Gossip in the First Decade of Victoria's Reign

In those days every man went clean shaven, or only had side whiskers, a full beard being unknown, and moustaches were confined to foreigners and to a few cavalry regiments, so that for a working man to sport them (although now so exceedingly common) would probably lead to derision and persecution, as in the following police case reported in the Times of 21 Sep.:

Marlborough Street. – Yesterday, a young man, “bearded like the pard,” who said he was a carpenter employed on the London and Birmingham Railroad, applied to Mr. Rawlinson, the sitting magistrate, for an assault warrant, under the following ludicrous circumstances:

Mr. Rawlinson: What do you want the warrant for?

Applicant: I’ll tell your worship, and you’ll say it’s the most haggrawating and provoking thing as ever was heard on. Veil, then, I goes to my vork, as usual, this ’ere morning, ven one of my shopmates said to me, “Bill, you arn’t shaved your hupper lip lately.” “Don’t mean it,” says I. “Vy?” says he. “’Cos,” I replied, “I intends vearing mustachios to look like a gentleman.” “Vell, then,” says he, “as you intends to become a fashionable gentleman, p’raps you’ll have no objection to forfeit half-a-gallon of ale, as it’s a rule here that every workman vot sports mustachios, to have them vetted a bit.” Veil, has I refused to have my mustachios christened, they made game of them, and said they weren’t half fledged; and, more nor all that, they hustled me about, and stole my dinner out of the pot, and treated me shameful, and so I want your advice respecting my mustachios.

Mr. Rawlinson: My advice is, to go to a barber and have them shaved off without loss of time.

Applicant: Can’t part with a single hair.

Mr. Rawlinson: You want to look like a grenadier, I suppose?

Applicant: My granny-dear (God bless her old soul!), she never had such a fashionable and warlike appendage in her life.

Mr. Rawlinson: What business has a carpenter with a quantity of long hair hanging from his lip?

Applicant: The reason vy I vears it is ’cos it’s fashionable, and makes me look like a man of some courage.

Mr. Rawlinson: Fashionable, indeed! I wish, with all my heart, that the fashion was discontinued. Why need an Englishman make a Jew of himself? It is disgusting to see persons strutting through the streets with mustachios, and, sometimes, a fringe of hair round the face and chin, which is dignified by the name of whiskers. As you won’t take my advice, I can’t assist you.

Applicant: Vot! not for striking me on the hupper lip?

Mr. Rawlinson: Then your mustachios must have saved you.

Applicant: No, they didn’t.

Mr. Rawlinson: How’s that?

Applicant: ’Cos the hair ain’t long and thick enough; they’re only young ’uns as yet. There was no occasion to strike me.

Mr. Rawlinson: And there’s no occasion for you to wear mustachios. You may have a warrant, if you like, but I think you had better not.

The man with mustachios then withdrew.

The late King’s stud at Hampton was doomed to be sold, and the sale thereof created something of a sensation. On this subject there is, in a little twopenny weekly magazine, called The Torch, 9 Sep., ’37 (vol. i., p. 19), a periodical now long forgotten, a poem by Tom Hood, which I have not seen in any collection of his poems. It is a

Petition to Her Majesty for Preserving the Royal Stud at Hampton CourtBy Thomas HoodILiege Lady, all the nation’s in high dud-   geon that Lord Melbourne’s brains should be so muddyAs to advise you sell your royal stud,   Which to preserve, should be your royal study.IIPoor nags you would not in your stable find,Like cavalry of Evans called De Lacey,No! I do rather hope your royal mindIs naturally fond of something racy.IIIPray, what has Hampton done that you should trounce ill-naturedly its prancers and its sport?You have a breed of asses in the Council,   Do keep a breed of horses in the Court.IVHis truth who says that you should sell them, fails.Believe me, Lady liege, he tells a crammer;You’ll set your people biting all their nails,   If you put up your horses to the hammer.VI like these money-turning Whigs, indeed;Who, into coin, change everything they’re able.You’re just installed, and they would sell the steed,   It doesn’t make me think they’re very stable.VII daresay they believe they’re very knowing,I think they’re close to their official shelves:And, when they set the horses “Going, going,”It’s nearly time they should be gone themselves.VIIThe nation quite in Hampton Court rejoices,What! sell its stud of steeds beyond all praise!Nay, shout the people with indignant voices,   And the stud echoes with a hundred neighs.VIIIThen sell them not, dear lady, I implore ye;Of tears ’twill set your people shedding floods; —I tell ye what will make ’em all adore ye, —Kick out your ministers and keep your bloods!

But Hood must have laboured under a misapprehension, for the horses were the private property of the late King, and his executors had no option but to sell them. It was said that William IV. in his lifetime wished the country to take the stud over, at a valuation, and, after his death, it was offered to Queen Victoria for £16,000. The sale took place on Oct. 25, and there were 80 lots, which did not fetch particularly high prices, the highest being “The Colonel,” who was bought, after winning the St. Leger, by George IV. for 4,000 guineas; but the horse broke down after running a dead heat at Ascot in 1831. He only realised 1,150 guineas, and was bought by the auctioneer, Mr. Tattersall. The next highest price given was for “Actæon,” which fetched 920 guineas. The total proceeds of the sale was 15,692 guineas.

In October a great change was made in the matter of marriage, which had, hitherto, been a purely ecclesiastical affair, but by the 6 & 7 Gul. iv., cap. 85, Registrars of births and deaths were empowered to marry couples, and it became a purely civil contract. This Act was to have come into force on the first day of March; but a subsequent Act postponed it to the last day of June, and it really only became effective in October. It surprised people by its simplicity, and the gist of the Act is in Section xx.: “And be it enacted, That after the expiration of the said Period of Twenty-one Days or of Seven Days, if the Marriage is by Licence, Marriages may be solemnized in the registered Building stated as aforesaid in the notice of such Marriage, between and by the Parties described in the Notice and Certificate, according to such form and ceremony as they may see fit to adopt: Provided nevertheless, that every such Marriage shall be solemnized with open doors, between the Hours of Eight and Twelve in the Forenoon, in the Presence of some Registrar of the District in which such registered Building is situated, and of Two, or more, credible Witnesses; provided also, that in some Part of the Ceremony, and in the Presence of such Registrar and Witnesses, each of the Parties shall declare:

“‘I do solemnly declare, That I know not of any lawful Impediment why I, A. B., may not be joined in Matrimony to C. D.’

“And each of the Parties shall say to the other:

“‘I call upon these Persons here present to witness that I, A. B., do take thee, C. D., to be my lawful wedded Wife [or Husband].’

“Provided also, that there be no lawful Impediment to the Marriage of such Parties.”

The old House of Commons was destroyed by fire on 16 Oct., 1834, and it was not until September, 1837, that the first contracts for the commencement of the construction of the new works, in connection with the present building, were entered into. They were for the formation of an embankment 886 feet in length, projecting into the river 98 feet further than that then existing, to be faced with granite, and a terrace 673 feet long next the river, and 35 feet wide, in front of the new Houses, with an esplanade at each end 100 feet square, with landing stairs from the river 12 feet wide. The whole surface of the front building was to be excavated, and filled in with concrete 12 feet thick, thus forming a permanent and solid foundation for the superstructure. Towards the end of this year, the Queen was somewhat pestered with lunatics. On Nov. 4, as she was going through Birdcage Walk on her return from Brighton, a man of respectable appearance went near the Queen’s carriage, held up his fist, and made use of most insulting language towards Her Majesty and the Duchess of Kent, declaring that the Queen was an usurper, and he would have her off her Throne before a week was out. He was afterwards arrested, and turned out to be Mr. John Goode, a gentleman of large property in Devonshire, who had been previously in custody on 24th of May (Her Majesty’s birthday) for creating a disturbance and forcibly entering the enclosure of Kensington Palace. He was taken before the Privy Council, and when examined, declared that he was a son of George IV. and Queen Caroline, born at Montague House, Blackheath, and that, if he could but get hold of the Queen, he would tear her in pieces. He was told to find bail, himself in £1,000, and two sureties of £500 each; but these not being forthcoming, he was sent to prison. On entering the hackney coach, he instantly smashed the windows with his elbows, and screamed out to the sentinels: “Guards of England, do your duty, and rescue your Sovereign.” He was, after a very short imprisonment, confined in a lunatic asylum.

The other case was a German baker, but he only uttered threats against the Queen and her mother, and he, too, was put in an asylum.

A great event, and a very grand sight, was the Queen’s visit to the City of London on 9 Nov., when Alderman Cowan inaugurated his mayoralty. The Queen went in State, attended by all her Court, her Ministers, the Judges, etc. The procession started from Buckingham Palace soon after 2 p.m. and reached Guildhall about 3.30.

The interior of the Guildhall was “exceeding magnifical.” There was a canopy of carved gilt, with draperies of crimson velvet and gold fringe and tassels, its interior, being also of crimson velvet, was relieved by ornaments in silver and a radiated oval of white satin with golden rays. The back was fluted in white satin, enriched with the Royal Arms in burnished gold. The State chair was covered with crimson velvet with the Royal Arms and Crown, with the rose, thistle and shamrock tastefully interwoven.

At each end of the Hall, the walls were covered with immense plates of looking-glass. The window at the eastern end of the Hall, above the throne, having been removed, a gigantic wooden framework was substituted, on which was erected a gorgeous piece of gas illumination. Above the mouldings of the windows, and over the City Arms, waved the Royal Standard and the Union Jack. Above was the Royal cypher, V.R., in very large characters, surmounted by the appropriate word “Welcome,” the whole being encircled by an immense wreath of laurels, which terminated, at the lower extremity of the framework, with the rose, thistle and shamrock. Over the clock at the western end, and reaching nearly the whole breadth of the Hall, with Gog and Magog on the right and left, was placed an immense stack of armour, with upwards of 30 furled flags as an appropriate background. Immediately above was the magnificently radiated star of the Order of the Garter, surrounded by crimson drapery, and the scroll “God save the Queen” entirely composed of cut glass, which, when lit up, seemed, literally, one continued blaze of diamonds. The whole was surmounted by the imperial crown and wreaths of laurel, intermingled with the rose, thistle and shamrock, covering the entire outline of the window. Where, formerly, was the musicians’ gallery, on the opposite side, was occupied by three stacks of armour; complete coats of mail were, likewise, suspended in other parts of the Hall; two knights in complete armour guarded the entrance of the Hall and Council Chamber, which latter was fitted up for the Queen’s reception room, and hung throughout with crimson fluted cloth, finished with gold mouldings and festoons of red and white flowers. Upon a platform stood a chair of state, splendidly gilt and covered with crimson velvet, and there was no other chair nor seat of any kind in the apartment. The Queen’s retiring-room was the Aldermen’s Court, and was superbly decorated, having a magnificent toilet table covered with white satin, embroidered with the initials V.R., a crown and wreath in gold, and looped with gold silk rope and tassels.

After the Queen’s arrival at the Guildhall, and having spent some little time on her toilet, her Majesty was conducted to the Council Chamber, where – seated on her throne, and surrounded by Royal Dukes and Duchesses, etc. – she listened to a dutiful address read by the Recorder, and, at its conclusion, she was graciously pleased to order letters patent to be made out conferring a baronetcy on the Lord Mayor and knighthood on the two Sheriffs, John Carroll and Moses Montefiore, Esquires, the latter, as before mentioned, being the first Jew who had received that honour.

At 20 minutes past 5 the Queen entered the Hall, in which was the banquet, wearing a rich pink satin dress, ornamented with gold and silver, a splendid pearl necklace, diamond earrings, and a tiara of diamonds. She occupied the centre of the Royal table, having on her right the Duke of Sussex, the Duchess of Gloucester, the Duchess of Cambridge, Prince George of Cambridge and the Duchess of Sutherland; and on her left, the Duke of Cambridge, the Duchess of Kent, the Princess Augusta of Cambridge and the Countess of Mulgrave. As a specimen of the magnificence of this banquet, it may be mentioned that at the Royal table the whole of the service was of gold, as were the candelabra, epergnes, soup tureens, cellarets, etc.; one firm furnished gold plate for the Queen’s table and sideboard to the value of £115,000, and another firm nearly the same amount, whilst the value of plate lent by various gentlemen was assessed at £400,000, besides which there was the Civic plate. The china dessert plates at the Queen’s table cost 10 guineas each, and all the glass decanters and china were specially made for the occasion.

At 20 minutes past 8, the Queen left the Hall, and in her retiring room was served with tea from a splendid gold service made for the occasion, and she reached Buckingham Palace about half-past 9 – highly delighted with her entertainment.

There is nothing more of interest in this year, if we except the maiden speech of Lord Beaconsfield, in the House of Commons, which took place on 7th Dec. Mr. Disraeli (as he then was) had the disadvantage of following O’Connell, in a noisy debate on the legality of the Irish Election Petition Fund. He was not listened to from the first, and, in the middle of his speech, as reported by Hansard, after begging the House to give him five minutes, he said: “He stood there to-night, not formally, but, in some degree, virtually, as the representative of a considerable number of Members of Parliament (laughter). Now, why smile? Why envy him? Why not let him enjoy that reflection, if only for one night?” All through his speech he was interrupted, and this is its close, as reported in Hansard. “When they recollected the ‘new loves’ and the ‘old loves’ in which so much passion and recrimination was mixed up between the noble Tityrus of the Treasury Bench, and the learned Daphne of Liskeard – (loud laughter) – notwithstanding the amantium ira had resulted, as he always expected, in the amoris integratio– (renewed laughter) – notwithstanding that political duel had been fought, in which more than one shot was interchanged, but in which recourse was had to the secure arbitrament of blank cartridges – (laughter) – notwithstanding emancipated Ireland and enslaved England, the noble lord might wave in one hand the keys of St. Peter, and in the other – (the shouts that followed drowned the conclusion of the sentence). Let them see the philosophical prejudice of Man. He would, certainly, gladly hear a cheer from the lips of a popular opponent. He was not at all surprised at the reception which he had experienced. He had begun several things many times, and he had often succeeded at last. He would sit down now, but the time would come when they would hear him. (The impatience of the House would not allow the hon. member to finish his speech; and during the greater part of the time the hon. member was on his legs, he was so much interrupted that it was impossible to hear what the hon. member said).”

CHAPTER III

Destruction of Royal Exchange – Sale of the salvage – Spring-heeled Jack and his pranks – Lord John Russell’s hat.

As a sad pendant to the Civic festivities at the close of 1837 comes the destruction by fire of the Royal Exchange on the night of the 10th of January following.

It was first noticed a little after 10 p.m., when flames were observed in Lloyd’s Coffee Room in the north-east corner of the building, opposite the Bank, the firemen of which establishment were soon on the spot, as well as many other of the metropolitan engines. But, before any water could be thrown upon the building, it was necessary to thaw the hose and works of the engines by pouring hot water upon them, as the frost was so very severe; so that, by 11 p.m., all Lloyd’s was a mass of flame. Nothing could be done to stop the conflagration, it having got too great a hold, and great fears were entertained that it would spread to the Bank and surrounding buildings, the which, however, was fortunately prevented. The Lord Mayor was present, and a large body of soldiers from the Tower assisted the Police in keeping the crowd away from the immediate scene.

It must have been a magnificent sight, and somewhat curious, for amidst the roar of the flames, and until the chiming apparatus was destroyed, and the bells dropped one by one, the chimes went on pealing “There’s nae luck about the house,” 2 “Life let us cherish,” and “God save the Queen.” The fire was not completely got under until noon the next day, but, practically, the building was destroyed by 5 am., and, so bright was the conflagration, that it was visible at Windsor – twenty-four miles off, and at Theydon, in Essex, a distance of eighteen miles; whilst from the heights of Surrey on the south, and Highgate and Hampstead on the north, the progress of the fire was watched by crowds of people.

The following account of the Exchange after the fire is taken from the Times of 13 Jan.:

“Yesterday afternoon the ruins of the Exchange were sufficiently cooled to allow the firemen and a party of gentlemen, amongst whom we noticed the Lord Mayor, Mr. Alderman Copeland, several members of the Gresham Committee, and other persons connected with the mercantile interest, to inspect them. In consequence of the loose fragments of stone work belonging to the balustrades and ornamental parts of the building being covered over with ice, the difficulty of walking over the ruins was very great, and the chief magistrate fell more than once, receiving sundry bumps. The lofty chimnies standing appeared to be in such a dangerous condition, that they were hauled down with ropes, to prevent their falling on the people below. The iron chests belonging to the Royal Exchange Assurance Company could be distinctly seen, from the area, inserted in the walls. Ladders were raised, and they were opened, when it was discovered that their contents, consisting of deeds and other papers connected with the Company and their insurances, were uninjured. This afforded much satisfaction to the directors. Another iron safe, belonging to Mr. Hathway, whose office, under the tower, was consumed, which was also in a recess in the wall, was opened at the same time, and a considerable sum in francs and bank-notes was taken out.

“The walls of the west wing of the building, which seemed to bulge outward, were shored up in the afternoon, and they are not, now, likely to fall. Cornhill presented a most desolate appearance, the shops, from Finch Lane to the termination of the street near the Mansion House, were all closed, and the place presented a deserted and desolated appearance; which, contrasted with the bustle hitherto observed during business hours, and the sight of the ruins, forced very unpleasant reflections on the mind. Barriers were placed at the Mansion House end of Cornhill, and across that part of the street between Finch and Birchin Lanes, and no person was allowed to pass except the firemen and persons on business. All the avenues leading to Cornhill were also blocked up in like manner; and, at each barrier, police officers and ward constables were placed to prevent people passing. Various schemes were devised, by numerous individuals, to pass these barriers, and sums were, occasionally, offered to the police to be allowed to visit the ruins, but without effect. The City police kept the thieves away by their presence and activity, and the conduct of the people was, yesterday, very quiet, forming a contrast with the disorder got up by the swell mob on Thursday last. Those who viewed the ruins at a distance appeared to wear an air of melancholy, and no fire has occurred, for centuries, which has caused more universal regret.

“On searching the ruins under the Lord Mayor’s Court Office, the great City seal was picked up, with two bags, containing £200 in gold, uninjured. On this discovery being communicated to the Lord Mayor and Aldermen, it caused much gratification, it having been rumoured that the Corporation would lose their Charter by the loss of the seal, but we did not hear it explained how this could be.

“Owing to the great body of fire underneath the ruins at the north-east angle of the Exchange, it was impossible for the firemen to ascertain, until a late hour, whether any injury had been done to Lloyd’s books, which were deposited in a large iron safe inserted in the wall. Two engines had been playing on it during the latter portion of the day. In the presence of several of the Committee it was opened, when it was discovered that the fire had reached the books, and partially consumed them. In the drawers were cheques on the Bank of England to a large amount, and also Bank of England notes to the amount of, it is said, £2,560. The notes were reduced to a cinder, and, on the drawers being opened, the air rushing in on the tender fragments blew them over the Exchange. They were, however, very carefully collected, and the cinders of the notes were, with much trouble and caution, put into a tin case, which was taken to the Bank, and the words ‘Bank of England,’ with the numbers and dates, were distinctly traced. The amount will, in consequence, be paid to the owners. From what information could be obtained from the gentlemen who took possession of the box, and who were understood to be underwriters, it was the usual custom of the secretary not to leave any money or notes in the safe, but to deposit the money in the Bank, which was done on the evening the fire took place. The money and notes above mentioned, and which were found in the safe, belonged to a subscriber who, on the afternoon of Wednesday, asked permission to deposit his money in the safe until the next day, which was acceded to by the secretary. Some idea may be formed of his state of mind on arriving at the Exchange on the following morning, to see it on fire, and he was in a state of distraction until the finding of the cinders of the notes yesterday, which has, in some measure, calmed his feelings. The underwriters are severe sufferers, having left sums of money, to a large amount, in their desks, which, no doubt, will never be recovered.

“During the confusion on the discovery of the fire, in removing some books from a room in the north-east corner, in addition to £500 in Bank of England notes, which were taken to St. Michael’s Church, twenty sovereigns, in a bag, were thrown out of the windows. The bag broke, and the sovereigns rolled about the pavement; they were all picked up by the mob, who appropriated them to their own use.

“It is firmly believed that the overheating of the stoves caused the disaster which the nation has now to deplore. Wednesday was an exceedingly cold day, and large fires had been kept up from morning till night in the building. There is no doubt the fire had been spreading, to some extent, in Lloyd’s rooms, long before it was seen in the street. Some few months back, two watchmen were on the premises all night, but, on the miserable plea of economy, they were discharged, and the sacrifice of one of the finest buildings in the Kingdom has been the consequence. We believe that most of our cathedrals and large public buildings are left without watchmen during the night, and we hope that the fate of the Royal Exchange will bring about a change in this respect.”