588 lines
32 KiB
Plaintext
588 lines
32 KiB
Plaintext
1819-20
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THE SKETCH BOOK
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LITTLE BRITAIN
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by Washington Irving
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What I write is most true * * * * I have a whole booke of
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cases lying by me which if I should sette foorth, some grave
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auntients (within the hearing of Bow bell) would be out of
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charity with me.
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NASHE.
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IN THE centre of the great city of London lies a small neighborhood,
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consisting of a cluster of narrow streets and courts, of very
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venerable and debilitated houses, which goes by the name of LITTLE
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BRITAIN. Christ Church School and St. Bartholomew's Hospital bound
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it on the west; Smithfield and Long Lane on the north; Aldersgate
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Street, like an arm of the sea, divides it from the eastern part of
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the city; whilst the yawning gulf of Bull-and-Mouth Street separates
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it from Butcher Lane, and the regions of Newgate. Over this little
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territory, thus bounded and designated, the great dome of St.
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Paul's, swelling above the intervening houses of Paternoster Row, Amen
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Corner, and Ave Maria Lane, looks down with an air of motherly
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protection.
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This quarter derives its appellation from having been, in ancient
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times, the residence of the Dukes of Brittany. As London increased,
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however, rank and fashion rolled off to the west, and trade creeping
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on at their heels, took possession of their deserted abodes. For
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some time Little Britain became the great mart of learning, and was
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peopled by the busy and prolific race of booksellers; these also
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gradually deserted it, and, emigrating beyond the great strait of
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Newgate Street, settled down in Paternoster Row and St. Paul's
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Church-Yard, where they continue to increase and multiply even at
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the present day.
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But though thus fallen into decline, Little Britain still bears
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traces of its former splendor. There are several houses ready to
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tumble down, the fronts of which are magnificently enriched with old
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oaken carvings of hideous faces, unknown birds, beasts, and fishes:
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and fruits and flowers which it would perplex a naturalist to
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classify. There are also, in Aldersgate Street, certain remains of
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what were once spacious and lordly family mansions, but which have
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in latter days been subdivided into several tenements. Here may
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often be found the family of a petty tradesman, with its trumpery
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furniture, burrowing among the relics of antiquated finery, in great
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rambling time-stained apartments, with fretted ceilings, gilded
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cornices, and enormous marble fireplaces. The lanes and courts also
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contain many smaller houses, not on so grand a scale, but, like your
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small ancient gentry, sturdily maintaining their claims to equal
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antiquity. These have their gable ends to the street; great bow
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windows, with diamond panes set in lead, grotesque carvings, and
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low-arched doorways.*
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* It is evident that the author of this interesting communication
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has included, in his general title of Little Britain, many of those
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little lanes and courts that belong immediately to Cloth Fair.
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In this most venerable and sheltered little nest have I passed
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several quiet years of existence, comfortably lodged in the second
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floor of one of the smallest but oldest edifices. My sitting-room is
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an old wainscoted chamber, with small panels, and set off with a
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miscellaneous array of furniture. I have a particular respect for
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three or four high-backed claw-footed chairs, covered with tarnished
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brocade, which bear the marks of having seen better days, and have
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doubtless figured in some of the old palaces of Little Britain. They
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seem to me to keep together, and to look down with sovereign
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contempt upon their leathern-bottomed neighbors; as I have seen
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decayed gentry carry a high head among the plebeian society with which
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they were reduced to associate. The whole front of my sitting-room
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is taken up with a bow window; on the panes of which are recorded
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the names of previous occupants for many generations, mingled with
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scraps of very indifferent gentleman-like poetry, written in
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characters which I can scarcely decipher, and which extol the charms
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of many a beauty of Little Britain, who has long, long since
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bloomed, faded, and passed away. As I am an idle personage, with no
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apparent occupation, and pay my bill regularly every week, I am looked
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upon as the only independent gentleman of the neighborhood; and, being
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curious to learn the internal state of a community so apparently
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shut up within itself, I have managed to work my way into all the
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concerns and secrets of the place.
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Little Britain may truly be called the heart's core of the city; the
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stronghold of true John Bullism. It is a fragment of London as it
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was in its better days, with its antiquated folks and fashions. Here
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flourish in great preservation many of the holiday games and customs
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of yore. The inhabitants most religiously eat pancakes on Shrove
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Tuesday, hot-cross-buns on Good Friday, and roast goose at Michaelmas;
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they send love-letters on Valentine's Day, burn the pope on the
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fifth of November, and kiss all the girls under the mistletoe at
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Christmas. Roast beef and plum-pudding are also held in
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superstitious veneration, and port and sherry maintain their grounds
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as the only true English wines; all others being considered vile
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outlandish beverages.
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Little Britain has its long catalogue of city wonders, which its
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inhabitants consider the wonders of the world; such as the great
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bell of St. Paul's, which sours all the beer when it tolls; the
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figures that strike the hours at St. Dunstan's clock; the Monument;
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the lions in the Tower: and the wooden giants in Guildhall. They still
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believe in dreams and fortune-telling, and an old woman that lives
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in Bull-and-Mouth Street makes a tolerable subsistence by detecting
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stolen goods, and promising the girls good husbands. They are apt to
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be rendered uncomfortable by comets and eclipses; and if a dog howls
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dolefully at night, it is looked upon as a sure sign of a death in the
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place. There are even many ghost stories current, particularly
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concerning the old mansion-houses; in several of which it is said
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strange sights are sometimes seen. Lords and ladies, the former in
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full-bottomed wigs, hanging sleeves, and swords, the latter in
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lappets, stays, hoops, and brocade, have been seen walking up and down
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the great waste chambers, on moonlight nights; and are supposed to
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be the shades of the ancient proprietors in their court-dresses.
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Little Britain has likewise its sages and great men. One of the most
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important of the former is a tall, dry old gentleman, of the name of
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Skryme, who keeps a small apothecary's shop. He has a cadaverous
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countenance, full of cavities and projections; with a brown circle
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round each eye, like a pair of horn spectacles. He is much thought
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of by the old women, who consider him as a kind of conjurer, because
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he has two or three stuffed alligators hanging up in his shop, and
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several snakes in bottles. He is a great reader of almanacs and
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newspapers, and is much given to pore over alarming accounts of plots,
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conspiracies, fires, earthquakes, and volcanic eruptions; which last
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phenomena he considers as signs of the times. He has always some
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dismal tale of the kind to deal out to his customers, with their
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doses; and thus at the same time puts both soul and body into an
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uproar. He is a great believer in omens and predictions; and has the
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prophecies of Robert Nixon and Mother Shipton by heart. No man can
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make so much out of an eclipse, or even an unusually dark day; and
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he shook the tail of the last comet over the heads of his customers
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and disciples until they were nearly frightened out of their wits.
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He has lately got hold of a popular legend or prophecy, on which he
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has been unusually eloquent. There has been a saying current among the
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ancient sibyls, who treasure up these things, that when the
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grasshopper on the top of the Exchange shook hands with the dragon
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on the top of Bow Church steeple, fearful events would take place.
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This strange conjunction, it seems, has as strangely come to pass. The
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same architect has been engaged lately on the repairs of the cupola of
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the Exchange, and the steeple of Bow Church; and, fearful to relate,
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the dragon and the grasshopper actually lie, cheek by jole, in the
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yard of his workshop.
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"Others," as Mr. Skryme is accustomed to say, "may go star-gazing,
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and look for conjunctions in the heavens, but here is a conjunction on
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the earth, near at home, and under our own eyes, which surpasses all
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the signs and calculations of astrologers." Since these portentous
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weather-cocks have thus laid their heads together, wonderful events
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had already occurred. The good old king, notwithstanding that he had
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lived eighty-two years, had all at once given up the ghost; another
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king had mounted the throne; a royal duke had died suddenly-
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another, in France, had been murdered; there had been radical meetings
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in all parts of the kingdom; the bloody scenes at Manchester; the
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great plot in Cato Street;- and, above all, the queen had returned
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to England! All these sinister events are recounted by Mr. Skryme,
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with a mysterious look, and a dismal shake of the head; and being
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taken with his drugs, and associated in the minds of his auditors with
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stuffed sea-monsters, bottled serpents, and his own visage, which is a
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title-page of tribulation, they have spread great gloom through the
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minds of the people of Little Britain. They shake their heads whenever
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they go by Bow Church, and observe, that they never expected any
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good to come of taking down that steeple, which in old times told
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nothing but glad tidings, as the history of Whittington and his Cat
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bears witness.
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The rival oracle of Little Britain is a substantial cheesemonger,
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who lives in a fragment of one of the old family mansions, and is as
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magnificently lodged as a round-bellied mite in the midst of one of
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his own Cheshires. Indeed he is a man of no little standing and
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importance; and his renown extends through Huggin Lane, and Lad
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Lane, and even unto Aldermanbury. His opinion is very much taken in
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affairs of state, having read the Sunday papers for the last half
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century, together with the Gentleman's Magazine, Rapin's History of
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England, and the Naval Chronicle. His head is stored with invaluable
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maxims which have borne the test of time and use for centuries. It
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is his firm opinion that "it is a moral impossible," so long as
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England is true to herself, that any thing can shake her: and he has
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much to say on the subject of the national debt; which, somehow or
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other, he proves to be a great national bulwark and blessing. He
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passed the greater part of his life in the purlieus of Little Britain,
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until of late years, when, having become rich, and grown into the
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dignity of a Sunday cane, he begins to take his pleasure and see the
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world. He has therefore made several excursions to Hampstead,
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Highgate, and other neighboring towns, where he has passed whole
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afternoons in looking back upon the metropolis through a telescope,
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and endeavoring to descry the steeple of St. Bartholomew's. Not a
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stage-coachman of Bull-and-Mouth Street but touches his hat as he
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passes; and he is considered quite a patron at the coach-office of the
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Goose and Gridiron, St. Paul's Churchyard. His family have been very
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urgent for him to make an expedition to Margate, but he has great
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doubts of those new gimcracks, the steamboats, and indeed thinks
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himself too advanced in life to undertake sea-voyages.
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Little Britain has occasionally its factions and divisions, and
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party spirit ran very high at one time in consequence of two rival
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"Burial Societies" being set up in the place. One held its meeting
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at the Swan and Horse Shoe, and was patronized by the cheesemonger;
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the other at the Cock and Crown, under the auspices of the apothecary:
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it is needless to say that the latter was the most flourishing. I have
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passed an evening or two at each, and have acquired much valuable
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information, as to the best mode of being buried, the comparative
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merits of church-yards, together with divers hints on the subject of
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patent-iron coffins. I have heard the question discussed in all its
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bearings as to the legality of prohibiting the latter on account of
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their durability. The feuds occasioned by these societies have happily
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died of late; but they were for a long time prevailing themes of
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controversy, the people of Little Britain being extremely solicitous
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of funereal honors and of lying comfortably in their graves.
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Besides these two funeral societies there is a third of quite a
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different cast, which tends to throw the sunshine of good-humor over
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the whole neighborhood. It meets once a week at a little old-fashioned
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house, kept by a jolly publican of the name of Wagstaff, and bearing
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for insignia a resplendent half-moon, with a most seductive bunch of
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grapes. The old edifice is covered with inscriptions to catch the
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eye of the thirsty wayfarer; such as "Truman, Hanbury, and Co.'s
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Entire," "Wine, Rum, and Brandy Vaults," "Old Tom, Rum and
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Compounds, etc." This indeed has been a temple of Bacchus and Momus
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from time immemorial. It has always been in the family of the
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Wagstaffs, so that its history is tolerably preserved by the present
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landlord. It was much frequented by the gallants and cavalieros of the
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reign of Elizabeth, and was looked into now and then by the wits of
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Charles the Second's day. But what Wagstaff principally prides himself
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upon is, that Henry the Eighth, in one of his nocturnal rambles, broke
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the head of one of his ancestors with his famous walking-staff. This
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however is considered as rather a dubious and vainglorious boast of
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the landlord.
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The club which now holds its weekly sessions here goes by the name
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of "The Roaring Lads of Little Britain." They abound in old catches,
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glees, and choice stories, that are traditional in the place, and
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not to be met with in any other part of the metropolis. There is a
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mad-cap undertaker who is inimitable at a merry song; but the life
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of the club, and indeed the prime wit of Little Britain, is bully
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Wagstaff himself. His ancestors were all wags before him, and he has
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inherited with the inn a large stock of songs and jokes, which go with
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it from generation to generation as heirlooms. He is a dapper little
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fellow, with bandy legs and pot belly, a red face, with a moist
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merry eye, and a little shock of gray hair behind. At the opening of
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every club night he is called in to sing his "Confession of Faith,"
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which is the famous old drinking trowl from Gammer Gurton's Needle. He
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sings it, to be sure, with many variations, as he received it from his
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father's lips; for it has been a standing favorite at the Half-Moon
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and Bunch of Grapes ever since it was written: nay, he affirms that
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his predecessors have often had the honor of singing it before the
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nobility and gentry at Christmas mummeries, when Little Britain was in
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all its glory.*
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* As mine host of the Half-Moon's Confession of Faith may not be
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familiar to the majority of readers, and as it is a specimen of the
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current songs of Little Britain, I subjoin it in its original
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orthography. I would observe, that the whole club always join in the
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chorus with a fearful thumping on the table and clattering of pewter
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pots.
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I cannot eate but lytle meate,
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My stomacke is not good,
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But sure I thinke that I can drinke
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With him that weares a hood.
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Though I go bare, take ye no care,
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I nothing am a colde,
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I stuff my skyn so full within,
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Of joly good ale and olde.
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Chorus. Backe and syde go bare, go bare,
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Booth foote and hand go colde,
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But belly, God send thee good ale ynoughe
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Whether it be new or olde.
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I have no rost, but a nut brawne toste,
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And a crab laid in the fyre;
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A little breade shall do me steade,
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Much breade I not desyre.
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No frost nor snow, nor winde, I trowe,
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Can hurte mee, if I wolde,
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I am so wrapt and throwly lapt
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Of joly good ale and olde.
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Chorus. Backe and syde go bare, go bare, etc.
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And Tyb my wife, that, as her lyfe,
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Loveth well good ale to seeke,
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Full oft drynkes shee, tyll ye may see,
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The teares run downe her cheeke.
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Then doth she trowle to me the bowle,
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Even as a mault-worme sholde,
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And sayth, sweete harte, I took my parte
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Of this joly good ale and olde.
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Chorus. Backe and syde go bare, go bare, etc.
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Now let them drynke, tyll they nod and winke,
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Even as goode fellowes sholde doe,
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They shall not mysse to have the blisse,
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Good ale doth bring men to;
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And all poore soules that have scowred bowles,
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Or have them lustily trolde,
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God save the lyves of them and their wives,
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Whether they be yonge or olde.
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Chorus. Backe and syde go bare, go bare, etc.
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It would do one's heart good to hear, on a club night, the shouts of
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merriment, the snatches of song, and now and then the choral bursts of
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half a dozen discordant voices, which issue from this jovial
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mansion. At such times the street is lined with listeners, who enjoy a
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delight equal to that of gazing into a confectioner's window, or
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snuffing up the steams of a cook-shop.
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There are two annual events which produce great stir and sensation
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in Little Britain; these are St. Bartholomew's fair, and the Lord
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Mayor's day. During the time of the fair, which is held in the
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adjoining regions of Smithfield, there is nothing going on but
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gossiping and gadding about. The late quiet streets of Little
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Britain are overrun with an irruption of strange figures and faces;
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every tavern is a scene of rout and revel. The fiddle and the song are
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heard from the tap-room, morning, noon, and night; and at each
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window may be seen some group of boon companions, with half-shut eyes,
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hats on one side, pipe in mouth, and tankard in hand, fondling, and
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prosing, and singing maudlin songs over their liquor. Even the sober
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decorum of private families, which I must say is rigidly kept up at
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other times among my neighbors, is no proof against this Saturnalia.
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There is no such thing as keeping maid-servants within doors. Their
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brains are absolutely set madding with Punch and the Puppet Show;
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the Flying Horses; Signior Polito; the Fire-Eater; the celebrated
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Mr. Paap; and the Irish Giant. The children too lavish all their
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holiday money in toys and gilt gingerbread, and fill the house with
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the Lilliputian din of drums, trumpets, and penny whistles.
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But the Lord Mayor's day is the great anniversary. The Lord Mayor is
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looked up to by the inhabitants of Little Britain as the greatest
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potentate upon earth; his gilt coach with six horses as the summit
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of human splendor; and his procession, with all the Sheriffs and
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Aldermen in his train, as the grandest of earthly pageants. How they
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exult in the idea, that the King himself dare not enter the city,
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without first knocking at the gate of Temple Bar, and asking
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permission of the Lord Mayor: for if he did, heaven and earth! there
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is no knowing what might be the consequence. The man in armor who
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rides before the Lord Mayor, and is the city champion, has orders to
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cut down everybody that offends against the dignity of the city; and
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then there is the little man with a velvet porringer on his head,
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who sits at the window of the state coach, and holds the city sword,
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as long as a pike-staff- Odd's blood! If he once draws that sword,
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Majesty itself is not safe!
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Under the protection of this mighty potentate, therefore, the good
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people of Little Britain sleep in peace. Temple Bar is an effectual
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barrier against all interior foes; and as to foreign invasion, the
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Lord Mayor has but to throw himself into the Tower, call in the
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train bands, and put the standing army of Beef-eaters under arms,
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and he may bid defiance to the world!
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Thus wrapped up in its own concerns, its own habits, and its own
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opinions, Little Britain has long flourished as a sound heart to
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this great fungus metropolis. I have pleased myself with considering
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it as a chosen spot, where the principles of sturdy John Bullism
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were garnered up, like seed corn, to renew the national character,
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when it had run to waste and degeneracy. I have rejoiced also in the
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general spirit of harmony that prevailed throughout it; for though
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there might now and then be a few clashes of opinion between the
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adherents of the cheesemonger and the apothecary, and an occasional
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feud between the burial societies, yet these were but transient
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clouds, and soon passed away. The neighbors met with good-will, parted
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with a shake of the hand, and never abused each other except behind
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their backs.
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I could give rare descriptions of snug junketing parties at which
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I have been present; where we played at All-Fours, Pope-Joan,
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Tom-come-tickle-me, and other choice old games; and where we sometimes
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had a good old English country dance to the tune of Sir Roger de
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Coverley. Once a year also the neighbors would gather together, and go
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on a gipsy party to Epping Forest. It would have done any man's
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heart good to see the merriment that took place here as we banqueted
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on the grass under the trees. How we made the woods ring with bursts
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of laughter at the songs of little Wagstaff and the merry
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undertaker! After dinner, too, the young folks would play at
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blind-man's-buff and hide-and-seek; and it was amusing to see them
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tangled among the briers, and to hear a fine romping girl now and then
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squeak from among the bushes. The elder folks would gather round the
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cheesemonger and the apothecary, to hear them talk politics; for
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they generally brought out a newspaper in their pockets, to pass
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away time in the country. They would now and then, to be sure, get a
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|
little warm in argument; but their disputes were always adjusted by
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|
reference to a worthy old umbrella maker in a double chin, who,
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never exactly comprehending the subject, managed somehow or other to
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decide in favor of both parties.
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|
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|
All empires, however, says some philosopher or historian, are doomed
|
|
to changes and revolutions. Luxury and innovation creep in; factions
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|
arise; and families now and then spring up, whose ambition and
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intrigues throw the whole system into confusion. Thus in latter days
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|
has the tranquillity of Little Britain been grievously disturbed,
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|
and its golden simplicity of manners threatened with total subversion,
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|
by the aspiring family of a retired butcher.
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|
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The family of the Lambs had long been among the most thriving and
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popular in the neighborhood: the Miss Lambs were the belles of
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Little Britain, and everybody was pleased when Old Lamb had made money
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|
enough to shut up shop, and put his name on a brass plate on his door.
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|
In an evil hour, however, one of the Miss Lambs had the honor of being
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a lady in attendance on the Lady Mayoress, at her grand annual ball,
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on which occasion she wore three towering ostrich feathers on her
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|
head. The family never got over it; they were immediately smitten with
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|
a passion for high life; set up a one-horse carriage, put a bit of
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|
gold lace round the errand boy's hat, and have been the talk and
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|
detestation of the whole neighborhood ever since. They could no longer
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|
be induced to play at Pope-Joan or blind-man's-buff; they could endure
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|
no dances but quadrilles, which nobody had ever heard of in Little
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|
Britain; and they took to reading novels, talking bad French, and
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|
playing upon the piano. Their brother, too, who had been articled to
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|
an attorney, set up for a dandy and a critic, characters hitherto
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|
unknown in these parts; and he confounded the worthy folks exceedingly
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|
by talking about Kean, the opera, and the Edinburgh Review.
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|
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|
What was still worse, the Lambs gave a grand ball, to which they
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|
neglected to invite any of their old neighbors; but they had a great
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|
deal of genteel company from Theobald's Road, Red-Lion Square, and
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|
other parts towards the west. There were several beaux of their
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|
brother's acquaintance from Gray's Inn Lane and Hatton Garden; and not
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|
less than three Aldermen's ladies with their daughters. This was not
|
|
to be forgotten or forgiven. All Little Britain was in an uproar
|
|
with the smacking of whips, the lashing of miserable horses, and the
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|
rattling and the jingling of hackney coaches. The gossips of the
|
|
neighborhood might be seen popping their night-caps out at every
|
|
window, watching the crazy vehicles rumble by; and there was a knot of
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|
virulent old cronies, that kept a look-out from a house just
|
|
opposite the retired butcher's, and scanned and criticised every one
|
|
that knocked at the door.
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|
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|
This dance was a cause of almost open war, and the whole
|
|
neighborhood declared they would have nothing more to say to the
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|
Lambs. It is true that Mrs. Lamb, when she had no engagements with her
|
|
quality acquaintance, would give little humdrum tea junketings to some
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|
of her old cronies, "quite," as she would say, "in a friendly way;"
|
|
and it is equally true that her invitations were always accepted, in
|
|
spite of all previous vows to the contrary. Nay, the good ladies would
|
|
sit and be delighted with the music of the Miss Lambs, who would
|
|
condescend to strum an Irish melody for them on the piano; and they
|
|
would listen with wonderful interest to Mrs. Lamb's anecdotes of
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|
Alderman Plunket's family, of Portsokenward, and the Miss Timberlakes,
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|
the rich heiresses of Crutched-Friars; but then they relieved their
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|
consciences, and averted the reproaches of their confederates, by
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|
canvassing at the next gossiping convocation every thing that had
|
|
passed, and pulling the Lambs and their rout all to pieces.
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|
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|
The only one of the family that could not be made fashionable was
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|
the retired butcher himself. Honest Lamb, in spite of the meekness
|
|
of his name, was a rough, hearty old fellow, with the voice of a lion,
|
|
a head of black hair like a shoe brush, and a broad face mottled
|
|
like his own beef. It was in vain that the daughters always spoke of
|
|
him as "the old gentleman," addressed him as "papa," in tones of
|
|
infinite softness, and endeavored to coax him into a dressing-gown and
|
|
slippers, and other gentlemanly habits. Do what they might, there
|
|
was no keeping down the butcher. His sturdy nature would break through
|
|
all their glozings. He had a hearty vulgar good-humor that was
|
|
irrepressible. His very jokes made his sensitive daughters shudder;
|
|
and he persisted in wearing his blue cotton coat of a morning,
|
|
dining at two o'clock, and having a "bit of sausage with his tea."
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|
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|
He was doomed, however, to share the unpopularity of his family.
|
|
He found his old comrades gradually growing cold and civil to him;
|
|
no longer laughing at his jokes; and now and then throwing out a fling
|
|
at "some people," and a hint about "quality binding." This both
|
|
nettled and perplexed the honest butcher; and his wife and
|
|
daughters, with the consummate policy of the shrewder sex, taking
|
|
advantage of the circumstance, at length prevailed upon him to give up
|
|
his afternoon pipe and tankard at Wagstaff's; to sit after dinner by
|
|
himself, and take his pint of port- a liquor he detested- and to nod
|
|
in his chair in solitary and dismal gentility.
|
|
|
|
The Miss Lambs might now be seen flaunting along the streets in
|
|
French bonnets, with unknown beaux; and talking and laughing so loud
|
|
that it distressed the nerves of every good lady within hearing.
|
|
They even went so far as to attempt patronage, and actually induced
|
|
a French dancing-master to set up in the neighborhood; but the
|
|
worthy folks of Little Britain took fire at it, and did so persecute
|
|
the poor Gaul, that he was fain to pack up fiddle and dancing-pumps,
|
|
and decamp with such precipitation, that he absolutely forgot to pay
|
|
for his lodgings.
|
|
|
|
I had flattered myself, at first, with the idea that all this
|
|
fiery indignation on the part of the community was merely the
|
|
overflowing of their zeal for good old English manners, and their
|
|
horror of innovation; and I applauded the silent contempt they were so
|
|
vociferous in expressing, for upstart pride, French fashions, and
|
|
the Miss Lambs. But I grieve to say that I soon perceived the
|
|
infection had taken hold; and that my neighbors, after condemning,
|
|
were beginning to follow their example. I overheard my landlady
|
|
importuning her husband to let their daughters have one quarter at
|
|
French and music, and that they might take a few lessons in quadrille.
|
|
I even saw, in the course of a few Sundays, no less than five French
|
|
bonnets, precisely like those of the Miss Lambs, parading about Little
|
|
Britain.
|
|
|
|
I still had my hopes that all this folly would gradually die away;
|
|
that the Lambs might move out of the neighborhood; might die, or might
|
|
run away with attorneys' apprentices; and that quiet and simplicity
|
|
might be again restored to the community. But unluckily a rival
|
|
power arose. An opulent oilman died, and left a widow with a large
|
|
jointure and a family of buxom daughters. The young ladies had long
|
|
been repining in secret at the parsimony of a prudent father, which
|
|
kept down all their elegant aspirings. Their ambition, being now no
|
|
longer restrained, broke out into a blaze, and they openly took the
|
|
field against the family of the butcher. It is true that the Lambs,
|
|
having had the first start, had naturally an advantage of them in
|
|
the fashionable career. They could speak a little bad French, play the
|
|
piano, dance quadrilles, and had formed high acquaintances; but the
|
|
Trotters were not to be distanced. When the Lambs appeared with two
|
|
feathers in their hats, the Miss Trotters mounted four, and of twice
|
|
as fine colors. If the Lambs gave a dance, the Trotters were sure
|
|
not to be behindhand: and though they might not boast of as good
|
|
company, yet they had double the number, and were twice as merry.
|
|
|
|
The whole community has at length divided itself into fashionable
|
|
factions, under the banners of these two families. The old games of
|
|
Pope-Joan and Tom-come-tickle-me are entirely discarded; there is no
|
|
such thing as getting up an honest country dance; and on my attempting
|
|
to kiss a young lady under the mistletoe last Christmas, I was
|
|
indignantly repulsed; the Miss Lambs having pronounced it "shocking
|
|
vulgar." Bitter rivalry has also broken out as to the most fashionable
|
|
part of Little Britain; the Lambs standing up for the dignity of
|
|
Cross-Keys Square, and the Trotters for the vicinity of St.
|
|
Bartholomew's.
|
|
|
|
Thus is this little territory torn by factions and internal
|
|
dissensions, like the great empire whose name it bears; and what
|
|
will be the result would puzzle the apothecary himself, with all his
|
|
talent at prognostics, to determine; though I apprehend that it will
|
|
terminate in the total downfall of genuine John Bullism.
|
|
|
|
The immediate effects are extremely unpleasant to me. Being a single
|
|
man, and, as I observed before, rather an idle good-for-nothing
|
|
personage, I have been considered the only gentleman by profession
|
|
in the place. I stand therefore in high favor with both parties, and
|
|
have to hear all their cabinet councils and mutual backbitings. As I
|
|
am too civil not to agree with the ladies on all occasions, I have
|
|
committed myself most horribly with both parties, by abusing their
|
|
opponents. I might manage to reconcile this to my conscience, which is
|
|
a truly accommodating one, but I cannot to my apprehension- if the
|
|
Lambs and Trotters ever come to a reconciliation, and compare notes, I
|
|
am ruined!
|
|
|
|
I have determined, therefore, to beat a retreat in time, and am
|
|
actually looking out for some other nest in this great city, where old
|
|
English manners are still kept up; where French is neither eaten,
|
|
drunk, danced, nor spoken; and where there are no fashionable families
|
|
of retired tradesmen. This found, I will, like a veteran rat, hasten
|
|
away before I have an old house about my ears; bid a long, though a
|
|
sorrowful adieu to my present abode, and leave the rival factions of
|
|
the Lambs and the Trotters to divide the distracted empire of LITTLE
|
|
BRITAIN.
|
|
|
|
THE END
|
|
.
|