age—onward then till</p> + +<blockquote><p> “We +sweep into a younger day.<br /> +Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Those who would deny the people their political +rights—who would teach a Christianity unworthy of its +name—who would inculcate a conventional morality—who +would degrade the national heart by perpetuating <!-- page +213--><a name="page213"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +213</span>religious and political shams—they, and not the +foreigner, are our national enemies. Against them must we +wage untiring war, for they are hostile to the progress of the +nation, and by that hostility sin against the progress of the +world. England will still stand foremost in the files of +time—and of that England, London will still remain the +heart and head.</p> +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><span +class="smcap">london</span>:<br /> +<span class="smcap">printed by william ostell</span>, <span +class="smcap">hart street</span>, <span +class="smcap">bloomsbury</span>.</p> +<h2><!-- page 215--><a name="page215"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 215</span>ADVERTISEMENTS.</h2> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>Price</i> 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>, +<i>bound in cloth</i>, <i>Second Edition</i>, <i>Revised</i>.</p> +<h3>THE NIGHT-SIDE OF LONDON,</h3> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">by</span><br /> +JAMES EWING RITCHIE.</p> +<p>Contents: Seeing a Man hanged—Catherine-street—The +Bal Masqué—Up the Haymarket—Ratcliffe +Highway—Judge and Jury Clubs—The Cave of +Harmony—Discussion Clubs—Cider +Cellars—Leicester Square—Boxing +Night—Caldwell’s—Cremorne—The +Costermongers’ Free-and-Easy, &c.</p> +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">opinions of the +press</span>.</p> +<p>“We would wish for this little volume an attentive +perusal on the part of all to whom inclination or duty, or both, +give an interest in the moral, the social, and the religious +condition of their fellow-men; above all, we should wish to see +it in the hands of bishops, and other ecclesiastical +dignitaries—of metropolitan rectors and fashionable +preachers—of statesmen and legislators—and of that +most mischievous class of men, well-meaning +philanthropists. The picture of life in London, of its +manifold pitfalls of temptation and corruption, which are here +presented to the reader’s eye, is truly appalling. No +one can rise from it without a deep conviction that something +must be done, ay, and that soon, if the metropolis of the British +Empire is not to become a modern Sodom and +Gomorrah.”—<i>John Bull</i>.</p> +<p>“There is a matter-of-fact reality about the sketches, +but they are chiefly remarkable for the moral tone of their +reflections. Generally speaking, painters of these subjects +rather throw a purple light over the actual scenes, and say +nothing of the consequences to which they lead. Mr. Ritchie +is ever stripping off the mask of the mock gaiety before him, and +pointing the end to which it must finally +come.”—<i>Spectator</i>.</p> +<p>“We have kept Mr. Ritchie’s book lying on our +table, hoping that we might find an opportunity for making it the +basis of an article on the fearful evils which it +discloses. We must be satisfied, however, for the present, +with recommending all our readers who are anxious to promote the +social and moral regeneration of our great cities to read it +carefully; and to remember, while they read, that London does not +stand alone, but that all our larger towns are cursed with +abominations, such as those which Mr. Ritchie has so vigourously +and effectually described.”—<i>Eclectic +Review</i>.</p> +<p>“The author of ‘The Night-Side of London’ +has graphically described the scenes of debauchery which are to +be found at night. It is a fearful and shocking +<i>expose</i>.”—<i>Illustrated Times</i>.</p> +<div class="gapmediumline"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><!-- page 216--><a +name="page216"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +216</span><i>Price</i> 2<i>s.</i>, <i>Cheap Edition</i>, +<i>Revised and Enlarged</i>,</p> +<h3>THE LONDON PULPIT,</h3> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">by</span><br /> +JAMES EWING RITCHIE.</p> +<p>Contents: The Religious Denominations of London—Sketches +of the Rev. J. M. +Bellew—Dale—Liddell—Maurice—Melville—Villiers—Baldwin +Brown—Binney—Dr. +Campbell—Lynch—Morris—Martin—Brock—Howard +Hinton—Sheridan Knowles—Baptist +Noel—Spurgeon—Dr. Cumming—Dr. James +Hamilton—W. Forster—H. Ierson—Cardinal +Wiseman—Miall—Dr. Wolf, &c., &c.</p> +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p>“The subject is an interesting one, and it is treated +with very considerable ability. Mr. Ritchie has the +valuable art of saying many things in few words: he is never +diffuse, never dull, and succeeds in being graphic without +becoming flippant. Occasionally his strength of thought and +style borders rather too closely on coarseness; but this fault of +vigorous natures is counterbalanced by compensatory +merit—by an utter absence of cant, a manly grasp of +thought, and a wise and genial human-heartedness. The book +is a sincere book; the writer says what he means, and means what +he says. In these half-earnest days it is a comfort to meet +with any one who has ‘the courage of his opinions’ +especially on such a subject as the ‘London +Pulpit.’”—<i>Daily News</i>.</p> +<p>“One of the cleverest productions of the present +day.”—<i>Morning Herald</i>.</p> +<div class="gapmediumline"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>Just Published</i>, <i>price</i> +3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>, <i>bound in cloth</i>, <i>post-free</i> +3<i>s.</i> 10<i>d.</i></p> +<h3>HERE AND THERE IN LONDON,</h3> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">by</span><br /> +JAMES EWING RITCHIE.</p> +<p>Contents: The House of Commons from the Stranger’s +Gallery—A Night with the Lords—The Reporters’ +Gallery—The Lobby of the House of Commons—Our London +Correspondent—Exeter Hall—A Sunday at the +Obelisk—The Penny Gaff—The +Derby—Vauxhall—The Stock Exchange—Rag +Fair—Mark Lane—The Coal Whippers—Portland +Place—An Omnibus Yard—The New Cattle Market—The +Government Office—Paternoster Row—The London +Hospital.</p> +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p>“We have no doubt that his work will be extensively +read, and it deserves no less, for it is thoroughly impartial, +very graphic, reliable in its details, and extremely well +written.”—<i>Illustrated News of the World</i>.</p> +<p>“We recommend the book as being likely to afford a spare +half-hour of pleasant recreation.”—<i>Leader</i>.</p> +<p>“Lively and +attractive.”—<i>Spectator</i>.</p> +<p>“Light and graceful sketches of the interior life of the +great metropolis.”—<i>Inquirer</i>.</p> +<div class="gapline"> </div> +<p style="text-align: right"><!-- page 217--><a +name="page217"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 217</span>314, +Strand, <i>W.C.</i>,<br /> +<i>Nov.</i> 1, 1860.</p> +<div class="gapdoubleline"> </div> +<h3><span class="smcap">Mr. WILLIAM TINSLEY’S</span><br /> +LIST OF NEW WORKS.</h3> +<div class="gapdoubleline"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">NOW +READY</span>, <span class="smcap">PRICE FIVE +SHILLINGS</span>,</p> +<p style="text-align: center">A NEW WORK<br /> +<span class="smcap">by</span><br /> +MR. BLANCHARD JERROLD,<br /> +<span class="smcap">entitled</span></p> +<h4>CHRONICLES OF THE CRUTCH.</h4> +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p>This work consists of a series of quaint stories and papers, +contributed by Mr. Jerrold to “Household Words.”</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Now ready</i>.</p> +<div class="gapline"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">preparing for +immediate publication</span>,<br /> +A New, Revised, and Enlarged Edition of</p> +<h4>THE NIGHT SIDE OF LONDON.</h4> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">third +edition</span>.<br /> +BY J. EWING RITCHIE,</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">author +of</span> “<span class="smcap">about london</span>,” +<span class="smcap">etc.</span></p> +<div class="gapdoubleline"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><!-- page 218--><a +name="page218"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 218</span>NEW WORK BY +MR. RITCHIE.</p> +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">just +published</span>; <span class="smcap">price five +shillings</span>,</p> +<h4>ABOUT LONDON.</h4> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">by</span><br /> +J. EWING RITCHIE,<br /> +<span class="smcap">author of</span><br /> +“<i>The Night Side of London</i>,” “<i>Here and +there in London</i>,”<br /> +“<i>The London Pulpit</i>,” <i>&c.</i></p> +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p>Contents:—Newspaper +People—Spiritualism—About +Coal—Highgate—Tom Tidler’s +Ground—Westminster Abbey—London +Charities—Pedestrianism—Over London Bridge—The +House of Commons and the Early Closing Movement—Town +Morals—The same subject continued—London +Matrimonial—Breach-of-Promise Cases—The London +Volunteers—Criminal London—Concerning Cabs—Free +Drinking Fountains—Conclusion.</p> +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p>“Mr. Ritchie ought to be a popular author, and largely +read by a numerous and highly respectable +class.”—<i>Athenæum</i>.</p> +<p>“They are all written with such a knowledge of each +subject as might be expected from a perceptive and accurate +observer, who has gained his experience from himself, while the +descriptive writing is that of a practised +hand.”—<i>Illustrated London News</i>.</p> +<p>“We can give to this work our heartiest praise. +‘About London’ is written by one whose object is as +much to instruct as to amuse, and who succeeds without any +apparent effort in doing both. We say without any apparent +effort, because Mr. Ritchie’s sketches are too bold to be +stiff, his style too fluent and natural to be laboured. +Notwithstanding this, ‘About London’ displays an +amount of industrious research very rarely met with, and a +knowledge of men and manners which only experience—and +active experience, moreover—can +supply.”—<i>Literary Gazette</i>.</p> +<p>“The subjects for the most part are familiar to us, and +the easy and unaffected style in which they are treated is always +sure to gratify without wearying the +reader.”—<i>Morning Advertiser</i>.</p> +<p>“Mr. Ritchie has already given us various works devoted +to metropolitan subjects, such as ‘The Night Side of +Loudon,’ ‘The London Pulpit,’ ‘Here and +There in London.’ His volume ‘About +London’ will, no doubt, be as widely circulated as its +predecessors. In it he communicates a vast mass of +information in a pleasant, gossiping style.—<i>Illustrated +News of the World</i>.</p> +<p>“Mr. Ritchie is well and favourably known as one of +those writers who, whilst possessed of a keen and observant eye, +remarks all the social inconsistencies of which human society in +the great modern Babylon is composed, and spares neither those +who may be said to hold the language of the first +murderer—‘Am I my brother’s keeper?’ nor +others, who grovel in the sensuality, which speedily deforms man +into little less than the beast of the earth. In this, the +last of the several books in which he has related the doings of +London life, high and low, he does not enter so fully into the +mysteries of the singular career of the Arabs of our streets, but +touches matters <!-- page 219--><a name="page219"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 219</span>on a somewhat higher level with the +same force and intelligence, which he has hitherto manifested, +combined with a more genial and pleasant refinement, which will +commend its information to those who may have been disposed to be +somewhat hypercritical as to the advisability of too closely +‘holding the mirror up to nature,’ and showing vice +its own deformity and horror.—<i>Bella Weekly +Messenger</i>.</p> +<p>“The new book by Mr. Ritchie, entitled ‘About +London,’ fully sustains the reputation of the author of +‘The Night Side of London.’ It is, both in +matter and manner, a most readable volume. In a series of +twenty chapters the more conspicuous and characteristic places +and persons about London are admirably sketched. The author +indulges in all his modes. He is observant, penetrative, +didactic, satirical, and reflective. Health, cheerfulness, +and hope, however, are the pervading tones of this work. +Whether the subject be the ‘Newspaper People,’ +‘Spiritualism,’ ‘London Gents.’ or +‘Criminal London,’ he has the happy disposition of +educing good and ennobling lessons and influence from each and +all.—<i>Press</i>.</p> +<div class="gapline"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">NOW READY:<br /> +A New Edition, revised and greatly enlarged, with a full +Index,<br /> +<span class="smcap">dr. wardrop’s valuable work</span>:<br +/> +<span class="smcap">ON THE NATURE AND TREATMENT</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">of the</span></p> +<h4>DISEASES OF THE HEART;</h4> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">containing also +some</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">new views of the circulation of the +blood</span>,<br /> +<span class="smcap">with</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">an account of the muscolo-cardiac</span>, +<span class="smcap">the pulmo-cardiac</span>,<br /> +<span class="smcap">and the veno-pulmonary functions</span>.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">by</span><br /> +JAMES WARDROP, M.D.,</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>Surgeon to the person of George +IV.</i>, <i>Fellow of the Royal Society</i>, <i>and of the</i><br +/> +<i>Royal College of Surgeons of Edinburgh</i>; <i>Fellow of the +Royal College of</i><br /> +<i>Surgeons of England</i>; <i>Member of the Imperial Academy of +Medicine</i><br /> +<i>of Paris</i>, <i>Moscow</i>, <i>St. Petersburgh</i>, <i>and +Wilna</i>; <i>Member of the</i><br /> +<i>Royal Medical and Surgical Society of Berlin</i>, <i>and of +the</i><br /> +<i>Medical Society of Leipsic</i>,<br /> +<i>&c. &c. &c.</i></p> +<p style="text-align: center">A New Edition, carefully Revised, +with considerable Additions,<br /> +<span class="smcap">and a copious index</span>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">[<i>Large Octavo</i>, +18<i>s.</i></p> +<div class="gapline"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><!-- page 220--><a +name="page220"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 220</span><span +class="smcap">notice</span>.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">THE WIMBLEDON SHOOTING-MATCH AND +THE VOLUNTEER REVIEW.</p> +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">This day is published, the Second +Edition, revised, corrected,<br /> +and greatly enlarged, of<br /> +<span class="smcap">mr. geo. augustus sala’s</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">narrative</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">of the grand</span></p> +<h4>VOLUNTEER REVIEW.</h4> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">to which is +added an account of the</span><br /> +WIMBLEDON SHOOTING-MATCH.</p> +<p>*** This Edition, which has been enlarged by Sixteen Pages, +contains a correct list of all the Volunteer Corps that were +reviewed by Her Majesty, with the name of the Commander, +description of dress, and number of each Company; as well as a +full account of the Grand Rifle-Match at Wimbledon.</p> +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">price +sixpence</span>, <span class="smcap">post free</span>.</p> +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">The <i>Morning Advertiser</i>, of +June 29th, says:—</p> +<p>“We anticipate an immediate and extensive sale for this +opportune and patriotic publication. It is a beautiful +written and graphic narrative of one of the greatest +events—perhaps in its political and military bearings +<i>the</i> greatest event—of the present century. Mr. +Sala has evidently written out of the fulness of his heart, and +the result is an eloquent and vivid literary review of the +greatest military Volunteer Review which has ever been witnessed +in this or in any other country. Mr. Tinsley has done good +service to his country in perpetuating the details of that great +event by so able and popular a pen as that of Mr. George Augustus +Sala, and in publishing the little work at so moderate a price as +to place it within the reach of all.”</p> +<div class="gapline"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">NEW NOVEL, BY MR. VANE ST JOHN.</p> +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">now +ready</span>, <span class="smcap">at all the +libraries</span>,</p> +<h4>UNDER CURRENTS:<br /> +<span class="smcap">a novel of our day</span>.</h4> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">by</span><br /> +VANE IRETON ST. JOHN,</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>Author of</i> “<i>St. +Eustace</i>: <i>or</i>, <i>the Hundred and One</i>.”</p> +<div class="gapline"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">LONDON: W. TINSLEY, 314, STRAND;<br +/> +And may be ordered of all Booksellers, and at all Railway +Station</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ABOUT LONDON***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 32773-h.htm or 32773-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/2/7/7/32773 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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