Exhibition of cartoons—A duel—A monster—Gambling—The “Albert Hat”—Nelson’s statue—Fun thereon—Soldiers’ savings banks—A post boy and Lord Mayor’s show—M. Jullien and his orchestra—Prince Albert as a farmer—George IV.’s Statue—Ojibbeway Indians.
The public exhibition of Cartoons for the frescoes for the new Palace of Westminster, took place in Westminster Hall, on 3 July. There were 140 subjects altogether, varying in size from 15ft. to 10ft. square, none being admitted over, or under those standards. Prizes of £300 each were awarded to Armitage, Watts and Cope; of £200 to Calcott, Bell and Townsend; of £100 to Frost, Harris, Selous, Bridges and Severn; the judges being the Marquis of Lansdowne, Sir R. Peel and Messrs. S. Rogers, Westmacott, Cook and Etty. The Cartoons remained in Westminster Hall for 6 months; and, in Nov. were removed to the Suffolk Street Gallery. They were finally adjudicated upon by the Royal Commission of Fine Arts, on 12 July, 1844, the successful artists chosen to execute frescoes were Cope, Horsley, Dyce, Maclise, Redgrave, and Cave Thomas.
The practice of duelling was fast dying out, and I give the following case as being nearly one of the last, and one in which the seconds and surgeon were tried for being accessory to murder. Two brothers-in-law—Lt.-Col. Fawcett of the 55th Regiment and Lt. Munro of the Royal Horse Guards—quarrelled, and on the morning of the 1st July fought a duel with pistols in a field at the back of the “Brecknock Arms Tavern,” in Camden Road. Lt.-Col. Fawcett fell, mortally wounded, and died on the 3rd July. The Coroner’s jury found Lt. Munro, and the two seconds, guilty of wilful murder,and the surgeon as guilty in the second degree only, as it was believed he was present only as medical attendant. Lieut. Munro and his second got out of the way, but Lt-Col. Fawcett’s second and the surgeon were tried at the Central Criminal Court on 25 Aug. No evidence was tendered against the surgeon, and he was at once discharged, and the jury found the second “Not Guilty.” Lt. Munro’s second surrendered himself, was tried on 14 Feb., 1844, and acquitted. Lieut. Munro was cashiered from the Army for being absent without leave; he afterwards surrendered, and was tried, 18 Aug., 1847, found guilty, and sentenced to death; which sentence was commuted to 12 months’ imprisonment in Newgate.
TheTimesof 30 June, quoting theReading Mercury, has the following: “A Monster.—A day or two since, a gentleman travelling along the road near Colnbrook, had his attention attracted to the screams of a child in the care of a tramping woman, who had with her, two other children totally blind. The cries of the child were so distressing, that he insisted on knowing the cause; but; not getting a satisfactory answer, he forcibly removed a bandage from its eyes, when, horrid to relate, he found these encased with two small perforated shells, in which were two live black beetles, for the purpose of destroying the sight. The woman was instantly seized, and given into custody; and, at the magistrate’s meeting, at Eton, on Wednesday last, committed for trial. There is too much reason to fear that the wretch produced the blindness of the other two children, by similar means.” This was rendered into a street ballad.
A correspondent pointed out that it was well known to all who pass through the parish of St. James’s, at night, that the district absolutely swarmed with gaming houses; there was, in fact, no concealment about the matter, as the keepers vied with each other in illuminating their doors and windows to attract the notice of their victims. How was it that this disgrace was permitted to exist from season to season? The police seemed satisfied with the occasional conviction of one or more minor delinquents from the neighbourhood of LeicesterSquare, but the Leviathans in crime were allowed to continue their nightly course of profligacy and plunder with impunity. The French authorities, by a law which was strictly enforced, entirely swept away this nuisance from their capital, notoriously, for years, the very hotbed of the vice of gaming; but we were lamentably behind our neighbours; for, while we boasted of a Court pure in morals, and strict in the performance of every religious duty, we allowed the Sabbath to be desecrated, and the Palace of the Sovereign to be contaminated by the close vicinage of houses expressly open for the practice of this demoralising habit.—Are we much better now?
At the latter end of October, a new headdress for the infantry was proposed, and Prince Albert was universally credited as being its godfather—but public opinion was so unequivocally expressed against it, that it was never likely to be popular. It was neither soldier-like, nor appropriate, and bore a strong resemblance to the old Hessian cap, which was introduced into the German service. This headgear was covered with black cloth, the crown and brim being of black-varnished leather; the band was of white worsted, as was the tuft, which was placed on a ball of red worsted. Beneath this ball was a royal crown, underneath which was a Maltese cross, in the centre of which was inscribed the number of the regiment.
Punchwas especially severe upon the Albert hat—and with the pictorial satire of “Prince Albert’s Studio” (by the way the hat is in no ways exaggerated), is the following: “Ever since the accession of Prince Albert to the Royal Husband-ship of these realms, he has devoted the energies of his mind, and the ingenuity of his hands to the manufacture of Infantry caps, Cavalry trousers, and Regulation sabretaches. One of his first measures was to transmogrify the pantaloons of the Eleventh Hussars; and, as the regiment alluded to is “Prince Albert’s Own,” His Royal Highness may do as he likes with his own, and no one can complain of his bedizening the legs of the unfortunate Eleventh, with scarlet cloth and gold door leather. When, however, the Prince, throwing the wholeof his energies into a hat, proposed to encase the heads of the British soldiery in a machine which seemed a decided cross between a muff, a coal scuttle and a slop pail, thenPunchwas compelled to interfere, for the honour of the British Army. The result has been that the headgear hasbeen summarily withdrawn, by an order from the War Office, and the manufacture of more of the Albert hat has been absolutely prohibited.
Prince Albert’s Studio. Punch, vol. V., p. 179
“Greatness of mind is shown in various ways by different individuals. Hannibal was a great cutter out, for he cut a passage through the Alps; but Prince Albert cuts out Hannibal, inasmuch as His Royal Highness devotes his talent to the cutting out of coats, and ‘things inexpressible.’ The Prince’s studio could not fail to be an object of interest to thereaders ofPunch. We have, therefore, at an enormous sacrifice of time and specie, obtained a view of it.”
Nelson’s Statue
On the morning of Nov. 3, at 4 a.m., the raising of a portion of the colossal statue of Nelson, on the pillar in Trafalgar Square, commenced. This figure is 17 feet high from its base to the top of the hat, and is made of stone from the Granton quarry, belonging to the Duke of Buccleugh. It weighs nearly 18 tons, and, needless to say, is made in segments. These were put together before it was raised, to show the public—and during the two days it was on view, it was visited by 100,000 persons.
The building this column had seemed slow, but that was nothing compared to its completion; the bas reliefs were long in being placed, and it was not till 31 Jan., 1867, that Landseer’s four couchant lions were exposed to public gaze. Of the progress of its building,Punch(25 Nov., 1843) has some very fine fooling.
“THE NELSON COLUMN DRAMA.
The earliest announcement of the late Covent Garden management, was a piece entitled ‘Trafalgar Square, or the Nelson Monument.’ We have obtained the following slight information respecting it. The drama is described as ‘a grand architectural and historical burletta,’ in two acts; and the prologue was to have been spoken by Mr. Widdicomb, asTime. The two acts comprise the commencement and completion, and a lapse of twenty years is supposed to take place between them, in which time ‘the boy,’ who is the principal character, becomes a middle-aged man. The following speech is very fine. The boy enquires of the mason when the column will be finished, who replies, in an interval of the steak banquet, which they are enjoying together:
Mason.—I’ve asked that fearful question of the stars,Who wink responding—of the Board of Works,Whose works have bored us—of the misty moon,Towards whose lodgings, after years of toil,We rise no nearer. All were still, but now,Whilst gazing on that steak of beef,Sent up to form our capital repast,And cheer us in our lonely solitude,I hope the best—the best can hope no more.’Twill rise, like College honours, by degrees,And to our limbs a pillar be, of ease:Our hearts are warm—although upon the frieze.
Mason.—I’ve asked that fearful question of the stars,Who wink responding—of the Board of Works,Whose works have bored us—of the misty moon,Towards whose lodgings, after years of toil,We rise no nearer. All were still, but now,Whilst gazing on that steak of beef,Sent up to form our capital repast,And cheer us in our lonely solitude,I hope the best—the best can hope no more.’Twill rise, like College honours, by degrees,And to our limbs a pillar be, of ease:Our hearts are warm—although upon the frieze.
The following duet is also introduced by the man and the boy in the second act:
Boy.
I remember, I remember,When I was a little boy,On the column, in November,I was given some employ.
I helped the man to build it,And we labour’d hard and long,But the granite came up slowly,For we were not very strong.
I remember, I remember,How we raised its form on high,With one block in December,And another in July.
Both.
We remember, we remember,When St. Martin’s bells were rung,In the laying of the first stone, forWe both were very young.
But weary years have past, now,Since we our work begun;We fear we shall not last now,To see our labour done.
We remember, we remember,But we heard it on the sly,’Twon’t be finished next November,Nor the subsequent July.”
Very early in November, a War Office circular (dated 31 Oct.) was issued, to regulate and establish regimental savings banks, which have done so much to encourage thrift among our soldiers. The maximum of each soldier’s deposit waslimited to £30 in any one year, and to £200 in the whole. The rate of interest on deposits was fixed at £3 15 s. per cent per annum, but no interest was to be allowed upon less than 6s. 8d. and 13s. 4d., nor upon any sums that had not remained on deposit for at least one month, to be reckoned from the last monthly muster day.
In theTimesof 10 Nov. is the following: “A rather amusing scene took place in Cheapside, yesterday, shortly before the Lord Mayor’s procession to Westminster. Whilst the streets were blocked up against the passage of vehicles and horses, one of those sharp little urchins, known by the generic title of the ‘twopenny cavalry,’ who rattle through the streets with Her Majesty’s suburban mails, was stopped, opposite Bow Church, by a party of police, who told him they acted under the orders of the Lord Mayor. The post-boy, with all the dignity of Her Majesty’s representative, assuming an air of great condescension, assured the police that he had the highest possible respect for the Lord Mayor, but, being express upon Her Majesty’s business, he was determined to proceed. The police persisted in stopping him, a crowd collected, and it was clear their sympathies sided with the post-boy, who carried himself, throughout the controversy, with great courage, calmness, and self-possession. The police had, by this time, seized the bridle, whilst the boy endeavoured to force his way forward, backed by the strenuous exertions of his steed, who also appeared as if inspired by the authority of a Royal Commission. The post-boy, finding physical force insufficient, tried what authority would do, and threatened them with the vengeance of the Home Secretary, for attempting to stop Her Majesty’s mails. This had the desired effect of bringing the police to a parley; and, as the post-boy was backed by popular applause, he gained momentarily in the discussion, but did not complete his advantage until he took out a memorandum book, and began, coolly, to note down the numbers of the constables. This stroke was decisive; they, at once, capitulated, merely stipulating that they should have his address in return. To this, he readily assented, and searched diligently for his cardcase, but that mark of gentilitywas not at hand. He, however, made a page from his memorandum book serve his purpose, and took his leave amid the loud congratulations of the applauding crowd, with the following pithy address to the constables: ‘I can’t well see what use you are. A hundred years ago there were no police, and Lord Mayor’s shows went off better than they do now. For my part, I can’t see what you do here at all, for you know’—he added with a significant grin—‘you know you don’t look so very well in a procession.’ Shouts of laughter followed the post-boy’s brief speech, as he rode on triumphantly.”
It was about this time that M. Louis Antoine Jullien, to whom we owe so much for the popularisation of good music, and for the improvement of our orchestras, came into notoriety as a caterer for the public’s amusement, and for his promenade concerts. These had been popular in the open air at Vauxhall, Ranelagh, Marylebone, and other public gardens; but the first, under cover, was given in 1838 at the Lyceum Theatre, or, as it was then called, The English Opera House, when the pit was boarded over, and an orchestra erected on the stage exactly as we are now so familiar with. Jullien, in 1838, had been unlucky in Paris, was bankrupt, and came to London, where, in 1840, he was assistant to Eliason, the violinist and conductor of an orchestra of 100 performers, and a small chorus. Next year Jullien was the conductor; and, in 1842, on 2 Dec., he started for himself, at the English Opera House, the series of promenade concerts with which his name will always be associated.
He always would have the very best musicians that he could find for his orchestra, and in this year (1843) among them were Barrett, Baumann, Harper, Kœnig, Richardson, Hill, Lazarus, Patey, Howell and Jarrett, and in after years he had such, soloists as Ernst, Sivori, Bottesini Wieniawski and Sainton. In 1857 he came, financially, to grief; he then went to Paris, was imprisoned for debt in Clichy, in 1859, and died in a lunatic asylum on 14 March, 1860.
M. Jullien. Ill. Lon. News, 25 Nov. 1843, p. 348
In his later years he became much stouter than he is here represented, and, as a conductor, posed a great deal too much.Those of my readers who recollect him will acknowledge the truth of the following description of him, when conducting his British Army Quadrilles, taken from his biography inGrove’s History of Music and Musicians: “With coat thrown widely open, white waistcoat, elaborately embroidered shirt front, wristbands of extravagant length, turned back over his cuffs, a wealth of black hair, and a black moustache—itself a striking novelty—he wielded his baton, encouraged his forces, repressed the turbulence of his audience with indescribable gravity and magnificence, went through all the pantomime of the British Army or Navy Quadrilles, seized a violin or a piccolo at the moment of climax, and, at last, sunk exhausted into his gorgeous velvet chair. All pieces of Beethoven’s were conducted with a jewelled baton, and ina pair of clean kid gloves, handed him, at the moment, on a silver salver.”
Prince Albert, the British Farmer
Prince Albert took a great interest in Agriculture, and his Flemish Farm at Windsor was a model; but it was hard to make the average Englishman believe that a foreigner could ever do any good as a Farmer, and John Leech drew a fancy portrait of the prince inPunch, 25 Nov., where it illustrates a portion of a speech of Sir Robert Peel at Tamworth: “Prince Albert has turned his attention to the promotion of agriculture; and, if you have seen, as most probably you have, an account of the sale of Prince Albert’s stock, and the price they fetched, I have not the slightest doubt you will give one cheer more to Prince Albert, as a British Farmer.”
In the beginning of December the bronze equestrian statueof George IV. was set up on a pedestal at the north-east corner of Trafalgar Square. It is the work of Chantrey, and was intended to be mounted on the Marble Arch, which was, originally, the gateway to Buckingham Palace, until its removal to Cumberland Gate, Hyde Park, in 1851.
In the very early part of December, some of Her Majesty’s subjects, Canadian Indians, from the north-eastern shores of Lake Huron, came to visit England. They were of the Ojibbeway tribe, and were nine in number, two old chiefs, four warriors, two women, and a little girl, 10 years old. On the 20 Dec. they were presented to the Queen at Windsor, and received from Her Majesty a cheque for £20, and a quantity of gorgeous plaid, with which to astonish the other natives, on their return. They afterwards exhibited themselves, danced war dances, etc., at the Egyptian Hall, at an admission fee of half-a-crown.
A child for sale—Trial, &c, of Daniel O’Connell—General Tom Thumb—His visit to the Queen—The Polka—How to dance it—“Jullien’s Grand Polka.”
TheTimesof 19 Jan. copies the following from theWorcester Chronicle: “A Child for Sale.—The following extraordinary letter was received, a short time ago, by a gentleman in the neighbourhood of Tewkesbury, from a person residing here. The letter is dated from a certain court in this town, but we omit the precise locality, and the writer’s name, hoping that, without pursuing the exposure to that extent, it will be sufficient to teach him that natural affection is not to be made a matter of bargain and sale, and that it is the duty of a parent himself to cherish the child which he has been the means of bringing into the world:—‘Sir,—Having heard that you expressed a wish to have a child and did not mind giving a sum of money as an inducement i flatter myself that I have it in my power to furnish you with one to answer your purpose in every respect it is a boy 2 years old a good looking healthy spirited child and sound in wind and limb and that you can rair him up to suit your inclination you can send word by the bearer and appoint any time to inspect the child.’”
With every wish, in this book of Gossip, to steer as clear of politics as possible, yet it would belie its name were the famous trial of Daniel O’Connell not to be mentioned. “Repeal of the Union” was his watchword and perpetual cry, and with it he stirred up the Irish people to a pitch when he found it difficult to manage and restrain them. On 16 March, 1843, was held at Trim the first of great public meetings which he designed, but did not carry out; and on 15 Aug. was a monster meeting on the Hill of Tara; butthe one to be held at Clontarf on 8 Oct. was to have eclipsed its predecessors. But this was forbidden by the Government, and, a week later, warrants were issued for the arrest of O’Connell, his son John, and his chief colleagues, on a charge of conspiring to create discontent and disaffection among the liege subjects of the Queen, and with contriving, “by means of intimidation, and the demonstration of great physical force, to procure and effect changes to be made in the government, laws, and constitution of this realm.” O’Connell was allowed bail, but on 8 Nov. a true bill was found by the jury, yet the trial did not take place till the 15th Jan. of this year. On the 12th Feb., the jury returned a verdict of guilty of unlawful and seditious conspiracy, but judgment was not delivered till 30 May, when he was sentenced to imprisonment for twelve months, a fine of £2,000, and to find surety to keep the peace for seven years. He had to go to prison, where he was well treated and allowed to see his friends; his sentence was appealed against, and reversed in the House of Lords, on 4 Sep., 1844, when he was instantly liberated.
Repeal button
During all this time there was great excitement, people wearing Repeal buttons, one of which is here delineated, and other emblems, while the uncrowned King of Ireland was presented, at Mullaghmast, with a velvet cap surmounted with shamrocks, and having a green tassel; the cap, in fact, with which readers ofPunchare so familiar.
Of course, his release from prison was an occasion to be made the most of. An amphitheatrical triumphal car was provided, and, upon it, were mounted O’Connell, his son, and the Rev. Dr. Miley, and this gimcrack piece of property was drawn by six horses ridden by postillions. The following is an account by an eye witness:
“The ovation commenced at two o’clock. First came the trades of Dublin, each preceded by the banner of its body, and a band playing such music as only temperance bands can play, and, generally, with much discrimination, selecting rather difficult pieces for their performance, and eschewing all national airs. The banners were usually displayed from coaches, intended to hold four, but contriving to allow from sixteen to eighteen to fit into, and hang on by them. Thus they came on: Bricklayers (with a painting of the Bank of Ireland, and the superscription of ‘Our Old House at Home’); slaters, woollen operatives (in a small open car); nailors (with a picture of Brian Boroihme ‘nailing’ the Danes at Clontarf); coach makers, tailors (with a very gorgeous equipage, six horses, postillions and outriders); tinplate workers, displaying as their sign, a man with a tin helmet on his head, and a dish cover of the same metal on his arm—otherwise unassumingly attired in a blue coat and white trousers; and other bodies of tradesmen too numerous to mention, with their appropriate emblems and banners.
“The ovation commenced at two o’clock. First came the trades of Dublin, each preceded by the banner of its body, and a band playing such music as only temperance bands can play, and, generally, with much discrimination, selecting rather difficult pieces for their performance, and eschewing all national airs. The banners were usually displayed from coaches, intended to hold four, but contriving to allow from sixteen to eighteen to fit into, and hang on by them. Thus they came on: Bricklayers (with a painting of the Bank of Ireland, and the superscription of ‘Our Old House at Home’); slaters, woollen operatives (in a small open car); nailors (with a picture of Brian Boroihme ‘nailing’ the Danes at Clontarf); coach makers, tailors (with a very gorgeous equipage, six horses, postillions and outriders); tinplate workers, displaying as their sign, a man with a tin helmet on his head, and a dish cover of the same metal on his arm—otherwise unassumingly attired in a blue coat and white trousers; and other bodies of tradesmen too numerous to mention, with their appropriate emblems and banners.
O’Connell’s Cap
“Next came a number of Repeal wardens, bearing wands, and occupying respectable-looking coaches and carriages. After them drove the committee of the political trades’ unions; the members of it attired in green sashes and scarves, and bearing wands with green flags in their hands. Next in order were the various members of the Corporation, aldermen, town councillors, and officers, dressed in their robes of office andcocked hats, glittering with chains, and furred from head to foot. The majority of these gentlemen were in their own carriages, into each of which were packed as many of the owner’s friends as could find standing room, several private vehicles being mixed up through the order of procession. Then came the private carriages of the Lord Mayor, who was in full dress; and then, preceded by a confused mass of wand bearers, the triumphal chariot itself, surrounded by a mob so dense that it was with great difficulty that the six splendid dappled greys could force the cumbrous vehicle along, which, every instant, seemed to become a second Car of Juggernaut, and crush some of its adorers. More vehicles, a few horsemen, multitudes of hack cars and pedestrians, a tail of old women and little boys, followed; and so the monster procession, after winding its slow length along through the greater part of Dublin, and causing a total cessation of business in the line of its progress, terminated.”
“Next came a number of Repeal wardens, bearing wands, and occupying respectable-looking coaches and carriages. After them drove the committee of the political trades’ unions; the members of it attired in green sashes and scarves, and bearing wands with green flags in their hands. Next in order were the various members of the Corporation, aldermen, town councillors, and officers, dressed in their robes of office andcocked hats, glittering with chains, and furred from head to foot. The majority of these gentlemen were in their own carriages, into each of which were packed as many of the owner’s friends as could find standing room, several private vehicles being mixed up through the order of procession. Then came the private carriages of the Lord Mayor, who was in full dress; and then, preceded by a confused mass of wand bearers, the triumphal chariot itself, surrounded by a mob so dense that it was with great difficulty that the six splendid dappled greys could force the cumbrous vehicle along, which, every instant, seemed to become a second Car of Juggernaut, and crush some of its adorers. More vehicles, a few horsemen, multitudes of hack cars and pedestrians, a tail of old women and little boys, followed; and so the monster procession, after winding its slow length along through the greater part of Dublin, and causing a total cessation of business in the line of its progress, terminated.”
In February appeared, in London, at the Princess’s Theatre, “General Tom Thumb,” the most popular of modern dwarfs—thanks to the advertising qualities of his exhibitor, P. T. Barnum. The real name of this mite was Charles S. Stratton, and he was said to have been born on 11 Jan., 1832, but this, as with all data connected with him, must be accepted with caution. It was said of him, that, at his birth, he weighed 9 lbs. 2 oz., somewhat more than the average weight of a newly born infant. At about 5 months old, he weighed 15 lbs., and measured 25 inches in height; since which time he never increased in stature; and, at the time of his arrival in England, he weighed but 15 lbs. 2 oz. He had, previously, been exhibited in New York and the principal cities of America, where his miniature palace, furniture and equipage excited considerable curiosity. When he embarked from New York for England, he was escorted to the packet by not less than 10,000 persons.
On 1 April, he appeared, by command, before Her Majesty at Buckingham Palace, when the Queen presented him,with her own hand, with “a superb souvenir, of the most exquisitehandicraft, manufactured of mother of pearl, and mounted with gold and precious stones. On one side are the crown and Royal initials, V.R., and, on the reverse, bouquets of flowers in enamel and rubies. In addition to this splendid gift, Her Majesty subsequently presented the General with a beautiful gold pencil case, with the initials of Tom Thumb, and his coat of arms, engraved on the emerald surmounting the case.”
Tom Thumb. Ill. Lon. News, 24 Feb., 1844, p. 124
Anent this,Punchis exceedingly satirical: “Her Majesty has again commanded ‘the performances ofTom Thumb, the Yankee Dwarf.’ This, indeed, was to have been expected. We have only to reflect upon the countless acts of patronage towards the Arts and Sciences—had only to remember a few of the numerous personal condescensions of the Queen towards men of letters, artists and philosophers—to be assured that evenTom Thumbwould be welcomed with that graceful cordiality which has, heretofore, made Buckingham Palace and Windsor Castle the homes of Poetry and Science.De minimis curat Regina! Continental monarchs stop short intheir Royal favours at full-grown authors and artists; but the enthusiasm of Her MajestyQueen Victoria, not content with showering all sorts of favours and rewards upon the literary and artistic spirits of her own country and age, lavishes, with prodigal hand, most delicate honours upon an AmericanTom Thumb, whose astounding genius it is, to measure, in his boots, five-and-twenty inches! To this, how small isVictor Hugoat the Tuileries; to this, how mean and petty Göthe at the Court of Saxe-Weimar!
* * * * *
“Tom Thumbbeing—according to the biography published by his showman,Barnum—the son of a Yankee carpenter, we should much like to know the General’s arms. Did Her Majesty, before the ‘performance,’ send to learn them, that they might be duly engraved? or were they, asMathew’sFrench Shoemaker made his little boot, struck off in ‘a moment of enthusiasm’?”
About this time came to us “that sweet boon,”the Polka. Originally a Bohemian Peasant dance, it was imported into fashionable saloons of Berlin and St. Petersburg. It was, at this time, the rage in Paris, as theTimesobserves: “The Paris papers are destitute of news. Our private letters state that ‘politics are, for the moment, suspended in public regard, by the new and all-absorbing pursuit—the Polka—a dance recently imported from Bohemia, and which embraces in its qualities the intimacy of the waltz, with the vivacity of the Irish jig. You may conceive how completely is ‘the Polka’ the rage, from the fact that the lady of a celebrated ex-minister, desiring to figure in it at asoirée dansante, monopolised the professor,par excellence, of thatspecialitéfor three hours, on Wednesday morning last, at 200 francs the hour.’”
On its first importation into England, it was used as aballet, on the stage, with very fancy Bohemian costume, as we may see in the three following illustrations of Mdlle. Carlotta Grisi and M. Perrot, dancing their idea of it at Her Majesty’s Theatre in 1844.
The Polka.—Figure 2. Ill. Lon. News, 27 April, 1844, p. 301
But it soon became a Drawing-room dance, and it is edifying to know exactly how it was danced then. It was found too elaborate, and the number of steps had to be reduced in quantity, and curtailed in quality. But this is the dance as given in theIllustrated London Newsof 11 May:
“THE DRAWING-ROOM POLKA.
We are much gratified in being enabled to lay before our readers an accurate description of thevéritable, orDrawing-room Polka, as danced at Almack’s, and at the halls of the nobility and gentry of this country.
La Polkahaving appeared amongst us under so many different guises, we determined to spare no pains to procure a true description of itsdanse; for which we are indebted to Mrs. James Rae, who has been fortunate enough to secure the details from M. Coralli, fils, the instructor of the young noblemen and gentry in Paris.
La Polka, like its predecessors, the waltz and galop, is adanse à deux, couples following each other in thesalle de danse, commencing at pleasure, and adopting, of the following figures, that which pleases them most at the moment. All those anxious to shine inLa Polka, will dance the whole of them, returning from time to time, by way of rest, to the first figure.
The measure, or time, is 2–4; but, to facilitate our definition, we subdivide each measure, or bar, into one—two—three—four; the accent on the two, etc., to be played not so fast as the galop.
The stepsare two, and the following description may, in some measure, convey them to our readers; we commence with the first, and most general. At the one, hop on the right leg, lifting, or doubling up your left leg at the same moment; at the two, put your left leg boldly forward on the ground; at the three, bring your right toe up to your left heel; at the four, advance your left foot a short step forward: now, at the one, in the next measure, or bar of the time, hop on the left leg, doubling, or lifting up your right leg, andso on, proceeding in this step, with your arm encircling your partner’s waist, round the room. This may be termed the first figure.
Figure 2.—Still adopting the same step, with your right arm round your partner’s waist, and her right hand in your left, you place your lady exactly before you, and back all round the room, your lady pursuing you (as shown in the sketch); you then reverse this figure, and let your partner do the back step, whilst you pursue her, and, at the same time, carefully guide her round the room.
The Drawing-room Polka.—Figure 2. Ill. Lon. News, 11 May, 1844, p. 301
In backing, the leg which in figure one, you put boldly forward on the ground, you now fling boldly backward, and are thus enabled to effect your progress round the room.
Figure 3.—With the same step you waltz round the room—in other words, you perform the Galop waltz, substituting the Polka step as described.
Figure 4.—This is also a waltz with the second step, which we will now describe as “the Heel and Toe step.” At the one, make a little hop on your right leg, dropping your left heel close to your right foot; at the two, another little hop on the right leg, pointing your left toe (not forward, but as close to your right foot as possible); at the tree, another little hop on the right leg, advancing one step forward with the left foot; at the four, bring up the right foot, turning at the same instant, and passing your partner over to your left arm from your right arm; in your next measure, return your lady to your left arm, and so on.
The Drawing-room Polka.—Figure 5
Figure 5.—This is termed the back waltz. The step adopted in it by yourself and partner, is the back step described in figure two, and you turn in this waltz exactly the contrary way to that in which you turn in all other waltzes—hence its name.
InLa Polka, before commencing the figures we have just described, there is a short introduction (of which we give a sketch), consisting of four measures, danced thus; leading your partner from her seat, and giving her her place in the circle, and placing themselvesvis-à-vis, you take her left hand in your right, and make the first step four times—first forward, then backward, forward again, and then backward, taking care to gain ground in the forward steps; you then start with the first figure.
The Drawing-room Polka.—Introduction
There was a furore about the Polka; not only in dancing it, but there was an absolute mania for naming articles of dress after it. Ladies wore Polka hats, Polka jackets and Polka boots, and men had Polka ties. Jullien published a new Polka about every fortnight, and the whole people were Polka mad. Here is a street ballad on the subject:
“Jullien’s Grand Polka.Oh! sure the world is all run mad,The lean, the fat, the gay, the sad—All swear such pleasure they never had,Till they did learn the Polka.Chorus.First cock up your right leg—so,Balance on your left great toe,Stamp your heels, and off you goTo the Original Polka. Oh!There’s Mrs. Tibbs, the tailor’s wife,With Mother Briggs is sore at strife,As if the first and last of lifeWas but to learn the Polka.Quadrilles and waltzes all give way,For Jullien’s Polkas bear the sway,The chimney sweeps, on first of May,Do, in London, dance the Polka.If a pretty girl you chance to meet,With sparkling eyes and rosy cheek,She’ll say, young man, we’ll have a treat,If you can dance the Polka.A lady who lives in this town,Went and bought a Polka gown,And for the same she gave five pound,All for to dance the Polka.But, going to the Ball one night,On the way she got a dreadful fright,She tumbled down and ruined quiteThe gown to dance the Polka.A Frenchman has arrived from France,To teach the English how to dance,And fill his pocket—“what a chance”—By gammoning the Polka.Professors swarm in every street,’Tis ground on barrel organs sweet;And every friend you chance to meetAsks, if you dance the Polka.Then over Fanny Ellsler came,Brilliant with trans-Atlantic fame;Says she, I’m German by my name,So best I know the Polka.And the row de dow she danced,And in short clothes and red heels pranced,And, as she skipped, her red heels glancedIn the Bohemian Polka.But, now, my song is near its close,A secret, now, I will disclose,Don’t tell, for it’s beneath the rose,A humbug is the Polka.Then heigh for humbug France or Spain,Who brings back our old steps again,Which John Bull will applaud amain,Just as he does the Polka.”
“Jullien’s Grand Polka.
Oh! sure the world is all run mad,The lean, the fat, the gay, the sad—All swear such pleasure they never had,Till they did learn the Polka.
Chorus.
First cock up your right leg—so,Balance on your left great toe,Stamp your heels, and off you goTo the Original Polka. Oh!
There’s Mrs. Tibbs, the tailor’s wife,With Mother Briggs is sore at strife,As if the first and last of lifeWas but to learn the Polka.
Quadrilles and waltzes all give way,For Jullien’s Polkas bear the sway,The chimney sweeps, on first of May,Do, in London, dance the Polka.
If a pretty girl you chance to meet,With sparkling eyes and rosy cheek,She’ll say, young man, we’ll have a treat,If you can dance the Polka.
A lady who lives in this town,Went and bought a Polka gown,And for the same she gave five pound,All for to dance the Polka.
But, going to the Ball one night,On the way she got a dreadful fright,She tumbled down and ruined quiteThe gown to dance the Polka.
A Frenchman has arrived from France,To teach the English how to dance,And fill his pocket—“what a chance”—By gammoning the Polka.
Professors swarm in every street,’Tis ground on barrel organs sweet;And every friend you chance to meetAsks, if you dance the Polka.
Then over Fanny Ellsler came,Brilliant with trans-Atlantic fame;Says she, I’m German by my name,So best I know the Polka.
And the row de dow she danced,And in short clothes and red heels pranced,And, as she skipped, her red heels glancedIn the Bohemian Polka.
But, now, my song is near its close,A secret, now, I will disclose,Don’t tell, for it’s beneath the rose,A humbug is the Polka.
Then heigh for humbug France or Spain,Who brings back our old steps again,Which John Bull will applaud amain,Just as he does the Polka.”
An English dinner—Consols at par—The “Running Rein” case—Other frauds—Royal visitors—Opening letters by Government—Duke of Wellington’s Statue—Barry on the Thames—Visit of Louis Philippe—Guano—Queen opens Royal Exchange—Lord Mayor hissed.
As the length of time between this date, and the present writing is great, and our social habits have somewhat changed, it may be interesting to some of my readers to hear a Frenchman’s account of an upper-class dinner. It is taken from theConstitutionel, the organ of M. Thiers:
“Madeira wine has been out of fashion, in England, for some time. Sherry and Port (to which are occasionally added Bordeaux and Champagne, Rhenish wines and Hermitage) are, now, the only wines to be seen on the tables of the rich. As for beer (the national drink), it only makes its appearance at a banquet, for remembrance sake, and in very small quantity. Port wine is held in especial favour by the English, because, while it is more impregnated with alcohol than any other, it is, at the same time the least irritating, and facilitates, more than all the rest, the important operations of the digestive organs. In order, however, to be possessed of all the requisite qualities, it must not only be of the finest growth, or have been eight or nine years in the cellar, but the regular connoisseurs insist that it must cross the line several times, in order to be first-rate. Five or six servants, with powdered wigs, in silk stockings and knee breeches, hover about the table. The covers are always changed at every successive course, and there is no fear of eating off the dirty plate of one’s neighbour, or using his knife or fork, thesideboard being laden with piles of plates and conveniences of every description. After fish, which always constitutes the first course, the host invites one of his guests to drink a glass of wine with him, desiring him to help himself to that which he likes best. You take that which is offered you. Your host then pours out a glass for himself, and sends you the bottle by a servant. You fill your glass, you raise it to your lips with a half bow, and drink as much of it as you feel inclined. The same ceremony is repeated among the other guests. It should be mentioned that, if you ask a lady to take wine, you always fill her glass before your own; but, if you invite a gentleman so to do, you never fail to help yourself first. This custom was, formerly, very inconvenient to strangers, it being, then, absolutely necessary to empty one’s glass; at present, you need only drink a portion, and ladies may satisfy the rules of etiquette by merely moistening their lips. After fish, come roast meats, boiled vegetables, and various delicate sauces, with which you make yourcuisineupon your own plate; puddings and game of all sorts follow, amongst which there is, always, to begin with, one dish, especially appropriate to the season. It is to the former article of diet (puddings), that English children are indebted, it is said, for their excellent health, and their magnificent rosy complexions. The cloth is at length removed, and the mahogany table shines forth in all its splendour. Dessert follows, consisting of a few sweetmeats, orconfitures, but abounding in fruits from all five parts of the world, and the produce of all the four seasons, and including superb pineapples, Portugal grapes, almonds, red nuts of a delicious flavour, dates, figs, rich juicy oranges, etc., etc. The wine is brought on in glass decanters, ticketed and placed in silver stands. These stands glide along the shining table, which is as smooth as ice, in the midst of silver, or crystal vases filled with fruit, etc. The host, after helping himself to wine, pushes about the whole ‘battery’ of decanters, which, going the round of the table, soon regain their original situation. A quarter of an hour elapses, when the mistress of the house rises and retires, followed by all the ladies. It is then thattheséance de vinbegins. The subject of conversation soon changes, and political questions are discussed. The conversation, without getting stormy, acquires that degree of warmth and animation, which a good dinner, when one is blessed with a strong head and a good digestion, generally inspires. Hard drinking has, generally speaking, fallen into desuetude. It is only foxhunters and country gentlemen who remain faithful, nowadays, to that ignoble custom. A gentleman who has any self-respect, never so far forgets himself as to get tipsy, for he would certainly be looked upon with an evil eye, by the company, if he were to enter the drawing-room with an indistinct articulation, or with trembling legs. Dinner is over about half-past nine. The gentlemen then rejoin the ladies to take tea and coffee, and the conversation turns, as before, upon the news of the day.”
“Madeira wine has been out of fashion, in England, for some time. Sherry and Port (to which are occasionally added Bordeaux and Champagne, Rhenish wines and Hermitage) are, now, the only wines to be seen on the tables of the rich. As for beer (the national drink), it only makes its appearance at a banquet, for remembrance sake, and in very small quantity. Port wine is held in especial favour by the English, because, while it is more impregnated with alcohol than any other, it is, at the same time the least irritating, and facilitates, more than all the rest, the important operations of the digestive organs. In order, however, to be possessed of all the requisite qualities, it must not only be of the finest growth, or have been eight or nine years in the cellar, but the regular connoisseurs insist that it must cross the line several times, in order to be first-rate. Five or six servants, with powdered wigs, in silk stockings and knee breeches, hover about the table. The covers are always changed at every successive course, and there is no fear of eating off the dirty plate of one’s neighbour, or using his knife or fork, thesideboard being laden with piles of plates and conveniences of every description. After fish, which always constitutes the first course, the host invites one of his guests to drink a glass of wine with him, desiring him to help himself to that which he likes best. You take that which is offered you. Your host then pours out a glass for himself, and sends you the bottle by a servant. You fill your glass, you raise it to your lips with a half bow, and drink as much of it as you feel inclined. The same ceremony is repeated among the other guests. It should be mentioned that, if you ask a lady to take wine, you always fill her glass before your own; but, if you invite a gentleman so to do, you never fail to help yourself first. This custom was, formerly, very inconvenient to strangers, it being, then, absolutely necessary to empty one’s glass; at present, you need only drink a portion, and ladies may satisfy the rules of etiquette by merely moistening their lips. After fish, come roast meats, boiled vegetables, and various delicate sauces, with which you make yourcuisineupon your own plate; puddings and game of all sorts follow, amongst which there is, always, to begin with, one dish, especially appropriate to the season. It is to the former article of diet (puddings), that English children are indebted, it is said, for their excellent health, and their magnificent rosy complexions. The cloth is at length removed, and the mahogany table shines forth in all its splendour. Dessert follows, consisting of a few sweetmeats, orconfitures, but abounding in fruits from all five parts of the world, and the produce of all the four seasons, and including superb pineapples, Portugal grapes, almonds, red nuts of a delicious flavour, dates, figs, rich juicy oranges, etc., etc. The wine is brought on in glass decanters, ticketed and placed in silver stands. These stands glide along the shining table, which is as smooth as ice, in the midst of silver, or crystal vases filled with fruit, etc. The host, after helping himself to wine, pushes about the whole ‘battery’ of decanters, which, going the round of the table, soon regain their original situation. A quarter of an hour elapses, when the mistress of the house rises and retires, followed by all the ladies. It is then thattheséance de vinbegins. The subject of conversation soon changes, and political questions are discussed. The conversation, without getting stormy, acquires that degree of warmth and animation, which a good dinner, when one is blessed with a strong head and a good digestion, generally inspires. Hard drinking has, generally speaking, fallen into desuetude. It is only foxhunters and country gentlemen who remain faithful, nowadays, to that ignoble custom. A gentleman who has any self-respect, never so far forgets himself as to get tipsy, for he would certainly be looked upon with an evil eye, by the company, if he were to enter the drawing-room with an indistinct articulation, or with trembling legs. Dinner is over about half-past nine. The gentlemen then rejoin the ladies to take tea and coffee, and the conversation turns, as before, upon the news of the day.”
On 8 April, Consols rose to par, or £100 for £100 stock, for the first time for nearly a century. The last time they were at £100 was in 1749, the year after the peace of Aix la Chapelle; at which period the public debt was rather more than £78,000,000. The highest price the Three per Cents, ever rose to, previously, was in June, 1737, and again, in May, 1739, when they attained the high price of £107. In September, 1797, they fell to 47⅜, which is the lowest price to which they have ever fallen.
On 23 May, the Derby was won by a horse calledRunning Rein, which was the occasion of an Action in the Court of Exchequer, on 1 July, before Baron Alderson. It was alleged that the horse had not been truly described, that he was not of the age which qualified him to run for the Derby, and that he ought not, therefore, to be deemed the winner of the race. Colonel Peel, the owner of Orlando, the second horse, claimed the stakes, on the ground that Running Rein was not the horse represented; and Mr. Wood, the owner of Running Rein, brought this action against the Colonel.
Mr. Cockburn, who conducted the plaintiff’s case, gave the pedigree of Running Rein, and his whole history. Among other things, Mr. Cockburn mentioned that, in October, 1843,Running Rein won a race at Newmarket; that he was objected to on the score of age; but, eventually, the stewards had decided in his favour. The horse was, originally, the property of Mr. Goodman; and, Mr. Cockburn said, it was because suspicion attached to some transactions of Goodman, and because certain persons had betted heavily against Running Rein, that opposition was raised against Mr. Wood receiving the stakes. He made a severe attack on Lord George Bentinck, who, he asserted, was the real party in the cause. Witnesses for the plaintiff described the horse at various periods of its career; it was of a bay colour, with black legs, and a little white on the forehead; its heels were cracked, and, in 1842, it broke the skin on one leg, which left a scar. George Hitchcock, a breaker of colts, employed to break Running Rein in October, 1842, was cross-examined to this effect:
“I know George Dockeray, the trainer. I never said to him, ‘Damn it, this colt has been broken before; here is the mark of the pad on his back.’ I showed him the mark, but I never said those words, or any words to that effect. I don’t know why I showed him the mark. It was not big enough for the mark of a pad, and it was not the place for the saddle to make it. I told Lord George Bentinck the same. The mark of the pad never wears out. I recollect being asked, in the presence of Mr. Smith, what I had there? and I recollect answering, a four-year-old. I have not the slightest doubt of it. Mr. Smith struck me for it. I did not say, afterwards, that I had forgotten all about the horsewhipping, and that the marks of the pad had worn out. I never said, either, that somebody had behaved very well to me.”
“I know George Dockeray, the trainer. I never said to him, ‘Damn it, this colt has been broken before; here is the mark of the pad on his back.’ I showed him the mark, but I never said those words, or any words to that effect. I don’t know why I showed him the mark. It was not big enough for the mark of a pad, and it was not the place for the saddle to make it. I told Lord George Bentinck the same. The mark of the pad never wears out. I recollect being asked, in the presence of Mr. Smith, what I had there? and I recollect answering, a four-year-old. I have not the slightest doubt of it. Mr. Smith struck me for it. I did not say, afterwards, that I had forgotten all about the horsewhipping, and that the marks of the pad had worn out. I never said, either, that somebody had behaved very well to me.”
At an early period of the examination of witnesses, Mr. Baron Alderson expressed a wish that he and the jury should see the horse; and Mr. Cockburn said he had no objection. On the cross-examination of William Smith, a training groom residing at Epsom, it came out that the horse had been smuggled out of the way, that it might not be seen by the defendant’s agents. The judge, animadverting on this, and on the evident perjury of the witness, said it would be betterthat the horse should be seen by him and other parties. The Solicitor-General, who appeared for the defendant, was anxious that the horse should be seen by veterinary surgeons. To which the other side objected, maintaining that the mark of mouth, by which, alone, those surgeons could judge of the age of a horse, was a fallible criterion.
On the conclusion of the evidence for the plaintiff, the Solicitor-General, in addressing the jury for the defence, denounced the case as a gross and scandalous fraud on the part of the plaintiff. The case for the defendant was, that the horse was not Running Rein at all, but a colt by Gladiator, out of a dam belonging originally to Sir Charles Ibbotson; and that it had the name, Running Rein, imposed upon it, being originally called Maccabeus, and having been entered for certain stakes under that designation. But his allegations were against Goodman, not against Mr. Wood; the former had entered into a conspiracy with other persons to run horses above the proper age. The Gladiator colt had been entered for races, under the name of Maccabeus, before Goodman purchased him; and to run these races while the colt was in training for the Derby, for which he was entered as Running Rein, Goodman hired an Irish horse, which he disguised as Maccabeus, though a year older than that horse. The Gladiator colt, thesoi-disantRunning Rein, when he ran for the Derby, in 1844, was four years old, the race being for three-year-old horses. After hearing some evidence in support of these statements, the case was adjourned till the following day.
The next day, when Mr. Baron Alderson took his seat upon the Bench, a conversation ensued between Mr. Cockburn and the Judge, respecting the production of the horse. Mr. Cockburn asserted that it had been taken away without Mr. Wood’s knowledge, and thus it was out of his power to produce it; he felt it would be vain to strive against the effect which must be felt by the non-production of the horse, after the remarks of the learned Judge on that point. After some conversation, however, the case proceeded, and two witnesses for the defence were examined, whose evidencewent to prove that Running Rein was, in fact, the Gladiator colt. Mr. George Odell, a horse dealer at Northampton, said he could swear to that fact; the colt had two marks on one leg.
Mr. Baron Alderson remarked: “Now, if we could see the horse, that would prove the case. Who keeps him away? It is quite childish to act in this manner.”
Mr. Cockburn now stated that Mr. Wood was convinced that he had been deceived, and gave up the case.
Mr. Baron Alderson then briefly addressed the jury with much warmth, and in a most emphatic manner; directing them to find a verdict for the defendant, observing:
“Since the opening of the case, a most atrocious fraud has proved to have been practised; and I have seen, with great regret, gentlemen associating themselves with persons much below themselves in station. If gentlemen would associate with gentlemen, and race with gentlemen, we should have no such practices. But, if gentlemen will condescend to race with blackguards, they must expect to be cheated.”
The jury found for the defendant, and the effect of their verdict was, that the Derby Stakes went to Orlando, and that Crenoline should be considered the winner of the Two-Year-Old Plate at Newmarket, run the previous year.
Punch, in commenting upon Mr. Baron Alderson’s remarks, says: “They” (the gentlemen) “go among these knaves and swindlers, these low-bred ruffians, reeking of gin and the stables,to make money of them. They associate with boors and grooms, Jew gambling-house keepers, boxers and bullies, for money’s sake to be sure. What other motive could bring such dandies into communication with such scoundrels, any more than he would willingly incur an infection, unless he had some end in view. And the noble patrons of the Turfhavea great end in view—that of money.”
This ought to have been sufficient roguery, one would think, for one race, but it was not. A horse, named Rattan, was so evidently “nobbled,” that two men connected with it, Rogers and Braham, were warned off all the Jockey Club’s premises.
And yet another case. A horse, named Leander, ran in this race, and so injured its leg, that it was shot. Shortly afterwards, it was suspected that it was four, instead of three years old; and, on its being exhumed,the lower jaw was missing. The resurrectionists, however, cut off the head, and veterinary experts confirmed the previous suspicions. For this, the owners, Messrs. Lichtwald, were, for ever, disqualified from racing. This case occupied much time before the Select Committee of the House of Lords.
The Select Committee on Gaming, in the Commons, in 1844, report that: “Your Committee have some evidence to show that frauds are, occasionally, committed in Horse Racing, and in betting on the Turf; but they feel difficulty in suggesting any remedy for this evil, more stringent, or more likely to be effectual, than those already in existence.”
On June 1, two Royal visitors arrived here, the Emperor of Russia and the King of Saxony. They had to pay the usual penalty of hard labour for a week.
In the House of Commons, on 14 June, Mr. T. Duncombe presented a petition from W. J. Linton, Joseph Mazzini, and two others, complaining of their letters being opened before delivery, and praying that “The House would be pleased to grant, without delay, a Committee to inquire and give immediate redress to the petitioners, and prevent the recurrence of so unconstitutional and infamous a practice.” Sir James Graham (Home Secretary) replied that “the House must be aware that from as early a period as the reign of Queen Anne, power existed in the hands of the Principal Secretary of State, to detain and open letters passing through the Post Office; and the House would also be aware that this power had come under the review of Parliament, at so late a period as the year 1837, and by the Act of 1 Vic., this power of issuing warrants to open and detain letters, continued still vested in the Secretaries of State. He must, for fear of creating misapprehension by his answer, state that the circumstances mentioned in the petition were, to a great extent, untrue. As to three of the petitioners, he doubted if their letters had ever been detained, and no warrant as to themhad been issued; but, as to one of the petitioners, he had to state, that, on his responsibility, a warrant had been issued as to the correspondence of that person, which warrant was no longer in force.”
On 2 July, a Committee of Secrecy was appointed “to inquire into the state of the Law in respect to the detaining and opening of Letters at the General Post Office, and into the mode under which the authority given for such detaining and opening has been exercised, and to report their opinion and observations thereupon to the House.” The Committee met, took evidence, and duly reported, when it being shewn that the privilege was not often exercised (the total number of warrants issued between 1799 and 1844 being only 372), and that, of late years, the average of warrants had decreased, the public were satisfied, and the subject dropped.
Chantrey’s equestrian statue of the Duke of Wellington, which stands in front of the Royal Exchange, was uncovered, amidst much cheering. It cost £9,000 besides the metal.
Barry, the Clown, on the Thames
On 23 Sept. Barry, a clown at Astley’s, fulfilled his promise of sailing in a washing-tub drawn by geese, from Vauxhall to Westminster. He successfully accomplished his voyage, and repeated it on Oct. 11, from the Red House, Battersea (where now is Battersea Park), to Vauxhall.
On 8 Oct. Louis Philippe, the King of the French, landed at Portsmouth on a visit to the Queen. He was made a Knight of the Garter, and generally fêted, and should have returned to France, from Portsmouth on the 12th, but thesea was too rough, and he had to cross from Dover, instead; but even this trip was delayed by a great conflagration at New Cross Station, so that he really did not depart until the 13th.
I meet with the first mention of that eminent fertiliser, Guano, in a commercial point of view, in theTimesof the 18 Oct., where it says that on 16th were put up for sale, at Liverpool, in lots of 10 tons each, 180 tons of the best African guano. But one lot of five tons was sold, and that fetched £5 12s. 6d. The next lot was not sold, in consequence of the price offered being under that, and the whole of the remaining lots were withdrawn, there being no probability of the reserved price being realised. It was then being fetched from Ichaboe, an island off the south-west coast of Africa—but it was afterwards procured in large quantities from the Chincha Islands, off the coast of Peru.
On 28 Oct. the Queen opened the New Royal Exchange, with great State, and the Lord Mayor (W. Magnay, Esq.) was made a baronet; the reading-room at Lloyd’s was made into a Throne room for the occasion, and a sumptuousdéjeunerwas served in the Underwriters’ room. It was a very imposing pageant and pretty sight; but, although the Exchange was formally opened, no merchants assembled within its quadrangle until the first of the following January.
Whilst on matters civic I must mention the very rare fact of Sir William Magnay’s successor in the office of Lord Mayor (Mr. Alderman Gibbs), being hooted and yelled at, on 9 Nov., whilst going to Westminster, and returning thence. He had been churchwarden of St. Stephen’s, Walbrook, and the popular mind was imbued with the idea that something was wrong with his accounts, so they virtuously insulted him. He had a hard enough time of it both by land and water, when going, what his returning was, is best told by a contemporary:
“The ceremony within the Court of Exchequer having terminated, similar uproarious shouts to those which had hailed the arrival of the new Lord Mayor, now marked his embarcation for the city; and, in his passage down the Thames, with but here and there a solitary exception, the civic barge wasthe target of repeated vollies of yells and groans, levelled by no unskilful, or ineffective voices at it, from the banks and bridges of the river. The landing at Blackfriars was attended with a more concentrated attack of ‘public execration,’ for, there, an immense multitude was wedged together, anxious to be spectators of the scene, though not inactive ones. On the procession passed amid the continued manifestations of public disapprobation of the present, and respect for the retiring Lord Mayor. Many interrogations of a searching nature were repeatedly bawled forth, not that they could reach the right honourable ear, but they were exercises in that peculiar art, styled ‘talking at folks.’ The same description must apply to Ludgate Hill, St. Paul’s Churchyard, and Cheapside, in which place some merriment was created by a party chanting in appropriate style:
‘Oh, Alderman Gibbs,Pray dub up the dibbs!’
‘Oh, Alderman Gibbs,Pray dub up the dibbs!’
“It was somewhat after 4 o’clock, when the cortège arrived at the bottom of King Street, where, immediately before Guildhall Yard, about 2,000 persons had collected, and others pressing out of the several streets, caused a dense mass to be formed. This was the place where a parting salutation was to be presented to the new Lord Mayor, by his pitiless persecutors, and a very good view of the scene was attainable from an upper window at the western angle of Gresham Street. Hearty and continued cheering announced the progress of Sir William Magnay; but, as soon as the State coach with the new Lord Mayor arrived, the yells and groans which broke forth, were perfectly stunning. Never was the manner in which the two Lord Mayors had been received throughout the day, marked with stronger contrast. The accumulation of carriages in Guildhall Yard, caused the detention of the State coach for some minutes, during which a real tempest of execration was poured forth upon the unfortunate gentleman; and many persons did not hesitate to testify their dislike to him in a manner to be condemned, by spitting at the carriage, their distance from which, however, defeated theirintention. In truth, Mr. Gibbs had to endure a perpetual and pitiless storm of hisses, yells, groans, gibes, sneers and jeers; and at every stoppage where the crowd was in close proximity to his carriage, unusually furious bursts of indignation broke forth; yet no missile was thrown during any portion of the day.”
Murder by Tawell—Curious story—King William IV.’s Statue—Visits by the Queen—Testimonial to Rowland Hill—Breaking the Portland Vase—Sad end of William Austin—Sale of Van Amburgh’s stud—Hungerford Suspension bridge—Accident at Yarmouth—An Excise case—Beginning of the Railway Mania—Sailing of Sir J. Franklin.
This year begins badly—with a murder—which I should not chronicle, were it not that it was the first case in which the electric telegraph lent its services for the detection of a crime. A man named John Tawell, a member of the Society of Friends, and who occupied a decent position in life, poisoned a poor woman at Salt Hill. A Quaker who seemed much confused had been met close by her house, and he went by train from Slough to Paddington. Suspicion being aroused, a message was sent from Slough, giving a description of him, and asking that he should be shadowed on his arrival. This was done, and, next day, he was arrested. He was tried, found guilty, and duly executed. The case, at the time, created an immense sensation, mainly because the villain was a member of the Society of Friends.Aproposof this, theObserverof 23 March is responsible for the following:
“The Murderer Tawell.—The following strange statement has been made by a person, who is a Quaker, living near Berkhampstead, and who is acquainted with Tawell: About a year ago, the stillness and decorum of the Quakers’ meeting at Berkhampstead, at which Tawell attended, was disturbed by one of the male members, who suddenly rose from his seat and exclaimed, with frantic earnestness, that there was then present, a person who was, at that very moment,meditating a most fearful crime. His conviction was so strong, that he passionately besought this individual, whoever, he might be, to reflect upon the wickedness of his intention, and to implore his Maker’s pardon for his murderous thoughts. As may be imagined, the Friends were thrown into great consternation by this strange and impetuous appeal, and the meeting broke up in alarm and confusion. Tawell was present at the time.”
“The Murderer Tawell.—The following strange statement has been made by a person, who is a Quaker, living near Berkhampstead, and who is acquainted with Tawell: About a year ago, the stillness and decorum of the Quakers’ meeting at Berkhampstead, at which Tawell attended, was disturbed by one of the male members, who suddenly rose from his seat and exclaimed, with frantic earnestness, that there was then present, a person who was, at that very moment,meditating a most fearful crime. His conviction was so strong, that he passionately besought this individual, whoever, he might be, to reflect upon the wickedness of his intention, and to implore his Maker’s pardon for his murderous thoughts. As may be imagined, the Friends were thrown into great consternation by this strange and impetuous appeal, and the meeting broke up in alarm and confusion. Tawell was present at the time.”
Early in January the statue of King William IV., by Samuel Nixon, was placed on its pedestal, fronting London Bridge; but, as far as I know, there was no public ceremony at its inauguration, for theTimesof 1 Feb. says: “That workmen are now actively employed in cleansing down the colossal figure of King William IV., preparatory to the hoarding being removed, and the statue thrown open to the view of the public. The base will present a very novel and pleasing appearance, it being ornamented with numerous naval trophies. The four cross footpaths leading to the figure will be lighted by four gas lamps, on massive granite pillars. In a few days the whole work will be completed, when it will be inspected by Her Majesty, the Queen Dowager, and His Royal Highness Prince Albert, those illustrious personages having intimated their desire to view it when finished.”@
On 15 January the Queen paid a visit to the Duke of Buckingham, at Stowe, and the magnificence of her reception had much to do with the financial collapse of the too generous Duke. On leaving Stowe she went to Strathfieldsaye to stay with the Duke of Wellington. It was on this occasion that the old Duke gave a lesson to the gentlemen of the Press, which the interviewers of our times might well take to heart: “Field-Marshal the Duke of Wellington presents his compliments to Mr. ---, and begs to say he does not see what his house at Strathfieldsaye has to do with the public press.”
On 21 Jan. a National Testimonial was presented to Rowland Hill for his labours in connection with the introduction of the Penny Post, and Mr. Larpent, the Chairman of the City of London Mercantile Committee on Postage, handed hima cheque for £10,000, which handsome sum had been raised by a public subscription, which was not confined to the mercantile community alone, persons of every rank, and of both sexes, contributing amounts varying from large sums to a few pence.
Just before the closing of the British Museum at 4 p.m. on 7 Feb., a crash was heard, and the famous Barberini, or Portland Vase, was found in pieces on the floor. A man, named Lloyd, in a fit of delirium produced by drink, had smashed it out of pure wantonness. The vase was valued at £1,000 by the Museum authorities, but, of course, that sum was purely nominal, as the vase was unique. It was deposited in the British Museum in the year 1810 by the Duke of Portland, and was considered as his property; hence the name of the “Portland Vase.” It was found about the middle of the 16th century, about two and a half miles from Rome, on the road leading from Frascati. At the time of its discovery it was enclosed in a marble sarcophagus, within a sepulchral chamber, under the mount called Monte di Grano. The material of which it is made is glass, the body being of a beautiful transparent dark blue, enriched with figures in relief, of opaque white glass. For more than two centuries it was the principal object of admiration in the Barberini Palace. It came into the possession of Sir William Hamilton, from whom it was purchased by the Duchess of Portland.
On 11 Feb. the delinquent was brought before Mr. Jardine, at Bow Street, and the Museum authorities electing to prosecute him for the minor offence of breaking the glass case which held the vase, and which was under the value of £5, he was convicted of that offence, and sentenced to pay £3, or two months’ hard labour in the House of Correction. He could not pay, and was committed to prison, in default, but on 13 Feb., someone paid the money, and the man was released.
An employé of the British Museum, named Doubleday, undertook, and effected, the restoration of the Vase, and it may now be seen in the Gold Room of the British Museum, but, alas! “all the King’s horses, and all the King’s men,”can never make it as it was. Wedgwood feebly reproduced it in ceramic ware, copies of which are now worth £200 each, and one copy, if not more, was made in silver.
I come across a curious paragraph in theMorning Postof March 13: “William Austin.—This person, whose name must be familiar to all who have had any acquaintance with the history of the Parliamentary proceedings in the case of the late Queen Caroline, or the eventful life of that unhappy Princess, arrived in London, last week, from Milan, where he has been residing for several years, for the most part, in a state of fatuity, the inmate of a lunatic asylum. We understand that he has been removed to this country through the intervention of the British Government, under an authority from the Lord Chancellor, in whose care, his person, and some considerable property, left to him by the late Queen, have been placed by certain proceedings on the part of his relations. He was conveyed hither from Milan under the charge of a medical and two other attendants; and immediately on his arrival, was visited by two London physicians, who, after an interview with him of some duration, at the hotel where he stopped, signed the necessary certificate for his detention in a private asylum, where he now remains. Austin is a very good-looking man, apparently about 40 years of age; and though, beyond doubt, mentally enfeebled, has no betrayal of such imbecility in the expression of his face. He has been in his present unfortunate condition since the year 1830; and, for a great part of that time, he has maintained an immovable taciturnity. No ingenuity has been able to extract a syllable from him. He answers no questions, nor asks any—enters into no conversation—and, even during the whole journey from Milan to London, he never spoke a word to his attendants, or any one else. Neither could the medical gentlemen who waited upon him here induce him to reply to any of their inquiries; and no doubt, this fact, of itself, formed no inconsiderable ingredient in the judgment at which they arrived. The unhappy man is extremely docile, has no disposition to violence, and readily understands and obeys any signs made to him.”
Van Amburgh’s stud, lions, etc., were sold at Manchester on 17 March, and fetched high prices; a fine black maned lion, £350; another, 6 years old, £310; two lion cubs, eight months old, male and female, sold, the one for £12 10/-, the other for £35. An elephant realised £750, and a giraffe £400.
Hungerford Suspension Bridge, the first of its kind over the Thames, was opened on 1 May, and, although a toll was demanded, it was calculated that, before dusk, some 25,000 persons had crossed from one side of the Thames to the other. It was taken down in July, 1862, to make room for the Charing Cross Railway Bridge. It was transferred to Clifton, and there opened, on 8 Dec., 1864, and it now spans the Avon.
On the next day (2 May) a terrible accident occurred at the Suspension bridge at Great Yarmouth. A clown was to emulate Barry’s folly, and cross the river in a washing-tub drawn by geese; and thousands of people assembled to see him, of whom a great number (accounts vary from 300 to 600), containing very many children, were on the bridge. Some of the suspension rods snapped, and the crowd fell into the water. Every assistance was rendered, but the number of recovered dead bodies, nearly all children, or young persons, was 77, and many are supposed to have been swept away by the current.
On the 2nd of May, the famous Excise trial at Bar,i.e., before twelve judges, the Attorney Generalv.Smith, came to an end, after lasting eight days. Mr. George Smith was a distiller, in a large way of business, at Whitechapel, and the premises of his brother James, who was a rectifier, adjoined his. The law forbids the junction of the businesses of distilling and rectifying, or any communication between premises carrying on such businesses; and, in this case, it was presumed that all spirit would be conveyed from one to the other by means of the highway. But the contention of the prosecution was, that the Excise officers, finding a great deficiency in the spirits ostensibly produced, as compared with the “wash,” had detected holes in a large receiver, and found, moreover, that they could themselves convey spirits from the distilleryto the rectifying house, through pipes under ground, which were mixed up with those which supplied water, and so escaped detection. This the defendants denied, and brought forward evidence that the pipes were obsolete and disused. In the end, the verdict of the jury was, “We find for the Crown; but we are anxious to express our opinion that there has not been any evidence adduced before us which shows that the pipe has been fraudently used by the defendant.” The amount of damages claimed by the Crown was £150,000; but, by agreement, this was reduced to £76,000; and, finally, after an appeal from Mr. Smith, the Government were content with a cheque for £10,000.
About this time commenced what is well termed “The Railway Mania,” or, rather, public attention was particularly called to it, as it was becoming a crying scandal. So much so, that it attracted the notice of the legislature; and, if we look at a “Return to the Order of the Honourable the House of Commons, dated 8th April, 1845, for an alphabetical list of the Names, Description, and Places of Abode, of all Persons subscribing to the Amount of £2,000 and upwards to any Railway Subscription Contract deposited in the Private Bill Office during the present Session of Parliament,” we shall see that amongst the names will be found many of the leading nobility, large manufacturing firms, names well known in commerce and literature, mingled together in a most heterogeneous manner. The same column shows a combination of peers and printers, vicars and vice-admirals, spinsters and half-pay officers, Members of Parliament and special pleaders, professors and cotton spinners, gentlemen’s cooks and KC.’s, attorneys’ clerks and college scouts, waiters at Lloyd’s, relieving officers and excisemen, editors and engineers, barristers and butchers, Catholic priests and coachmen, dairymen and dyers, braziers, bankers, beer sellers and butlers, domestic servants, footmen and mail guards, and almost every calling under the sun.