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