 Chapter 7 of Scenes from Sketches by Bosch This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Sketches by Bosch by Charles Dickens Illustrations by George Cruickshank Chapter 7 of Scenes, Hackney Coach Stans We maintain that Hackney Coach's, properly so called, belong solely to the metropolis. We may be told that there are Hackney Coach Stans in Edinburgh, and not to go quite so far for a contradiction to our position, we may be reminded that Liverpool, Manchester and other large towns, as the parliamentary phrase goes, have their Hackney Coach Stans. We readily concede to these places the possession of certain vehicles which may look almost as dirty, and even go almost as slowly as London Hackney Coach is, but that they have the slightest claim to compete with the metropolis, either in point of stands, drivers or cattle, we indignantly deny. Take a regular ponderous rickety London Hackney Coach of the old school, and let any man have the boldness to assert, if he can, that he ever beheld any object on the face of the earth, which at all resembles it, unless, indeed, it were another Hackney Coach of the same date. We have recently observed on certain stands, and we say it with deep regret, rather dapper green chariots, and coaches of polished yellow, with four wheels of the same colour as the coach, whereas it is perfectly notorious to everyone who has studied the subject that every wheel ought to be of a different colour and a different size. These are innovations and, like other miscalled improvements, awful signs of the restlessness of the public mind and the little respect paid to our time-honoured institutions. Why should Hackney Coaches be clean? Our ancestors found them dirty and left them so. Why should we, with a feverish wish to keep moving, desire to roll along at the rate of six miles an hour, while they were content to rumble over the stones at four? These are solemn considerations. Hackney Coaches are part and parcel of the law of the land. They were settled by the legislature, plated and numbered by the wisdom of Parliament. Then why have they been swamped by cabs and omnibuses? Or why should people be allowed to ride quickly for eight pence a mile after Parliament had come to the solemn decision that they should pay a shilling a mile for riding slowly? We pause for a reply and, having no chance of getting one, begin a fresh paragraph. Our acquaintance with Hackney Coaches stands is of long standing. We are a walking book of fares, feeling ourselves half-bound as it were to be always in the right on contested points. We know all the regular watermen within three miles of Covent Garden by sight, and should be almost tempted to believe that all the Hackney Coaches in that district knew us by sight, too. If one half of them were not blind. We take great interest in Hackney Coaches, but we seldom drive, having a knack of turning ourselves over when we attempt to do so. We are as great friends to horses, Hackney Coaches and otherwise, as the renowned Mr. Martin of Costa Munger Notoriety. And yet we never ride. We keep no horse but a clotheshorse. Enjoy no saddle so much as a saddle of mutton. And, following our own inclinations, have never followed the hounds. Leaving these fleet of means of getting over the ground, or of depositing oneself upon it to those who like them, by Hackney Coach stands we take our stand. There is a Hackney Coach stand under the very window at which we are riding. There is only one coach on it now, but it is a fair specimen of the class of vehicles to which we have alluded. A great lumbering square concern of a dingy yellow colour like a bilious brunette, with very small glasses, but very large frames. The panels are ornamented with a faded coat of arms, in shape something like a dissected bat. The axle-tree is red, and the majority of the wheels are green. The box is partially covered by an old greatcoat, with a multiplicity of capes and some extraordinary looking clothes. And the straw, with which the canvas cushion is stuffed, is sticking up in several places, as if in rivalry of the hay, which is peeping through the chinks in the boot. The horses, with drooping heads, and each with a mane and tail are scanty and straggling as those of a worn-out rocking horse, are standing patiently on some damp straw, occasionally wincing, and rattling the harness, and now and then, one of them lifts his mouth to the ear of his companion, as if he were saying, in a whisper, that he should like to assassinate the coachman. The coachman himself is in the watering house, and the waterman, with his hands forced into his pockets as far as they can possibly go, is dancing the double shuffle in front of the pump to keep his feet warm. The servant girl, with the pink ribbons at number five opposite, suddenly opens the street door, and four small children, fourth-width, rush out and scream, coach with all their might and mane. The waterman darts from the pump, seizes the horses by their respective bridles, and drags them and the coach too round to the house, shouting all the time for the coachman at the very top or rather the very bottom of his voice, for it is a deep base growl. A response is heard from the tap room. The coachman, in his wooden-soled shoes, makes the street echo again as he runs across it, and then there is such a struggling and backing and grating of the kennel to get the coach door opposite the house door that the children are in perfect ecstasies of delight. What a commotion! The old lady who has been stopping there for the last month is going back to the country. Out comes box after box, and one side of the vehicle is filled with luggage in no time. The children get it into everybody's way, and the youngest who has out-set himself in his attempts to carry an umbrella is born off wounded and kicking. The youngsters disappear, and a short pause ensues during which the old lady is, no doubt, kissing them all round in the back parlour. She appears at last, followed by her married daughter. All the children, and both the servants, who, with the joint assistance of the coachman and waterman, manage to get her safely into the coach. A cloak is handed in, and a little basket, which we could almost swear contains a small black bottle and a paper of sandwiches. Up go the steps. Bang goes the door. Golden cross, charring cross, Tom, says the waterman. Goodbye, Grandma, cry the children. The old lady is at the rate of three miles an hour, and the mamma and children retire into the house with the exception of one little villain who runs up the street at the top of his speed, pursued by the servant, not ill-pleased to have such an opportunity of displaying her attractions. She brings him back, and after casting two or three gracious glances across the way, which are either intended for us or the pot boy, we are not quite certain which, shuts the door, and the hackneyed coach stand is again at a standstill. We have been frequently amused with the intense delight with which a servant of all work who is sent for a coach deposits herself inside, and the unspeakable gratification, which boys, who have been dispatched on a similar errand, appear to derive from mounting the box. But we never recollect to have been more amused with a hackneyed coach party than one we saw early the other morning in Tottenham Court Road. It was a wedding party, and emerged from one of the inferior streets of East Roy Square. There were the bride, with a thin white dress and a great red face, and the bridesmaid, a little dumpy good-humoured young woman, dressed, of course, in the same appropriate costume, and the bridegroom and his chosen friend in blue coats, yellow waistcoats, white trousers, and Berlin gloves to match. They stopped at the corner of the street and called a coach with an air of indescribable dignity. The moment they were in, the bridesmaid threw a red shawl and had, no doubt, brought on purpose, negligently over the number on the door, evidently to delude pedestrians into the belief that the hackney coach was a private carriage, and the way they went, perfectly satisfied that the imposition was successful and quite unconscious that there was a great staring number stuck up behind on a plate as large as the schoolboy's slate. A shilling a mile, the ride was worth five at least to them. What an interesting book a hackney coach might produce, if he could carry as much in his head as he does in his body. The autobiography of a broken down hackney coach would surely be as amusing as the autobiography of a broken down hackney dramatist, and it might tell as much of its travels with the pole as others have of their expeditions to it. How many stories might be related of the different people it had conveyed on matters of business or profit, pleasure or pain? And how many melancholy tales of the same people at different periods? The country girl, the showy overdressed woman, the drunken prostitute, the raw apprentice, the dissipated spendthrift, the thief, talk of cabs. Cabs are all very well in cases of expedition, when it's a matter of neck or nothing, life or death, your temporary home or your long one. But, besides the cabs lacking that gravity of deportment which so peculiarly distinguishes a hackney coach, let it never be forgotten that a cab is a thing of yesterday, and that he never was anything better. A hackney cab has always been a hackney cab, from his first entry into life, whereas a hackney coach is a remnant of past gentility, a victim to fashion, a hanger on of an old English family, wearing their arms. And, in days of yore, escorted by men wearing their livery, stripped of his finery, and thrown upon the world, like a once smart footman, when he is no longer sufficiently juvenile for his office, progressing lower and lower in the scale of four-wheeled degradation, until at last it comes to a stand. End of Chapter 7 of Scenes from Sketches by Bos Chapter 8 of Scenes from Sketches by Bos This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For further information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Sketches by Bos by Charles Dickens Illustrations by George Cruickshank Chapter 8 of Scenes Doctors Commons Walking without any definite object through St Paul's Churchyard a little while ago, we happened to turn down a street entitled Paul's Chain, and keeping straightforward for a few hundred yards found ourselves as a natural consequence in Doctors Commons. Now, Doctors Commons being familiar by name to everybody as the place where they grant marriage licenses to love-sick couples and divorces to unfaithful ones, register the wills of people who have any property to leave, and punish hasty gentlemen who call ladies by unpleasant names. We know sooner discovered that we were really within its precincts than we felt a laudable desire to become better acquainted therewith, and as the first object of our curiosity was the court, whose degrees can even unloose the bonds of matrimony, we procured a direction to it and bent our steps thither without delay. Crossing a quiet and shady courtyard, paved with stone and frowned upon by old red-brick houses, on the doors of which were painted the names of sundry-learned civilians, we paused before a small, embazed, brass-headed nail-door which, yielding to our gentle push, had once admitted us into an old, quaint-looking apartment, with sunken windows and black-carved wane-skitting at the upper end of which, seated on a raised platform of semicircular shape, were about a dozen solemn-looking gentlemen in crimson gowns and wigs. At a more elevated desk in the centre sat a very fat and red-faced gentleman in tortoise-shell spectacles, whose dignified appearance announced the judge and round a long, green-based table below, something like a billiard table without the cushions and pockets, were a number of very self-important looking personages in stiff neck-cloths and black gowns with white fur collars whom we at once set down as proctors. At the lower end of the billiard table was an individual in an armchair and a wig whom we afterwards discovered to be the registrar and seated behind a little desk near the door, were a respectable-looking gentleman in black with about twenty stone weight or thereabouts and a fat-faced smirking, civil-looking body in a black gown, black kid gloves, knee shorts and silks with a shirt-frill in his bosom, curls on his head and a silver staff in his hand whom we had no difficulty in recognising as the officer of the court. The latter indeed speedily set our mind at rest upon this point for, advancing to our elbow and opening a conversation forthwith, he had communicated to us in less than five minutes that he was the aparator and the other the courtkeeper that this was the Arch's court and therefore the council wore red gowns and the proctors fur collars and that when the other court sat there they didn't wear red gowns or fur collars either, with many other scraps of intelligence equally interesting. Besides these two officers there was a little thin old man with long, grisly hair crouched in a remote corner whose duty our communicative friend informed us was to ring a large handbell when the court opened in the morning and who, for ought his appearance betoken to the contrary might have been similarly employed for the last two centuries at least. The red-faced gentleman in the tortoise shell spectacles had got all the talk to himself just then and very well he was doing it too. Only he spoke very fast but that was habit and rather thick, but that was good living. So we had plenty of time to look about us. There was one individual who amused us mightily. This was one of the bewigged gentlemen in the red robes who were straddling before the fire in the centre of the court in the attitude of the brazen colossus to the complete exclusion of everybody else. He had gathered up his robe behind in much the same manner as a slovenly woman would her petticoats on a very dirty day in order that he might feel the full warmth of the fire. His wig was put on all awry with the tail straggling about his neck. His scanty grey trousers and short black gaiters made in the worst possible style imported an additional inelegant appearance to his uncouth person and his limp, badly starched shirt-collar almost obscured his eyes. We shall never be able to claim any credit as a physiognomist again for, after a careful scrutiny of this gentleman's countenance, we had come to the conclusion that it bespoke nothing but conceit and silliness when our friend with the silver staff whispered in our ear that he was no other than a doctor of civil law and heaven knows what besides. So, of course, we were mistaken and he must be a very talented man. He conceals it so well, though, perhaps with the merciful view of not astonishing ordinary people too much, that you would suppose him to be one of the stupidest dogs alive. The gentleman in the spectacles, having concluded his judgment and a few minutes having been allowed to elapse to afford time for the buzz of the court to subside, the registrar called on the next cause, which was the Office of the Judge promoted by Bumple against Sludbury. A general movement was visible in the court at this announcement and the obliging machinery with the silver staff whispered us that there would be some fun now for this was a brawling case. We were not rendered much the wiser by this piece of information till we found by the opening speech of the Council for the promoter that under a half-obsolete statue of one of the Edwards the court was empowered to visit with the penalty of excommunication any person who should be proved guilty of the crime of brawling or smiting in any church or vestry adjoining there too and it appeared by some eight and twenty affidavits which were duly referred to that on a certain night at a certain vestry meeting in a certain parish particularly set forth Thomas Sludbury the party appeared against in that suit had made use of and applied to Michael Bumple the promoter the words you be blowed and that on the said Michael Bumple and others remonstrating with the said Thomas Sludbury on the impropriety of his conduct the said Thomas Sludbury repeated the aforesaid expression you be blowed and furthermore desired and requested to know whether the said Michael Bumple wanted anything for himself adding that if the said Michael Bumple did want anything for himself the said Thomas Sludbury was the man to give it to him at the same time making use of other heinous and sinful expressions all of which Bumple submitted came within the intent and meaning of the act and therefore he for the soul's health and chastening of Sludbury prayed for sentence of excommunication against him accordingly upon these facts a long argument was entered into on both sides to the great edification of a number of persons interested in the parochial squabbles who crowded the court and when some very long and grave speeches had been made pro and con the red-faced gentleman in the tortoise shell spectacles took a review of the case which occupied half an hour or more and then pronounced upon Sludbury the awful sentence of excommunication for a fortnight the payment of the costs of the suit upon this Sludbury who was a little red-faced sly looking ginger beer seller addressed the court and said if they'd be good enough to take off the costs and excommunicate him for the term of his natural life instead it would be much more convenient to him for he never went to church at all to this appeal the gentleman in the spectacles made no other reply than a look of virtuous indignation and Sludbury and his friends retired as the man with the silver staff informed us that the court was on the point of rising we retired too pondering as we walked away upon the beautiful spirit of these ancient ecclesiastical laws the kind and neighbourly feelings they are calculated to awaken and the strong attachment to religious institutions which they cannot fail to engender we were so lost in these meditations that we had turned into the street and run up against the doorpost before we recollected where we were walking on looking upwards to see what houseweeds stumbled upon the words for a rogative office written in large characters met our eye and as we were in a sight-seeing humour and the place was a public one we walked in the room into which we walked was a long busy looking place partitioned off on either side into a variety of little boxes in which a few clerks were engaged in copying or examining deeds down the centre of the room were several desks nearly breast high at each of which three or four people were standing pouring over large volumes as we knew that they were searching for wills they attracted our attention at once it was curious to contrast the indifference of the attorney's clerks who were making a search for some legal purpose with the air of earnestness and interest which distinguished the strangers to the place who were looking up the will of some deceased relative the former pausing every now and then with an impatient yawn or raising their heads to look at the people who passed up and down the room the latter stooping over the book and running down column after column of names in the deepest abstraction there was one little dirty faced man in a blue apron who after a whole morning search extending some 50 years back had just found the will to which he wished to refer which one of the officials was reading to him in a low hurried voice from a thick vellum book with large clasps it was perfectly evident that the more the clerk read the less the man with the blue apron understood about the matter when the volume was first brought down he took off his hat smoothed down his hair smiled with great self-satisfaction and looked up in the reader's face with the air of a man who had made up his mind to recollect every word he heard the first two or three lines were intelligible enough but then the technicalities began and the little man began to look rather dubious then came a whole string of lists and he was regularly at sea as the reader proceeded it was quite apparent that it was a hopeless case and the little man with his mouth open and his eyes fixed upon his face looked on with an expression of bewilderment and perplexity irresistibly ludicrous a little further on a hard-featured old man with a deeply wrinkled face was intently perusing a lengthy will made of a pair of horned spectacles occasionally pausing from his task and slyly noting down some brief memorandum of the bequests contained in it every wrinkle about his toothless mouth and sharp keen eyes told of avarice and cunning his clothes were nearly thread-bear but it was easy to see that he wore them from choice and not from necessity all his looks and gestures of snuff which he every now and then took from a little tin canister told of wealth and penury and avarice as he leisurely closed the register put up his spectacles and folded his scraps of paper in a large leather pocket-book we thought what a nice hard bargain he was driving with some poverty-stricken negatee who, tired of waiting year after year until some life interest should fall in was selling his chance just as it began to grow most valuable for a twelfth part of its worth it was a good speculation a very safe one the old man stowed his pocket-book carefully in the breast of his greatcoat and hobbled away with a dear of triumph that will had made him ten years younger at the lowest computation having commenced our observations we should certainly have extended them to another dozen of people at least had not a sudden shutting up and putting away of the worm-eaten old books warned us that the time for closing the office had arrived and thus deprived us of a pleasure and spared our readers an inflection we naturally fell into a train of reflection as we walked homewards upon the curious old records of likings and dislikings of jealousies and revenges of affection and defying the power of death and hatred pursued beyond the grave which these depositories contain silent but striking tokens some of them of excellence of heart and nobleness of soul melancholy examples others of the worst passions of human nature how many men as they lay speechless and helpless on the bed of death would have given worlds but for the strength to blot out the silent evidence of animosity and bitterness which now stands registered against them in Doctors Commons End of Chapter 8 of Scenes from Sketches by Boz Chapter 9 of Scenes from Sketches by Boz This is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Eddie Winter Sketches by Boz by Charles Dickens Illustrations by George Crookshank Chapter 9 of Scenes London Recreations The wish of persons in the humbler classes of life to ape the menors and customs of those whom Fortune has placed above them in the subject of remark and not unfrequently of complaint The inclination may and no doubt does exist to a great extent among the small gentility the would-be aristocrats of the middle classes Traged men and clerks with fashionable novel-reading families and circulating library subscribing daughters get up small assemblies in humble imitation of almanacs and promenade the dingy large room of some second-rate hotel with as much complacency as the enviable few who are privileged to exhibit their magnificence in that exclusive haunt of fashion and foolery Aspiring young ladies who read flaming accounts of some fancy fair in high life suddenly grow desperately charitable Visions of admiration and matrimony float before their eyes Some wonderfully meritorious institutions which, by the strangest accident in the world has never been heard of before is discovered to be in a languishing condition Thompson's Great Room or Johnson's Nursery Ground is forthwith engaged and your four said young ladies from mere charity exhibit themselves for three days from twelve to four for the small charge of one shelling per head With the exception of these classes of society however and a few weak and insignificant persons we do not think the attempt of imitation to which we have alluded prevails in any great degree The different character of the recreations of different classes has often afforded us amusement and we have chosen it for the subject of our present sketch in the hope that it may possess some amusement for our readers If the regular city man who leaves Lloyds at five o'clock and drives home to Hackney Clapton, Stanford Hill or elsewhere can be said to have any daily recreation beyond his dinner it is his garden He never does anything to it with his own hands but he takes great pride in it notwithstanding and if you are desirous of paying your addresses to the youngest daughter be sure to be in raptures in the club it contains If your poverty of expression compels you to make any distinction between the two we would certainly recommend your bestowing more admiration on his garden than his wine He always takes a walk round it before he starts for town in the morning and is particularly anxious that the fish pond should be kept especially neat If you call on him on Sunday in summertime about an hour before dinner you will find him sitting in an armchair on the lawn behind the house with a straw hat on reading a Sunday paper A short distance from him you will most likely observe a handsome parakeet in a large brass wire cage 10 to 1 but the two eldest girls are loitering in one of the sidewalks accompanied by a couple of young gentlemen who are holding parasols over them Of course I need to keep the sun off while the younger children with the under nursery maid are strolling listlessly about in the shade Beyond these occasions his delight in his garden appears to arise more from the consciousness of possession than actual enjoyment of it When he drives you down to dinner on a weekday he is rather fatigued with the occupations of the morning and tolerably cross into the bargain but when the cloth is removed and he has drunk three or four glasses of his favourite palt he orders the French windows of his dining room which of course look into the garden to be opened and sowing a silk handkerchief over his head and leaning back in his armchair to scan such considerable length upon its beauty and the costume maintaining it This is to impress you who are a young friend of the family with a due sense of the excellence of the garden and the wealth of its owner First is the subject he goes to sleep There is another and a very different class of men whose recreation is their garden An individual of this class resides some short distance from town say in the Hampstead Road or the Kilburn Road or in the other road where the homes are small and neat and have little slips of back garden He and his wife who is as clean and compact have occupied the same house ever since he retired from business 20 years ago They have no family They once had a son who died at about 5 years old The child's portrait hangs over the mantelpiece in the best sitting room and a little cart he used to draw about is carefully preserved as a relic In fine weather the old gentleman is almost constantly in the garden and when it is too wet to go into it he will look out of the window at it by the hour together He has always something to do there and you will see him digging and sweeping and cutting and planting with manifest delight In springtime there is no end to the sowing of seeds and sicken little bits of wood over them with labels which look like epitaphs to their memory and in the evening when the sun has gone down the perseverance with which he lugs a great water-in-pot about is perfectly astonishing The only other recreation he has is the newspaper which he peruses every day from beginning to end generally reading the most interesting pieces of intelligence to his wife during breakfast The old lady is very fond of flowers as the hyacinth glass is in the parlor window and geranium pots in their little front court testify She takes great pride in the garden too and when one of the four fruit trees produces rather a large of gooseberry than usual it is carefully preserved under a wine-glass on the side-board for the edification of visitors who are duly informed that Mr. So-and-so planted the tree which produced it with his own hands On a summer's evening when the large watering-pot has been filled and emptied some fourteen times and the old couple have quite exhausted themselves by trotting about you will see them sitting happily together in the little summer-house enjoying the calm and peace of the twilight and washing the shadows as they fall upon the garden and gradually growing thicker and more somber obscure the tints of their gayest flowers No bad emblem of the years that have silently rolled over their heads deadening in their course the brightest shoes with early hopes and feelings which have long since faded away These are their only recreations and they require no more They have within themselves the materials of comfort and content and the only anxiety of each is to die before the other This is no ideal sketch There used to be many old people of this description their numbers may have diminished and may decrease still more Whether the course-female education has taken of late days whether the pursuit of giddy frivolities and empty nothings has tended to unfit women for that quiet, domestic life in which they show far more beautifully than in the most crowded assembly is a question we should feel little gratification in discussing We hope not Let us turn now to another portion of the London population whose recreations present about as strong a contrast as can well be conceived We mean the Sunday pleasurers and let us beg our readers to imagine themselves stationed by our side in some well-known rural tea gardens The heat is intense this afternoon and the people of whom there are additional parties arrive in every moment look as warm as the tables which have been recently painted and have the appearance of being red hot What a dust and noise Men and women, boys and girls Sweethearts and married people Babies in arms and children in sheds Pipes and shrimps Cigars and periwinkles Tea and tobacco Gentlemen in alarming westcoats and steel watch guards promenading about three abreast with surprising dignity Or, as a gentleman in the next box facetiously observes cut in it and common fat Ladies with great long white pocket hand-chips like small tablecloths in their hands chasing one another on the grass in the most playful and interesting manner with the view of attracting the attention of the aforesaid gentlemen Husbands in perspective ordering bottles of ginger beer for the objects of their affections with a lavish disregard of expense and the set objects washing down huge quantities of shrimps and winkles with an equal disregard of their own bodily health and subsequent comfort Boys with great silk hats just balanced on top of their heads smoking cigars and trying to look as if they liked them Gentlemen in pink shirts and blue waistcoats occasionally obsessing either themselves or somebody else with their own canes Some of the finery of these peoples provokes a smile but they are all clean and happy and disposed to be good-natured and sociable Those two motherly looking women in the smart palaces who are chatting so confidentially in certain a man at every forth word scraped an acquaintance about a quarter an hour ago It's originated in admiration of the little boy who belongs to one of them the diminutive specimen of mortality in a three-cornered pink-setting hat with black feathers The two men in the blue coats and drug trousers who are walking up and down smoking their pipes are their husbands The party in the opposite box are a pretty fair specimen of the generality of the visitors These are the father and mother and old grandmother a young man and woman and an individual addressed by the euphonious title of Uncle Bill who is evidently the wits of the party They have some half-dozen children with them but it is scarcely necessary to notice the fact for that is a major course here Every woman in the gardens who has been married for any length of time must have had twins on two or three occasions It is impossible to account for the extent of juvenile population in any other way Observe the inexpressible delight of the old grandmother at Uncle Bill's splendid joke of tea for four bread and butter for faulty and the loud explosion of mirth which follows his wafer in the paper pigtail on the waiter's collar The young man is evidently keeping company with Uncle Bill's niece and Uncle Bill's hints such as don't forget me at the dinner you know I shall look out for the cake sally I'll be godfather to your first wage wits a boy dressing to the young people and delightful to the older ones As to the old grandmother she is in perfect ecstasy and does nothing but laugh herself into fits of coughing until they finish the gin and water warm with of which Uncle Bill ordered glasses around after tea just to keep the night air out and to do it up comfortable and regular are such an astonishing hot day It is getting dark and the people begin to move the field leading to town is quite full of them the little hand-shedders are dragged wearily along the children are tired and amuse themselves and the company generally by crying or resort to the much more pleasant expedient of going to sleep the mothers begin to wish they were at home again sweet-arch grow more sentimental than ever as the time for parting arrives The gardens look mournful enough by the light of the two lanterns which hang against the trees for the convenience of smokers and the waiters who have been running about incessantly for the last six hours think they feel a little tired as they count their glasses and their gains End of Chapter 9 of Scenes from Sketches by Bos Chapter 10 of Scenes from Sketches by Bos This is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Eddie Winter Sketches by Bos by Charles Dickens Illustrations by George Cruickshank Chapter 10 of Scenes The River Are you fond of the water? is a question very frequently asked in hot summer weather by amphibious-looking young men very is a general reply ain't you? Hardly ever off it is a response accompanied by sundry adjectives expressive of the speaker's heartfelt admiration of that element Now, with all respect for the opinion of society in general and cut clubs in particular we humbly suggest that some of the most painful reminiscences in the mind of every individual who has occasionally disported himself on the Thames must be connected with his aquatic recreations whoever heard of a successful water-party ought to put the question in a still more intelligible form whoever saw one We've been on water excursions out of number but we solemnly declare that we cannot call to mind one single occasion of the kind which was not marked by more miseries than anyone would suppose could be reasonably crowded into the space of some eight or nine hours Something has always gone wrong Either the cork of the solar dressing has come out or the most anxiously expected member of the party has not come out or the most disagreeable man in company would come out or a child or two have fallen into the water or the gentleman who undertook to steer has endangered everybody's life all the way or the gentleman who volunteered to row have been out of practice and performed very alarming evolutions putting their oars down into the water not being able to get them up again or taking terrific pulls without putting them in at all in either case, pitting over on the backs of their head with startling violence and exhibiting the souls of their pumps to the citizens in the boat we grant that the banks of the Thames are very beautiful at Richmond and Twickenham and other distant havens often salt though seldom reached but from the Reddus back to Blackfyre's bridge the scene is wonderfully changed the penitentiary is a noble building no doubt and the sporty views who go in a particular part of the river on a summer's evening may be all very well in perspective but when you are obliged to keep the shore coming home and the young ladies will colour up and look personally the other way while the mowed detours cough slightly and stare very hard at the water you feel awkward especially if you happen to have been attempting the most distant approach to sentimentality for an hour or two previously although experience and suffering have produced in our minds the result we have just stated we are by no means blind to a proper sense of the fun which a looker on my extract from the amateurs of boating what can be more amusing than soul's yard on a fine Sunday morning it's a Richmond tide and some dozen boats are preparing for the reception of the parties who have engaged them two or three fellows in great rough trousers and Guernsey shirts are getting them ready by easy stages now coming down the yard with a pair of skulls and a cushion then having a chat with a jack who like all his tribe seems to be wholly incapable of doing anything but lounging about then going back again and returning with a rudder line and a stretcher then soliciting themselves with another chat and then wandering with their hands in their capacious pockets where them gentlemen's got to as all did the six one of these the head man with the legs of his trousers carefully tucked up at the bottom to admit the water we presume for it is an element in which he is infinitely more at home than on land is quite a character and shares with the defunct tourist to swallow the celebrated name of Dando watch him has taken a few minutes' respite from his toils he negligently seats himself on the edge of a boat and fans his bald bushy chest with a cap scarcely half so furry look at his magnificent though reddish whiskers and mark the somewhat native humour with which he chaffs the boys and apprentices or cunningly gammons the gentlemen into the gift of a glass of gin of which we verily believe he swallows in one day as much as any six ordinary men without ever being one atom the worst for it but the party arrives and Dando relieved from his state of uncertainty starts up into activity their approach in full aquatic costume with round faces in the aquatic costume with round blue jackets striped shirts and caps of all sizes and patterns from the velvet skull cap of French manufacture to the easy headdress familiar to the students of the old spelling books as having on the authority of the portrait formed part of the costume of the reverent Mr. Dilworth this is the most amusing time to observe a regular Sunday water party there has evidently been up to this period with no inconsiderable degree of boasting on everybody's part relative to his knowledge of navigation the sight of the water rapidly calls the courage and the error of self-denial with which each of them insists on somebody else's taking an awe is perfectly delightful at length after a great deal of changing and fidgeting consequent upon the election of a stroke or the inability of one gentleman to pull on this side or another to pull on that and of a third to pull us all the boat's crew are seated shovel off cries a coxswain who looks as easy and comfortable as if he were steering in the Bay of Biscay the order is obeyed the boat is immediately turned completely round and proceeds towards Westminster Bridge amidst such a splashing and struggling as never was seen before except when the royal jewels went down backwater sir shouts dando backwater you sir aft upon which everybody thinking he must be the individual referred to they all backwater and back comes the boat stern first to the sport whence it started backwater you sir aft pull round you sir forward can't you shouts dando in a frenzy of excitement pull round Tom can't you reoccose one of the party when it forward replies another yes he is cries a third and the unfortunate young man at the imminent risk of breaking a blood vessel pulls and pulls until the head of the boat fairly lies in the direction of voxel bridge that's right now pull all on ya shouts dando again adding in an undertone but to somebody by him blowed if ever I see such a set of muffs and away jogs the boat in a zigzag direction every one of the six oars dipping into the water at a different time and the yard is once more clear until the arrival of the next party a well contested road match on the Thames is a very lively and interesting scene the water is studied with boats of all sorts cones and descriptions places in the coal barges at the different wolves are led to crowds of spectators beer and tobacco flow freely about men women and children wait for the start in breathless expectation cutters of six and eight oars glide gently up and down waiting to accompany their protégés during the race bands of music add to the animation if not to the harmony of the scene groups of watermen are assembled at a different stairs discussing the merits of the respective candidates and the prize worry which is rode slowly about by a pair of skulls an object of general interest two o'clock strikes and everybody looks anxiously in the direction of the bridge through which the candidates for the prize will come half past two and the general retention which has been preserved so long begins to flag when suddenly a gun is heard and a noise of distant heroin along each bank of the river every head is bent forward the noise draws nearer and nearer the boats which have been wasting at the bridge start briskly up the river and a whirl mend galley shoots through the arch the sitters chewing on the boats behind them which are not yet visible here they are, is the general choir and through darts the first boat the men in her strip to the skin and exerting every muscle to preserve the advantage they have gained four of the boats follow close to the stern there are not two boats length between them the shouting is tremendous and the interest intense give it a red solo win forever, bravo George now Tom, now, now, now why don't your partner stretch out two pots to a pint on yellow and so on and so on every little public house fires its gun and hoists its flag and the men who win the heat come in and Mr. Splashing and shouting and banging them in confusion which no one can imagine who has not witnessed it and of which any description is very faint idea one of the most amusing places we know is the steam wolf of the London Bridge or St Catherine's Dot Company on a Saturday morning in summer when the graves end and Margate steamers are usually crowded to access and as we have just taken a glance at the river above bridge we hope our readers will not object to accompany us on a board of Graves End packet Coaches are every moment down at the entrance to the wolf and a steer of bewildered astonishment with which the fares resign themselves and their luggage into the hands of the porters who sees all the packages at once as a matter of course and run away with them heaven knows where is laughable in the extreme a Margate's boat lies alongside the wolf the Graves End boat which starts first lies alongside that again and as the temporary communication is formed between the two by means of a plank and a houndrail the natural confusion of the scene is by no means diminished Graves End inquires a stout father of a stout family who follow him under the guidance of their mother and a servant at a no small risk of two or three of them being left behind in the confusion Graves End part on if you please her replies the attendant other boat sir stout father being rather mystified and the stout mother rather distracted by maternal anxiety the whole party deposit themselves in the Margate's boat and after having congratulated himself on having secured very comfortable seats the stout father sullies to the chimney to look for his luggage which he is a faint recollection of having given some man something to take somewhere no luggage however burying the most remote resemblance to his own in shape or form is to be discovered on which the stout father calls very loudly for an officer to whom he states the case in the presence of another father of another family a little thin man who entirely concurs with him the stout father in thinking that it's high time something was done with these steam companies and that as the corporation bill failed to do it something else must for really people's property is not to be sacrificed in this way and that if the luggage isn't restored without delay he will take care it shall be put in the papers for the public is not to be the victim of these great monopolies to this the officer in his turn replies that that company ever since it has been some catwins.com company has protected life and property that if it had been the London Bridge Wolf Company indeed he shouldn't have wondered seeing that the morality of that company may be in the opposition can't be answered for by no one but as it is he's convinced there must be some mistake and he wouldn't mind making a solemn oath before a magistrate that the gentleman will find his luggage before he gets to Margate here the stout father thinking he is making a capital point replies that as it happens he's not going to Margate at all and that passenger's gravesend was on the luggage in letters full two inches long on which the officer rapidly explains a mistake and the stout mother and the stout children and the servant are hurried with all possible dispatch on board the gravesend boat which they reach just in time to discover that their luggage is there and that their comfortable seats are not then the bell which is the signal for the gravesend boat starting begins to ring most furiously and people keep time to the bell by running in and out of our boat at a double quick pace the bell stops the boat starts people who have been taken leave of their friends on board are carried away against their will and people who have been taken leave of their friends on shore find that they have performed a very needless ceremony in consequence of their not being carried away at all the regular passengers who have season tickets go below to breakfast people who have purchased morning papers compose themselves to read them and people who have not been down the river before think that both the shipping and the water look a great deal better at a distance when we get down about as far as Blackwall and begin to move at a quicker rate the spirits of the passengers appear to rise in proportion old women who have brought large wicker handbaskets with them set seriously to work at the demolition of heavy sandwiches and passed round a wine glass which is frequently replenished from a flat bottle like a stomach warmer with considerable glee handing it first to the gentleman in the forging cap who plays the harp partly as an expression of satisfaction with his previous exertions and partly to induce him to play Dumbledum Deary for Alec to dance to which being done Alec who is a damp earthy child in red worsted stocks takes certain small jumps upon the deck to the unspeakable satisfaction of his family circle Girls who have brought the first volume of some new novel in their reticule become extremely plaintive and expatiate to Mr Brown or young Mr O'Brien who has been looking over them on the blueness of the sky and brightness of the water on which Mr Brown or Mr O'Brien as the case may be remarks in a low voice insensible of light to the beauties of nature that his whole thoughts and wishes have centred in one object alone whereupon the young lady looks up and failing in her attempt to appear unconscious looks down again and turns over the next leaf with great difficulty in order to afford opportunity for a lengthened pressure of the hand Telescopes, summaries and glasses of brandy and water cold without seeming to be had in great requisition and bashful men who have been looking down the hatchway at the engine find to their great relief a subject on which they can converse with one another and copious one too steam wonderful things steam sir a deep drawn sigh it is indeed sir great power sir immense immense great deal done by steam sir ah another sigh at the immensity of the subject and a knowing shake of the head you may say that sir still in its infancy they say sir novel remarks of this kind are generally the commencement of a conversation which is belonged until the conclusion of the trip and perhaps there is a foundation over speaking acquaintance between half a dozen gentlemen who have in their families a grave's end take season tickets for the boat and dine on board regularly every afternoon end of chapter 10 of scenes from sketches by boz chapter 11 of scenes from sketches by boz this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org the recording by Eddie Winter sketches by boz by Charles Dickens illustrations by George Crookshank chapter 11 of scenes Astlis we never see any very large stirring black Roman capitals in a book or shop window or placarded on a wall without their immediately recalling to our mind an indistinct and confused recollection of the time when we were first initiated in the mysteries of the alphabet we almost fancy we see the pins point following the letter to impress its form more strongly on a bewildered imagination and wince involuntarily as we remember the hard knuckles with which the reverend old lady who instilled into our mind the first principles of education for 9 pence per week or 10 and 6 pence per quarter we look at juvenile head occasionally by over justing the confusion of ideas in which we were generally involved the same kind of feeling pursues us in many other instances but there is no place which recalls so strongly our recollections of childhood as Astlis it was not a royal amphitheater in those days nor had Duke Roe risen to shed the light of classic taste and portable gas over the sawdust but the whole character of the place was the same the pieces were the same the clown's jokes were the same the riding masters were equally grand the comic performers equally witty the tragedians equally hoarse and the highly trained chargers equally spirited Astlis has altered for the better we have changed for the worse our histronic taste is gone and with shame we confess that we are far more delighted and amused with the audience than with the pageantry we once so highly appreciated we like to watch a regular Astlis party in the Easter or Midsummer holidays Pa and Ma and 9 or 10 children varying from 5 foot 6 to 2 foot 11 from 14 years of age to 4 we've just taken a seat in one of the boxes in the centre of the house the other night we were not occupied by just such a party as we should have attempted to describe had we depicted our bow ideal of a group of Astlis visitors first of all there came 3 little boys and a little girl who in pursuance of Pa's directions issued in a very audible voice from the box door occupied the front row then 2 more little girls were ushered in by a young lady evidently the governess 3 more little boys dressed like the first in blue jackets and trousers with lay down shirt collars then a child in a braided frock and high state of astonishment with very large round eyes opened to their utmost width was lifted over the seats a process which occasioned a considerable display of little pink legs then came Ma and Pa and then the eldest son a boy of 14 years old came to look as if he did not belong to the family the first 5 minutes were occupied in taking the shawls off the little girls and adjusting the bows which ornamented their hair then it was providentially discovered that one of the little boys was seated behind a pillar and could not see so the governess was stuck behind the pillar and the boy lifted into her place then Pa drew the boys and directed the stone away from their pocket handkerchiefs and Ma having first nodded and winked to the governess to pull the girls frocks a little more off their shoulders stood up to review the little troop an inspection which appeared to terminate much to her own satisfaction for she looked with a complacent ear at Pa who was standing up at the further end of the seat Pa returned the glance and blew his nose very emphatically and the poor governess peeped out from behind the pillar and timidly tried to catch Ma's eye with a look expressive of her high admiration of the whole family then two of the little boys who had been discussing the point whether Astles was more than twice as large as Drury Lane agreed to refer it to George for his decision at which George who was no other than the young gentleman before noticed waxed indignant and remonstrated in no very gentle terms and the gross impropriety of having his name repeated in so loud a voice at a public place on which all the children laughed very heartily and one of the little boys wound up by expressing his opinion that George began to think himself quite a man now were upon both Pa and Ma laugh too and George who carried a dress cane and was cultivating whiskers muttered that William always was voiced in his impertinence and assumed a look of profound contempt which lasted the whole evening the play began and the interest of the little boys knew no bounds Pa was clearly interested too although he very unsuccessfully endeavored to look as if he wasn't as for Ma she was perfectly overcome by the drollery of the principal comedian and laughed till every one of the immense bows on her ample cap trembled at which the governess peaked out from behind the pillar again and whenever she could catch Ma's eye put her handkerchief to her mouth and appeared as in duty bound to be in convulsions of laughter also then when the man in the splendid armour vowed to rescue the lady or perish in the attempt the little boys applauded vehemently especially one little fellow who was apparently on a visit to the family and had been carrying on a child's flotation the whole evening with a small caquette of 12 years old who looked like a model of her mama on a reduced scale and who in common with other little girls who generally speaking have even more caquettishness about them than much older ones looked very properly shocked when the knight's choir kissed the princess' confidential chambermaid when the scenes in the circle commenced the children were more delighted than ever and they wished to see what was going forward completely conquering Pa's dignity he stood up in the box and applauded as loudly as any of them between each feat of horsemanship the governess leaned across to Ma and retell the clever remarks of the children on that which had preceded and Ma in the openness of her heart offered the governess an assiduated drop and the governess gratified to be taken notice of retired behind her pillow again with a brighter countenance and the whole party seemed quite happy except the exquisite in the back of the box who, being too grand to take any interest in the children and too insignificant to be taken notice of by anybody else occupied himself from time to time in rubbing the place where the whiskers ought to be and was completely alone in his glory Would you fire anyone who has been to Astley's two or three times and is consequently capable of appreciating the perseverance with which precisely the same jokes are repeated night after night and season after season not to be amused with one part of the performances at least we mean the scenes in the circle for us off we know that when the hoop composed of jets of gas is let down the curtain drawn up for the convenience of the half price on their ejectment from the ring the orange peel cleared away and the sword are shaken with mathematical precision into a complete circle we feel as much enlivened as the youngest child present and actually joining the laugh which follows the clown's shrill shout of here we are just for old acquaintance's sake nor can we quite divest ourselves of their old feeling of reverence for the riding master who follows the clown with a long whip in his hand and bows to the audience with graceful dignity is none of your second rate riding masters in men keen dressing gowns with brown frogs but the regular gentleman attendant on the principal riders who always wears a military uniform with a tablecloth inside the breast of the coat in which costume he forcibly reminds one of a foul trust for the roasting he is but why should we attempt to describe that of which no description can convey an adequate idea everybody knows the man and everybody remembers his polished boots his graceful demeanor stiff as some misjudging persons have in their jealousy considered it and the splendid head of black hair parted high on the forehead to impart to the countenance an appearance of deep thought and poetic melancholy his soft and pleasing voice too is in perfect unison with his noble bearing as he humours the clown indulging in a little bad inage and the striking recollection of his own dignity with which he exclaims now sir if you please inquire for miss Woolford sir can never be forgotten the graceful heir too with which he introduces miss Woolford into the arena and after assisting her to the saddle follows her fairy course around the circle can never fail to create a deep impression in the bosom of every female servant present when miss Woolford and the horse and the orchestra all stop together to take a breath he only takes part in some dialogues the following commenced by the clown I say sir well sir it's always conducted in the politest manner did you ever happen to hear I was in the army sir no sir oh yes sir I can go through my exercise sir indeed sir shall I do it now sir if you please sir come sir make haste a cup with a long whip and ha done now I don't like it from the clown here the clown shows himself on the ground and goes through a variety of gymnastic convulsions doubling himself up and untieing himself again and making himself look very like a man in the most hopeless extreme of human agony to the vociferous delight of the gallery until he is interrupted by a second cup from the long whip and a request to see what miss Woolford's stopping for on which to the inexpressible mirth of the gallery he exclaims now miss Woolford what can I come for to go for to fetch, for to bring for to carry, for to do for you ma'am on the ladies announcing with a sweet smile that she wants the two flags they are with sundry grimaces procured and handed up the clown facetiously observing after the performance of the letter ceremony he he oh I say sir miss Woolford knows me she smiled at me another cup from the whip a burst from the orchestra a start from the horse and ma'am goes miss Woolford again on her graceful performance to the delight of every member of the audience young or old the next pause affolds an opportunity for similar witticisms the only additional fun being that of the clown making ludicrous grimaces at the writing master every time his back is turned and finally quitting the circle by jumping over his head having previously directed his attention another way did any of our readers ever notice the class of people who hang about the stage doors of our minor theatres in the daytime you'll really pass one of these entrances without seeing a group of three or four men conversing on the pavement with an indescribable public house parlour swagger and a kind of conscious air peculiar to people of this description they always seem to think they are exhibiting the lamps are ever before them that young fellow in the faded brown coat and very full light green trousers pulls down the wristbands of his checked shirt as ostentatiously as if it were of the finest linen and cocks the white hat of the summer before last as knowingly over his right eye as if it were a purchase of yesterday look at the dirty white burling gloves and the cheap silk handkerchief stuck in the bosom of his sweatbare coat is it possible to see him for an instant and not come to the conclusion that he is the walking gentleman who wears a blue shirt out and white trousers for half an hour and then shrinks into his worn out scanty clothes who has to boast night after night of his splendid fortune with the painful consciousness of a pound a week and his boots to find to talk of his father's mansion in the country with a dreary recollection of his own two pair back in the new cut and to be envied and flattered as the favoured lover of a rich heiress remembering all the while that the extantre at home is in the family way and out of an engagement next to him perhaps you will see a thin power man with a very long face in a suit of shining black thoughtfully knocking that part of his boot which once had a heel with an ash stick he is the man who does the heavy business such as prosy fathers virtuous servants curates, landlords and so forth by the way talking of fathers we should very much like to see some peace by which all the dramatic person I were orphans fathers are invariably great nuisances on the stage and always have to give the hero or heroine a long explanation of what was done before the curtain rose usually commencing with it is now 19 years my dear child since your blessed mother hear the old welling's voice-folders confided you to my charge you were then an infant and so on and so on or else they have to discover all of a sudden that somebody whom they have been in constant communication with during three long acts without the slightest suspicion is their own child in which case they exclaim ah what do I see this bracelet, that smile these documents, those eyes can I believe my senses it must be yes it is it is my child my father exclaims a child and they fall into each other's arms and look over each other's shoulders and the audience give three rounds of applause to return from this digression we are about to say that these are the sort of people whom you see talking and attitudinizing outside the stage doors of our minor theatres in Laszles they are always more numerous than at any other place there is generally a groom or two sitting on the windowsill and two or three dirty shabby gentile men in chapped neck chiefs and silo linen lounging about and carrying perhaps under one arm a pair of stage shoes badly wrapped up in a piece of old newspaper some years ago we used to stand looking open mouths at these men with mysterious curiosity the very recollection of which provokes a smile at the moment we are writing we could not believe that the beings of light and elegance in milk white tunics salmon coloured legs and blue scarfs who flitted on sleek cream coloured horses before a rise at night with all the aid of lights, music and artificial flowers could be the peril dissipated looking creatures we behold by day we can hardly believe it now of the lower classes of actors we have seen something and it requires no great exercise of imagination to identify the walking gentleman with the dirty swell the comic singer with the public house chairman or the leading Truddean with drunkenness and distress but these are the men who are mysterious beings never seen out of the ring never beheld but in the costume of gods with the exception of the crow who can scarcely be classed among them whoever knew a rider at Astley's or saw him but on horseback can our friend in the military uniform ever appear in said bear attire or descend to the comparatively unwodded costume of everyday life impossible we cannot, we will not believe it end of chapter 11 of scenes from sketches by Boz chapter 12 of scenes from sketches by Boz this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Philippa sketches by Boz, by Charles Dickens illustrations by George Cruickshank chapter 12 of scenes Greenwich Fair if the parks be the lungs of London we wonder what Greenwich Fair is a periodical breaking out we suppose a sort of spring rash a three days fever which cools the blood for six months afterwards and at the expiration of which London is restored to its old habits of plodding industry as suddenly and completely as if nothing had ever happened to disturb them in our earlier days we were a constant frequenter of Greenwich Fair for years we needed to and returned from it in almost every description of vehicle we cannot conscientiously deny the charge of having once made the passage in a spring van accompanied by thirteen gentlemen fourteen ladies an unlimited number of children and a barrel of beer and we have a vague recollection of having in later days found ourselves the eighth outside on the top of a Hackney coach at something past four o'clock in the morning in our own name or place of residence we have grown older since then and quiet and steady liking nothing better than to spend our Easter and all our other holidays in some quiet nook with people of whom we shall never tire but we think we still remember something of Greenwich Fair and of those who resort to it at all events we will try the road to Greenwich during the whole of Easter Monday is in a state of perpetual bustle and noise cabs, Hackney coaches shay carts coal wagons, stages, omnibuses sociables, gigs, donkey shazes all crammed with people for the question never is what the horse can draw but what the vehicle will hold roll along at their utmost speed the dust flies in clouds ginger beer corks go off in volleys the balcony of every public house is crowded with people smoking and drinking houses are turned into tea shops fiddles are in great request every little fruit shop displays at stall of gilt gingerbread and penny toys turnpike men are in despair horses won't go on and wheels will come off ladies in carowans scream with fright at every fresh concussion and their admirers find it necessary to sit remarkably close to them by way of encouragement servants of all work who are not allowed to have followers and have got a holiday for the day make the most of their time with the faithful admirer who waits for a stolen interview at the corner of the street every night when they go to fetch the beer apprentices grow sentimental and straw-bonnet makers kind everybody is anxious to get on and actuated by the common wish to be at the fair or in the park as soon as possible pedestrians linger in groups at the roadside unable to resist the allurements without proprietress of the jack-in-the-box three shy as a penny all the more splendid offers of the man with three thimbles and a pea on a little round board who astonishes the bewildered crowd with some such address as ears that sort of gait to make you laugh seven years after you're dead and turn every air on your head grave of delight three thimbles and one little pea with a front loo three and a freight loo catch them who can look on keep your eyes open and never so die there and above board them as don't play, can't win and luck attend the royal sportsman but any gentleman, any summer money from half a crown up to a summer inn as he doesn't know the thimble as covers the pea here some greenhorn whispers his friend that he distinctly saw the pea roll under the middle thimble an impression which is immediately confirmed by a gentleman in top boots who is standing by and who in a low tone regrets his own inability to bet in consequence of having left his purse at home but he strongly urges the stranger not to neglect such a golden opportunity the plant is successful the bet is made and the stranger of course loses and the gentleman with the thimbles consoles him as he pockets the money with an assurance that it's all a fault in a war this time I win, next time you win never mind the loss of two bob and a bender do it up in a small parcel and break it out in a fresh place here's the sort of game etc and the eloquent harangue with such variations as the speaker's exuberant fancy suggest is again repeated as a gaping crowd reinforced by the accession of several newcomers the chief place of resort in the daytime after the public houses is the park in which the principal amusement is to drag young ladies up the steep hill which leads to the observatory and then drag them down again at the very top of their speed greatly to the derangement of their curls and bonnet caps and much the edification of look-as-on from below kiss in the ring and threatening my grandmother's needle too are sports which receive their full share of patronage love-sick swains under the influence of gin and water and the tender passion become violently affectionate and the fair objects of their regard enhance the value of stolen kisses by a vast deal of struggling and holding down of heads and cries of oh how damned then George oh do tickle him for me Mary well I never and similar Lucretian ejaculations little old men and women with a small basket under one arm and a wine-glass without a foot in the other hand tender a drop of the right sort to the different groups and young ladies who are persuaded to indulge in the drop of the aforesaid right sort display a pleasing degree of reluctance to taste it and laugh afterwards with great propriety the old pensioners who for the moderate charge of a penny exhibit the mast house the Thames and shipping the place where the men used to hang in chains and other interesting sites through a telescope are asked questions about objects within the range of the glass which it would puzzle a Solomon to answer and requested to find out particular houses in particular streets which it would have been a task of some difficulty for Mr. Horner the young gentleman who age mince pies with his thumb but the man of Coliseum notoriety to discover here and there where some three or four couple are sitting on the grass together you'll see a sunburnt woman in a red cloak telling fortunes and prophesying husbands which it requires no extraordinary observation to describe for the originals are before her thereupon the lady concerned laughs and blushes and ultimately buries her face and cambrick handkerchief and the gentleman described looks extremely foolish and squeezes her hand and feeds the gypsy liberally and the gypsy goes away perfectly satisfied herself and leaving those behind her perfectly satisfied also and the prophecy, like many other prophecies of greater importance fulfills itself in time but it grows dark the crowd is gradually dispersed and only a few stragglers are left behind the light in the direction of the church shows that the fair is illuminated and the distant noise proves it to be filling fast the spot which half an hour ago was ringing with the shouts of boisterous mirth is as calm and quiet as if nothing could ever disturb its serenity the fine old trees the majestic building at their feet with the noble river beyond glistening in the moonlight appear in all their beauty and under their most favourable aspect the ladies of the boys singing their evening hymn are born gently on the air and the humblest mechanic who has been lingering on the grass so pleasant to the feet that beat the same dull round from week to week in the paved streets of London feels proud to think as he surveys the scene before him that he belongs to the country which has selected such a spot as a retreat for its oldest and best defenders in the decline of their lives five minutes walking brings you to the fair a scene calculated to awaken very different feelings the entrance is occupied on either side by the vendors of gingerbread and toys the stalls are gaily lighted up the most attractive goods profusely disposed and unbonneted young ladies in their zeal for the interest of their employers sees you by the coat and use all the blandishments of do dear is a love don't be cross now etc to induce you to purchase half a pound of the real spice nuts of which the majority of the regular fair go as carry a pound or two as a present supply tied up in a cotton pocket handkerchief occasionally you pass a deal table on which are exposed penists of pickle salmon fennel included in little white sources oysters with shells as large as cheese plates and diverse specimens of a species of snails Wilkes we think they are called floating and a somewhat gillious looking green liquid cigars too are in great demand gentlemen must smoke of course and here they are to a penny in a regular authentic cigar box with a lighted tallow candle in the centre imagine yourself in an extremely dense crowd which swings you to and fro and in and out and every way but the right one add to this the screams of women the shouts of boys the clanging of gongs the bearing of pistols the ringing of bells the bellowings of speaking trumpets the squeaking of penny dittos the noise of a dozen bands with three drums in each all playing different tunes at the same time the hallowing of showmen and an occasional roar from the wild beast shows and you are in the very centre and heart of the fair this immense booth with the large stage in front so brightly illuminated with variegated lamps and pots of burning fat is Richardson's where you have a melodrama with three murders and a ghost a pantomime, a comic song an overture and some incidental music all done in five and twenty minutes the company and our promenading outside in all the dignity of wigs, spangles red ochre and whitening see with what a ferocious air the gentleman who personates the Mexican chief paces up and down and with what an eye of calm dignity the principal tragedian gazes on the crowd below or converses confidentially with the harlequin the four clowns who are engaged in a mock broadsword combat may be all very well for the low-minded holiday makers but these are the people for the reflective portion of the community they look so noble in those roman dresses with their yellow legs and arms long black curly heads bushy eyebrows and scowl expressive of assassination and vengeance and everything else that is grand and solemn then the ladies were there ever such innocent and awful looking beings as they walk up and down the platform in twos and threes with their arms round each other's wastes or leaning for support on one of those majestic men their spangled muslin dresses and blue satin shoes and sandals a little the worse for wear are the admiration of all beholders and the playful manner in which they check the advances of the clown is perfectly enchanting just a going to begin pray come forward, come forward exclaims the man in the countryman's dress for the 70th time and people force their way up the steps in crowds the band suddenly strikes up the harlequin and columbine set the example reels are formed in less than no time the roman heroes place their arms a kimbo and dance with considerable agility and the leading tragic actress and the gentleman who enacts the swell in the pantomime foot it to perfection all in to begin shouts the manager when no more people can be induced to come forward and away rush the leading members of the company to do the dreadful in the first piece a change of performance takes place every day during the fair but the story of the tragedy is always pretty much the same there is a rightful heir who loves a young lady and is beloved by her and a wrongful heir who loves her too and isn't beloved by her and the wrongful heir gets hold of the rightful heir and throws him into a dungeon just to kill him off when convenient for which purpose he hires a couple of assassins a good one and a bad one who the moment they are left alone in their own account the good one killing the bad one and the bad one wounding the good one then the rightful heir is discovered in prison carefully holding a long chain in his hands and seated despondently in a large armchair and the young lady comes in to two bars of soft music and embraces the rightful heir and then the wrongful heir comes in to two bars of quick music technically called a hurry and goes on in the most shocking manner throwing the young lady about as if she was nobody the wrongful heir a re-cre-enter-rich in a very loud voice which answers the double purpose of displaying his passion and preventing the sound being deadened by the sawdust the interest becomes intense the wrongful heir draws his sword and rushes on the rightful heir a blue smoke is seen a gong is heard and a tall white figure who has been all this time behind the armchair covered over with a tablecloth and rises to the tune of oft in the stilly night this is no other than the ghost of the rightful heir's father who was killed by the wrongful heir's father at sight of which the wrongful heir becomes apoplectic and is literally struck all over heap the stage not being large enough to admit of his falling down at full length then the good assassin staggers in and says he was hired in conjunction with the bad assassin by the wrongful heir to kill the rightful heir and he's killed a good many people in his time but he's very sorry for it and won't do so any more a promise which he immediately redeems by dying offhand without any nonsense about it then the rightful heir throws down his chain and then two men a sailor and a young woman the tenancy of the rightful heir come in and the ghost makes dumb motions to them which they by supernatural interference understand for no one else can and the ghost who can't do anything without blue fire blesses the rightful heir and the young lady by half suffocating them with smoke and then a muffin bell rings and the curtain drops the exhibitions next in popularity to these itinerant theatres are the travelling menageries or to speak more intelligibly the wild beast shows where a military band in beef eaters costume with leopard skin caps play incessantly and where large highly coloured representations of tigers and a lion's heads open and a lion being burnt with red hot irons to induce him to drop his victim are hung up outside by way of attracting visitors the principal officer at these places is generally a very tall horse man in a scarlet coat with a cane in his hand with which he occasionally wraps the pictures we have just noticed by way of illustrating his description something in this way the lion tap exactly as he is represented on the canvas outside three taps no weight in remember no deception the ferocious lion tap tap who bit off the gentleman's head last camber valve was a 12 month and has killed on the average three keepers a year ever since he arrived at maturity no extra charge on this account recollect the price of admission is only sixpence this address never fails to produce a considerable sensation and sixpences flow into the treasury with wonderful rapidity the dwarfs are also objects of great curiosity and as a dwarf a giantess a living skeleton a wild Indian a young lady of singular beauty with perfectly white hair and pink eyes and two or three other natural curiosities are usually exhibited together for the small charge of a penny they attract very numerous audiences the best thing about a dwarf is that he has always a little box about two feet six inches high into which by long practice he can just manage to get by doubling himself up like a boot jack this box is painted outside like a six roomed house and as the crowd see him ring a bell or fire a pistol out of the first floor window they very well believe that it is his ordinary town residence divided like other mansions into drawing rooms dining parlour and bed chambers shut up in this case the unfortunate little object is brought out to delight the throng by holding a facetious dialogue with the proprietor in the course of which the dwarf, who is always particularly drunk pledges himself to sing a comic song inside and plays various compliments to the ladies which induce them to come forward with great alacrity as a giant that is not so easily moved a pair of indescribables of most capacious dimensions and a huge shoe are usually brought out into which two or three stout men get all at once to the enthusiastic delight of the crowd who are quite satisfied with the solemn assurance that these habiliments form part of the giants everyday costume the grandest and most numerously frequented booze in the whole fair however is the crowned anchor a temporary ballroom we forget how many hundred feet long the price of admission to which is one shilling immediately on your right hand as you enter after paying your money is a refreshment place at which cold beef roast and boiled, french rolls stout, wine, tongue, ham even fouls if we recollect right are displayed in tempting array there is a raised orchestra and the place is boarded all the way down in patches just wide enough for a country dance there is no master of the ceremonies in this artificial Eden all is primitive, unreserved and unstudied the dust is blinding the heat insupportable the company somewhat noisy and in the highest spirits possible the ladies in the height of their innocent animation dancing in the gentleman's hats and the gentleman promenading the gay and festive scene in the ladies bonnets or with the more expensive ornaments of false noses and low crowned tinderbox looking hats playing children's drums and accompanied by ladies on the penny trumpet the noise of these various instruments the orchestra, the shouting the scratches and the dancing is perfectly bewildering the dancing itself beggars description every figure lasts about an hour and the ladies bounce up and down the middle with a degree of spirit which is quite indescribable as to the gentleman they stamp their feet against the ground every time hands fall round begins go down the middle and up again with scars in their mouths and silk handkerchiefs in their hands and whirl their partners round, nothing loath scrambling and falling and embracing and knocking up against the other couples until they are fairly tired out and can move no longer the same scene is repeated again and again slightly varied by an occasional row until a late hour at night and a great many clerks and parenthesis find themselves next morning with aching heads empty pockets damaged hats and a very imperfect recollection of how it was they did not get home End of Chapter 12 of Scenes from Sketches by Boz Chapter 13 of Scenes from Sketches by Boz This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Philippa Sketches by Boz by Charles Dickens Illustrations by George Cruickshank Scenes Chapter 13 Private Theatres Richard III Duke of Gloucester, £2 Earl of Richmond, £1 Duke of Buckingham, £15 Katesby, £12 10 shillings and sixpence Lord Stanley, £5 Lord Merrow of London, £2 Such are the written placards wafed up in the gentlemen's dressing room or the green room where there is any at a private theatre and such are the sums extracted from the shop till or overcharged in the office expenditure by the donkeys who are prevailed upon to pay for permission to exhibit their lamentable ignorance and boobiesm on the stage of a private theatre. This they do in proportion to the scope afforded by the character for the display of their imbecility. For instance, the Duke of Gloucester is well worth £2 because he has it all to himself. He must wear a real sword and what is better still he must draw it several times in the course of the piece. The soliloquies alone are well worth fifteen shillings. Then there is the stabbing King Henry which is incredibly cheap at three and sixpence that's eighteen and sixpence bullying the coffin bearers say eighteen pence, though it's worth much more, that's a pound. Then the love scene with Lady Anne and the bustle of the fourth act can't be dear at ten shillings more that's only £1 ten including the off with his head which is sure to bring down the applause and it is very easy to do off with his head very quick and loud and sneeringly so much for barking. Lay the emphasis on the uck get yourself gradually into a corner and work with your right hand while you're saying it as if you're feeling your way and it's sure to do. The tense scene is confesitly worth half a sovereign and so you have the fight in gratis and everybody knows what an effect may be produced by good combat one two three four over then three four under then thrust then dodge and slide about then fall down on one knee then fight upon it then get up again and stagger. You may keep on doing this as long as it seems to take say ten minutes and then fall down backwards if you can manage it without hurting yourself and die game nothing like it for producing an effect. They always do it at Astley's and Saddler's Wells and if they don't know how to do this sort of thing who in the world does? A small child or a female in white increases the interest of a combat materially indeed we are not aware that a regular legitimate terrific broadsword combat could be done without but it would be rather difficult and somewhat unusual to introduce this effect in the last scene of Richard's Third so the only thing to be done is just to make the best of a bad bargain and be as long as possible fighting it out. The principal patrons of private theaters are dirty boys, low copying clerks and attorney's officers capacious headed youths from city counting houses Jews whose business as lenders of fancy dresses is a sure passport to the amateur stage, shop boys who now then mistake their master's money for their own, and a choice miscellany of idle vagabonds. The proprietor of a private theater may be an ex-scene painter, a low coffee housekeeper, a disappointed 8th rate actor, a retired smuggler or uncertificated bankrupt. The theater itself may be in Catherine Street, Strand, the Perleuse of the city the neighborhood of Grey's Inn Lane or the vicinity of Sadler's Wells or it may perhaps form the chief nuisance of some shabby street on the sorry side of Waterloo Bridge. The lady performers pay nothing for their characters and it is needless to add are usually selected from one class of society. The audiences are necessarily of much the same character as the performers who receive in return for their contributions to the management tickets to the amount of the money they pay. All the minor theaters in London especially the lowest constitute the centre of a little stage-struck neighbourhood. Each of them has an audience exclusively its own and at any you will see dropping into the pit at half price or swaggering into the back of a box if the price of admission be a reduced one. Diverse boys of from fifteen to twenty-one years of age who throw back their coat and turn up their wristbands after the portraits of Count Dorsey, hum tunes and whistle when the curtain is down by way of persuading the people near them that they are not at all anxious to have it up again and speak familiarly of the inferior performers as Bill such one and Ned so and so or tell each other how a new piece called the Unknown Bandit of the Invisible Cavern is now in rehearsal. How Mr Palmer is to play the Unknown Bandit, how Charlie Scarton is to take the part of an English sailor and fight a broadsword combat with six unknown bandits at one and the same time, one theatrical sailor is always equal to half a dozen men at least. How Mr Palmer and Charlie Scarton are to go through a double hornpipe in fetters in the second act, how the interior of the Invisible Cavern must occupy the whole extent of the stage and other town-surprising theatrical announcements. These gentlemen are the amateurs, the richards, shylocks, bevelies and athelos, the young dauntons, rovers, captain absolutes and Charles surfaces, a private theatre. See them at the neighbouring public house or the theatrical coffee shop. They are the kings of the place supposing no real performers will be present and roll about hats on one side and arms a kimbo as if they had actually come into possession of eighteen shillings a week and a share of a ticket night. If one of them does but know an Astley's super-numerary, he is a happy fellow. The mingled air of envy and admiration with which his companions will regard him as he converses familiarly with some mouldy-looking man in a fancy neckerchief whose partially corked eyebrows and his face testify to the fact of his having just left the stage or the circle sufficiently shows in what high admiration these public characters are held. With the double view of guarding against the discovery of friends or employers and enhancing the interest of an assumed character by attaching a high-sounding name to its representative, these geniuses assume fictitious names which are not the least amusing part of the playbill character. Belleville, Melville, Treville, Barclay, Randolph, Byron, Sinclair, and so forth are among the humblest and the less imposing titles of Jenkins, Walker, Thompson, Barker, Solomons, etc. are completely laid aside. There is something imposing in this and it is an excellent apology for shabbiness into the bargain. A shrunken faded coat, a decayed hat, a patched and soiled pair of trousers, nay even a very dirty shirt, and none of these appearances are very uncommon among the members of the core dramatique, may be worn for the purpose of disguise and to prevent the remotest chance of recognition. Then it prevents any troublesome inquiries or explanations about employment and pursuits. Everybody is a gentleman at large for the occasion, and there are none of those unpleasant and unnecessary distinctions to which even genius must occasionally succumb elsewhere. As to the ladies, God bless them, they are quite above any formal absurdities. The mere circumstance of your being behind the scenes is a sufficient introduction to their society, for of course they know that none but strictly respectable persons would be admitted into that close fellowship with them which acting engenders. They place implicit reliance on the manager, no doubt, and as to the manager, he is all affability when he knows you well, or, in other words, when he has pocketed your money once, and entertains confident hopes of doing so again. A quarter before eight, there will be a full house tonight, six parties in the boxes already, four little boys and a woman in the pit, and two fiddles and a flute in the orchestra, who have got through five overtures since seven o'clock, the hour fixed for the commencement of the performances, and have just begun the sixth. There will be plenty of it though when it does begin, for there is enough in the bill to last six hours at least. That gentleman in the white hat and checked shirt, brown coat and brass buttons lounging behind the stage box on the OP side is Mr. Horatio St. Julian, alias Jim Larkins. His line is gentile comedy, his father's coal and potato. He does Alfred Highflyer in the last piece, and very well he'll do it, at the prize. The party of gentlemen in the opposite box to whom he has just nodded are friends and supporters of Mr. Beverly, otherwise Larkins, the Macbeth of the night. You observe their attempts to appear easy and gentlemanly, each member of the party with his feet cocked upon the cushion in front of the box. They let them do these things here upon the same humane principle which permits poor people's children to knock at the door of an empty house because they can't do it anywhere else. The two stout men in the centre box, with an opera glass ostentatiously placed before them, are friends of the proprietor. Opulent country managers, as he confidentially informs every individual among the crew behind the curtain, opulent country managers looking out for recruits, a representation which Mr. Nathan, the dresser who is in the manager's interest and has just arrived with the costumes, offers to confirm upon oath if required. Corroborative evidence, however, is quite unnecessary for the girls believe it at once. The stout duess who has just entered is the mother of the pale, bony little girl with the necklace of blue-glass beads sitting by her. She is being brought up to the profession. Pantom I must be her line and she is coming out tonight in a hornpipe after the tragedy. The short, thin man beside Mr. St. Julian, whose white face is so deeply seared with smallpox and whose dirty shirt front is inlaid with open work and embossed with coral studs like ladybirds, is the low comedian and comic singer of the establishment. The remainder of the audience, a tolerably numerous one by this time, are a motley group of dupes and blaggers. The footlights have just made their appearance, the wicks of the six little oil lamps round the only tier of boxes are being turned up and the additional light thus afforded serves to show the presence of dirt and absence of paint which forms a prominent feature in the audience part of the house. As these preparations however announce the speedy commencement of the play, let us take a peek behind previous to the ringing up. The little narrow passages beneath the stage are neither especially clean nor too brilliantly lighted, and the absence of any flooring, together with the damp, mildewy smell which pervades the place, does not conduce in any great degree to their comfortable appearance. Don't fall over this plate basket, it's one of the properties, the cauldron for the witches cave, and the three uncouth-looking figures with broken clothes-props in their hands who are drinking gin and water out of a pint-pot are the weird sisters. This miserable room lighted by candles in sconces placed at length and intervals around the room is the dressing-room, common to the gentleman-performers, and the square hole in the ceiling is the trap-door of the stage above. You will observe that the ceiling is ornamented with the beams that support the boards and tastefully hung with cobwebs. The characters in the tragedy are all dressed, and their own clothes are scattered in hurried confusion over the wooden dresser which surrounds the room. That snuff-shop-looking figure in front of the glass is Banquo, and the young lady with the liberal display of legs who is kindly painting his face with the hare's foot is dressed for fleance. The large woman who is consulting the stage-directions in Cumberland's edition of Macbeth is the Lady Macbeth of the night. She is always selected to play the part because she is tall and stout and looks a little like Mrs. Siddons at a considerable distance. That stupid-looking milk-sob with light hair and bow-legs, a kind of man whom you can warrant town-made, is fresh court. He plays Malcolm tonight, just to accustom himself to an audience. He will get on better by degrees, he will play Othello in a month, and in a month more will very probably be apprehended on a charge of embezzlement. The black-eyed female with whom he is talking so earnestly is dressed for the gentlewoman. It is her first appearance, too, in that character. The boy of 14 who is having his eyebrows smeared with soap and whitening is Duncan, King of Scotland, and the two dirty men with the corked countenances in very old green tunics and dirty drab boots are the army. Look sharp below there, gents, exclaims the dresser, a red-headed and red-whiskered Jew calling through the trap. There are going to ring up. The flute says he will be blowed if he plays any more, and they are getting precious noisy in front. A general rush immediately takes place to the half-dozen little steep steps leading to the stage, and the heterogeneous group are soon assembled at the side scenes in breathless anxiety and motley confusion. Now, cries the manager, consulting the written list which hangs behind the first pierce-wing, scene one, open country, lamps down, thunder and lightning. Already white. This is addressed to one of the army. Already. Very well, scene two, front chamber. Is the front chamber down? Yes, very well. Jones to the other army who is up in the flies. Hello? Wind up the open country when we ring up. I'll take care. Scene three, back perspective with practical bridge. Bridge ready white? Got the trestles there? All right. Very well. Clear the stage, cries the manager, hastily packing every member of the company into the little space there is between the wings and the wall, and one wing and another. Places, places. Now, then, witches, Duncan, Malcolm, bleeding officer. Where's the bleeding officer? He replies the officer who has been rose-pinking for the character. Get ready, then. Now, white, ring the second music bell. The actors who are to be discovered are hastily arranged, and the actors who are not to be discovered place themselves in their anxiety to peep at the house just where the audience can see them. The bell rings, and the orchestra in acknowledgement of the call play three distinct chords. The bell rings, and tragedy opens and our description closes. End of Chapter 13 of Scenes from Sketches by Boss.