Real Life In London, Volumes I. and II.

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"Certainly," said the Squire, "this London produces extraordinary
sights, and not less extraordinary occurrences;--but of all the
scenes of Real Life which has hitherto come within the scope of our
observation, the most singular is that of the presumed legitimate cousin
of the King of England, recently in a Spunging-house, and now confined
for a debt of a few hundred pounds to the rules of the Fleet."{1}

1 Ci-divant Princess of Cumberland

To the Right Hon. Lord Sidmouth.

My Lord,'--When I reflect on the injuries I have received by
the refusal of your Lordship to forward my claims in a
proper way to his Majesty, I consider it as a duty that I
owe to my high descent, to enquire of your Lordship, why I
have been suffered to remain so long neglected and deprived
of the rights, which in common with other younger branches
of the Royal Family, I am entitled to? As soon as the demise
of my late Royal Uncle, his late Majesty, occurred, I
addressed your Lordship, for his present Majesty's gracious
knowledge. In my letters, repeatedly sent to your Lord-ship,
I assured you for the King's knowledge, that I had but one
anxious desire, which was to act in conformity to his
Majesty's Royal will and pleasure, after an audience had
been allowed to shew my papers. If, my Lord, I had been an
impostor, it was the duty of Ministers to have enquired into
my claims, and to have exposed them if unjust or illegal.
But, no! my Lord; every application was treated with cold
and apathetic contempt; and although all the writings of my
parent's marriage and my birth have been verified according
to law, at Judge Abbott's chambers, Sergeants' Inn,--at
Master Simeon's Office, Court of Chancery,--before Sir
Robert Baker and Barber Beaumont Esq.--and twelve affidavits
sworn and sent in to your Lordship, yet at this late moment
I find myself neglected and oppressed, and without one
guinea of support from the Government or Royal Family! My
dear late cousin, Prince Edward, Duke of Kent, supported and
protected me several years before his lamented death. His
Royal Highness saw the papers delivered to me by the Earl of
Warwick of my legitimacy, and there are at least a hundred
papers connected with my parent's affairs and my own; and
General Wetherall, Comptroller to his late Royal Highness,
looked over many such papers, at my residence in his Royal
Master's life-time. The excellent heart of the late Duke of
Kent was of a nature to decide, in all events of life
meeting his eye, with religion and moral justice. Thus has
he loved and cherished me, his cousin, and solemnly bound
himself to see me righted the moment that the death of his
late Majesty authorised my papers meeting the eye of the
nation.

My Lord,--You well know why my claims are neglected--a
mighty cause exists! But it is a duty that I owe to myself
and the English nation to give a narrative of facts as they
are, unless immediate justice is done me. I am Olive, the
only child of the late Duke of Cumberland, by Olivia, his
virtuous, injured wife; and very shortly the public shall
know the great and forbearing conduct of Dr. Wilmot. To him
at one period, the English were indebted for tranquillity;
it can be proved, my Lord. And although my health is similar
to the late injured Queen's (my first cousin,) from having
experienced every deprivation and persecution from
interested enemies, yet I religiously trust the time is not
remote, when truth will triumph over calumny and
oppression.--I have the honor to be, my Lord,

Your obedient servant,

Olive.

Ludgate-hill, Nov. 6th. 1821.

~97~~"Some Kings are not partial to female cousins; and the legitimacy
(said Dashall,) of this pretended Princess of Cumberland does not appear
sufficiently tangible to admit of recognition, otherwise, without doubt,
she would have been provided for!"

"Her case, however, wears not much the semblance of imposition," said
the Squire. "The circumstances which she so minutely states, with
reference to living characters, strongly imply that her pretensions are
not ill-founded."

They had now reached Ludgate-hill; a crowd was collected opposite
the residence of the Princess of Cumberland, when the captive heroine
condescended to shew herself at the window.--She is of matronly
appearance, and was well dressed.--The mobility received her with due
respect; the lady made her obeisance, and the assemblage retired, on
terms apparently of reciprocal satisfaction.--

Strolling onwards until they gained the centre of Blackfriars Bridge,
the two friends paused in admiration of the interesting scene before
them.

Amidst the spires and turrets of the metropolis, Saint Paul's, close
at hand, rose in the proud pre-eminence of stupendous grandeur, like a
mighty monarch surrounded ~98~~ by tributary kings, rendering him the
homage of vassalage.

--Emerging from the dense mass of buildings on the line from the Tower
to Westminster Abbey, appeared a continued succession of prominent
public edifices; on the river Thames the scene was diversified by
numerous wherries, gliding pleasurably on the rippling wave; some
shooting under the arches of the elegant Waterloo, and others under the
spacious span of the lofty iron bridge of Southwark,--while on either
side the river, Labour was on the alert, and the busy and ceaseless hum
of Industry resounded far and near.

'Twas low water, and the _mud-larks_ now intent on their several
vocations, engaged the eye of the Squire.--"What are those people
about?" he asked, "What are they in search of?"

"These are _mud-larks_," answered his friend, "in search of what chance
may throw in their way; all's fish that comes to net! You have much
to learn yet of Real Life in London, and must prolong your stay
accordingly.--Willing to eat the bread of honesty, these poor people
are in the daily practice of frequenting the shores of the Thames, to
literally pick up a living. Nothing comes amiss; all that is portable,
however insignificant in value, goes into the general repository.
The mud-lark returns home, when his labours are ended, sorts the
indiscriminate heterogeneous "mass of matter," and disposes of it as
well as he can."{1}

1 How many hundreds and thousands, in a metropolis like that
of the British empire, obtain a subsistence, in a way of
which those of its inhabitants who are not compelled to such
an exercise of their ingenuity can have no idea! In the
midst of a crowded city, man is much more closely cut off
from all assistance on the part of his fellows, and is
obliged to trust entirely for the support of life to the
individual exertions of his strength, his talents, or his
ingenuity. Various and singular are the expedients practised
by numbers in the British capital. Among these the class of
Mud-larks is not the least extraordinary, that is people,
who, on the ebb of the tide re-pair to the river-side, in
quest of any article that the water may have left behind in
the mud. To this description of people belonged Peggy Jones,
the well known Mud-lark at Black Friars. She was a woman,
apparently about forty years of age, with red hair; the
particular object of whose researches was the coals which
accidentally fell from the sides of the lighters. Her
constant resort was the neighbourhood of Blackfriars, where
she was always to be seen, even before the tide was down,
wading into the water, nearly up to the middle, and scraping
together from the bottom, the coals which she felt with her
feet. Numbers of passengers who have passed by that quarter,
particularly over Blackfriars Bridge, have often stopped to
contemplate with astonishment, a female engaged in an
occupation apparently so painful and disagreeable. She
appeared dressed in very short ragged petticoats, without
shoes or stockings, and with a kind of apron made of some
strong substance, that folded like a bag all round her, in
which she collected whatever she was so fortunate as to
find. In these strange habiliments, and her legs encrusted
with mud, she traversed the streets of this metropolis.
Sometimes she was industrious enough to pick up three, and
at others even four loads a day; and as they consisted
entirely of what are termed round coals, she was never at a
loss for customers, whom she charged at the rate of eight-
pence a load. In the collection of her sable treasure, she
was frequently assisted by the coal-heavers, who, when she
happened to approach the lighters, would, as if
undesignedly, kick overboard a large coal, at the same time
bidding her, with apparent surliness, go about her business.
Peggy Jones was not exempt from a failing to which most
individuals of the lower orders are subject, namely,
inebriety. Her propensity to liquor was sometimes indulged
to such a degree, that she would tumble about the streets
with her load, to the no small amusement of mischievous
boys, and others, who, on such occasions, never failed to
collect around her. After concluding the labors of the day,
she retired to a wretched lodging in Chick Lane. This woman
carried on her extraordinary calling for many years, but
about the month of February, 1805, she suddenly disappeared
from her usual places of resort, and nobody can tell what is
become of her. A man who has the appearance of a coal-
heaver, has since stepped into her place, and adopted the
profession which she so long followed.

~99~~ "Thus it is that the Mud-lark earns a precarious and scanty
subsistence, and in many other instances in this metropolis, Ingenuity
and Perseverance overcome difficulties that in the country would prove
insurmountable."

Retracing their steps to Ludgate-hill, the associates passed into the
Old Bailey, where the Squire seemed struck with surprise at the simple
bill of fare of an eating-house, not inscribed on paper and exhibited
against the window, but deeply engraven on brass, and conspicuously
fixed by the side of the door, expressed in four syllables only, "The
boil'd-beef house."--"Compendious enough," exclaimed his Cousin. "Multum
in parvo," rejoined the Squire; and immediately walking in, they
were ushered into a snug room partly occupied by guests of apparent
respectability, each actively employed in the demolition of buttock or
flank with great seeming satisfaction. The two strangers intimating a
desire to follow so laudable an example, the waiter submissively put the
question, "Which would you please to have, gentlemen, buttock or flank,
or a plate of both?" That the quality of each might be ascertained,
plates of both were ordered, and presently brought in, piping hot, and
in the first style of culinary perfection.{1}

~100~~ It was amusing to observe the characteristic features of the
different guests.

The young man hurrying over his meal, and frequently casting a look on
the dial, indicated a tradesman's book-keeper, desirous of enjoying his
pipe and pint ere the allotted dinner hour expired, when he must return
to his desk.

Another, of meagre and cadaverous appearance, had his plate replenished,
thrice repeated, and each time dispatched the contents with astonishing
celerity. This man without doubt, was either a poet or a bookseller's
hack, who, probably had not for sometime enjoyed the novelty of a
dinner, and was thus making atonement to appetite accordingly.

One gentleman fashionably attired kept mincing his meat, and at long
intervals supplying masticates that seemed not at all alert in the
performance of their office.--His attention was given rather to the
company than to his plate, and was particularly directed to Dashall
and Tallyho, on whom it alternately settled with fixed and favourite
regard.--This very polite personage was assiduously eager by every
possible courtesy to ingratiate himself into the notice of our two
friends; but Dashall was a knowing fish, so the bait wouldn't take;
and the Squire happening to ejaculate the word Spunger, the stranger
prudently took the hint, and withdrew.{2}

1 Thirty years ago this house was noted for the excellent
quality of its boiled beef;--no other meat is ever drest
here,--Hobson's choice, or none! During that period it has
had several occupants, and each has retired with a very
considerable fortune. In the decided superiority of its
buttock and flank, the house still sustains its pristine
reputation.

2 These gentry are hardly to be distinguished from the
Hanger-on, except by being, if possible, more impudent; they
frequent all places of public resort, in order to pick up a
dinner or a bottle, and otherwise prey upon the credulity of
the unwary. Whenever they meet with a countryman, they
salute him with enquiring the time of day, or describing the
weather, and entertaining him with a story of little
consequence, till they have artfully wheedled you into an
invitation to dine or sup with you. They can tell you where
the best entertainment is to be met with; which is the best
comedian; can get you introduced to see such an actress; to
hear this sing or that spout; will provide you with the best
seat at the play-house, or keep a place for you in the front
row of the first gallery, should you prefer it to the pit;
can procure a ticket for the exhibition rooms for half
price, and explain every thing in the museum as well as the
librarians themselves.--If your inclination is for mischief,
he is the only man in the world to assist you; would you
break the lamps, or Mill the Charleys, he will stand by and
cry Bravo! till you are carried to the Watch-house, but will
not engage in the quarrel himself, acting only as a _corps
de reserve_. When you are taken, he will negotiate with the
constable of the night about your ransom, for which you must
pay smartly, other-wise be detained till Justice opens her
doors to descry and punish your enormities, according to the
nature of the crime committed; upon which the Spunger says,
that he foresaw and told you the consequences that would
happen if you persevered, but that you would not listen to
his advice.

~101~~ Having done satisfactory justice to the buttock and flank, and
further refreshed themselves with a draught of Whitbread's Entire;
our pedestrians, leaving the "Boil'd Beef House," recommenced their
excursion by proceeding up the Old Bailey, when Dashall remarking on the
number of Eating Houses with which that street abounds, observed, that
it seemed a favorite seat of consolidation for the professors of the
culinary art, like Cloth-fair for Woollen-drapers, Paternoster-Row for
Booksellers, and Clerkenwell for Watch-makers, &c. "This," said Dashall,
"is His Majesty's Gaol of Newgate, and from this door ascend the
numerous victims to the fatal scaffold, in immolation to the offended
laws of their country. Let us enter this temporary abode of crime
and wretchedness. It has been much meliorated by the humane and
indefatigable attentions of an excellent lady, Mrs. Elizabeth Fry, and
I am desirous of seeing the result of her philanthropic exertions." The
gentlemanly appearance and demeanour of the two strangers facilitated
their admission, and they entered the prison preceded by one of the
turnkeys, who courteously had proffered his services in shewing the
place, and giving every required information.

Newgate, on the eastern side of the Old Bailey, has been rebuilt, its
walls or shell excepted, since it was destroyed by the rioters, in the
year 1780. A broad yard divides Newgate from the Sessions House, a very
handsome stone and brick building. Another edifice, where that lately
stood, commonly called Surgeon's Hall, has been erected; it is arched
underneath, and supported upon pillars, and is used as a place of
accommodation for witnesses and other persons, while waiting for the
trials during session time.

~102~~ This prison, until within these few years back, was a place of
confinement as well for debtors as felons, but by late arrangements,
and the erection of the new gaol in Whitecross-street, Newgate has now
become the receptacle of felons only.{1}

1 Newgate has been the scene of two remarkable events, which
frequently serve as eras of reckoning to some of the
inhabitants of Loudon; the first is, that of the memorable
riots in 1780, when this imposing edifice was attacked by a
furious mob in the evening of Monday the 5th of June, who by
breaking the windows, batter-ing the entrances of the cells
with sledge hammers and pickaxes, and climbing the walls
with ladders, found means to enter Mr. Akerman's house,
communicating with the prison, and eventually liberated
three hundred prisoners. The next of these events oc-curred
on the 23rd of February, 1807. This was when Haggarty and
Holloway were to suffer for the murder of Mr. Steele on
Houns-low Heath. The populace began to assemble so early as
five o'clock, and to accumulate until eight. (It is supposed
that the concourse of people was greater than at the
execution of Governor Wall.) At eight o'clock the prisoners
ascended the scaffold. Im-mediately after they were launched
off, a most dreadful scene took place. The approaches to the
place were completely blocked up with carts, filled with
spectators, and when some of the crowd began to move away,
the pressure became dreadful. Some fell, and others falling
over them they were trampled to death. Terror took
possession of the crowd, they became desperate, and their
efforts only contributed to increase their danger. As soon
as this frightful confusion ceased, forty-two sufferers in
the scene were carried to St. Bartholomew's Hospital. Of
these, twenty-seven were dead; and though every effort was
made for their resuscitation, in not one instance was it
crowned with success. Of forty-two, the whole number, five
were women, and three of them were among the dead. Of the
remaining twenty-four bodies, five were men, and the rest
lads, from twelve to seventeen years of age. Among the dead
men was a pye-man, who was said to have fallen first, and
caused the dreadful catastrophe. A great number of the
pupils in attendance happened to be collected in St.
Bartholomew's Hospital at the time, and afforded prompt
assistance; and Dr. Powell, and a Surgeon, who were both
upon the spot, directed their humane exertions.

In the Old Bailey stood Sydney-house, known by the white front, and the
recess in which it is concealed; and here Jonathan Wild is said to have
lived the greatest part of his time. The north side of Newgate consists
of two court-yards, which are far too circumscribed for the numerous
inhabitants, this prison always exhibiting a multitudinous calendar of
human depravity. The men's court is only 49 feet 6 inches, by 31 feet 6,
and the women's of the same length, and about half the width. The whole
square is entirely surrounded by the wards, ~103~~ which rise three
stories above the pavement. The women's yard is separated from the
men's by a wall. In the south and south-east yards, felons for trial are
confined, and four other yards are similarly occupied. The yard assigned
to female felons is a wretched place, containing three wards, in which
are sometimes kept upwards of one hundred women. In the north-east
corner, next Newgate-street, is the condemned yard, in which are
kept persons under sentence of death. The yards and all the wards are
repeatedly lime-washed, and by these and other excellent regulations
of the Sheriffs of London, Newgate is changed from a loathsome prison,
dangerous to the health of the metropolis, to a state which may
be quoted as a model for all similar places. Water is plentiful,
ventilators are introduced into every window, and a general system of
cleanliness prevails throughout the whole prison. The morals of its
inmates have been improved, and their condition greatly meliorated
by Mrs. Elizabeth Fry, who like her predecessor in the exercise of
philanthropy, the celebrated Howard, delights in reducing the sum
of human misery. The feelings of the two visitors having been
amply gratified by demonstration of the happy result, from superior
management, accruing to the prisoners, they departed, not forgetting
the poor box, put up for general benefit, inviting the contributions of
charitable strangers.

Continuing their route, our perambulators proceeded down Skinner street
into Holborn, and traversed its extended line without any remarkable
occurrence, until they reached Broad Street, St. Giles's. "We are now,"
said Dashall, "in the Holy Land."

"Long life to your honors," exclaimed a ragged professor of mendicity:
"give a poor fellow the price of a _shake down_, and may you never be
without the comforts of an _upright_!"

"What mean you," asked the Squire, "by a shake down and an upright?"

"Not the worse luck that you don't know that self same thing now; but
sure enough a shake-down is a two-penny layer of straw, and saving the
tatters on my back, not a covering at all at all; may the son of my
father never have a worse birth any how."

"And an upright?"

~104~~ "Is it an upright your honor's spaking about?--fait and troth, as
to that same, may the devil fly away with Thady O'Flannagan, and that is
myself sure, if he knows much about it at all at all, seeing as how he
has not rested his old bones on such a thing, arrah, these many long
years; but sure enough it is four stumps, with boards across, a good
flock-bed, a blanket below and a sheet above, with a decent coverlet
pieced and patched in a hundred places to boot;--may you never want the
like of it, any how!"

"Thanks for your good wishes, my friend," said Dashall; "and this for
the information which you have given us."

"By the powers of good luck!" exclaimed the itinerant philosopher, "a
tirteener!--Now an Irishman's blessing upon you for two good-hearted
gentlemen; may you live all the days of your lives in peace and
prosperity both here and hereafter!"{1}

1 The many impoverished and deserted beings who daily wander
the streets, trusting for the vegetative existence of the
moment to eleemosynary occurrences, are incalculable.
Amongst these sons and daughters of misery, happy is the one
who, after partially satisfying the cravings of hunger,
possesses two-pence, the price of a shake down for the
night, in Rainbridge or Buckeridge-street, St. Giles's!--The
upright is a wretched semblance of a bed, at the rate of
three-pence or four-pence; but the lofty aspirant to genteel
accommodation, must put down a tester. In this way there are
frequently beds to the number of seventy in one house, made
up for nocturnal visitants!

Palestine in London, or the Holy Land, includes that portion of the
parish of St. Giles, Bloomsbury, inhabited by the lower Irish, with whom
it seems a favorite place of residence. The Squire having expressed to
his friend a desire of perambulating these boundaries, they proceeded,
by the way of George street, to explore the sanctified labyrinths, the
scenes of diurnal clamour, and hebdomadary conflict.

"Arrah now," exclaimed a voice of maternity, in the person of a
legitimate daughter of Erin,--"Arrah now, you brat of the devil's own
begetting, be after bowling along to your fader: bad luck to him, and be
sure that you bring him home wid you, by the token that the murphies are
cracking, the salt-herrings scalding, and the apple-dumplings tumbling
about the pot,--d'ye mind me, you tief of the world, tell him that his
dinner waits upon him."--"I'll be after doing that same, moder;"
and forth from the ground floor of a mean looking house in
Buckeridge-street, sprang an urchin without hat, shoe or stocking, and
the scanty tattered habiliment he wore, fluttering in ~105~~various
hues, like pennants in the wind, with such heedless velocity, urged no
doubt by the anticipated delicacies of the dinner-pot, that he came in
furious, unexpected, and irresistible contact with Squire Tallyho, who
borne forward by the shock, was precipitated into a stagnant collection
of mud and water, to the total disfigurement of his Boots, which had
that morning received the "matchlessly brilliant polish of Warren's
inestimable Jet blacking." Not like many others in London, who will
run you down and leave you to your fate, the heir of his fader's
whimsicalities stopped short in the inauspicious set-out of his rapid
career; and "dirty end," he exclaimed, "to the scavenger that didn't
think of the gentleman's boots!" And at the same time the mother of this
hopeful representative of the Mac Dermott family, made her appearance
with the genuine warmth of Irish hospitality; and inviting the two
strangers to walk in, consoled the bespattered Squire with the prospect
of speedy and effectual reparation, for "fait and troth, (said she) his
dinner is all of a heap in the pot there, praaties, salt-herrings, and
apple-dumplings,{1} and that is my husband Thady Mac Dermott, who is
neither more nor less than a bricklayer's laborer, is after amusing
himself and obliging his neighbours, at a small outlay, of a Sunday
morning, by claning their boots and shoes; so it is an ill wind that
blows nobody good, they say." The accommodating hostess then producing
a bottle of blacking, with the requisite brushing implements, applied
herself assiduously to the operation of claning the Squire's boots,
and restored them, in a few minutes, to the splendour of their pristine
brilliancy.