The Little Bit of Tape
The Little Bit of Tape
BY RICHARD JOHNS, ESQ.
"Slow and sure" has been the motto of my family from generation to generation, and wonderfully has it prospered by acting on this maxim; the misfortunes of the house of Slowby having apparently been reserved for the only active and enterprising individual ever born unto that name. Reader, I am that unhappy man! Waiters upon Fortune, plentifully have all my progenitors fared from the dainties of the good lady's table; while I, in my anxiety to share in the feast, have generally upset the board, and lost every thing in the scramble.
Sir James Slowby, my worthy father, was a younger son, and his portion had been little more than the blessing of a parent, conveyed in the form of words always used in our family—"Bless thee, my son; be slow and sure, and you will be sure to get on." He did get on; for, was he not one of the feelers of that huge polypus in society, the Slowbys? Ways of making money, which other men had diligently sought in vain, discovered themselves to him; places were conferred on him, and legacies left him, for no one reason that could be discovered, except that he seemed indifferent to such matters, and latterly became so wealthy, that he did not require them. He was slow in marrying; not entering the "holy state" till he was forty. He did not wed a fortune: no! he rather preferred a woman of good expectations; and these were, of course, realised,—the money came "slow and sure." He lived to a good old age; but death, though slow, was sure also; and he at length died, leaving two sons: on one he bestowed all his wealth; the other, my luckless self, he left a beggarly dependent on an elder brother's bounty. The fact of the matter was, I had too much vivacity to please so true a Slowby as my father; while James was a man after his own heart: and, perhaps I had circulated a little too much of the old gentleman's money in what he strangely called my "loose kind of life;" but which I only denominated "living fast." He might have confessed that I was not altogether selfish in my pleasures. I often made my father most magnificent presents; and though, perhaps, he ultimately had to pay the bills, the generosity of the intention was the same.
The following letters were written just before our worthy parent's death, by his two sons. James was at the paternal mansion in —— Square, I at a little road-side public-house about four and twenty miles from Newmarket. I must premise that I was thus far on my way to London, in answer to my brother's summons; but, at "Ugley" over the post-chaise went—a wheel was broken, and so was my left arm. The post-boys swore it was my fault, because I had not patience to have the wheels properly greased; and I, because it was my misfortune to be obliged to delay my journey till the mischief was repaired—I mean as regards theWEALof my arm, not the wheel of the chaise,—for, had I been able, I would rather have ridden one of the post-horses to the next stage, than not have pursued my route.
"——Square.
"My dear brother,—Your father requests that you will take an early opportunity of coming to town, as he is supposed to be on his death-bed. His will only awaits your arrival to receive signature. Should you solemnly promise not to dissipate money as you have heretofore done, he will leave you a gentlemanly competence. Dr. Druget is of opinion that our father may live till Sunday next; so, if you are here at any period before that date, you will be in sufficient time for the above-mentioned purpose.
"Your affectionate brother,James Slowby."
"Dear Jim,—Youmight think it wise to delay my seeing our dear father, butIdid not;—so started at once,—double-fee'd the post-boys,—double feed for the horses,—away I bowled, till off came the wheel at Ugley. Here I am, with a broken arm. Tell my father I am cut to the quick that we may never meet again. I'll promise any thing he likes. I now really see the folly of being always in such a devil of a hurry; particularly in spending money, paying bills, and that kind of thing: say that I will now for ever stick by the family motto, 'slow and sure.' Yours in haste,
"Richard Slowby.
"P.S. I send my own servant to ride whip and spur till he puts this in your hands; he will beat the post by an hour and a half, which is of consequence."
This latter epistle never reached its destination,—my poor fellow broke his neck at Epping; and, as the letter was despatched in too great haste to be fully directed, it was opened and returned to me by the coroner in due course of post.
I did not get to town till long after the death of my father. The will signed at last, my absence being unaccounted for, gave my brother the whole property; nor did he seem inclined to part with a shilling. A place in the T——, which the head of our ancient house, Lord Snaile, had bestowed on my father, and still promised to keep in the family, might yet be mine,—I was his lordship's godson, and had a fair chance for it; but the now Sir James Slowby, second of the title, and worthy of the name, would not withdraw his claim as eldest born.
"I won't move in the matter, Richard," said my slow and sure brother; "but if my lord gives me the offer, I will accept it. I am not greedy after riches, Heaven knows; but it would be tempting Providence not to hold what is put into my possession, nor freely take what is freely given. His lordship has requested, by letter, that we both wait upon him in Curzon Street, no doubt about the appointment; he makes mention of wishing to introduce us to the ladies, after 'the despatch of business.' Our cousin Maria used to be lovely as a child, and, though not a fortune, may come in for something considerable, ultimately."
Such was my brother's harangue. Sick of his prosing I left his house, comforting myself that I had, at least, as much chance of the appointment as he had; nor was I altogether without my hopes of supplanting him with Maria, thoughhemight be worthy of wedding her at Marylebone; and I, even with her own special licence, would have to journey on the same errand as far as Gretna.
I dined that day at Norwood with an old schoolfellow. At his house I was to pass the night, and on the morrow, at two o'clock, my fate was to be decided. On this eventful morning I was set down in Camberwell by my friend's phaeton. I had seen the Norwood four-horse coach start for town long before we left home, and had given myself great credit for not allowing it to convey me that I might have from thence been enabled to intrude on Lord Snaile's privacy an hour or two before I was expected. But I recollected I had annoyed his lordship on more than one occasion in a similar manner, and I seriously resolved that I would no longer mar my fortunes by my precipitation. It was now, however, within two hours of the time of appointment; my friend's vehicle was not going any farther, and I might, at least, indulge myself by reaching Oxford Street by the quickest public conveyance. Omnibuses had just been introduced on that road; and the Red Rover, looking like a huge trap for catching passengers, was drawn up at the end of Camberwell Green. "Charing Cross, sir!"—"Oxford Street, sir!"—"Going directly, sir!" was music to my ears, even from the cracked voice of a cad, and in I unfortunately got; and there did I sit for ten minutes, while coaches innumerable, passed me for London. Still I preserved my patience, firm in my good resolves. At length another Westminster omnibus drove up.
"Are you going now; or are you not?" said I, very properly restraining an oath just on the tip of my tongue.
"Going directly, sir—be in town long before him, sir," said the cad, pointing to the other 'bus, for he saw my eye was turned towards it.
At that moment a simple-looking servant-girl with a bandbox came across the Green, and a fight commenced between theconducteursof the rival vehicles for the unfortunate woman, in which she got not a little pulled about. The Red Rover, however, won the day; and glad enough was I when we started, at a rattling pace. But my pleasure was of short duration.
"Where are you going?" asked an old women opposite me, who knew the road, which I did not.
"Going to take up, ma'am," said the cad. "We shall be back to the Green Man in ten minutes if you've left any thing behind."
"Where is my bandbox?" said the girl.
"I knows nothing about it, not I; I suppose it went by the other 'bus if you arn't a got it. Why did you let it out of your own hands, young 'oman? That 'ere cad is the greatest thief on the road."
The girl began to cry, and declared she should lose her place; and I to swear, for I thought it very likely I should lose mine. But we at length once more passed the Green, and tore along at the rate of ten miles an hour, till we set down passengers at the Elephant and Castle. Reader, do you happen to know a biscuit-shop occupying the corner of the road to Westminster, opposite the aforesaid Elephant and Castle? There it was, the Red Rover drew up, and the cad descended to run after a man and woman, who seemed undetermined whether they would take six-pennyworth or not. My patience was now quite exhausted. A four-horse Westminster coach was just starting across the way, and, determined to get a place in a more expeditious conveyance, I dashed open the door of the omnibus just as theconducteur's"all right" again set the carriage in motion; he,having failed in his canvassing, at the same instant jumped on the step behind the 'bus. The consequences were direful. The cad was transferred to the pavement by a swingeing blow on the temple from the opening panel, while I lost my equilibrium, and made a full-length prostration into mud four inches thick, which formed the bed of the road. I had fallen face downward, and the infuriated official of the 'bus quickly bestrode me, grasping me by the nape of the neck. I gasped for breath. Never shall I forget what I then inhaled. To bite the dust is always disagreeable; but, I can assure you, it is nothing to a mouthful of mud. Rescued at last by the intervention of the police, I was permitted to rise. I had no time to dispute the question of right and wrong; glad enough was I to be allowed to medicate the cad's promissory black eye with a sovereign; for which I was declared by all present, and particularly by the man what rides behind the 'homnibus' "to be a perfect gemman, only a little hasty." Never was a gentleman in a worse pickle. The road had been creamed by thereignof wet weather that marks an English summer. Had I been diving in a mud-cart, or "far into the bowels of the land," through the medium of a ditch in the neighbouring St. George's Fields, I could not have presented a more extraordinary appearance. I might have been rated as a forty-shilling landholder, and rich soil into the bargain. As soon as I could clear my eyes sufficiently to permit of the exercise of vision, I espied an old clothes' shop in the distance; and in this welcome retreat I speedily bestowed myself amid cries of "How are you off for soap?"—"There you go, stick-in-the-mud!"—"Where did you lie last?" and other specimens of suburban wit. Having left the admiring gaze of about two hundred spectators, I obtained a washing-tub and a private room from my newly-formed acquaintance, Isaacs; and, my ablutions being complete, I equipped myself in a full suit of black, which, though the habiliments were rather the worse for wear, fitted me pretty well, and had been, withal, decently made. I was also supplied with shirt and drawers, "goot ash new," and a hat which Isaacs swore was only made the week before, and "cheap ash dirt." I appreciated the simile, but the hat I could scarcely get on my head; time was however wearing away, and I was obliged to have it, as well as a pair of Blucher boots, not a Wellington fitting me in the Jew's whole stock of such articles. I again started. There happened to be a hackney-coach passing just as I emerged from the shop. This was fortunate; for, to hide my low boots, Isaacs had strapped my trousers down so tightly, that, not trusting much to the material, I thought it might be advisable to avoid walking.
I had yet sufficient time before me to keep my appointment, and I was now fairly on my way to Curzon Street; nothing interrupting my meditation for the next half hour but the paying of a turnpike. I had certainly met with many vexatious annoyances during the morning; but I felt pleased with myself for so far conquering my impetuous spirit as to have exhibited, on the whole, but little irritation under my suffering. For this, I thought I deserved to succeed in my present visit to that high-priest of Fortune, a patron. Then I bethought me of Maria, and took a glance at my suit of black. I fancied that I must look very like an undertaker,—I knew not why: I had imagined myself perfectly gentlemanly in appearance when I leftmy toilet at Norwood, and I had only changed one suit of black for another,—but then these were not made for me. Perhaps some poor fellow had been hanged in them. I got nervous and miserable.
My hat galled my head; I removed it, and held it in my hand. It certainly did not look like a new one. I was ingeniously tormenting myself with calling to memory every disease of the scalp I had ever heard of, when I reached the corner of Curzon Street; and, not wishing to desecrate the portals of the fastidious peer by driving up in a "Jarvey," I got out, and made my approach on foot. I had knocked—there was a delay in opening the door. The porter is out of the way, thought I; and I took an opportunity of looking at my heels, to see if I had walked off with any straws from the coach. I heard the door opening;—I say heard, for I did not look up, my eyes just then resting on a smallpiece of tapethat I had been dragging in the dirt—Oh! luckless appurtenance of the drawers of the Jew!—Yes! the door was opening to admit me to the presence of my noble relation—my patron—who I trusted was waiting with an appointment of 1500l.a-year, anxious to bestow it on his godson—the morning that was to witness my introduction to her whom I had already wedded in my imagination—I saw a little piece of tape dangling at my heels! Before the portals of the mansion had quite gaped to receive me, my finger was twisted round this cruel instrument of destiny, in the hope of breaking it. I pulled. Acting like a knife on the trousers, fast strapped to my boots, and too powerful a strain on the drawers, though "goot ash new," both were rent to the waistband;—my coat ripped at the shoulder by the action of my arm;—my hat fell off, and was taken by the wind down the street;—and the servant, to whom, having finished this ingenious operation, I stood fully disclosed, unfortunately saw but the effects, without knowing the cause of my disaster.
The man was too well-bred to remark my appearance, but he had every reason for thinking me either mad or drunk; as, to crown all, my face must have been flushed and distorted from rage and mortification.
"My lord expects you in the library, sir," said the astounded servant.
An abrupt "Tell my lord I'll call again" was my only reply, delivered over my shoulder as I dashed from the door, perfectly unconscious of what I was about, till I found myself in a tavern, the first friendly door that was open to receive me. I here composed my bewildered senses, despatched a messenger for a tailor, and set myself down to concoct a note to Lord Snaile. But how narrate to the most particular, matter-of-fact, and yet fastidious, man in the world the events of that morning? I threw the pen and paper from me in despair. Nothing now remained but to wait patiently, if possible, till I could make my excuses in person.
The tailor came, and in about an hour and a half I was again on my way to his lordship's residence; but alas! ere I reached it, I met my steady young brother, who with much formality thus addressed me.
"Richard Slowby, your conduct this morning is the climax of your excesses. His lordship requests that he may not in future be favoured with your visits in Curzon Street; and I consider it my duty to inform you, that these will be equally disagreeable in —— Square."
I felt at that moment too proud to ask for, or offer, explanations. I saw by the twinkle of his cold grey eye thathehad received the appointment, and of course it would have been against his principles to resign it in my favour; so I merely told him that I should have great pleasure in attending to the wishes of two men I soequallyrespected as Lord Snaile and Sir James Slowby: and, bidding him a very good morning, I left him to his self-gratulations.
About a twelvemonth afterwards, I elicited from the servant who had opened the door to me, and delivered my unfortunate message to his lordly master, the following particulars.
It appears that on the man entering the library he found the peer and the baronet seated together, the eyes of the former fixed on a time-piece, which told the startling fact that the hour of appointment was past, by five minutes. "Is Mr. Slowby come?" said my lord, turning suddenly towards the servant.
"Yes, my lord; but——"
"Show him in directly, sir. Did I not tell you I expected Mr. Slowby, and ordered him to be admitted?"
"I told the gentleman so, my lord, and that you were waiting for him, and he said he would call again. I am afraid the gentleman is unwell, my lord."
"Unwell!" cried his lordship, "and you allowed him to quit the house?"
"He ran away, my lord;" and here, not knowing how far it would be safe to give the conclusion he had drawn from my extraordinary manner and appearance, the man hesitated.
"Tell me why, this instant, sir," exclaimed his master; "there is some mystery, and I will know it."
"I beg pardon, my lord, but Mr. Slowby seemed much excited—was without his hat, had torn clothes—scarcely decent, my lord. I hope your lordship will excuse me, but the gentleman seemed flushed with after-dinner indulgence in the morning, my lord."
On this well-bred announcement of my being drunk, the peer and his companion exchanged significant looks.
"You may go," said my lord, bowing his head to the servant: but ere my informant got further than the neutral ground between the double doors, he heard my kind brother say, "Just like him;—dined yesterday at Norwood."
"A disgrace to the family!" sorrowfully remarked his lordship. "I had hoped to benefit him, but"—a pause—"the appointment is yours, Sir John. I could not trust it with a man of his character."
It is satisfactory to know the particulars of one's misfortunes, and these were given me at the "Bear" in Piccadilly. After being cut by all, as a graceless vagabond, when it was discovered that I had few meals to say grace over, I am now considered dead to society; but I am, in fact, "living for revenge." To spite the omnibuses, and abuse the cads at my leisure, I drive a short stage out of town; and if any gentleman knows one Dick Hastings, and will "please to remember the coachman," he who will drink to his honour's good health will be the luckless Richard Slowby.
A LAMENTABLE TALE; BY WILLIAM JERDAN.
"London and BrightonRailway(quatuor); Brighton and LondonRailway, without a tunnel; Gateshead, South-Shields, and Monk-WearmouthRailway; London Grand-junctionRailway; Northern and EasternRailway; SoutheasternRailway; Great NorthernRailway; Great WesternRailway; London and BirminghamRailway; London and GreenwichRailway; CroydonRailway; North-MidlandRailway; London and BlackwallRailway; Commercial-roadRailway; Wolverhampton and DudleyRailway; Liverpool and ManchesterRailway; Hull and SelbyRailway; Newcastle-upon-Tyne and CarlisleRailway; Kingston-upon-HullRailway; Durham JunctionRailway; Edinburgh and GlasgowRailway; Dublin and KingstownRailway; Dublin and Bantry BayRailway; London and GravesendRailway; CommercialRailway; Eastern CountiesRailway; LlanellyRailway; London, Salisbury and ExeterRailway; Preston and WyeRailway; Bristol and ExeterRailway; Gravesend and DoverRailway; Gravesend, Rochester, Chatham, and StroudRailway; London and SouthamptonRailway; Gateshead and South ShieldsRailway; Cheltenham and Great WesternRailway; LincolnRailway; Leicester and SwanningtonRailway; Newcastle and YorkRailway; Birmingham and DerbyRailway; Bolton and LeighRailway; Canterbury and WhitstableRailway; ClarenceRailway; Cromford and Peak ForestRailway; Edinburgh and DalkeithRailway; Dean ForestRailway; HartlepoolRailway; St. Helens and Runc. GapRailway; Manchester and OldhamRailway; Preston and WiganRailway; Stanhope and TyneRailway; Stockton and DarlingtonRailway; Warrington and NewtonRailway; the Grand Incomparable North-southern, East-westernRailway, with parallel and radiating Branches," &c. &c. &c.
"It may be observed," (says a newspaper in our hand, quite as correctly informed as newspapers usually are,) "that the railway companies now forming, of which we have a list before us, require a capital of upwards of thirty millions of pounds, divided into nearly five hundred thousand shares."
This was in the year 1836; and the horror it excited in the race of horses, native and foreign, inhabitants of the British empire, is not to be described. A knowledge of the habits and intelligence of this species is only to be obtained from the writings of our matter-of-fact and lamented predecessor, Captain Lemuel Gulliver, whose travels among the Houyhnhnms, rather more than a century ago, may have been heard of by a few of our antiquarian and classical readers. To that work we would refer, to show that Houyhnhnm is "the perfection of nature;" which truth will partly account for the following melancholy narrative. "I admired" (the author writes) "the strength, comeliness, and speed of the inhabitants; and such a constellation of virtues in such amiable persons, produced in me the highest veneration."
Having the view of horse-flesh which this preface opens, though we have not had an opportunity of studying it so purely under our mixed government, breeds, and circumstances, it is unnecessary to explain the panic which arose on the announcement of so universal a system of railways to supersede the noble animal in every beneficial and elegant office, and reduce it to the condition of a useless sinecurist, even if permitted to live on human bounty. The result was that, when the severities of winter fell thick and fast, a convocation was held by moonlight in Smithfield, and adjourned, owing to the multitude, to Horselydown, (so called from King John being tumbled off his nag by that process in that locality,) and, after a most interestingdiscussion, it was unanimously resolved that every horse in Great Britain should die. Wherefore should they live? Steam-boats had thrown the wayfaring trackers out of hay; steam-ploughs, the agricultural labourers out of oats; steam-carriages, the best of posters out of employment; steam guns, the military out of service; steam-engines, the mechanics out of mills and factories;—in short, their occupations were gone, and they knew not where they could get a bit to their mouths. Wherefore should they live!
The resolution having been communicated throughout the country, and an hour appointed for the catastrophe, though it had nigh broken the hearts of some petted ponies and favourites, it was obeyed with all the stubbornsted-fastness of this illustrious creature. Racers and hunters, coach and cart, high-bred and low, drays and galloways, saddle and side ditto, Suffolk punches and dogsmeat, cobs and cabs, hacks and shelties, respectables and rips, old and young, stallions, mares, geldings, colts, foals, and fillies,—all perished at the same time. O'Connell's tail was the only one that remained extant in England, Wales, Scotland, and Ireland; but this our tale hath no reference to that. It may be inquired by the physiologist what were the means of death to which the abhorrence of steam induced the horses to resort; and it is gratifying to be able to satisfy their thirst for knowledge by stating that they died of theVapours.
But we now come to the extraordinary results which must spring from the fatal fact we have just recorded. "What next?" as the political pamphleteer sayeth:—ay,what next? How will the country go on?What will the Lords do—without horses?
The revolution produced by the event was immediately felt in every part of the empire, in every pursuit, in every trade, in every amusement. Within four-and-twenty hours, the isle was frighted from her propriety, and England could no longer be recognised for herself. It is true that the crown remained; but how shorn of its beams! And then the wholeEquestrianorder had been destroyed at a blow. Talk of swamping the Peers! it was done, and they could dragoon the representatives of the people no more. And in proportion to their fall was the rise of theCommoners. Not a donkey-man whose ass fed on these wastes, but found himself in a higher and more powerful position. When horses are out of the field, great is the increase of the value of asses. The brutes, it is true, are still long-eared, obstinate, devoid of speed, rat-tailed, and stupid; but, in the absence of nobler beasts, whatever is, must be first. And so it now happened. The huckster, the gipsy, the higgler, the donkey-driver of Margate, the costermonger, the sandman, every asinine possessor mounted in the scale, as it fell out, with a one or more ass power, and the scum became the top of the boiling-pot of society, who all at once found themselves gentlemen of property and influence. Little had the superior classes dreamed how entirely their dignity and consequence depended on their "cattle;" but now, when a Wellington, a Grey, a Melbourne, an Anglesey, a Jersey, a Cavendish, a Fane, a Somerset, had to trudge on foot through the muddy streets, whilst the Scrogginses, the Smiths, the Gileses, the Toms, Bills, and Charleys honoured them with a nod and a splash as they scampered by, shouting "Go it, Neddy!" it was sadly demonstrated to them, and to the world, that their former personal vanity, pride, and presumptionhad been built on a false foundation; for it was not themselves, but their fine and noble horses, that had won the observance and submissiveness of their fellow men unmounted.
The instant effects of the hippo-hecatomb in every circle and business of life were as remarkable as they were important. No previous imagination could have suggested a homœopathic part of the vast change. His Majesty had decided to open parliament, not by proxy, but in person,—that is to say, he was to proceed to the House in royal state, and read his speech as if it were his own, instead of leaving it to five gentlemen in large cloaks, as if it were theirs, and be ashamed to march through Coventry with them; but, alas the day! the cream-coloured steeds were all dead, and the blacks were as pale as the cream. Windsor awoke in affright and dismay. There were the royal carriages, and there the coachmen, and there the grooms, and there the hussars; but where were the horses? Gone! It was a moment for an ebullition of loyalty, and we record it as an everlasting honour to their young patriotic feelings, that the boys at Eton, in this mighty emergency, respectfully offered their services to drag the King to London, providing the head-master sat upon the box as driver, and the ushers clustered behind, in the character of the footmen. A council held on the proposition decided that the task would be too much for the tender years of the Etonians, and especially as drawing had hardly been taught in that classic establishment; so that, instead of being competent to draw a monarch, there was not a boy in the school who could draw anything. At Woolwich it was quite the reverse. In the increasing dilemma,—for his Majesty declined the walk, and the route by the river could not be performed in time,—it was resolved to despatch one of the royal messengers on the swiftest ass which the town could produce, and order a short prorogation till measures could be adopted to meet the awful exigences of the crisis.
In London, meanwhile, the consternation was equally overwhelming, if not more so. Ministers met in cabinet, but, as usual, knew not what to do; and so agreed to lie by, a bit, and see how matters might shape their own course. The First Lord of the Treasury and three secretaries sat down to a rubber of long whist, half-crown points; the Lord President of the Council, First Lord of the Admiralty, President of the Board of Control, Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, and Lord Privy Seal, preferred three-card loo; and the Chancellor of the Exchequer and the President of the Board of Trade had a capitaltête-à-têtebout at brag. The other officers of state employed themselves as they could, from the Lord High Chancellor to the store-keepers and under-secretaries. And meanwhile the public mind, that is to say, all the mind inside the hats of the mob about Whitehall and Westminster, was in a tumult of excitement. Two o'clock struck, and no guns were heard: three, and the patereros were dumb. The clock of the Horse Guards—the Horse Guards! a name of departed glory and present woe!—told the hour in vain; till, just as it gave warning for four, a breathless and panting ass was seen galloping into Downing street. It bore the express from Windsor, who by prodigious exertions had accomplished the journey in less than seven hours. The unfinished rubber was broken up, to the heavy mortification of the First Lord, who scored eight, and was looking forward to a call of the honours; the loo-scores were balanced and settled, the First Lord ofthe Admiralty pocketing the profits, in consequence of taking one for his heels as the donkey turned up; and "I brag" fell no more from Exchequer or Trade. But it was already too late to restore order; and confusion in the midst of deliberation only became worse confounded. Extraneous calamities every instant interfered. No mails had arrived, and very few peeresses. The letters containing friendly assurances from foreign governments were in post-offices, Heaven knew at what distances. Such of the ministers, bachelor as well as married, as were directed by their grey mares, had no opportunity for consulting and receiving their commands, though it must have been in some degree a consolation to feel that they remained amid the wreck of horse-flesh. In short, in politics, as at cards, the game was up. The English constitution was not the constitution of a horse, and it gave way before the frightful revolution; and, to add to the individual horrors of the scene, the Master of the Buckhounds, the Master of the Horse, the Postmaster-General, and the Master of the Rolls (whyhe, could never be conjectured) committed suicide in the course of the ensuing night; and the Lord Chancellor became a confirmed lunatic, under his own care.
It were tedious to trace all the varieties of aspects into which this awful event plunged the nation: a few, briefly described, may suffice to indicate its universal extent and terrible alterations. Routs, ball, at homes, operas, and every fashionable amusement and resort were abrogated. The ladies of the land were bowed to the ground. Visits could not be paid: to dress was unnecessary. There was no crush-room; and milliners, mantua-makers, perfumers, and jewellers were crushed. Seventeen old sedan-chairs were the total that could be discovered in London; and these, with the succedaneum suggested by the witty Countess of ——, viz. mounting such of the porters' hall-chairs as were susceptible of the improvement upon poles, in a similar manner, constituted the whole migrations of the fashionable world. We will not allude to the meetings baulked, and the assignations broken, through this unfortunate state of things; and are only sorry to say it did not add to the sum of domestic felicity.
The Park—dismal was the Park! Exquisites, more helpless than ever, tottered along its almost deserted walks. There was not one who,
——With left heel insidiously aside,Provoked the caper he would seem to chide;
——With left heel insidiously aside,Provoked the caper he would seem to chide;
nor was there a pretty woman to smile at him if he had. Could the race have obtained asses, it would have been most unnatural to ride them; and thus they vanished from the vision of society.
Ascot was not particularly unhappy, though the King's cup was a cup of dregs. But Bentinck and Crocky, Richmond and Gully, Exeter and Lamb, Rutland and ——, Jersey and ——, Chesterfield and the rest of the legs, got up an excellent two days' sport. Running in sacks afforded ample opportunities for betting heavily; and wheelbarrow races, with the barrow-drivers blindfolded or partially enlightened, were found quite as good as anything which had been done before, and allowing quite as much scope for the honourable strategies of the turf. An immense number of useless horsecollars were brought to be grinned through; and the books of literature and intelligence surpassed, if anything, those of other times.
At Epsom, the old and general patrons of that course having now the ascendency, indulged in donkey races, at which the poor nobility gazed with speechless regret. The last were truly the first, here.
Among the instances of individual ruin, none was more unentertaining than that of Mr. Ducrow. Reduced to a single zebra, he was obliged to turn wanderer and mendicant; the stripes of Misfortune were vividly impressed upon him. Circuses and amphitheatres ceased; and the dragon was more than a match for the poor horseless St. George. What a symbol of the decline of England, when even her patron saint must yield to a Saurian reptile!
Of all human beings affected by the calamity, deep as were the afflictions of others, perhaps those who evinced the most sensitive and overpowering feelings on the occasion, were the butchers' boys. As a class, they evidently suffered beyond the rest. Betrayed, unsupported, and wretched, they trudged under the heavy burthens of fate, as if the world—as indeed in one sense it was—were out of joint for them. The centaurs of antiquity were destroyed by a demigod; but the modern centaurs had nothing to soothe their pride. They were hurled down, but living and without a hope. Poor lads! every heart bled for them.
There were another set of men, almost equally unfortunate, though they endured it with greater equanimity,—the late royal horseguards, with all their splendid caparisons, their tags and tassels, their sashes and sabres, their spurs and epaulettes, their helms and feathers; the officers, people of the first families in the country, the men, the picked and chosen of the plebeian many. The highéliteand the low, reduced alike by unsparing destiny to foot it with the humblest,—it was a grievous blow; and, considering their Uniform conduct, most undeserved. And it was accordingly felt that among the earliest evils for which a remedy should be sought, was the remounting of those so essential to the dignity of the throne and the safety of the realm. True it was, that of the animals they once bestrode not a skin was left; but donkeys were to be procured at excessive prices; and they were obtained for this especial purpose. As yet, the manœuvres of the Royal Ass Guards are more amusing than seemly; but there is no doubt that with time and discipline they will be, as before, the foremost corps in the service.
It were easy to enlarge upon similar topics to the end of this tome, but they would only serve to illustrate that which, we trust, we have illustrated enough. At Melton it was melancholy to see the gay hunter, unable to risk his limbs and neck, reduced to stalking,—and stalking, too, without a horse. Carts beinghors de combat, the truck system began to prevail in all quarters, and, bad as it was, what could not be cured must be endured. Londonderry went into mourning on account of having exported seventy asses to Canada by a vessel which sailed about a month before, about the same period that the old bear at the Tower was sent to America, together with the monkey which bit Ensign Seymour's leg. Scotland suffered in the extreme, in spite of its excellent banking business and assets, for there was scarcely an ass in the country, except among some gipsies at Yetholm (vide Guy Mannering); and if, as we are certain it is not, one in a thousand of our readers ever saw a dead jackass anywhere, it will be agreed that not one in a million could ever enjoy that spectacle on the north side of Tweed. But enough: the kingdom was turned upside down,—old gentlemen without their hobbies,young gentlemen without their exhibitions, sportsmen without their sports, schoolboys in the holidays without their ponies, ladies without their rides and knights,[70]coachmen without their hacks, waggoners without their teams, barges without their draughts, the army without cavalry, and a king and aristocracy without equipages,—the revolution is complete.
In picturing this appalling change, it is but proper to notice that the agricultural interests have not been so severely dealt with. The substitution of bullocks was effected without much difficulty in most farms; and in others hand labour was happily introduced, which employed the poor, and, upon the whole, rather ameliorated the condition of the people.
At first, and for a while, it appeared as if dogs, as well as asses, would rise in value; but it was soon discovered that every dog would have only a short day. Like honest creatures as they are, they pulled and tugged at the cruel loads imposed upon them, till gradually their strength departed from them, and they died away. Their supply of food had failed, and the last of the knackers had followed the last of the tails. Pigs were tried, but positively refused to train. They smelt the wind, or what was in it; and, when out of breath, had no idea of getting a new one. A few goats in babies' shays were honoured as well-bearded and respectable-looking substitutes for the departed; and the Principality published several triads on the auspicious circumstance.
But there was a curious coincidence in London, which puzzled the British Association, the Royal Society, and other learned bodies, and which it is probable never can be satisfactorily accounted for. We refer to the sudden and enormous rise in the price of German, Strasburg, and Bologna sausages. Epping, like Epsom, might be involved in the national difficulty; but how distant countries, Germany and Italy, could by possibility be affected, was a mystery which the Geographical, and even the Statistical Society, professed themselves incompetent to determine.
From bad to worse has been the rapid declension of the empire since the fatal day of the fatal catastrophe which is the subject of this pitiable historical record. Competition, too faint for success, having ceased, steam and smoke have everywhere usurped the once blooming soil. From them, we are now a land of clouds,—murky clouds, to which those of Aristophanes are but fanciful and brilliant exhalations. Intersected by railroads, the iron age is restored, and the golden has vanished for ever. The commonweal revolves on the axes of tramwheels and trains; the reins of government are utterly relaxed; and the country, saddled with taxes and burthens, can no longer afford its inhabitants a single morsel. Engineers and speculators are bringing us to a dead level everywhere; and a republic is the inevitable consequence. For our parts, with the stomach of a horse, and loving beyond measure a sound horse-laugh, emigration is our immediate purpose. By Strasburg and Bologna will we wend our way, and endeavour to fathom the sausage-wonder; and thence, if no better may be, we shall sail for the Houyhnhnms' Land, (to the south of Lewin's and Nuyt's Land, and the west of Maelsuyker's Isle), and, at all events, make our finale like Trojans, by trusting to the horse!
No. IV. April, 1837.
April Fools.
April Fools Score[April Fools Audio]
Now mer-ry Mo-mus rulesA-pril fools! A-pril fools!And with quirp and quil-let schoolsA-pril fools!'Tis the sea-son of the year,When we hold it to be clearThat all, more or less, ap-pearA-pril fools! A-pril fools!Now, at every turn, we meetApril fools! April fools!In park, in square, and street,April fools!Now "pigeon's milk" is sought,"Useful knowledge" cheaply bought,Pleasant lessons, too, are taughtApril fools! April fools!Now little boys are madeApril fools! April fools!(By bigger boys betrayed,)April fools!Now boys, the world calls "old,"Deceived by damsels bold,Find out they are cajoledApril fools! April fools!Now sportive nymphs beguile,April fools! April fools!With gamesome trick and wile,April fools!In vain the charming sexWould their lovers' heart perplex,They may cheat, but cannot vexApril fools! April fools!Now Evans and his crew,April fools! April fools!Find fighting will not do,April fools!Now Sarsfield, Espartero,And many a battered hero,Place Spanish funds at zero,April fools! April fools!Now ministers are termedApril fools! April fools!And their titles are confirmed,April fools!Now Whigs astute, kicked out,Hear the deep derisive shoutEcho wide the land throughout,April fools! April fools!Now costermonger scribes—April fools! April fools!—Pen their dullest diatribes,April fools!In Bentley's Magazine,Alone, are to be seenWits, who scourge with satire keenApril fools! April fools!Now readers, grave or gay,April fools! April fools!We shall terminate our lay,April fools!And we trust that you perceive,We are laughing in our sleeve,As these idle rhymes we weave,April fools! April fools!
Now mer-ry Mo-mus rulesA-pril fools! A-pril fools!And with quirp and quil-let schoolsA-pril fools!'Tis the sea-son of the year,When we hold it to be clearThat all, more or less, ap-pearA-pril fools! A-pril fools!
Now, at every turn, we meetApril fools! April fools!In park, in square, and street,April fools!Now "pigeon's milk" is sought,"Useful knowledge" cheaply bought,Pleasant lessons, too, are taughtApril fools! April fools!
Now little boys are madeApril fools! April fools!(By bigger boys betrayed,)April fools!Now boys, the world calls "old,"Deceived by damsels bold,Find out they are cajoledApril fools! April fools!
Now sportive nymphs beguile,April fools! April fools!With gamesome trick and wile,April fools!In vain the charming sexWould their lovers' heart perplex,They may cheat, but cannot vexApril fools! April fools!
Now Evans and his crew,April fools! April fools!Find fighting will not do,April fools!Now Sarsfield, Espartero,And many a battered hero,Place Spanish funds at zero,April fools! April fools!
Now ministers are termedApril fools! April fools!And their titles are confirmed,April fools!Now Whigs astute, kicked out,Hear the deep derisive shoutEcho wide the land throughout,April fools! April fools!
Now costermonger scribes—April fools! April fools!—Pen their dullest diatribes,April fools!In Bentley's Magazine,Alone, are to be seenWits, who scourge with satire keenApril fools! April fools!
Now readers, grave or gay,April fools! April fools!We shall terminate our lay,April fools!And we trust that you perceive,We are laughing in our sleeve,As these idle rhymes we weave,April fools! April fools!
OR,THE PARISH BOY'S PROGRESS.
BY BOZ.ILLUSTRATED BY GEORGE CRUIKSHANK.
OLIVER MINGLES WITH NEW ASSOCIATES, AND,GOING TO A FUNERAL FOR THE FIRST TIME, FORMSAN UNFAVOURABLE NOTION OF HIS MASTER'S BUSINESS.
Oliver, being left to himself in the undertaker's shop, set the lamp down on a workman's bench, and gazed timidly about him with a feeling of awe and dread, which many people a good deal older than Oliver will be at no loss to understand. An unfinished coffin on black tressels, which stood in the middle of the shop, looked so gloomy and death-like, that a cold tremble came over him every time his eyes wandered in the direction of the dismal object, from which he almost expected to see some frightful form slowly rear its head to drive him mad with terror. Against the wall were ranged in regular array a long row of elm boards cut into the same shape, and looking in the dim light like high-shouldered ghosts with their hands in their breeches pockets. Coffin-plates, elm-chips, bright-headed nails, and shreds of black cloth, lay scattered on the floor; and the wall above the counter was ornamented with a lively representation of two mutes in very stiff neckcloths, on duty at a large private door, with a hearse drawn by four black steeds approaching in the distance. The shop was close and hot, and the atmosphere seemed tainted with the smell of coffins. The recess beneath the counter in which his flock-mattress was thrust, looked like a grave.
Nor were these the only dismal feelings which depressed Oliver. He was alone in a strange place; and we all know how chilled and desolate the best of us will sometimes feel in such a situation. The boy had no friends to care for, or to care for him. The regret of no recent separation was fresh in his mind; the absence of no loved and well-remembered face sunk heavily into his heart. But his heartwasheavy, notwithstanding; and he wished, as he crept into his narrow bed, that that were his coffin, and that he could be laid in a calm and lasting sleep in the churchyard ground, with the tall grass waving gently above his head, and the sound of the old deep bell to soothe him in his sleep.
Oliver was awakened in the morning by a loud kicking at the outside of the shop-door, which, before he could huddle on his clothes, was repeated in an angry and impetuous manner about twenty-five times; and, when he began to undo the chain, the legs left off their volleys, and a voice began.