PEKSOXA L RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 
 r
 
 THE COCK AND MAGPIE," DRURY LAXE, 1840.
 
 A FEW 
 
 PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 printer. 
 
 " I count myself in nothing else so happy 
 As in a soul remembering my good friends " 
 
 SHAKESPEARE (Richard II.) 
 
 Xcmfcon 
 
 PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION 
 
 1896
 
 If such a trifle were worthy of a "Dedication" 
 I would dedicate it to my old and valued 
 friend, ISAAC THUKGOOD PERRING, who has 
 been my companion during nearly the whole 
 of my business life, and who will remember 
 many of the incidents herein related.
 
 A PORTION of tJic contents of this little volume 
 formed the subject-matter of a "gossip-lecture" 
 delivered in 1895 to an Association of Printers* 
 Managers. The fact that the editors of several 
 technical journals applied at the time for the 
 manuscript in order to print it in extenso 
 led flu' writer to conclude that it might be of 
 some interest to a larger audience. It has 
 therefore been "printed for private circula- 
 tion " among Jiis friends as a keepsake. 
 
 1231004
 
 Personal Recollections. 
 
 " Say all you have to say in the fewest possible words." JOHX RUSKIN. 
 
 LONG AGO. 
 
 THE life of a printer may as a general rule be 
 described as a monotonous round of drudgery, 
 affording but little scope for adventure or interesting 
 experience. But probably there is no one who has 
 followed the occupation for more than half a century 
 who has not at various times come in contact with 
 men around whose memory some interest still lingers, 
 or who does not retain some recollections of past 
 events that are worth recalling. 
 
 Looking back to a period distant about sixty years 
 one cannot but realise the progressive change that 
 has since taken place in all the phases of every-day 
 life. This, perhaps, can be here most appropriately 
 and most effectively illustrated by referring to the 
 fiscal impositions upon the press. Previous to the 
 year 1833 the duty upon every advertisement was 
 35. 6d. ; an advertisement can now be inserted in a 
 widely circulated paper for sixpence. Until 1836 a
 
 i o Hard Times for Printers 
 
 duty of threepence was levied upon every pound of 
 paper manufactured ; paper can now be purchased 
 for about three-halfpence per pound. Until the 
 same year the stamp duty upon every copy of a 
 newspaper was fourpence ; many newspapers are 
 now issued " price one halfpenny." At that time 
 the conditions of labour and the surroundings of 
 the average working printer were by no means con- 
 ducive to his physical or moral welfare.* The 
 occupation of compositor, pressman, or machine- 
 minder was then considered as necessarily involving 
 a certain, or rather uncertain, amount of intemper- 
 ance, and it must be confessed that my early 
 experience did not tend to disprove the justice of 
 the popular impression. This no doubt arose out 
 of long hours of employment and the absence of the 
 means of rational recreation. Established holidays 
 there were actually none, in illustration of which 
 fact it may be mentioned that during my seven 
 years' apprenticeship I had no one hour's holiday 
 that was not previously paid for by working over- 
 time this at a period when the ordinary hours of 
 labour were sixty-three per week ; yet there is no 
 reason for supposing that others were more liberally 
 treated. 
 
 Picture to yourself London as it was, say, in the 
 year 1839, the period at which the schoolmaster and 
 I bade each other farewell. The daily newspaper, 
 
 * At this time a compositor on the " 'stab " in a bookwork house could be called 
 upon to work from six in the morning till ten at night, without any extra for 
 overtime. His wages for this long day was ys. 6d. ; whereas he would now receive 
 about us.
 
 and other People. 1 1 
 
 without which we almost feel that we could not now 
 exist, was rather an expensive luxury, the price 
 being fivepence for four small pages, so that if a 
 person of humble means desired to become ac- 
 quainted with what was going on around him, he 
 would have to go to a public-house and borrow 
 The Morning Advertiser for five minutes. A placard 
 was generally hung up in the bar requesting gentle- 
 men not to monopolise the current day's paper for 
 more than that time. The Weekly Dispatch (price 
 6d.) was also a publican's newspaper, and this used 
 to be borrowed by regular outside customers. 
 
 Communicating by letter to friends at a distance 
 was seldom indulged in, owing to its expense, for 
 the uniform penny rate had not come into operation. 
 I remember that when we received a letter from 
 Scotland the postman demanded one shilling and 
 fourpence before handing it over. It has been 
 stated that Rowland Hill, when courting the lady 
 who became his wife, limited his communications 
 to one in a fortnight, for pecuniary reasons. This 
 would scarcely satisfy modern sweethearts. It was 
 not uncommon, however, to send short messages 
 in an illegal way at a trifling cost. By mutual 
 arrangement this used to be accomplished by pur- 
 chasing a newspaper several days old for about three 
 halfpence, then making a mark under certain letters, 
 which formed words, and posting it, the compulsory 
 stamp rendering it unnecessary to pay any postage. 
 The accompanying extract will explain this method 
 of economically communicating an interesting family
 
 12 Cheating the Post Office. 
 
 event. The perpendicular line indicates the end of 
 a word : 
 
 THE MORNING CHRONICLE. 
 
 L O N~D O N: 
 
 WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 12, 1825. 
 
 The disclosures made in the Chamber of Deputies on 
 Saturday will not soon be i forgotten in this country. 
 It is now o'penly ayowedj by VILLELE that the disturb- 
 ances in Spain have all been fomented by France, and 
 
 that his own manifestation of a wish for peace was 
 * t> * . . 
 
 altogether! assumed, with a view to make the requisite 
 preparations with greater facility. 
 
 We confess we are not a little embarrassed by the 
 non-chalance with which the French Ministers make 
 these avowals. They must either calculate greatly on 
 the favour or the fears of our Ministers. A secret un- 
 derstanding would go a good way to explain the matter, 
 but we cannot bring ourselves to think so meanly /of 
 Lord LIVERPOOL and Mr. CANNING, as to suppose 
 them guilty of such baseness. But it is not pleasing to 
 think that even these fanatics should presume so much on 
 our supposed inability >to oppose them, as- to hold so in- 
 solent a language. ' 
 
 One thing must result from the disclosure, that from 
 henceforth no public writer in this country will dare to 
 insult his countrymen by a word in favour of BOURBON 
 Royalists. The situation of the country may dictate 
 
 There were, of course, no local trains to convey 
 Londoners into the suburbs, or to carry them short 
 distances into the country. The Greenwich Railway
 
 Uncomfortable Travelling. 1 3 
 
 had certainly been opened for about two years, but 
 the third-class carriages, or trucks, were neither 
 fitted with seats nor covered with a roof, so that 
 travellers were conveyed the five miles under con- 
 ditions less comfortable than those now afforded to 
 cattle. I well remember to have travelled on this 
 line shortly after it had been opened, during a fall 
 of snow, and experiencing the inconvenience which 
 caused Punch to make this protest : 
 
 " Pity the sorrows of a third-class man, 
 
 Whose trembling limbs with snow are whitened o'er, 
 Who for his fare has paid you all he can ; 
 
 Cover him in, and let him freeze no more. 
 This dripping hat my roofless pen bespeaks, 
 
 So does the puddle reaching to my knees ; 
 Behold my pinched red nose, my shrivelled cheeks ; 
 
 You should not have such carriages as these." 
 
 Shillibeer, the undertaker, had commenced run- 
 ning his omnibuses some years previously, the route 
 being from Paddington to the Bank, but the number 
 on the road was limited and the fares were high. 
 The means at the command of the artisan for giving 
 his family a holiday were certainly not encouraging. 
 The sacrifice of a day's pay when wages were low 
 and all the necessaries of life, with the single excep- 
 tion of meat, were much higher than they are now, 
 was a matter of more importance than it is at the 
 present time. The holiday, however, having been 
 resolved upon, let us see how the family proceeded 
 to enjoy themselves. They would probably possess 
 or borrow a child's chaise, constructed to carry two,
 
 14 The Workman's Holiday. 
 
 having a box at the back to contain food a vehicle 
 very common at that time, but now obsolete and 
 the man and his wife would drag it to the Red 
 House at Battersea, Copenhagen Fields, Highbury 
 Barn, the Rosemary Branch, or some other of the 
 suburban taverns, and regale themselves with beer 
 or tea. There were generally skittle-alleys or bowl- 
 ing-greens for the amusement of the men, while the 
 women gossiped and watched the children playing 
 upon the lawn. Although the means of entertain- 
 ment were thus limited, some amount of pleasure 
 was no doubt derived from the change of scene and 
 the fresh air that is, if the weather proved favour- 
 able, but if otherwise, the holiday ended in disap- 
 pointment and discomfort. At sundown there came 
 the weary journey back, the children crying from 
 fatigue, and on reaching home the man would have 
 to obtain a light by a lengthy operation with a 
 tinder-box and sulphur-match. If any reader can 
 remember those articles of domestic use, he will 
 admit that there could be nothing more irritating 
 to the temper than these primitive means of lighting 
 a candle before the introduction of the friction 
 match. It can scarcely, therefore, be a matter for 
 surprise that such holiday excursions were few and 
 far between, or that working men resorted to the 
 public-house for recreation more frequently than 
 they do now. 
 
 Nor was this the case with the printer only. At 
 that period the reporters, the critics, and the general 
 utility men connected with the journals of the day,
 
 Old Taverns. 15 
 
 instead of resorting to well-appointed clubs, as they 
 do at the present time, frequented smoking-saloons 
 and the parlours and tap-rooms of the taverns that 
 were situated in the district that lay between St. 
 Paul's and Charing Cross. I well remember several 
 of these that have passed away, others that have 
 changed their character, and a few that still remain 
 to remind us of the old days. There was Rees's 
 Grand Cigar Divan, in the Strand, the haunt of the 
 well-to-do, where, on payment of one shilling, the 
 visitor was presented with a cigar and an ivory 
 ticket, the latter entitling him to liquid refreshment 
 in the coffee-room above. In Russell Street, Covent 
 Garden, close to Evans's Supper and Concert 
 Rooms, was a favourite meeting-place, called " Tom 
 Kilpack's," where prosperous actors and others used 
 to while away their leisure time, Douglas Jerrold 
 being a frequent visitor. There was the " Old 
 Dog " in Holywell Street, said to have been built 
 upon or near the site of the holy well of St. Clement 
 that gave name to the street ; and " Dormer's," 
 known also as "The Coach and Horses," near St. 
 Mary's Church. Hard by was (and is) the "Edin- 
 burgh Castle," where, it was said, the best mutton- 
 chop and glass of ale could be obtained, served by 
 a most interesting and very independent waiter, who 
 kept a note-book in which was recorded the in- 
 debtedness of many of his customers, for he would 
 trust them on his own responsibility. When in 
 funds they would " tip " him liberally, and when 
 Fortune proved unkind they knew where they
 
 1 6 An Old Printer. 
 
 could get a chop and a glass on credit. The last 
 time I had a chat with that waiter was on a 
 Christmas morning many years ago. Jonas Levy, 
 who was with me, encouraged him to talk, and he 
 told us that most of his best customers had died, 
 or were becoming too prosperous to frequent the 
 tavern, and that he was about to retire upon his 
 savings. Then there was the " Shakespeare's Head," 
 in Wych Street, once kept by Mark Lemon, the first 
 editor of Punch, on behalf of his mother ; and the 
 " Sheridan Knowles," in Brydges Street. A well- 
 frequented tavern at that time was Peele's Coffee 
 House in Fleet Street, for here files of The Times 
 and other papers were kept for reference. The 
 " Green Dragon," nearly opposite, whose Discussion 
 Forum was once referred to by Napoleon III., was 
 frequented by barristers and journalists. One of the 
 most respectable taverns was "Tne Cock," near 
 Temple Bar, patronised by Tennyson, when he had 
 chambers in Lincoln's Inn Fields, who has sung in 
 praise of the head waiter " Oh, plump head waiter 
 at ' The Cock/ to which I most resqrt." " The 
 Cheshire Cheese," where Johnson and Goldsmith 
 were (erroneously) said to meet, is still, as it was 
 then, the favourite haunt of many newspaper men. 
 
 AN OLD PRINTER. 
 
 Besides the long regular hours and unlimited 
 habitual overtime, the conditions under \vhich the 
 printer produced his work were anything but favour- 
 able. Fifty years ago there existed in London but
 
 A Character. 1 7 
 
 fe\v, if any, buildings that had been constructed as 
 printing-offices. They were, in fact, converted 
 dwelling-houses, with small windows and very 
 scanty sanitary accommodation. The first office 
 which I remember to have entered was one of this 
 kind. It was situated in Crown Court, a narrow, 
 unsavoury thoroughfare that led from the north side 
 of St. Clement Danes churchyard to Little Shire 
 Lane a portion of a disreputable district that was 
 demolished to provide the site for the new Law 
 Courts. The proprietor was one Richard Watts, 
 generally referred to by his employees as " Dicky." 
 It was here that books and papers in the Oriental 
 languages were printed for the East India Company, 
 also Bibles in various languages and dialects for the 
 British and Foreign Bible and other Societies, most, 
 if not all, of which were " worked " at hand-press. 
 Now " Dicky " was certainly what might be termed 
 a character. My only interview with him was the 
 occasion of my delivering to him from my father, 
 who was a bookseller, some Oriental work which he 
 had purchased, and I remember his calling me a 
 " shrimp " (for I was very diminutive) and giving 
 me a tip as a set-off against the insult. Although 
 an educated man conversant with several languages, 
 and engaged in the production of Bibles and other 
 religious publications, he used, when irritated, to 
 indulge in language of a profane character towards 
 his workpeople, who would reply in equally unpar- 
 liamentary terms without any fear of consequences. 
 I worked at press in after years \vith an old Irish- 
 
 2
 
 1 8 " The Family Herald." 
 
 man named Donegan (who, by the way, had printed 
 The Times newspaper at hand-press), and he told me 
 that he liked to work for Dicky Watts better than for 
 anybody else, because there was no nonsense about 
 him. The first time he saw him he was sitting upon 
 a high stool in his little closet, with the door open. 
 " I went up," said he, " and asked him if he wanted 
 a hand at press." Watts turned round, frowned at 
 the man, and made such an ornately unsympathetic 
 reply, that instantly the Irishman's blood was up. 
 He told Dicky in the plainest possible terms that if 
 he would come down from his perch he (Donegan) 
 would subject him to a physical indignity. Watts 
 evidently thought that here was a man after his own 
 heart. He inquired his name, told him he thought 
 there was something in him, and gave him employ- 
 ment. " Since then," said Donegan, " we have been 
 the best of friends." Watts died just over fifty years 
 ago at the age of seventy-seven. When the site of 
 the Law Courts was cleared, Watts's successor re- 
 moved to Gray's Inn Lane, where in 1870 his office 
 was destroyed by fire. Shortly afterwards, what 
 remained of his Oriental type was purchased by 
 Gilbert and Rivington, who still continue that class 
 of business. 
 
 "THE FAMILY HERALD." 
 
 Very early in the 'forties I had occasion to visit 
 another printing-office. It consisted of a small shop 
 and parlour in Chandos Street, Covent Garden, where 
 some half-dozen hands were employed, and a kitchen
 
 Young and Delcambre's Composing Machine. 19 
 
 below, which contained an old wooden press, differ- 
 ing in construction but slightly from that used by 
 William Caxton. The working printer who owned 
 this office was one Samuel Taylor. Previous to 
 embarking in business on his own account he had 
 been employed by Henry Hetherington, who with 
 his Poor Man's Guardian fought so valiantly and 
 suffered so much for the freedom of the newspaper 
 press. Taylor was of course his own reader, and 
 with a view to economy he had the habit of enlisting 
 the services of any lad who happened to call by 
 getting him to play the part of reading-boy for half 
 an hour. This I did on several occasions, which 
 resulted in his inviting me to become his apprentice 
 his first apprentice. On mentioning this to a 
 schoolfellow whose father was a printer, he informed 
 me that there was a machine at work in his father's 
 office that would detrimentally affect the composi- 
 tor's occupation, and invited me to go and see it 
 before I bound myself to learn a trade that might 
 soon be superseded by. the use of machinery. I 
 accordingly went to a small office in One Bell Yard 
 (where the office of John Dicks is now situated) and 
 there I saw the machine referred to. It had the 
 appearance of an upright piano, and was being 
 operated upon by a young woman, a man, and a 
 boy. Being invited to try my hand at it, I set up 
 two or three lines without difficulty, and began to 
 doubt the wisdom of binding myself to learn the art 
 of hand-composition. I thereupon told my would- 
 be employer what I had seen and clone. He smiled,
 
 2O " The Family Herald!" 
 
 and advised me to note how many lines could be 
 produced in an hour by the machine and the three 
 hands attending upon it. He had heard of the 
 machine, and said he would undertake to teach me 
 in three months to do nearly as much work without 
 the machine as each one of the three persons could 
 do with it. I took his advice and worked diligently 
 under his personal tuition for the period agreed 
 upon, with the result that I was bound apprentice 
 for seven years to the trade of a "compositor and 
 printer." 
 
 I mention this incident because it has an historical 
 interest. The composing machine referred to was 
 Young and Delcambre's, the first completed instru- 
 ment of the kind, and The Family Herald was started 
 for the purpose of giving it employment. It may 
 not be generally known that this weekly publication 
 was originally issued as a double-demy broadsheet 
 of four pages, like a newspaper, and remained in 
 that form for twenty-three numbers, when it was 
 changed to its present quarto size. The composing 
 machine, which cost a fortune, proved a failure, and 
 its use was soon abandoned, but The Family Herald, 
 which it brought into existence, has been the making 
 of two or three fortunes, and, notwithstanding the 
 competition which it has had to contend with, is 
 still prosperous, although its proprietors have never 
 resorted to giving prizes, or illustrations, or enlarge- 
 ments, or offering exceptional attractions, and in 
 these respects it is perhaps unique. In the spring of 
 1895 several letters appeared in one of the daily
 
 FAMILY 
 
 HERALD, 
 
 amusement for tiir fBUlio:i. 
 
 No, I VOL. I 
 
 FOR THE WEEK ENDING DECEMBER 17, 1842. 
 
 PRICE ONE PENNY 
 
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 T
 
 Its Origin. 
 
 21 
 
 papers respecting the foundation of The Family 
 Herald. One was from Mr. Tinsley and another 
 from Mr. Stevens, but neither was altogether cor- 
 rect. The former gentleman said that "it was 
 started by a man of the name of Biggs, Bigs, or 
 Briggs, and was at first a kind of advertising sheet 
 for, I think, a patent medicine." The latter stated 
 that it was started "as a purely literary venture." 
 The fact is, the paper was founded, as I have 
 shown, by Mr. George Biggs, to give employment 
 to Young's composing machine, in which he had 
 some pecuniary interest, and he will ever be grate- 
 fully remembered by printers in connection with 
 the pensions which bear his name, and which are 
 annually administered by the Printers' Pension 
 Corporation. The first number appeared on the 
 i7th of December, 1842, about nine months after 
 I had seen the machine at work at which it was 
 subsequently composed. It was printed at machine 
 by Cox of Great Queen Street (afterwards Cox and 
 Wyman), and Spalding and Hodge supplied the 
 paper. I possess copies of all the numbers in the 
 original size, and it is doubtful if another perfect 
 set exists. The front page of the first number is 
 here given in reduced fac-siinile, which contains a 
 description and woodcut of the composing machine. 
 It will be noted that the words which should have 
 been italicised are "hair-spaced," German fashion, 
 owing to the machine not having been supplied 
 with italic types.
 
 THE SKILL OF THE OLD PRESSMAN. 
 
 Allusion has been made to an old wooden press, 
 which was exactly similar to that now exhibited in 
 the Passmore Edwards Library at the St. Bride 
 
 Foundation Institute, Bride Lane, Fleet Street. I 
 remember having many a time worked at that press. 
 In fact, it was my duty on Saturday night to lift 
 off the stone, mix up and damp the sawdust in 
 which it was embedded, replace the stone evenly in
 
 The Old Wooden Press. 23 
 
 the coffin, test the level by pouring water upon it, 
 and then, having driven the carriage under the 
 platen, to pull over and tie the bar to the cheeks 
 of the press, thus leaving it in working condition for 
 the Monday following. Luckombe (1771) describes 
 this, with some trifling improvements, as the " new- 
 fashioned press." If any reader has had a like 
 experience to mine he will be able to appreciate the 
 skill of the old pressman, who produced excellent 
 work with no better appliances than this wooden 
 machine and a couple of leather balls with which 
 to apply the colour. 
 
 A PRINTER'S PRACTICAL JOKE. 
 
 Business matters were not, of course, conducted 
 fifty years ago in the precise way in which they are 
 now. If a magazine could not be put to press 
 conveniently on its appointed day, it might be 
 deferred for a day or two without the delay in- 
 volving any serious consequences. One of the 
 first magazines upon which I was employed was a 
 monthly medical journal, edited by an Irishman of 
 some professional repute. He had a strong brogue, 
 and, like many other educated clever men of that 
 day, was sadly addicted to drink. On one occasion 
 the doctor had omitted to forward the copy for the 
 usual leading article, and I was despatched late one 
 evening to Henrietta Street, Cavendish Square, with 
 the message that if the MS. were not sent by return 
 the journal could not be published in time. When
 
 24 A Printer's Joke. 
 
 admitted into the hall I heard sounds of uproarious 
 merriment, and presently the doctor came out in, let 
 me say, a very unprofessional condition. "What's 
 this, boy ? " said he. I repeated my message. " Tell 
 Taylor to put in a blank and be d - to him ! " he 
 exclaimed, at the same time pushing me out. The 
 reply was duly brought back and delivered literally. 
 Next morning I carried to the doctor a perfect copy 
 of the journal, but with a column and a half blank 
 in the centre. The gentleman had not risen. 
 Presently, however, I was told to go up to his bed- 
 room, and when he opened the paper and discovered 
 the hiatus, he leapt out of bed and used language 
 that in these more refined days does not bear re- 
 peating. He dressed himself as speedily as possible, 
 uttering threats all the while against the poor printer, 
 and we drove back in a cab. When, however, he 
 was told that he was labouring under a misappre- 
 hension, that the journal had not been put to press, 
 and that the copy he had was in fact a proof, he 
 treated the matter as a good joke, sent me out for 
 some spirituous inspiration, and sat down at a com- 
 positor's frame to write the article which was to fill 
 the blank space. 
 
 "MILES'S BOY." 
 
 Another man with whom I came in contact during 
 the first year of my apprenticeship was Henry 
 Downes Miles. At that time a literary speculator 
 would start a new journal on a capital of a .10 
 note. Miles attempted nay, accomplished this,
 
 Henry Downes Miles. 25 
 
 and brought out a penny paper devoted to sport, 
 the first page of which contained a woodcut outline 
 portrait of some champion pugilist in fighting atti- 
 tude. After several numbers had been issued the 
 woodcut heading warped and split there was no 
 electrotyping in those days. When the proprietor- 
 editor brought his copy for the next number and 
 was told that the heading was broken in halves, he 
 exclaimed, " Thank the gods ! I've been cogitating 
 as to whether I should go on, but I can't bring out 
 a pugilistic paper with a broken head, so let us say 
 its end was pieces." Miles was a most indefatigable 
 journalist, essayist, and novel-writer. He became 
 associated with Bell's Life, then the chief, if not the 
 only, sporting paper, and under the signature of 
 " Miles's Boy " wrote probably the first rhymed 
 prophecies of racing events that were ever pub- 
 lished. He was well educated, being familiar with 
 Greek, Latin, and also modern languages, which he 
 frequently quoted in his sporting articles, thus lifting 
 them above the ordinary reporting level. After a 
 career of upwards of half a century he retired upon 
 a modest competence, but unfortunately his in- 
 vestments in foreign and other securities became 
 valueless, and he had to depend upon charity for 
 some years before he died, which was not till 1889, 
 at the advanced age of eighty-two. One of the 
 Messrs. Rothschild and Mr. G. R. Sims are said to 
 have taken upon themselves the responsibility of 
 relieving the necessities of the old journalist, who 
 had in his time been editorially associated with
 
 26 Drury Lane in the ^Forties. 
 
 Henry Brougham, Thomas Babington Macaulay, and 
 other celebrated men. 
 
 DRURY LANE. 
 
 In reminiscences of this kind it is almost impos- 
 sible to avoid what may be termed autobiographical 
 allusions which connect the incidents. The reader 
 will therefore no doubt pardon a reference to the 
 unimportant fact that the requirements of the busi- 
 ness with which I was connected having outgrown 
 the circumscribed limits of the Chandos Street 
 premises, the plant was removed to a large floor 
 up a stable-yard in Drury Lane. Passing down this 
 thoroughfare the other day, I noticed that many of 
 the houses that stood there fifty years ago had been 
 pulled down, and much-improved structures had 
 taken their place. Once upon a time Drury Lane 
 was a fashionable thoroughfare, where dwelt Sir 
 William Drury, the Earls of Craven and Clare, the 
 Marquis of Argyle, the Earl of Anglesey, and other 
 persons of distinction, including the Queen of 
 Bohemia, daughter of James I., who resided at 
 Drury House in fact, it was a kind of Park Lane. 
 When I first became acquainted with the locality, 
 in the 'thirties, its glories had long since departed, 
 its mansions had given place to much less pre- 
 tentious buildings, and these were growing old and 
 dilapidated. Yet there is no spot that brings to my 
 mind more interesting reminiscences, for it was in 
 the printing-office up George Yard that I first saw 
 Douglas Jerrold, E. L. Blanchard, Thomas Lyttleton
 
 George Alfred Walker. 27 
 
 Holt, Albert Smith, Frederick Guest Tomlins, George 
 Augustus Sala, G. W. M. Reynolds, and other literary 
 men and journalists of fifty years ago. Nor is this 
 the sole reason why the unsavoury thoroughfare 
 dwells interestingly upon my memory. The Lane 
 was full of character. A novelist could have selected 
 from it a sufficient number of living personages for 
 an exciting plot. Let me recall just a few specimens. 
 
 "GRAVEYARD WALKER." 
 
 At the north corner of Blackmore Street (being 
 101, Drury Lane) lived George Alfred Walker, a 
 very popular medical practitioner. He was a tall, 
 handsome man, always dressed well, and was a great 
 favourite in the neighbourhood, partly on account 
 of his kindness to the poor. It may be passing out 
 of remembrance that it was chiefly owing to an 
 agitation inaugurated by him, and sustained by his 
 exertions, that interments in London graveyards 
 were made illegal. In fact he was for years known 
 by the name of " Graveyard Walker." There can 
 be no doubt that at that time London was drifting 
 towards another plague, but the visitation of the 
 cholera in 1849, which destroyed 13,000 people in 
 London in about four months, hastened the reform 
 so much needed. Dr. Walker was a frequent visitor 
 to the printing-office, for he published several works 
 and numerous tracts upon the subject of intramural 
 burial. Being an enthusiast, he would from time to 
 time describe to us the horrible discoveries he had
 
 28 A Penny Gaff. 
 
 made as to the condition of the burial-grounds and 
 vaults in the neighbourhood. I was, of course, a 
 youth at that time, and was taken one night by a 
 fellow-apprentice to a show, or " penny gaff," in 
 Clement's Lane, Clare Market. The building had 
 been a place of worship, called Enon Chapel, but 
 had gradually degenerated, and was finally occupied 
 by a low-class Crummies family, to whom I was 
 introduced, and with whom, for the sake of the 
 attendant fun, I trod the stage before a penny audi- 
 ence. The scenery, wardrobe, and properties of this 
 travelling company were of the most primitive de- 
 scription. The plays (if such a term be applicable) 
 were all highly-spiced melodramas, in which villainy 
 came to grief and virtue was rewarded. The pro- 
 prietor had a manuscript book of each, which detailed 
 the plot and gave certain passages which were to be 
 committed to memory and emphasised as " points," 
 with the view of exciting applause, but the chief 
 portion of the dialogue appeared to be improvised. 
 The entertainment was certainly harmless, and 
 seemed to satisfy the patrons of the establishment. 
 One night, as I was leaving the stage-door at the 
 back of the premises, I saw two men throwing 
 bones into a cart, together with pieces of coffins, 
 which appeared to be taken out of a cellar beneath 
 the chapel or theatre. This incident I related next 
 day to Dr. Walker, who visited the place, and 
 succeeded in having the show immediately closed, 
 for he discovered that beneath the building and its 
 adjacent yard some thousands of bodies had been
 
 An Old Newsvendor. 29 
 
 buried. London has never properly recognised the 
 debt of gratitude it owes to George Alfred Walker, 
 the Drury Lane doctor, who afterwards lived for 
 many years in retirement at Barmouth, and died 
 there a few years ago at the age of seventy-five. 
 
 BLIND COX. 
 
 Nearly opposite to Dr. Walker's dispensary was a 
 newspaper shop, then kept by a blind man named 
 Cox, whose sense of touch was so acute that he 
 could pick out the newspapers and periodicals 
 required by his customers, and take money and 
 give change with perfect accuracy. At that time 
 there were, of course, no penny dailies. It was 
 customary for newsvendors to lend the morning 
 papers for an hour each day for from sixpence to 
 a shilling per week, and to solicit orders from 
 provincial customers to whom these same papers 
 would be despatched by the evening post, the usual 
 charge being 245. per quarter. The postage cost 
 nothing, as the compulsory stamp franked them ; 
 in fact, a newspaper could be sent post free from 
 place to place within a certain number of days from 
 the date of publication a considerable advantage 
 when the cost of a paper was fivepence. At times, 
 when the news was important, there would be 
 an extra demand for the papers, and they would 
 become scarce ; when otherwise, the vendors would 
 probably have some left on hand. As most of the 
 newsagents were bound to despatch copies to their
 
 3<D The Newsvendors' Exchange. 
 
 provincial customers by the same night's post, those 
 who had sold out were compelled to buy, and 
 those who had papers left were desirous of selling. 
 This created an institution which was called the 
 exchange. Boys and men congregated each after- 
 noon about four o'clock in Catherine Street, Strand, 
 in the middle of the road, and shouted what they 
 had to sell, wanted to buy, or desired to exchange. 
 For an hour or so the street resounded \vith such 
 cries as "Two-and-a-half for Times!" "Post for 
 Herald!" "Who wants Herald f " "Two for 
 Chron.!" and so on. Mingled with these exclama- 
 tions and inquiries were the noisy invitations of 
 several piemen to toss for their wares. " Here ye 
 are, boys, pie or nothing all hot ! all hot ! " If the 
 boys sold their papers for more than their employers 
 expected, or had a copper of their own to spend, 
 they would toss a halfpenny with a pieman ; if 
 they won, they obtained a hot mutton pie for half 
 price ; if they lost, the pieman pocketed the copper. 
 Sometimes when papers were scarce they would 
 command a high price. I have known The Times 
 (the circulation of which, by the way, was at this 
 time about 10,000 copies) to be sold for as much 
 as a shilling, and other papers to realise nearly as 
 high a figure. On such occasions it is needless to 
 say the piemen drove a roaring trade. This unique 
 institution came to an end upon the abolition of 
 the newspaper stamp-duty, but at the time referred 
 to it was in full swing, and sightless Cox was always 
 among the noisy throng. I knew the old man
 
 A Barbers Shop. 31 
 
 well, and bought at his shop many a set of " Skelt's 
 Theatrical Characters." E. L. Blanchard in a 
 magazine article thus refers to Cox's unpretentious 
 establishment : " Here would gather 'utility' gentle- 
 men, the ladies of the ballet, columbines, harlequins, 
 pantaloons and clowns, while occasionally a tra- 
 gedian would stalk in, or the representative of 
 second low comedy would condescend to make a 
 hurried call and crack his latest joke. Newspapers 
 being dear commodities in those days, it was a 
 privilege to have the use of this place as a reading- 
 room, and scan the criticisms of last night's per- 
 formances without being expected to buy anything." 
 The house was pulled down in 1894, after having 
 been in the Cox family for about eighty years. 
 
 BARTLETT THE BARBER. 
 
 To the south, at the corner of White Hart Street, 
 now the site of a handsome parochial building, 
 stood a barber's shop, as much frequented by 
 journalists and actors in the afternoon as was Cox's 
 in the morning. The walls were covered with the 
 current play-bills, and Bartlett, the proprietor, was 
 the recipient and retailer of all the green-room and 
 other gossip of the day. He was a little man, with 
 a cheerful expression always upon his face, and was 
 credited not only with telling a good story himself, 
 but with improving upon the stories told by his 
 patrons. "Tom," said an actor in Cox's shop one 
 morning, " have you heard Bartlett's version of
 
 32 " The Cock and Magpie'' 
 
 Oxberry's story about the mutton pie ? No ? then 
 come and get a shave and I'll ask him to tell it." 
 And thus it was that his sanded floor was trodden 
 day by day by a goodly company of jovial fellows, 
 who loitered in as much for the sake of a gossip 
 as for the luxury of a clean shave, and to be shaved 
 by light-handed Bartlett himself was esteemed a 
 luxury. 
 
 THE CURSE OF DRINK. 
 
 A little farther to the south, on the same side of 
 the Lane, stood the well-known "Cock and Magpie" 
 tavern, said to have been the residence of Nell 
 G wynne. It was a gabled house, and probably the 
 oldest building in Drury Lane. Half a century ago 
 its reputation as a tavern had departed, and it sub- 
 sequently became a second-hand bookstall, then an 
 old furniture shop, and finally, a few years ago, it 
 was pulled down. I once visited a man named 
 Patrick Riordan who lodged there in the 'forties, 
 and well remember the hewn wooden beams that 
 stretched from wall to wall, and the large open 
 fireplace in the tap-room behind the bar. I have 
 in my time met with several men whose craving 
 for stimulants appeared to be unconquerable. They 
 would, when sober, condemn the habit of intem- 
 perance in unmeasured terms, and make evidently 
 sincere resolves to abstain from the insidious glass, 
 but in most cases they lacked the power to resist 
 the slightest temptation. Patrick Riordan's was a
 
 The Curse of Drink. 33 
 
 notable case. He was the son of a master printer 
 in Ireland, and a compositor by trade ; he had, 
 however, received in Dublin an education of a much 
 higher kind than usually fell to the lot of a journey- 
 man printer. He was certainly a scholar, could 
 translate Greek and Latin, and he sometimes was 
 employed to review books for The Morning Posi. 
 He would work industriously for a few days "at 
 case," and then remain idle till he had parted with 
 his last shilling and exhausted his credit at the 
 public-house. Sometimes he would write an article 
 for one of the papers, or do a little reporting, but 
 he inevitably gravitated back to the "space-box" in 
 a bankrupt condition. It may be remarked that at 
 this period intemperance was viewed more charit- 
 ably and treated more leniently than it would or 
 could be at the present day. I used to enjoy 
 Riordan's society when he was sober, for he pos- 
 sessed the ready wit of his countrymen, and was 
 an interesting and instructive talker. On one occa- 
 sion he received payment for writing a pamphlet in 
 the interest of the Duke of Brunswick, and asked 
 me to take charge of the money ten pounds, if I 
 rightly remember. I advised him to pay a visit to 
 one of the Jews in Holywell Street and obtain a 
 decent suit of second-hand clothes, which he much 
 needed, and agreed to take any portion of the 
 balance which he might think fit to entrust to my 
 care. With this intention he set out, and we saw 
 him no more that day. Some time after midnight 
 I was awakened by a loud knocking at the door 
 
 3
 
 34 Mother Trimby. 
 
 a policeman had called to- inform me that poor 
 Riordan had been locked up at Bow Street and 
 wanted to be bailed out. He had, in fact, gone 
 but a few yards, turned into a tavern, and remained 
 drinking and treating others up to the time of 
 closing, when he was turned out, drunk and quarrel- 
 some, without a shilling, having no doubt been 
 robbed. The last time I saw him he was shuffling 
 along Fleet Street with some papers in his hand 
 probably " copy " too disreputable in appearance 
 to warrant recognition. 
 
 STILL IN DRURY LANE. 
 
 A short distance farther down the Lane stands 
 the " Duke of Wellington " tavern, which was then 
 kept by a buxom widow named Trimby, who was 
 affectionately called " Mother " by many of her 
 customers. She had the reputation of dispensing 
 liquors of the best quality, and of not being indis- 
 posed to recognise the necessities of her often 
 impecunious patrons. There were many small 
 printing and publishing offices in the neighbour- 
 hood, from which emanated story-books issued in 
 penny numbers of eight crown octavo pages. The 
 writers, printers, and publishers of these were, with 
 few exceptions, living more or less from hand to 
 mouth. Edward Lloyd had a small shop in the 
 adjoining Wych Street in 1836, where he sold 
 comic valentines, theatrical portraits, and penny 
 story-books. Many of these people had a score
 
 An Old Curiosity Shop. 35 
 
 at Mother Trimby's. It was said that she could 
 neither read nor write, and certainly the big slate 
 which hung up behind the bar and recorded the 
 indebtedness of her customers never contained any- 
 thing more elaborate than a series of perpendicular 
 strokes, each representing a penny, with a hiero- 
 glyphic or symbol for the name. 
 
 At the west end of Wych Street, which is a con- 
 tinuation of Drury Lane, stood for many years an 
 old curiosity shop, kept by a Jew named Valentine, 
 who was not merely a tradesman but an antiquary. 
 In a snug parlour at the back of his shop Albert 
 Smith, E. L. Blanchard, and others spent many an 
 agreeable half-hour. It is doubtful if they ever 
 purchased anything, for at that period they were 
 scarcely able to indulge in expensive luxuries, yet 
 they were always welcome. Valentine's trade was 
 what would now be considered very slow. His 
 armour, old china, antique clocks and other bric-a- 
 brac were costly articles, and probably such of his 
 well-to-do patrons as could afford to possess them 
 did not monopolise much of his time ; thus it was 
 that he was glad to entertain, or to be entertained 
 by, men who could talk learnedly about his curiosi- 
 ties, and supplement his own knowledge as to their 
 genuineness or value. I knew Valentine well, as he 
 took an active part in the management of what 
 was then the London Mechanics' Institution in 
 Chancery Lane, of which I was a member, where 
 Edward Lloyd had obtained a very useful part of 
 his education.
 
 36 Theatrical Portraits. 
 
 Next door to Valentine's was a very melancholy- 
 looking shop, owned by one William West, who 
 
 'S. Thutfnfol PORTRAITS. N? 1OS. 
 
 Jf.Diddear , as Valmtiu. -^ In tkt. Merchants Weddmy,
 
 "Penny Plain and Twopence Coloured? 37 
 
 was one of the earliest publishers of "scenes and 
 characters" for toy theatrical stages, at that period 
 the most popular winter amusement of the London 
 youth. He also published portraits of celebrated 
 actors, known as the " penny plain and twopence 
 coloured " variety. Early in the century he had 
 established a prosperous business at Exeter House, 
 
 Siyf of (
 
 38 An Obsolete Trade. 
 
 Exeter Street, Strand in fact, his wares became so 
 exceedingly popular that (as would be the case at 
 the present time) many imitators speedily arose, who 
 issued similar but inferior productions at a cheaper 
 rate. I can recall Skelt, of the Minories, who ended 
 his days in the workhouse ; Park, of Tabernacle 
 Walk ; Dyer, of Aldersgate Street ; Fairburn, of 
 the Minories ; De Burson, in Gray's Inn Road ; 
 Hodgson, of Holywell Street ; Johnson, of St. 
 Martin's Lane ; Webb, of Old Street, and many 
 others; so that some idea can be formed of the 
 extent of an industry which is now obsolete. 
 These pictures* were originally portraits, more or 
 less recognisable, but they subsequently became 
 mere figures intended to be decorated with silk, 
 tinsel, &c. Webb used to manufacture these deco- 
 rations, the steel dies for which cost nearly four 
 thousand pounds. Some time before his death he 
 showed me with no little pride his book of patterns, 
 which his son has since sold as a curiosity to Mr. 
 Harry Furniss. At the time I knew West he had 
 removed to Wych Street, his business had declined, 
 partly owing to competition, but chiefly to the fact 
 that old age had deprived him of energy. He and 
 his wife were a couple of shrivelled-up creatures, 
 having the appearance of octogenarian misers. 
 They were always shabbily clad, although reputed 
 to be well off, and seldom indulged in the luxury 
 of a clean face. Their counter and the shelves in 
 the shop were crowded with old stock, covered with 
 dust, and their only pleasure seemed to consist in
 
 E. L. Blanchard. 39 
 
 petting a tame fox, which was always with them, 
 and drinking of Mother Trimby's best. 
 
 "THE ASTROLOGER." 
 
 By the side of Mother Trimby's tavern, which 
 had originally been named " The George," but was 
 changed to the " Duke of Wellington " after the 
 Battle of Waterloo, was an old inn yard, sur- 
 rounded by buildings, the older portions of which 
 still retained the galleries so characteristic of the 
 coaching inns which were fast passing away. It 
 was in a printing-office up George Yard that I 
 first saw E. L. Blanchard, one of the most loveable 
 men it has ever been my lot to meet. During the 
 greater portion of his life he was an underpaid, 
 struggling journalist, dramatist, and song-writer, 
 familiar with domestic sorrows, and sometimes 
 privation, but he always wore the expression of a 
 happy and contented man. Mr. Clement Scott, 
 who was one of his most intimate friends, says 
 that " he could not bear giving pain to any one. 
 His love and care for children and dumb animals 
 were pathetic. I don't think," he adds, "he would 
 have tolerated the destruction of a black-beetle, and 
 if he were bothered by a wasp he would coax it 
 out of the window." Fifty years ago he brought 
 out a penny paper entitled The Astrologer, upon 
 which I was engaged. In those days printing- 
 offices were not extensive establishments, with 
 separate apartments for the accommodation of
 
 A Loveable Journalist. 
 
 EDWARD LAMAN BLAXCHARD. 
 
 authors and editors. Compositors then had the 
 pleasure of seeing and conversing with the men 
 whose copy they put into type. It happened to
 
 " The Astrologer!' 41 
 
 be my duty to set up some of the articles for The 
 Astrologer, and Blanchard would come up to my 
 frame with his manuscript. The " Answers to 
 Correspondents" professed to be advice founded 
 upon astronomical calculations and astrological 
 knowledge combined, but were of a very ambiguous 
 character, as the following examples will show : 
 
 " LIBRA. Yes ; an event not now expected will occur on your 
 return." 
 
 " T. P. Q. Avoid the water. There is no danger on land." 
 
 " BETSY. You will soon encounter a change in your destiny. 
 Avoid the associations of law." 
 
 " W. R. Do not marry for another year. There is a surprise in 
 store for you." 
 
 Young as I was, I had no faith whatever in fortune- 
 telling of this kind, and desired to ascertain if the 
 writer, who was evidently a clear-headed, matter-of- 
 fact man, had any belief himself in the so-called 
 science. One day, therefore, when he handed to 
 me his copy, as usual, I looked into his cheery face 
 and asked seriously, " Mr. Blanchard, do you really 
 believe in astrology ? " He smiled, patted me on 
 the head, and replied, " John, my boy, astrologers 
 never reveal their greatest secrets." 
 
 The story of the origin of The Astrologer is very 
 curious. The idea of the paper was Blanchard's 
 own, and it arose out of a strange circumstance 
 that happened in the green-room of Drury Lane 
 Theatre. There was a melancholy fellow who was 
 in some way connected with the theatre, and who 
 spent most of his time in silence, as if something
 
 42 A Strange Coincidence. 
 
 weighed heavily upon his mind, making neither 
 friends nor acquaintances with those around him. 
 One night, when a certain actor was upon the stage 
 playing his part, a messenger brought the news that 
 a son had been born to him. In order to com- 
 municate the intelligence in a novel way, one of the 
 actors in the green-room wrote on the wall with 
 
 chalk 
 
 " Youngest child of James Blank 
 
 born Dec. 16, A.D. 1844." 
 
 When this had been done the melancholy man rose 
 up, took the chalk, and, without saying a word, wrote 
 underneath 
 
 " And died Jan. 21, 1845." 
 
 All who were present were shocked at this piece of 
 brutality, and insisted upon its being obliterated. 
 Blanchard thereupon obtained a strip of paper, and 
 hastily, so as to get it finished before the actor came 
 in, pasted the ends of the paper so that it covered 
 the objectionable line, but leaving the inscription as 
 originally written. The actor was heartily congratu- 
 lated when he came from the stage, and fortunately 
 remained ignorant of the unpleasant incident. The 
 subject was forgotten, and so was Blanchard's strip 
 of paper. Some time afterwards, one winter's night, 
 a messenger came for this same actor, who was 
 again taking part in the play. Blanchard, who 
 happened again to be present, inquired what he 
 was wanted for. " His child has just died," replied 
 the messenger. Blanchard at once turned to the 
 wall, tore down the strip of paper, and found that
 
 Astrologer" 
 
 43 
 
 the date there written by the melancholy man, who 
 was not present, was the exact date on which the 
 child had died. This remarkable coincidence struck 
 him as something very extraordinary and set him 
 
 thinking. He found that the queer individual 
 seemed to possess something akin to the gift of 
 prediction, and he proposed that they should 
 together start a paper, to be called The Astrologer. 
 The man agreed, and the paper duly appeared.
 
 44 -An Alarming Suggestion. 
 
 They naturally expected that the publication would 
 circulate among the uneducated class, and that their 
 correspondence and inquiries would come mostly 
 from servant-girls, but they were surprised to find 
 that lords and ladies, and others in a high rank of 
 life, solicited predictions and advice, and desired to 
 have their nativities cast. One day the melancholy 
 man (whose name was Haddock and might be 
 termed a queer fish and who, although a partner, 
 had never become a particular friend of Blanchard's) 
 proposed that they should take a holiday together. 
 "Very well," said Blanchard; " where shall we go ?" 
 " What does it matter ? " said the other. " Let us 
 go to the nearest railway, take the first train, and go 
 to the end of the journey." So they went to Dover. 
 On the following day, Sunday, the two climbed up 
 Shakespeare's Cliff, and sat there in silence for some 
 time looking over the Channel. Suddenly Haddock 
 rose up and exclaimed, " What a sensation it would 
 make if I were to grasp you round the waist and 
 jump with you off the cliff ! " Blanchard looked at 
 the man and thought he saw the light of insanity in 
 his eyes. He quickly sprang back from the edge of 
 the cliff and replied, " I don't think I care just at 
 present to be the central figure in such a sensation. 
 We will go down to the town, if you don't mind." 
 The astrologer gave a hollow laugh and followed 
 Blanchard back. On the Monday morning Blan- 
 chard found that his queer companion had left 
 Dover for London by the first train. He, however, 
 stayed till the following day, and then returned to
 
 A Well-known Bohemian, 45 
 
 the office, which was No. u, Wellington Street 
 North, Strand. Here he found Haddock's door 
 locked from the inside. Being unable to make any 
 one hear, he became alarmed, obtained assistance, 
 and then burst open the door. The hat, coat, and 
 walking-stick of the mysterious one were on the 
 table, but he was not there, nor, according to Blan- 
 chard, whom I heard tell the story, was he ever 
 known to have been seen afterwards. In reply to 
 inquiries, Blanchard always confessed that he did 
 not like to say where he thought Haddock had 
 gone, although he had a shrewd suspicion. Not 
 long after this event The Astrologer ceased to appear. 
 
 THOMAS LYTTLETON HOLT. 
 
 The name of Thomas Lyttleton Holt sometimes 
 occurs in the memoirs of old journalists when 
 reference is made to the period between 1830 and 
 1860. Probably no man at that time was better 
 known than he in the journalistic world of London, 
 especially that part which, either from choice or 
 necessity, affected Bohemianism. He had obtained 
 the credit of starting more newspapers and publi- 
 cations than any other man, and generally with 
 little or no capital. If he happened to be hard-up 
 no unusual condition he would write some 
 pamphlet, get it nominally published by Berger or 
 Vickers (both well-known newsagents in Holywell 
 Street), but would take copies round to the whole- 
 sale dealers and sell them himself. He was a line,
 
 46 Thomas Lyttleton Holt. 
 
 tall, handsome man, with a military appearance 
 that is to say, he wore moustachios, a fashion 
 almost exclusively confined to the army previous 
 to the invasion of London by the foreigners who 
 came to visit the Great Exhibition of 1851. He 
 came of a good family, being a descendant of the 
 Lord Chief Justice of that name, and had received 
 a liberal education, having been at Cambridge 
 University. G. A. Sala, who knew him well, says 
 in his "Life and Adventures" that "he was a 
 devoted husband and the most affectionate of 
 fathers. He was neither a gambler, nor a profli- 
 gate, nor a spendthrift, and always did his best 
 to pay his way." It was this character, and his 
 wonderfully persuasive manner, that probably in- 
 duced printers and others to help him bring out 
 his numerous ventures without much capital. The 
 first trace I can find of his literary career dates 
 back to 1832, when he was part proprietor with 
 Gilbert Abbott a Becket of Figaro in London, which 
 was the first publication of the size and character 
 of the yet unborn Punch. Another of his ven- 
 tures, Holt's Journal, is elated 1836. After issuing 
 twelve numbers at a penny, he tells his troubles to 
 his readers in an address, a few lines of which are 
 worth quoting. He says : " I am not ashamed to 
 say that my circumstances are and have been 
 embarrassed, owing partly to the vicissitudes of a 
 literary life and partly to the carelessness of a 
 literary man." He goes on : " The appendage of 
 my name to this publication has brought upon me
 
 " How to tell Fortunes by Cards'' 47 
 
 a host of troubles : beset by bailiffs, hunted by 
 vindictive creditors, harassed by the harpies of the 
 law, who will have their bond, or else no small 
 number of pounds of flesh in the shape of my 
 body, I am compelled to throw myself upon th.e 
 good feeling of my readers, and to raise the price 
 of the magazine one halfpenny as the readiest means 
 of relieving myself." As may be readily surmised, 
 relief did not lie in that direction. 
 
 On one occasion Holt came up to the printing- 
 office with a manuscript, the title of which was, 
 " How to tell Fortunes by Cards." This he desired 
 to have printed. The printer reminded him that his 
 account for the last similar job had not been liqui- 
 dated. "Exactly," replied Holt; "that, is precisely 
 the reason why I want you to do this. Do you really 
 think that I would be so ungrateful as to take my 
 work to a rival house while I was indebted to you ? 
 No ; perish the thought ! You've got to do it." 
 And it so fell out, for further negotiations resulted 
 in an arrangement to' the effect that, when the pam- 
 phlets were ready for sale, he was to hire a cart, and 
 he and one of the printer's apprentices were io drive 
 round to the newsagents and dispose of them, and 
 bring back the money wherewith to pay the printer's 
 bill. I happened to be the apprentice appointed to 
 accompany Holt on this expedition. During the 
 journey he related. rather alarming stories of what 
 befel wicked boys who did not obey their elders. 
 We were fortunate in disposing of the pamphlets, 
 and I think the last we sold were purchased by
 
 48 The Printer s Boy Hoaxed. 
 
 Purkiss of Soho, whose name I saw over the door of 
 an empty and dilapidated house only the other day. 
 On returning, we drove up to a coffee-house in 
 Catherine Street, Strand. "John," said Holt, "we 
 have done a good morning's work, and have earned 
 our dinner. You go in and order what you please 
 at my expense, mind and when I have found a boy 
 to hold the horse I will join you." He had lectured 
 me so effectually upon the virtue of obedience that I 
 went in without hesitation, ordered my dinner, and 
 proceeded to satisfy a good appetite. My host, how- 
 ever, seemed a long while coming, and I began to 
 feel rather uneasy. Presently, when the meal was 
 about half consumed, I went to the window and 
 found that the cart had disappeared. I then began 
 to realise the fact that I had betrayed my trust, for I 
 knew instinctively that I had been sent to see that 
 Holt duly returned with the money as agreed. I had 
 fortunately sufficient funds to defray the cost of my 
 half-consumed dinner, and so returned to the office 
 in anything but a comfortable frame of mind. On 
 ascending the stairs, however, I was greatly relieved 
 by hearing Holt laughing boisterously, and when I 
 opened the door he exclaimed, " Here comes the 
 wretched delinquent ! " and gave me half-a-crown, 
 which he could ill afford. He had obviously played 
 this trick to prove that he could be trusted to fulfil 
 his promise without being looked after by a boy. 
 The pamphlet referred to contained a four-line 
 rhymed prediction for each of the fifty-two cards. 
 My friend Perring, who put part of it into type, dis-
 
 " Chat" a Halfpenny Weekly. 49 
 
 covered that Holt had omitted the eight of hearts, 
 and he supplied the only element of truth it con- 
 tained : 
 
 " In the eight of.hearts we see 
 Xo augury of destiny ; 
 The man or maid who draws this card 
 From Fate's foreknowledge is debarred." 
 
 Holt was the editor of a halfpenny paper called 
 Chat, upon which I was employed. It was the pro- 
 perty of a man named Frederick Marriott, who tried 
 his hand at many speculations in London, but failed 
 in all. He ultimately emigrated to the United States 
 and started The Sail Francisco News Letter, out of 
 which he made a' fortune. That' paper is still in. 
 existence, and although Marriott must by this time 
 have joined the majority, its imprint bore his name 
 when I happened to see it a year or two ago in a 
 Continental hotel. To return to CJiat, however, of 
 which there is no copy of any number in the British 
 Museum. Holt, as I have said, was editor, and 
 wrote most of the matter in a style slovenly and 
 difficult enough to test the capacity of the most 
 experienced compositor. One day he handed in as 
 usual a bunch of copy -and the term " bunch " as 
 applied to his copy was strictly appropriate. On 
 being examined, a piece of MS. was discovered so 
 beautifully written that it was passed round for 
 inspection as a curiosity. It was a rhymed contri- 
 bution a parody beginning " The manager Jullien 
 sat in his chair." By and by the author came up to 
 the office to read his proof. He was a tall, slim, 
 
 4
 
 50 George Augustus Sala. 
 
 dark-complexioned young man, who went by the 
 name of George Augustus Sala. He was then, I 
 think, a scene-painter's assistant at the Princess's 
 Theatre, where his mother was acting. As Mr. Sala 
 has himself told the story of Chat in his " Life and 
 Adventures," I will merely add that Holt resigned 
 the editorship, which Sala accepted, and that was his 
 maiden attempt at editing. The paper, however, 
 failed to obtain a paying circulation, and Marriott, 
 becoming tired of losing money, handed it over to 
 Sala, who, having no capital to carry it on, dropped 
 it in a very short time. Sitting by Sala's bedside but 
 a few weeks before he died, I recalled to his memory 
 several incidents connected with his efforts to keep 
 his first editorial venture afloat, and possibly they 
 evoked his last smile. 
 
 At the time Chat was in existence Sala was drawing 
 the illustrations for Edward Lloyd's Penny Sunday 
 Times, and also for some of the weekly story-books 
 that have been termed " penny dreadfuls," although 
 they contained nothing of an immoral tendency. 
 He has left it on record that he was told to put 
 more vigour into his drawings, for Lloyd wrote, 
 " The eyes must be larger, and there must be more 
 blood much more blood ! " The effect of this 
 instruction may probably be traced in the accom- 
 panying woodcut which appeared in one of Lloyd's 
 story-books about that period. 
 
 A slight sketch has been given of Thomas Lyttle- 
 ton Holt as an editor, proprietor, pamphleteer- 
 almost always in pecuniary difficulties, continually
 
 A Penny-Dreadful Illustration. 51 
 
 starting papers and coming to grief, yet spoken well 
 of by the printers and others whom he had unin- 
 tentionally victimised. He may now, however, for 
 once, be referred to as a prosperous gentleman. In 
 
 1845, during the railway mania, he managed to raise 
 sufficient capital to start a morning paper called The 
 Iron Times, which was published at the west corner 
 of Poppins Court in Fleet Street. This speculation 
 proved an immediate success, chiefly owing to the
 
 52 Rolling in Money. 
 
 insertion of advertisements of projected railways. 
 There has since been no such excitement as was 
 created by the railway mania. The country was in 
 a high fever of speculation. Money was plentiful, 
 the few railway lines which were opened were paying 
 dividends of ten per cent., and the public were eager 
 to invest in something that seemed to offer good 
 security. Everybody, from the nobleman to the 
 junior clerk, bought and sold railway scrip. It was 
 stated in the House of Lords by Lord Clanricarde 
 in 1845 that a charwoman's son, named Charles 
 Guernsey, engaged as a clerk in a broker's office at 
 i2s. per week, had his name down as a subscriber 
 for shares in the London and York line for .52,000. 
 It was estimated that the money spent at that time in 
 advertisements of new railway companies amounted 
 to .100,000 per week.* Holt thought that at last 
 his chance of making a fortune had arrived. He 
 started his paper on the ist of July, 1845, and in but 
 a few weeks he was driving down Fleet Street in his 
 carriage with a servant in livery hanging on behind. 
 During this period of prosperity he is said to have 
 taken home a bag containing a thousand sovereigns, 
 which he scattered over his bed, and then, having 
 thrown himself upon them, sent for his family that 
 they might afterwards be able to say that they knew 
 their father once " rolled in money." A large pro- 
 portion of the payment for the railway advertise- 
 ments in The Iron Times was made in paid-up shares 
 
 * "Our Railways : their Development, Enterprise, Incident, and Romance," by 
 J. Pendleton.
 
 " The Iron Times" 53 
 
 of the various companies, and had Holt realised 
 these, as he might have done, he would have made 
 a fortune in a few months. He, however, sold only 
 sufficient to enable him to meet the current expenses 
 of his paper, retaining the remainder under the im- 
 pression that they would increase in value. One 
 day The Times published an article which tended 
 to prove that the country did not contain money 
 enough to construct one-half of the projected rail- 
 ways, and this produced a financial panic. During 
 the parliamentary sessions of 1844-5-6 no less than 
 440 railway bills were passed, authorising the con- 
 struction of 8,470 miles of line, and involving the 
 raising of capital amounting to 180 millions of 
 money. The revelation published in The Times 
 resulted in rendering Holt's securities practically 
 valueless, and seriously affected the income of his 
 paper. It ran a fairly prosperous course, however, 
 till the end of the year, when an endeavour was 
 made to convert the proprietorship into a company. 
 This did not succeed, but its publication was con- 
 tinued till the following May, when it died, .leaving 
 poor Holt not only penniless but in debt. 
 
 Many years afterwards, when with a partner I had 
 commenced business at Drury House, St. Mary-le- 
 Strand, Holt called upon me. He wanted to bring out 
 a paper to be called The Scientific Englishman, which 
 was " bound to succeed," as all his speculations were. 
 He imparted to me the fact that a prosperous furni- 
 ture dealer in the Strand had arranged to advance 
 the capital necessary. I listened to his seductive
 
 54 Douglas J err old. 
 
 and optimistic proposals, and duly produced his 
 publication. But when he discovered, after some 
 weeks, that I was disinclined to lose more than the 
 .50 that stood against him in our books, he de- 
 clared that I lacked the enterprise necessary to make 
 a good commercial man, which was no doubt true, 
 and stopped the paper. He lived some years after- 
 wards (an octogenarian), but I never saw him again. 
 Pleasant memories of Thomas Lyttleton Holt, how- 
 ever, linger with me still. 
 
 DOUGLAS JERROLD. 
 
 In the same office was printed, or rather com- 
 posed, Douglas Jerrohl's Weekly Newspaper, which 
 began its career in 1846. Jerrold, of course, was a 
 constant visitor, and I had frequent opportunities of 
 seeing the splenetic little man, and of listening to his 
 smart sayings. Although he had naturally a large 
 circle of acquaintances, I do not think he had many* 
 intimate friends. People were afraid of him, for his 
 satirical and sometimes cruel jokes were not un- 
 frequently levelled at his friends ; in fact, if he saw 
 an opportunity of saying something smart, he had 
 little consideration for the feelings of his victim. 
 Hepworth Dixon aptly remarked that "his wit was 
 all steel points." His jokes are of course now 
 " chestnuts," but reference to one or two maybe 
 allowable as illustrations. " Remember, Jerrold," 
 said one of his acquaintances, referring to some 
 business transaction, " we all row in the same boat."
 
 Jerrold and the Printer's Boy. 55 
 
 "Yes," said Jerrold, "but not with the same skulls." 
 A very prosy individual, having just concluded a 
 story, said, " Do you know, Jerrold, when he told me 
 that, I thought I should have died with laughter." 
 " I wish to heaven you had," was the reply. Jerrold 
 was once present at a sheep's-head supper, when one 
 of the guests exclaimed, " I have no stomach for 
 expensive dainties ; sheep's-head for ever, say I ! " 
 Jerrold put up his hands and ejaculated, "What 
 egotism ! " On one occasion I had to take a parcel 
 of proofs to his office, and was instructed to wait for 
 them and to bring them back. I knocked at his 
 door, but there was no response from the inside. 
 The operation was repeated, with no better result. 
 I then opened the door and saw Jerrold sitting at his 
 desk, with his head inclined over it. He turned 
 slightly but took no further notice. I placed the 
 proofs by his side, delivered my message, went over 
 against the wall and sat down to await his pleasure. 
 Jerrold looked at me with his twinkling eyes, rose 
 up, and said, " Why don't you take a chair, my little 
 man ?" Instead of replying that I had anticipated 
 his wishes, as I might have done, I sprang off the 
 chair, and gave him his expected opportunity of 
 enjoying my confusion. As a public speaker Jerrold 
 was not a success, and he knew it. He was pressed 
 on two or three occasions to preside over public 
 gatherings, for his trenchant writings in the interest 
 of the advanced Liberals had rendered his name 
 popular, but his efforts were not encouraging. I 
 once endeavoured to persuade him to take the chair
 
 56 Albert Smith. 
 
 at an entertainment at the London Mechanics' 
 Institution, but he wisely declined. I had pre- 
 viously tried Charles Dickens, who replied, " I very 
 much regret that I cannot preside on the occasion 
 to which you call my attention, but the engagements 
 I have before me will not admit of my having that 
 honour." 
 
 ALBERT SMITH. 
 
 The entertainment referred to was for the benefit 
 of the Irish Famine Fund, and the committee de- 
 sired, if possible, to get a popular literary man to 
 preside, and as secretary I had to find him. While 
 thinking gloomily over my want of success, Albert 
 Smith came into the office. He differed totally in 
 character from Jerrold, being a kindly, genial man, 
 full of harmless fun, and a general favourite. He 
 was then writing "The Adventures of a London 
 Latch-Key" for The London Magazine, which, by 
 the way, was never completed owing to the sudden 
 demise of the magazine. I laid my case before him 
 and begged that he would help me out of my diffi- 
 culty by presiding. After thinking the matter over 
 he consented, but conditionally that he should be 
 permitted to select all the pieces to be recited. This 
 being conceded, I had breakfast with him the fol- 
 lowing day at his lodgings in the Albany, near 
 Regent Street, and the first piece he selected was 
 " Box and Cox," in which he condemned me to 
 play Box the journeyman printer. There was one 
 piece, however, that we could not get any one to 
 take, " Mariana in the Moated Grange," and that he
 
 Frederick Guest Tonilins. 57 
 
 undertook to recite himself. He made an excellent 
 and humorous chairman, and assisted us to hand 
 over a good contribution to the Famine Fund 
 nearly fifty years ago. His wonderful success as 
 an entertainer at the Egyptian Hall is a matter of 
 history. He married one of the daughters of Mrs. 
 Keeley, and died about thirty-five years ago, but 
 two days after giving his entertainment. When 
 his effects were sold a friend of mine bought his 
 reading-lamp and gave it to me as a souvenir. 
 
 FREDERICK GUEST TOMLINS. 
 
 Another remarkable man of whom I saw much at 
 that time was Frederick Guest Tomlins. He was 
 secretary of the Shakespeare Society, had written 
 a " History of England," a " History of the Jews," 
 and other works, none of which had been very suc- 
 cessful. For four years he was the literary and 
 dramatic critic of Jerrold's Newspaper and also acted 
 in the same capacity for The Morning Advertiser. 
 He used very often to chat with me, and one day he 
 gave me a box order to see the production of a play 
 he had written, which Phelps had undertaken to 
 bring out at Sadler's Wells Theatre. He said to me, 
 as he had no doubt said to others, " I have so often 
 criticised plays written by other men that it is but 
 fair I should give the critics an opportunity of 
 cutting me up." This was in 1849. The play, 
 entitled "Garcia, or the Noble Error," was sue* 
 cessful from a literary point of view, and was 
 received very cordially by the first-night audience.
 
 58 His Portrait. 
 
 After Tomlins, at the close of the performance, had 
 bowed his acknowledgments from the stage, he 
 went round to the adjacent " Hugh Myddleton " 
 tavern, where had assembled a jovial company of 
 
 FREDERICK GUEST TOMLIXS. 
 
 friends, amongst whom were Jonas Levy, E. L. 
 Blanchard, and William Romer, who had deter- 
 mined to criticise the play adversely as soon as 
 Tomlins made his appearance. Consequently when 
 he entered the room, pardonably elated with his 
 success, and said, "Well, boys, what's your verdict?"
 
 Critics at Play. 59 
 
 the fun began. One criticised the language as being 
 unpoetical, another thought the scenes might be 
 rearranged with advantage, a third suggested the 
 omission of an important character, and so on, until 
 Tomlins' cheery countenance began to assume a 
 threatening aspect. Turning to Romer, who had 
 been silent, he said, "Well, Bill, what have you to 
 say?" "To tell you the plain truth, Tomlins, I do 
 not agree with all that has been said. What I 
 should object to if I may be permitted to object at 
 all is the title. The word 'Garcia' is unobjection- 
 ablethat may pass but I should recommend you 
 to alter the second title, 'The Noble Error,' to the 
 ' Sanguinary Blunder ! ' " (the adjective used, how- 
 ever, being alliterative). Jonas Levy, who afterwards 
 told me the story, said that then they ordered a bowl 
 of punch and made a night of it. 
 
 When Tomlins was engaged upon Jcrrold's News- 
 paper he had an office hard by. A boy was em- 
 ployed to come every morning at eight o'clock to do 
 the necessary sweeping and dusting. One Monday 
 morning Tomlins arrived about nine o'clock and 
 found the door locked, and, not having the* key, 
 walked about for some time waiting for the boy 
 to turn up. When he arrived he was duly ad- 
 monished by his employer for oversleeping himself. 
 The lad began to cry, and declared that he had not 
 overslept himself in fact, he had been up all night. 
 " What's the matter, then ? Are you ill ? " said 
 Tomlins. "Well, sir," replied the boy, "it's this 
 way : My uncle was hung at the Old Bailey this
 
 60 One of Tomlins' Stories. 
 
 morning, and although we were not on speaking 
 terms with him, I thought, as one of the family, I 
 ought to go to his funeral at least as near as I 
 could." " Quite right," said Tomlins, "never neglect 
 your family duties ; but when another of your rela- 
 tions is to be hanged please to leave the key of 
 the office under the doormat." 
 
 One of the most successful of Cassell's pub- 
 lications is the Popular Educator, which was 
 commenced in 1852, and is "still running." A 
 well-known journalist, George Frederick Pardon, 
 used to claim the credit of having given Cassell the 
 idea, which, however, was not original, for Tomlins 
 in 1850 issued a penny weekly publication entitled 
 Toinlins's Help to Self-Educators, but it was com- 
 pleted in a single volume, a copy of which the 
 author sent me. The last time I heard of him 
 was in 1865 (two years before his death), when, 
 attending the Princess's Theatre as dramatic critic 
 on the occasion of the production of Charles 
 Reade's " Never too Late to Mend," he became so 
 agitated that he rose up in the stalls and made 
 a public protest against what he called the "brutal 
 realism" in one of the scenes an incident that 
 created considerable sensation at the time. 
 
 "THE ECHO" OFFICE. 
 
 As a schoolboy I happened to be thrown into the 
 company of many who were associated with the 
 theatre. I used to be occasionally sent to deliver
 
 TJie Private TJieatres. 6r 
 
 small parcels of books for my father at the stage- 
 doors of Drury Lane, Covent" Garden, the Adelphi, 
 and the Olympic. Actors would come into our 
 shop in the Strand, which stood upon the site of 
 old Exeter 'Change, and loiter and gossip, as I think 
 they do now at certain places in the same neigh- 
 bourhood. Then several of my schoolfellows were 
 the sons of actors, and I used to spend most of my 
 holidays behind the scenes of a private theatre in 
 Catherine Street. Early in the 'forties what was 
 termed the " legitimate drama " could be performed 
 only at Drury Lane, Covent Garden, and the Hay- 
 market Theatres, which were therefore termed the 
 patent houses. The other or minor theatres might 
 play Fitzball's blood-and-thunder three-act melo- 
 dramas, but Shakespeare and other poetic plays 
 were prohibited. It was the principle of Protection 
 applied to the drama. I remember seeing a bur- 
 lesque at the Strand Theatre the title of which was 
 intended to be a protest against the patent system, 
 being called "Othello according to Act of Parlia- 
 ment." If a London actor desired to play Hau'let 
 a part that often makes or mars a reputation he 
 would have either to go into the provinces or to 
 make the experiment in a private theatre. I re- 
 member several of these, where money was not 
 allowed to be taken at the doors. One was situated 
 in Gough Street, Gray's Inn Road, another at King's 
 Cross ; there was also Miss Kelley's Theatre in Soho, 
 now the Royalty, and the Pantheon in Catherine 
 Street. The last-named was kept by a man of the
 
 62 " The Echo " Office 
 
 name of Smythson, whose son was my favourite 
 playmate. When about ten years of age I was 
 induced to take part in a performance of " Macbeth," 
 but this appearance in public was limited to my 
 head, which had to rise up out of a cauldron and 
 prophesy about Birnam Wood coming to Dunsi- 
 nane. This Pantheon has some little interest for 
 us, inasmuch as the front elevation, unaltered in 
 appearance, is now the office of The Echo newspaper. 
 Very early in the century it was called " Mr. Phillip- 
 stall's Exhibition Room," in which occasionally a 
 kind of Polytechnic entertainment was held. In 
 1823 it was turned into a Theatre of Variety, gas 
 was introduced, and the sort of amusement provided 
 was very similar to that now offered at the music- 
 halls. About the year 1836 it became a private 
 theatre. A reduced reproduction of the programmes 
 (or play-bills) illustrating the three periods is here 
 given. When the patents were abolished the private 
 theatres declined, and the Pantheon was converted 
 into a disreputable night-house, known by the name 
 of "Jessups," where congregated the dissolute of 
 both sexes, who frequented the nest of disorderly 
 houses situated in the adjacent courts. When The 
 Echo was started in 1868 by Messrs. Cassell, Petter, 
 and Galpin, the glass chandeliers that had lighted 
 the gambling and dancing saloons, and the looking- 
 glasses against the walls that had for a long period 
 reflected scenes of outrageous dissipation, were re- 
 moved to render the place suitable for the editors, 
 compositors, and others, whose duty it would be to
 
 Old Play Bills. 
 
 For Passion Week only. 
 
 Mr. BOLOGNA, Jun. 
 
 **pectfullj iofoani bi Friends and the Public thai he has opened his 
 
 Mechanical Museum 
 
 Wednesday, April 14th, 1813, Thui sday'l5tii, and Saturday 17tli 
 At Mr. Phillipitairx Exhibition Room, 
 
 CATHERINE STREET, STRAND, 
 
 ITJ .-, ?!*,, / A-n, ., via U tmgHf^ri , ,ddUi, * W Aw.Vio. 
 
 ^^^^ In Particular, the Meelimcl"Poweraof 
 
 The Pan harmonicon Clock, 
 
 Also, | 
 
 THEATRE OF VARIETY, 
 
 WhoFUj 
 
 Licenced by the Lord Chamberlain^" 
 
 It i. mo.t re.pectr.il, wnotineed to lh7prb**."'*M,'K",''l'itlk 
 Tll ,t 1 v' 1 ";' 8 d "S r' C<>nl P l " eR .'P"''. JI ''i"ir"el}Eu,b.ll,,l,cJ. 
 with Aew S. nuTT. and entire), 
 
 Illuminated with Gas, 
 
 WILL OPEN, n.etioi.ed k , ,h, ,,, ,,. AMIm - 
 
 This Present THTKSDAY, Scp(ernber25. 1823, 
 
 Tl. 
 
 ^a 
 
 >imrlr> 
 
 ACADEMY. 
 
 CATHERIME ST. STBJUTO. 
 MISS ( LUMKMS S M(. IIT. 
 
 OB MONDAY, APRIL 11, 1H42. 
 
 Will be pn-^nirf ibeipleiulid MeLxInm of the 
 
 TOWER OF 1HU 
 
 Mr. E. WILSON.
 
 64 " Stage Struck." 
 
 wage war against such immorality as had charac- 
 terised the previous occupation of the building. It 
 may be added that Mr. Horace Voules, now the 
 acting editor of Truth, who received his practical 
 education in "the Yard," was the first manager of 
 TJic Echo, in the starting of which I had the pleasure 
 of assisting him, and that its first editor was Mr. 
 (afterwards Sir) Arthur Arnold, now chairman of the 
 London County Council. 
 
 "STAGE STRUCK." 
 
 As before intimated, I had acquired from my early 
 surroundings a liking for play-acting, which is an 
 insidious and dangerous penchant. I was cured of 
 this weakness, however,- by a humorous incident. 
 A dramatic club, of which I was a member, elected 
 to play " Henry IV." at the City of London Theatre. 
 The very subordinate part of Bardolph fell to my 
 lot. I considered tragedy was rather in my line, 
 but our manager always cast me in small comic 
 parts, owing, let us say, to professional jealousy. 
 If we played " Hamlet," I was First Gravcdigger; if 
 " The Merchant of Venice," then I had to inter- 
 pret Launcelot Gobbo, and so jpn. Now the part of 
 Bardolph depends more upon "make-up" and by- 
 play than upon elocutionary effort. For the latter 
 I was indebted to Mrs. R. Homier, the lessee, who 
 kindly gave me many valuable hints ; for " make- 
 up " I was dependent upon the barber. In those 
 days there were two small tradesmen who usually 
 supplied us and most other amateurs with costumes
 
 Amateur Theatricals. 65 
 
 and wigs, Samuel May and W. Clarkson. Although 
 the principals have long since passed away, the firms 
 still exist, but they would now decline with con- 
 tempt such orders as were gladly accepted nearly 
 fifty years ago. Clarkson was proud of his profes- 
 sion. The task of converting an elderly subject into 
 a youthful lover, or a lad of eighteen into an old 
 man, gave him, I believe, more pleasure than the 
 receipt of his fee. On the occasion to which I refer, 
 after disposing of Falstaff, he inquired for BardolpJi, 
 and was much amused when a very youthful aspirant 
 placed himself under his hands. " Now," said he, 
 " if there is one make-up more than another upon 
 which I pride myself, it's Bardolph," and with that 
 he arranged his pigments, various-coloured wafers, 
 and other matters, and proceeded to build up his 
 conception of what the portrait should be. It was 
 an elaborate piece of work. Every now and again, 
 after using his brushes and wafers, he would take 
 a few steps backward with t-he air of an artist to test 
 their effect. Finally, he declared the result perfec- 
 tion, but lamented that he could not have it copied 
 as a picture. On rising from the chair I felt as if I 
 wore a plaster mask, hut was content to suffer in the 
 cause of art. The play went well, and the actors 
 were honoured with a complimentary call. Having 
 nothing to do in the last act, I removed with some 
 difficulty Clarkson's masterpiece, and hurried to the 
 front in order to escort a young lady whom I had 
 taken to see the play. "Well," said I, "what did 
 you think of the performance ? " " Very well, for 
 
 5
 
 66 John Cassell. 
 
 amateurs" There was a coolness about the tone I 
 did not like. " Don't you think Falstaff quite a 
 success?" "Pretty well." I intended to lead up 
 to some reference to the part in which I had the 
 greatest interest, feeling certain that I should receive 
 a compliment which I would highly value. My 
 intention, however, was frustrated. My fair com- 
 panion closed the conversation by saying that if 
 ever I made such a guy of myself again, she would 
 have nothing more to say to me. And I have not, 
 for that was my last appearance on the stage. 
 
 JOHN CASSELL. 
 
 Shortly after my term of apprenticeship had 
 expired I was offered, and gladly accepted, a situa- 
 tion in the office of John Cassell, who had recently 
 started in business as a printer and publisher at 335, 
 Strand, which had some years previously been the 
 office of The Morning Post. This, however, was not 
 my first introduction to Mr. Cassell. My maternal 
 grandfather, John Williams, was a native of the 
 same town as Cassell, and followed the same trade. 
 He had served as chief carpenter in His Majesty's 
 navy, had retired from the service, and had set 
 up in business as a carpenter and undertaker in 
 Duke Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields. It was in this 
 street (now renamed Sardinia Street) that Benjamin 
 Franklin lodged when working as a journeyman 
 printer at Watts's office in the neighbouring Wild 
 Court. Williams was a devout Methodist, and a
 
 The Temperance Movement. 67 
 
 constant attendant at the services held in Great 
 Queen Street Chapel, where he was a Bible-class 
 teacher. Being a sincere and energetic - man, 
 although somewhat advanced in years, he took 
 an active interest in local missionary work in the 
 neighbourhood of the now disappearing Clare 
 Market. He soon realised that one of the chief 
 impediments to "the spread of the Gospel," to 
 use his own words, was the almost universal 
 habit of intemperate drinking, and became a 
 member of the limited band of enthusiasts who 
 started one of the earliest temperance societies 
 established in London. I remember that his 
 " pledge " ticket, which was framed and hung 
 up in his workshop, was " No. 4." When John 
 Cassell first came to London in 1837 he brought 
 a letter of introduction to my grandfather from a 
 fellow-tradesman in Manchester, and began to 
 assist him in the crusade against the prevailing 
 evil. Their plan of operations was this : some 
 half-dozen temperance advocates would assemble 
 near to a public-house, my uncle Alexander (the 
 youngest of my grandfather's children, about the 
 age of Cassell) would play a tune or two on his 
 flageolet, and when this had attracted a group of 
 listeners the real proceedings would commence 
 with a brief prayer by my grandfather, this being 
 followed by an energetic address from John Cassell. 
 Those were rough times, and that was a rough 
 neighbourhood, and it not unfrequently happened 
 that the speaker and his associates would be
 
 68 A Deserved Rebuke. 
 
 assaulted and driven away with such missiles as 
 the street afforded. They were, however, not the 
 men to be daunted ; they persevered, obtained the 
 sympathy of the women, who were the greatest 
 sufferers, and ultimately established a society 
 numbering some hundreds of total abstainers. 
 I well remember to have been taken by John 
 Williams and John Cassell to a meeting held in 
 a hall in Milton Street, Finsbury, at which they 
 both delivered addresses, and while returning we 
 met a drunken man staggering from side to side 
 along the footpath. Cassell, as \vas his wont, 
 improved the occasion by expressing the hope 
 that when I became a man I would never be a 
 slave to "the cursed drink." Some years after- 
 wards, when visiting my grandfather, who had 
 retired from business, I told him where I was 
 employed. "And how is my friend, John Cassell ?" 
 he inquired. I replied that he was prospering. 
 Some one who was present injudiciously remarked, 
 " Cassell was only a carpenter, I think." The old 
 man exclaimed, " Only a carpenter ! Tell me, lad, 
 who is there that need be ashamed of being a 
 carpenter, or a carpenter's sou?" The exclamation 
 was rendered additionally impressive by his laying 
 his hands upon a Bible which lay before him. 
 This occurred in 1850. John Williams lived to 
 be upwards of eighty, and died in his armchair 
 with an open Bible before him. 
 
 John Cassell had, in July, 1848, commenced his 
 publishing career by starting a weekly newspaper,
 
 " The Standard of Freedom" 69 
 
 The Standard of Freedom, which was printed at 
 335, Strand, by William Cathrall, whose plant 
 Cassell ultimately purchased. The price of the 
 paper was 4^d., but was increased to 5d. Some 
 years previously, however, he had commenced 
 trading as a wholesale tea and coffee merchant in 
 Abchurch Lane, City. This venture prospered ex- 
 ceedingly. He had appointed agents in all the large 
 towns, and John Cassell's name in connection 
 with coffee and tea (the latter being 5s. per Ib.) 
 was well known throughout the country. It was 
 not until he had thus established a flourishing 
 and lucrative business, then removed to 80, Fen- 
 church Street, that he turned his attention to the 
 more speculative one of publishing. The Standard 
 of Freedom, though an excellent paper, was at no 
 period of its existence a financial success. One 
 of its chief features was the promotion of emigra- 
 tion to Australia and Canada. Cassell formulated 
 a co-operative scheme to assist farmers and others 
 with limited capital to try their fortune in the 
 colonies, and sought the help of the Colonial 
 Office ; but after a protracted and unsatisfactory 
 correspondence with the officials, he became dis- 
 heartened, and reluctantly abandoned the idea. 
 The Standard of Freedom came to an end on 
 October 4, 1851, by being incorporated with The 
 Weekly Ncu's and Chronicle, and Cassell turned his 
 attention to more popular educational works. In 
 January, 1850, he started The Working Man's 
 Friend, a penny weekly octavo journal, which
 
 7o " The Working- Man's Friend" 
 
 obtained a considerable circulation ; and in the 
 following May began to issue Cassell's Library in 
 sevenpenny monthly volumes of 144 pages, which 
 ran to 26 volumes. 
 
 It may be here mentioned, parenthetically, that 
 another gentleman, who has since prospered, and 
 conferred inestimable benefits upon the public, 
 commenced his publishing career at this time, 
 for it was in June, 1850, that Mr. Passmore 
 Edwards issued a twopenny monthly magazine, 
 entitled, The Public Good, which contained con- 
 tributions from Prof. Graham, Dr. Massie, Thomas 
 Beggs, Paxton Hood, Edward Miall, W. J. Fox, 
 Elihu Burritt, and Westland Marston a goodly 
 array of well-known names. 
 
 Cassell had not only a strong desire to en- 
 courage working people to educate themselves, 
 but he entertained a belief that they could assist 
 each other if opportunity were afforded them ; he 
 accordingly offered prizes for papers to be written 
 by persons who gained their living by working 
 at some trade. These contributions were printed 
 and issued as monthly supplements to The Working 
 Man's Friend, but entitled The Literature of Working 
 Men. It is worth recording that the first number 
 contained an article " By J. A. Langford, chair- 
 maker, Birmingham." This gentleman, who is still 
 living, is John Alfred Langford, LL.D., F.R.H.S., 
 the author of "A Century of Birmingham Life," 
 and other works. The second number contained 
 the first literary effort of a very remarkable old
 
 " The Illustrated Exhibitor" 71 
 
 woman, "Janet Hamilton, shoemaker's wife, Lang- 
 loan, Lanarkshire." Although uneducated, never 
 having attended a school, she composed many 
 essays and poems which were subsequently pub- 
 lished, and which entitled her, according to a 
 writer in Pniicli, "to a niche in the temple of 
 fame." John Bright once paid a visit to her 
 humble home, and declared her to be the most 
 remarkable old lady that he ever heard of. In 
 the third number a contribution appeared " By 
 Robert Whelan Boyle, printer, Camden Town," 
 whom I afterwards knew as a printer's reader, and 
 who became the first editor of The Daily Chronicle. 
 The success which had attended several of Mr. 
 Cassell's publications, although but moderate, was 
 sufficient to induce him to project a more ambitious 
 undertaking. The Great Exhibition building was 
 fast approaching completion, the papers were filled 
 with matters relating to the impending World's Fair, 
 and, taking advantage of the popular excitement, he 
 made arrangements for producing a record of the 
 event, to be fully illustrated with what were then 
 deemed high-class engravings. About a fortnight 
 before the date of publication of the first number 
 he ordered advertisements to be inserted in the 
 newspapers to the extent of ^100, which his 
 manager said he considered somewhat extravagant. 
 Cassell struck the table with his fist and said, " This 
 exhibition time everybody is going to stand on tip- 
 toe, and if I don't do the same I sha'n't be seen, so 
 spend the money." The result more than realised
 
 72 La Belle Sauvage Yard. 
 
 his expectations. When the first number was pub- 
 lished (June 7, 1851), the whole of the copies printed 
 were sold the same day, and more were required. 
 The machines rolled on day after day to meet the 
 demand, and when the formes were released (it 
 may again be remarked that electrotyping, although 
 described by Savage in 1841, had not come into 
 use) the " matter " had to be boiled in ley before 
 the types could be separated. This was the turning- 
 point in that part of his career. He believed the 
 success of The Illustrated Exhibitor was mainly 
 owing to the pictures, and from that time illustra- 
 tions formed a chief attraction of Cassell's publi- 
 cations. 
 
 At the end of the year 1851 there was a change 
 of management in Mr. Cassell's establishment, pre- 
 vious to its removal to La Belle Sauvage Yard. As 
 was then the custom of the trade, the whole of the 
 staff received notice. Being desirous of widening 
 my experience, I did not seek a re-engagement, but 
 went to an old-fashioned bookwork house in Alders- 
 gate Street, Messrs. Joseph Masters & Son, where 
 a friend of mine was employed. It was so old- 
 fashioned that they had not yet availed themselves 
 of the use of stereotype, but recomposed their books 
 for every edition. The principal was a quaint old 
 gentleman, who had a natural objection to see types 
 lying upon the floor, as sometimes happens even at 
 the present day, notwithstanding the advance of 
 technical education. On one occasion, as he was
 
 " The Politician:' 73 
 
 passing through the composing-room, he exclaimed, 
 " Dear me ! dear me ! If compositors were cocks 
 and hens, and types were barleycorns, the floor 
 would indeed be cleaner" a hint that had a salu- 
 tary effect. Having in a few months acquired a 
 knowledge of the method of working adopted in 
 an exclusively bookwork office, where everything 
 was done "on the piece," I sought employment 
 on a daily paper, The Politician, upon which work 
 commenced at six o'clock in the morning, and ter- 
 minated about eleven. It did not live long, but I 
 was thus enabled to complete my technical edu- 
 cation, having been engaged upon every kind of 
 compositor's work incidental to the trade. 
 
 Samuel Taylor had by this time removed from 
 Drury Lane to Graystoke Place, Fetter Lane, ex- 
 tended his plant, and laid down machinery. He 
 had also taken as a partner the former printing 
 manager of Messrs. Bradbury & Evans, named 
 Greening, and to Taylor & Greening's I went in a 
 managerial capacity. 
 
 One day two gentlemen came to the office and 
 inquired if we could produce a morning paper. 
 Here was an opportunity of showing my employers 
 what I could do, and of making good use of my 
 very limited experience in that direction. I at once 
 replied that we should be prepared to undertake it, 
 especially as they intimated that they did not expect 
 it to attain a large circulation at first, although they 
 believed it would gradually increase. Arrangements 
 were subsequently made with the printers of The
 
 74 " The Daily Telegraph." 
 
 Weekly Dispatch to machine the paper on their 
 Middleton "four-feeders" if the circulation exceeded 
 our means of production. An estimate of cost was 
 accordingly submitted to Col. Arthur Burroughes 
 Sleigh, which was declared to be satisfactory. My 
 employers had wisely inserted as a condition that 
 the sum of fifty pounds should be paid down as a 
 deposit, which was to be forfeited if the paper were 
 suddenly stopped, as in that case a fortnight's wages 
 in lieu of notice would have to be paid to the men 
 employed. This condition, however, appeared to 
 be a difficulty, for after some correspondence the 
 matter dropped. We heard shortly afterwards that 
 David Aird, a printer in Exeter Street, Strand, had 
 undertaken the contract without a deposit, and thus 
 I missed being present at the birth of The Daily 
 Telegraph and Courier. Many years after (1867) I 
 undertook to produce another morning paper, The 
 Day. In this case a deposit of ^500 was lodged in 
 a bank under similar conditions, and its forfeiture 
 just prevented the transaction from being a loss, for 
 the paper stopped suddenly after an issue of forty- 
 one numbers. 
 
 " THE FIELD." 
 
 The Field newspaper was started by Messrs. Brad- 
 bury & Evans on the ist of January, 1853, several 
 of the literary and artistic contributors to Punch 
 being engaged upon it. After vainly endeavouring 
 to obtain a paying circulation, the proprietors dis- 
 posed of it to Benjamin Webster, the lessee of the
 
 " The Field." 75 
 
 Adelphi Theatre, who, I understood, purchased it in 
 the hope that it might be made a property for the 
 benefit of his son. With a view to reduce the cost 
 of production, Webster removed the printing from 
 Bradbury's, and placed it in the hands of a young 
 and enterprising firm of printers, Messrs. Fetter & 
 Galpin, who occupied a portion of The Times pre- 
 mises in Playhouse Yard, Blackfriars, and whose 
 steam power was derived from The Times engine, a 
 shaft being passed through a hole in the wall. Here 
 it remained till May, 1854, when Greening, who was 
 acquainted with the proprietor and editorial staff, 
 obtained the contract to print it, and its production 
 was entrusted to me. At this time a gentleman 
 named William Knight was the general editor, 
 whose services were rewarded with a weekly hono- 
 rarium of four pounds, which he generally drew 
 in advance. Mr. Robert Soutar, the actor, and 
 husband of Miss Nellie Farren, was the racing 
 editor and general utility man, and Shirley Brooks, 
 who became the editor of Punch on the death of 
 Mark Lemon, wrote the leading articles, for which, 
 I presume (from the terms of a letter in my pos- 
 session written by him to Webster), he was paid ten 
 guineas per month. There were, of course, several 
 other contributors whose names I forget, but I well 
 remember that each would supply more copy than 
 his allotted share, and when the time came for 
 " making up " the paper, there was always a quarrel 
 arising out of the question as to what should be 
 omitted, the printer having sometimes to settle the
 
 76 Ralph Harrison 
 
 point for himself, in order to put the paper to press 
 in time for the morning mails. Webster used 
 naturally to complain bitterly at having to pay for 
 'overmatter" which never appeared except in slip. 
 After losing between eight and nine thousand 
 pounds, and obtaining a circulation but little ex- 
 ceeding 4,000 copies, Webster sold the paper to 
 Serjeant Cox for a small sum in December, 1854, 
 glad enough to get rid of so expensive an encum- 
 brance. It is needless to add that, under the 
 energetic management of its new proprietor, it 
 became, and is now, one of the most successful and 
 most lucrative weekly papers in existence. Of the 
 original contributors to The Field all have passed 
 away except Mr. Harrison Weir who showed me 
 over his beautiful garden at Sevenoaks but the other 
 da and Mr. Robert Soutar. 
 
 RALPH HARRISON. 
 
 Two very efficient members of our printing staff 
 who had been employed on The Field, Joseph Ellis 
 and Ralph Harrison, came to me one day and stated 
 that The Daily Telegraph was about to start a printing- 
 office of its own, and that they had been offered a 
 tempting engagement one as printer and the other 
 as sub-editor and I parted with them regretfully. 
 Ellis's name as printer appeared in The Telegraph 
 from that date till the time of his death, many 
 years afterwards, and Harrison remained as chief 
 sub-editor till he became editor of The Birmingham 
 Daily Gazette, in which he acquired a proprietary
 
 and " The Daily Telegraph? 77 
 
 share. I heard from both of these gentlemen, who 
 were charged with the business management of the 
 paper in its early days, that they often had to borrow 
 money to pay the men, and knew not, from week to 
 week, how long it could hold out. In an article on 
 " The Newspaper Press," which appeared in The 
 Quarterly Review of October, 1880, the writer says 
 that " but for the boldness and self-sacrifice of the 
 then manager (Mr. Harrison), The Daily Telegraph 
 could at one time hardly have surmounted its diffi- 
 culties." In a speech which Mr. Harrison delivered 
 at a Press dinner, he alluded to his experience as 
 sub-editor, and thus described the nature of his 
 duties : " My staff, for economical reasons, was a 
 very small one, and we toiled late and early to make 
 the paper as good as possible, the pecuniary circum- 
 stances considered. My duties were something like 
 these : Get out of bed at ten in the morning, write 
 a leading article, bring it down wi4;h me for the 
 printer, and then go on with the sub-editing till the 
 early hours of the next morning. A few hours' 
 sleep, and then at it again." For fifteen years he 
 held the position of sub-editor, at the end of which 
 period he had the satisfaction of being able to boast 
 of having "the largest circulation in the world." 
 
 Harrison had on his staff a colleague who, 
 although thoroughly competent and an excellent 
 fellow, was addicted to occasionally introducing 
 into his articles ingenious references to business 
 firms. He had been told off on one occasion to 
 describe some such function as a Cattle or Horse
 
 78 A Reporters " Puff." 
 
 Show, and during the week a hat-box found its way 
 into Harrison's room, addressed to the said reporter, 
 with Messrs, the Manufacturers' Compliments. This 
 aroused suspicion, but Harrison wondered how a 
 " puff " of a hatter could possibly be introduced into 
 such a most unlikely subject as that for which the 
 clever writer was entered, and was so curious that 
 he kept a special eye on the proof. When it reached 
 him he was much amused on discovering the adroit 
 manner in which an evidently imaginary incident 
 had been introduced a restive animal had nearly 
 caused an alarming accident, " which fortunately 
 resulted in nothing more serious than the total 
 destruction of one of Messrs. So-and-So's hats." 
 Harrison allowed the passage to stand, no doubt 
 smiled pleasantly, but altered the name to that of 
 the maker of the hat he himself wore, to the horror 
 of the writer and the disappointment of the hatter 
 who had made a complimentary presentation. 
 
 On leaving The Daily Telegraph to occupy the 
 editorial chair of The Birmingham Gazette, Harrison 
 was entertained by his brother journalists at a 
 dinner at the Crystal Palace, and was the recipient 
 of a costly testimonial. His editorial career in Bir- 
 mingham was exceedingly successful, but it was 
 prematurely and suddenly terminated by an almost 
 fatal occurrence. One night or rather morning 
 he left his office, after seeing his paper to press, and 
 was proceeding as usual to his home in the suburbs, 
 when he was waylaid by a band of ruffians, who 
 garroted and robbed him, and left him lying in the
 
 " Diogenes" 79 
 
 road insensible. So serious were the injuries he 
 received that he was unable to resume his duties, 
 and therefore was compelled to tender his resigna- 
 tion. For upwards of a year he was under medical 
 treatment. After travelling in search of health for 
 some time, he returned to London, and called upon 
 me with reference to a proposed purchase of a 
 London local paper. This resulted in his becoming 
 the proprietor of The Marylcbone Mercury, which he 
 edited and managed till his death in 1894. Sir 
 Edwin Arnold, in a letter of condolence addressed 
 to his family, wrote : " He will always live in my 
 friendly memory as a brave, capable, and inde- 
 fatigable colleague." 
 
 " DIOGENES." 
 
 When the proprietor of a newspaper or publica- 
 tion discovers that he has made a mistake, and that 
 he is offering something to the public which they 
 will not buy, he has but little difficulty in deciding 
 upon his course of action. When it happens, how- 
 ever, that a moderate measure of success is attained, 
 which seems to require but perseverance to ensure 
 prosperity, the case presents a totally different pro- 
 blem for solution, and its attempted solution may 
 prove ruinous. The history of a comic weekly 
 publication called Diogenes was an instance of this 
 kind. It commenced its career with the year 1853, 
 the nominal proprietor and editor being Robert 
 Kemp Philp. The necessary capital was, however, 
 provided by an unseen hand, and the editing was
 
 8o 
 
 " Diogenes " Cartoon. 
 
 CARTOON BY \V. XEXVMAX. 
 
 ultimately undertaken by Watts Phillips, who also 
 furnished many of the designs for the "cartoons." 
 The other artists engaged upon it were W. Newman 
 and C. H. Bennett, while Robert Brough, E. Shelton,
 
 Contributors to " Diogenes? 
 
 Si 
 
 and Watts Phillips supplied most of the "copy." 
 I was responsible for the mechanical production of 
 Diogenes, and was of course in constant communica- 
 tion with the gentlemen named, and had the further 
 privilege of frequently contributing to its columns. 
 With the exception of The Puppet Show (1848), 
 
 CHIEK CONTRIBUTORS TO " DIOGENES." 
 
 Punch had never had a more promising rival. The 
 mismanagement of the Crimean War afforded excel- 
 lent subjects for the cartoonist, who made the most 
 of his opportunity, and these full-page designs will 
 bear favourable comparison with those of any of the 
 comic papers that have since appeared, always ex- 
 cepting the work of Sir John Tenniel. Watts Phillips 
 contributed a series of trenchant essays, entitled, 
 " Thoughts in Tatters, by the Ragged Philosopher," 
 and Robert Brough wrote for it his "Songs of the 
 
 6
 
 82 " Copy " Wanted. 
 
 Peerage," both strongly imbued with extreme 
 Radical sentiments. At the head of the " Preface " 
 to the last volume of Diogenes appeared portraits 
 of the chief contributors, which are reproduced on 
 p. 81. The paper struggled on for nearly three years. 
 Sometimes a particularly happy cartoon would send 
 up the circulation within a short distance of the 
 paying point, but it never " turned the corner." 
 
 One evening, when the paper had to be put to 
 press, I informed Watts Phillips, who with Robert 
 Brough was in the office, that we required a column 
 of matter to complete the number. They told me 
 that they were going to the " Edinburgh Castle " for 
 a chop, and if I would send a boy there in an hour 
 it would be forthcoming. The boy went, and re- 
 turned with the message that they had both left. 
 The paper was made up with a blank column, which 
 could not be filled up " tit-bits " fashion, for the 
 matter had to be original. After waiting anxiously 
 for some time, in the hope that the editor or his 
 MS. would turn up, I sent for a copy of The Times, 
 hit upon a current topic, and proceeded to fill up 
 the blank space with doggerel.* As this enforced 
 impromptu contribution may in some measure be 
 responsible for the sudden demise of Diogenes, for it 
 lived but another week, it may perhaps be quoted as 
 an additional example of what to avoid. 
 
 * This incident the want of a column of matter at the time of putting to press a 
 comic weekly paper, reference to a newspaper for a subject, the writing of a rhymed 
 parody, with the repetition of a four-line refrain was introduced by Robert Brough 
 into his story of " Marston Lynch," which appeared some time afterwards in The 
 Train (vol. ii. p. 9), but the author attributed it to the editor, not the printer.
 
 An Impromptu Contribution. 83 
 
 "WHAT TO EAT, DRINK, AND AVOID. 
 
 New Edition. 
 As SUNG BY DR. NORMANDY WITH ALARMING EFFECT. 
 
 " Unless a man's meat and his beverage 
 
 Is fit for consumption, it's void, 
 So the best thing to learn in this clever age 
 
 Is what to eat, drink, and avoid. 
 Of chemistry I'm a professor, 
 
 Well versed in oxides, et cetera, 
 And though by some deemed an aggressor, 
 My aim's but to make your food betterer,* 
 For I've analysed everything sold you 
 
 And found all with poison alloyed, 
 So listen awhile to have told you 
 What to eat, drink, and avoid. 
 
 " To begin, then, with bread ' unfermented, 
 
 To call which ' digestive ' 's a trick, 
 'Tis the vilest of compounds invented, 
 
 Indigestible quite as a brick. 
 What with acid carbonic for yeast 
 
 And ground bones and alum for flour, 
 You must own it's not fit for a beast, 
 Much less for a man to devour. 
 
 For I've analysed everything sold you, &c. 
 (Four lines to fill out.) 
 
 " Mere carrots and chick'ry 's your Mocha, 
 
 For coffee you can't set your eye on, 
 And choc'late 's half brick-dust and ochre 
 
 With fat and peroxide of iron. 
 If slim, and you cocoa nibs take, 
 
 In the hope of becoming robusty, 
 Depend on't you've made a mistake, 
 For they're never disposed of till musty. 
 For I've analysed, &c. (four lines). 
 
 * " When the exigence of rhyme compels 
 Orthography forgets her spells." 
 
 W. S. GILBERT, The Grand Duke (1896).
 
 84 More Doggerel. 
 
 " Regarding your favourite drink, 
 
 Which you purchase as some one's ' entire,' 
 You're entirely wrong if you think 
 
 They will serve you with what you require. 
 It is merely a mixture of brine, 
 
 With sulphate of iron and gentian 
 And quassia, and really, in fine 
 
 With things far too nasty to mention. 
 For I've analysed, &c. (four lines). 
 
 " If inclined to indulge in a glass 
 
 Of hot brandy or cold gin without. 
 You'll not do so unless you're an ass, 
 
 Unacquainted with what you're about ; 
 For gin is but paradise grains, 
 
 With alum and potass bicarbonate, 
 Besides other stuff it contains, 
 
 With a similar quantum of harm in it. 
 For I've analysed, &c. (four lines). 
 
 '' Let not viands nor fluids entice, 
 In case you a victim may fall, 
 But act on this piece of advice 
 
 And eat and drink nothing at all. 
 For there's nothing that grows or is made 
 
 But some poison or other contains, 
 So if starving, to eat yet afraid, 
 
 Get a pistol and blow out your brains. 
 For I've analysed, &c. (four lines)." 
 
 When Philp determined to abandon Diogenes, 
 after a loss of about .5,000, Watts Phillips and 
 Shelton proposed to carry it on, but Philp declined 
 to accede to their request ; " I wish," he said, " to 
 guard against our influence falling into unworthy 
 hands." The pictorial tailpiece to the last number 
 was a figure of " Diogenes surrendering his pen to 
 Punch." Philp was the compiler and proprietor of
 
 Another Comic Paper. 85 
 
 a book, the sale of which has far exceeded a million 
 copies, " Enquire Within upon Everything." This 
 passed through my hands when first brought out. 
 
 "THE COMIC TIMES." 
 
 The same day that saw the demise of Diogenes 
 (August i, 1855), gave birth to another comic paper, 
 which was produced at the same office. Some 
 serious misunderstanding had arisen between Messrs. 
 Bradbury & Evans, the proprietors of Punch, and 
 Mr. Herbert Ingram, the proprietor of the Illustrated 
 London News. This resulted in the latter gentleman 
 projecting a worthy rival to the. all-powerful Punch, 
 which was to be called The Comic Times. Edmund 
 Yates, a young man about twenty-five years of age, 
 engaged at the Post Office, was appointed editor, 
 and he gathered round him all the suitable talent 
 then available. His staff included William Brough 
 (who had been a printer) as sub-editor, John Oxen- 
 ford (then the dramatic critic of The Times), E. L. 
 Blanchard, Robert Brough, G. A. Sala, Albert Smith, 
 Edward Draper, Godfrey Turner, and Frank Scuda- 
 more, all able and better-known men than their 
 chief. The illustrations were supplied by C. H. 
 Bennett, W. McConnell, W. Newman, A. Henning, 
 and also by R. Brough. As may be supposed, there 
 seemed every prospect of the publication becoming 
 a success, especially as there was unlimited capital 
 at command to support it during its initial stage. 
 Nearly all the professional wits of that day who had
 
 86 
 
 The Comic Times" 
 
 been, or desired to be, engaged upon Punch, 
 with hopeful satisfaction the probability of a pros- 
 perous rival, which would afford them an oppor- 
 tunity of showing that the outsiders were equal to 
 
 the favoured ones of Whitefriars. In the first 
 number appeared the commencement of a series 
 of articles entitled, "The Hermit in the Box, being 
 the Experience of a Stage Doorkeeper," from the 
 pen of G. A. Sala. For the second number Bennett 
 contributed a drawing illustrating the subject which 
 I had treated in Diogenes the week previous, and 
 Robert Brough introduced a personality, " Billy 
 Barlow," which became a favourite weekly feature. 
 I have always suspected that " The Barlow Papers " 
 suggested the idea of " Ally Sloper." Mr. Barlow is 
 supposed to call upon the editor, and having sent up 
 his card (a pawnticket) obtains an interview. " He
 
 C. H. Bennett's Cartoon. 
 
 DEATH IN* THE POT. 
 
 said he did not see how we could get on without 
 him, and had put himself a little out of the way to 
 call and offer his services. Thanking him for the 
 overwhelming consideration, we respectfully inquired 
 in what particular essential point our existence 
 might be said to be defective in the event of his 
 withholding his valuable countenance. He replied, 
 ' Most things.' He had not yet considered the exact 
 form his co-operation would take, but that if we 
 would let him have something on account he would 
 think it over and let us know. Anxious to conci-
 
 88 Billy Barlow. 
 
 Hate an individual occupying so exalted a position 
 in the public favour, and being very busy, we 
 considered it extremely cheap to get rid of him for 
 fourpence. Mr. Barlow accepted that sum with 
 great condescension, and, informing us that we 
 should hear from him, he took his leave." 
 
 WILLIAM BARLOW'S FIRST CONTRIBUTION. 
 
 Ladies and gentlemen, how do you do ? 
 My appearance in print, you will say, is quite new ; 
 But the fact is, I should have been there long ago 
 The world wants a few writers like Billy Barlow. 
 
 Oh, dear ! raggedy, oh ! 
 There was Dickens, Carlyle now there's Billy Barlow. 
 
 The Emperor Napoleon remarked t'other day, 
 " My Great Exhibition here somehow don't pay ; 
 How the deuce shall I manage to make it ' a go ' ? " 
 Says the Empress, " Send over for Billy Barlow." 
 
 Oh, dear ! raggedy, oh ! 
 " Here ! the telegraph, quick ! for young Billy Barlow.
 
 Billy Barlow. 89 
 
 So I packed my portmanteau, and off I soon set ; 
 At the station a lot of low touters I met ; 
 And they cried out, " Dieppe and Xewhaven " ; but no, 
 Says I, " Dover and Calais for Billy Barlow." 
 
 Oh, dear ! raggedy, oh ! 
 Time is money to statesmen like Billy Barlow. 
 
 We landed at Calais. " Your passport ? " says they. 
 " 'Aint got one," says I. They'd have walked me away, 
 But a swell in big epaulettes cries out, " Hulloa ! 
 Laisscz passer, milord, Mounseci- Guillaumc Barlow ! 
 
 Oh, dear ! a nice sort of go, 
 There'd ha' been if they'd meddled with Billy Barlow. 
 
 To a cafe I went, on the quiet, to dine ; 
 But I'd scarcely sat down to my oysters and wine, 
 When I heard in the hall footsteps come to and fro, 
 And some voices were asking for Mounseer Barlow. 
 
 Oh, dear ! raggedy, oh ! 
 Deputations were waiting on William Barlow. 
 
 Off to Paris I went by the half-past eight train ; 
 
 As the crowd cheered me onward folks asked, " C'cst la Reinc ? 
 
 La belle Rcine Victoria ? " The answer was " No ; 
 
 'Tis the first of her subjects, Lord William Barlow." 
 
 Oh, dear, some respect please to show 
 This is not Lord John Russell, but Billy Barlow. 
 
 At the breaking of day we to Paris drew near ; 
 All the luggage was looked at by critics severe ; 
 When I offered my own, said the Douanier, " No ! 
 You're the Emperor's visitor, Mister Barlow." 
 
 Oh, dear ! raggedy, oh ! 
 " Pass the bundle and tooth-brush of William Barlow."
 
 9O Billy Barlow. 
 
 So I walked into town to find somewhere to sleep, 
 But the lodgings they offered were nasty and cheap 
 I could meet with none over ten guineas or so 
 For the night, which would never suit Billy Barlow. 
 
 Oh, dear ! anything low 
 Is distasteful extremely to Billy Barlow. 
 
 I preferred a short walk in the Champs Ely-sees 
 All prepared for a grand 'lamination display 
 There I noticed the names, for the firework show, 
 Of Victoria and Albert, and Billy Barlow. 
 
 Oh, dear ! may the French never know, 
 What it is to want England and Billy Barlow. 
 
 Soon I dropped off to sleep 'neath a popular tree, 
 But was roused by the words, "On nc dortpas id." 
 'Twas a rough man in blue, who, 'twould seem, didn't know 
 What was due to the person of Billy Barlow. 
 
 Oh, dear ! raggedy, oh ! 
 They've just called the case on of Billy Barlow ! 
 
 For the seventh number Gustave Dore supplied 
 four illustrations to an article entitled " Reminis- 
 cences of our Visit to Paris." Although the sale 
 of the paper was not so great as might reasonably 
 have been expected, chiefly owing to its being 
 neither advertised nor "pushed," the press wel- 
 comed it heartily, and its circulation increased 
 weekly. Probably remembering what effect an 
 almanack had upon the fortunes of Punch in 
 its early days, Yates prepared a Comic Times 
 Almanack, which compared favourably with any- 
 thing of the kind its rival had at that time produced.
 
 End of " The Comic Times:'' 91 
 
 For this Robert Brough and C. H. Bennett had 
 jointly designed an elaborate title-page, which was 
 very attractive. The edition printed of the Almanack 
 was at once sold, and we were much disappointed 
 at being informed that it was not to be reprinted. 
 The fact was, that although the editor and his staff 
 were joyous and hopeful, there was at work a 
 detrimental influence of which they were totally 
 ignorant. Mark Lemon was not only editor of 
 Punch, but acted as private secretary to Herbert 
 Ingram. Realising that The Comic Times was proving 
 far too strong a rival, he used his best endeavours 
 to bring about a reconciliation between his two 
 employers, and this he ultimately effected, to the 
 disgust of Edmund Yates and the disappointment 
 of his staff. 
 
 After a brief but brilliant career of sixteen num- 
 bers, Ingram abandoned the child which in pique 
 he had brought into existence, and although Robert 
 Brough and some others of the contributors endea- 
 voured to lengthen its life, it went the way of so 
 many other rivals to Punch. 
 
 AN AWKWARD FIX. 
 
 In the following year I found myself again 
 engaged upon the works of John Cassell, who had 
 become associated with Messrs. Fetter & Galpin, 
 then in Playhouse Yard, Blackfriars. " Cassell's 
 History of England " had just commenced ptibli-
 
 92 An Awkward Fix. 
 
 cation in weekly numbers. J. F. Smith, a very 
 popular writer of fiction, had been contributing to 
 The London Journal the " Lives of the Queens of 
 England," and probably for that reason he was 
 engaged to write the " History." This was by no 
 means a happy arrangement. Smith was not suffi- 
 ciently industrious to make any subject a study ; 
 his eagerness to describe dramatic situations was 
 likely to carry him away from* dry historical fact 
 into the realms of fancy ; and a matter of more 
 importance from a printer's point of view his 
 delivery of " copy " was uncertain. After a brief 
 period, therefore, the work was placed in more 
 competent hands, William Howitt having under- 
 taken at a short notice to continue it. It happened 
 to be a part of my duty to superintend the "setting 
 up " of this work, the MS. for which was in the 
 early stage delivered "at the latest moment." One 
 evening, when the compositors were engaged upon 
 the current number, an accident happened, the 
 serious nature of which printers will readily appre- 
 ciate. It was a sultry summer's night, the heat from 
 the gas increasing the natural temperature, and the 
 men had opened the windows to let in a little fresh 
 air. When in full swing, a compositor came to me 
 with a melancholy countenance and apologetic air, 
 and informed me that a leaf of his "copy" had been 
 blown out of a window. It used to be a jocular 
 instruction, by the way, when an author desired his 
 punctuation to be observed : " Follow your copy, 
 even if it goes out of the window." Scouts were
 
 William Howitt. 93 
 
 immediately sent out to search the neighbourhood 
 around The Times office, in the hope that the truant 
 paper might have escaped the roofs and fluttered 
 down into one of the adjacent courts, but they 
 returned without finding it. The only remedy was 
 obvious. I travelled to West Hill Lodge, Highgate, 
 fortunately found Mr. Howitt at home, explained 
 the nature of the accident, and handed to him the 
 preceding and following pages of MS. He naturally 
 felt annoyed, but sat down and filled up the gap. 
 The subject of supernaturalism, upon which he 
 wrote a book, was then occupying his thoughts, and 
 somehow our conversation drifted into that channel. 
 He told me of a circumstance that had recently 
 occurred to himself. There was a child, the 
 daughter of a friend, of whom he was exceedingly 
 fond, and the attachment seemed to be mutual. 
 One evening, while sitting alone at his table, he 
 received from her a mental communication, inform- 
 ing him that she was very ill and desired to see him. 
 " Now," said Howitt (as nearly as I can remember), 
 "when I had last seen her, about a fortnight pre- 
 viously, she was in perfect health, and there was 
 nothing to lead me to suppose that any change 
 had taken place, nor was I at the time thinking of 
 her. I had never before experienced anything of so 
 decided a character, and I resolved at once to test 
 its actuality. On reaching the house of my friend I 
 was greeted as if expected, and the little feverish 
 patient told me she knew I would come, as she had 
 in thought sent me a message. How can you
 
 94 Forme Knocked Out 
 
 account for that ? " I told in return a ghostly 
 story that related to a member of my own family, 
 and we talked on till past midnight, when, care- 
 fully pocketing the "copy," I walked back more 
 cheerful than when I set out. 
 
 "THE MEDICAL TIMES." 
 
 The narration of the foregoing accident reminds 
 me of another, even more serious, which occurred 
 during my apprenticeship. One of the journals 
 upon which we were engaged was The Medical 
 Times, which had been started some years pre- 
 viously in opposition to The Lancet, the property of 
 Mr. Wakley, the coroner. One night, when the 
 paper was being made up for press, the compositors 
 were, as usual, dismissed one by one as they com- 
 pleted their work, until, some time after midnight, 
 but four remained the printer, his deputy, and two 
 apprentices, myself being one. All the formes had 
 been locked up ready for the machine except the 
 last that containing pages 1-16, full of small type 
 advertisements, and 8-9, devoted to leader matter. 
 This having been completed and likewise locked 
 up, my fellow-apprentice, who was a rather erratic 
 youth, and disposed to display his strength, instead 
 of obtaining the assistance of a second person in 
 order carefully to remove the forme from the im- 
 posing stone, lifted it on end upon his shoulder, 
 overbalanced himself, and put his head through it, 
 scattering the many thousands of types of which it 
 was composed upon the floor. By this time the
 
 " The Medical Times" 95 
 
 compositors who had gone home were most pro- 
 bably asleep in their beds, and the remaining four 
 could do but little towards repairing the damage, 
 yet the paper was bound by contract to appear in 
 time for the early morning's post. As many men as 
 lived near were summoned to return, and the pages 
 were reset by very tired and sleepy workmen, but 
 the paper did not come out in time for that morn- 
 ing's mail. 
 
 This incident is not perhaps very remarkable, but 
 the history of the journal to which it relates is 
 interesting, as told by a gentleman who was well 
 acquainted with the facts. He says : "It is now 
 [1868] about thirty years ago that a young gentle- 
 man called upon me and expressed an earnest desire 
 to become a qualified medical practitioner ; he had 
 read, and ' got up the bones,' but had not the means 
 wherewith to pay the hospital fees. He thought of 
 starting a medical journal, and another young friend 
 one Albert Smith offered to assist him by writing 
 for it, and receiving such remuneration as could be 
 afforded. Others, without money, but with pens of 
 the ready writer, came forward, and The Medical 
 Times made its appearance on the 28th of Septem- 
 ber, 1839, under the editorship of its proprietor, 
 Frederick Knight Hunt, who was soon able to pay 
 his 'great gun,' Albert Smith, half-a-crown per 
 column for his very amusing 'Confessions of Jasper 
 Buddie, the Dissecting-room Porter.' The journal 
 succeeded, and Hunt was able to pay all hospital 
 fees, and in due course wrote the much-desired
 
 96 Major Beniowski. 
 
 M.R.C.S. after his name. He started in practice, 
 but, disliking the drudgery of it, relinquished physic 
 for printer's ink, became editor and proprietor of 
 Hunt's London Journal, editor of The Pictorial 
 Times, and died at the early age of forty-two chief 
 editor of The Daily News."* The Medical Times 
 changed hands several times, and ultimately John 
 Churchill became the publisher. 
 
 A PROPOSED REVOLUTION IN PRINTING. 
 
 Some years ago, when the Polytechnic Institution 
 in Regent Street was an educational exhibition, a 
 teacher of mnemonics named Stokes held classes 
 there for the practice of artificial memory. Some 
 time in the 'forties, when I was a student at the 
 London Mechanics' Institution, there was a Polish 
 refugee, named Major Beniowski, who taught a 
 system for the improvement of the memory very 
 like Stokes's. The Major was a remarkable man. 
 He was tall, had a distinguished presence, and 
 spoke the English language grammatically and 
 fluently, but of course with a foreign accent. He 
 was known to have been connected with con- 
 spiracies in his own country, and to have endea- 
 voured to enlist the sympathies of English Chartists 
 and other agitators in the cause of " Universal 
 Liberty." He applied his system to the learning 
 of languages, and conducted a very successful 
 French class at the Institution. He was certainly 
 
 * " Some Account of the Parish of St. Clement Danes," by John Diprose.
 
 Beniowski's Inventions. 97 
 
 clever and ingenious, and an enthusiast in all he 
 undertook. He declared that he would revolu- 
 tionise the art of printing, and began by casting 
 logotypes a system which John Walter of The Tunes 
 had abandoned many years previously.* These 
 logotypes he placed in elaborate pigeon-hole cases, 
 which he termed " authoritons," and stated that a, 
 girl could compose matter under his proposed con- 
 ditions equal to from five to ten thousand single 
 types per hour. Not content with that, he invented 
 a rotary printing machine, which, however, never 
 advanced beyond the model stage. To complete 
 his entire reform, he proposed that the inking rollers 
 should be inflated with air. He at least induced 
 several persons to supply him with funds to carry 
 on his experiments and perfect his inventions, and 
 I- think there exists a Parliamentary Blue Book 
 referring to the subject. For years he lived at 
 8, Bow Street, Covent Garden, where he exposed 
 for sale the works he had printed with his logo- 
 types, but, like many others who have tried to 
 revolutionise printing, he disappeared into obscurity 
 without having added anything practical to the 
 requirements of the trade. 
 
 * John Walter obtained a patent for his logotype system in 1784. He then 
 purchased "the king's late printing-house, near Apothecaries' Hall, Blackfriars," 
 which he opened as a general printing-office in June of the same year. On 
 January i, 1785, he started The Daily Unircrsal Register, which he termed a 
 "logotype newspaper," and altered its title to The Times on January i. J 788.
 
 -98- 
 
 BARNARD GREGORY. 
 
 I remember to have been present at Covent Gar- 
 den Theatre when the notorious Barnard Gregory 
 was hissed off the stage. This was in 1843, when 
 Alfred Bunn (Punch's " Poet Bunn ") was the lessee. 
 The man Gregory was the editor of The Satirist, 
 a sixpenny weekly paper that reeked of scandal, 
 and invariably contained persistent libellous attacks 
 upon individuals who, it was conjectured, would 
 pay handsomely for their discontinuance. An 
 especial victim of his venomous attacks was the 
 Duke of Brunswick, whom in one article he accused 
 of being in some way connected with the murder of 
 Eliza Grimwood. The Duke entered several actions 
 for libel against him, and while some of these were 
 pending he was announced to make his first appear- 
 ance as Hamlet at Covent Garden. I had previously 
 seen him play the character of Othello very success- 
 fully at a private theatre, and no doubt he might 
 have earned an honest livelihood as an actor. On 
 the occasion referred to, the Duke whom he had 
 libelled occupied a side box, and as soon as Gregory 
 made his appearance upon the stage a disturbance 
 commenced which had evidently been prearranged, 
 for the rioters were distributed in groups over all 
 parts of the house, and the Duke was by gestures 
 inciting them to action. It was a scene of wild 
 confusion, the deafening sounds preventing the 
 actors from being heard. The first act was played 
 in dumb show, but when the drop-scene came 
 down there was a lull. During the first scene of
 
 Barnard Gregory. 99 
 
 the second act the house was quiet, but upon the 
 entrance of Hamlet, in the second, the noise was 
 renewed with increased vigour, and it was said at 
 the time that nothing like it had occurred since 
 the historical "O.P." riots.* The peaceful portion 
 of the audience then gradually withdrew, and ulti- 
 mately, after something had been thrown upon the 
 stage, the green curtain slowly descended to the 
 cheering of the rioters, and the proceedings came to 
 an end. Gregory at once brought an action against 
 the Duke for conspiracy, in which Serjeant Shee 
 and Serjeant Talfourd were engaged. The trial 
 created considerable interest, but although there 
 could be no doubt about the conspiracy, the jury 
 brought in a kind of " serve him right " verdict, 
 and the Duke was acquitted. I remember that 
 some difference of opinion was expressed, especially 
 among actors, as to the justice of the decision. If, 
 they said, the Duke had been libelled, he had his 
 remedy by legal process, and certainly had no right 
 to disturb peaceable playgoers to gratify a personal 
 grievance. While admitting that the rascal got no 
 more than his desert, it may be conceded that there 
 was some reason in the objection. This trial was 
 immediately followed by the Duke's libel actions 
 against Gregory, who was condemned to pay heavy 
 damages and ultimately to undergo imprisonment. 
 He however absconded, and a reward was offered 
 
 * These riots occurred on the opening of Covent Garden Theatre in 1809, and 
 were caused by the raising of the charges for admission, the audience clamouring 
 for a return to the Old Prices.
 
 ioo A Curious Reward Bill. 
 
 for his apprehension. The reward bill thus de- 
 scribed his personal appearance and antecedents : 
 
 " About five feet two inches high, sallow complexion, about fifty- 
 five years of age ; generally without whiskers ; has natural grey hair, 
 and scanty ; wears wigs of various colours ; has a projecting fore- 
 head, giving a louring expression to the face ; eyes darkish colour, 
 nose short and ill-shaped, face round ; has an habitual satirical 
 sneer, is high-shouldered, and slightly knock-kneed ; dresses 
 shabbily in black ; voice powerful, with a fawning style of speech ; 
 if not disguised, is in mourning ; manner pompous and vulgar ; 
 walk embarrassed and uncertain. Is the son of a Mrs. Gregory, 
 who kept a greengrocer's shop in Goswell Street. Was formerly 
 a schoolmaster and a local itinerant preacher. In the town of 
 Brighton he kept a drug-shop ; was afterwards head clerk in 
 Wigney's bank at Brighton ; then went into partnership there with 
 an auctioneer and brewer as bankers, and was unfortunate in 
 business." 
 
 Add to this the occupations of editor, professional 
 blackmailer, and actor, and his career will present a 
 record that "will take a little beating." He was 
 ultimately arrested at Southend, put into prison, and 
 was, I believe, heard of no more. 
 
 An equally notable and exciting event at which 
 I was also present occurred in 1848. This was an 
 organised demonstration against the occupation of 
 Drury Lane stage by the company of the Theatre 
 Historique, who had come over from Paris to play 
 a dramatised version of Alexandre Dumas' " Morite 
 Christo." A number of subordinate actors and 
 their friends had determined, if possible, to prevent 
 the performance from taking place, and, led on by 
 an actor named Sam Cowell, who sat near me in 
 the pit, they succeeded in making such a terrible
 
 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke. 101 
 
 noise hissing, hooting, whistling, and shouting 
 that the actors on the stage, after making several 
 attempts to be heard, confessed themselves beaten, 
 and abandoned their project. Albert Smith at the 
 time wrote a pamphlet denouncing the conduct of 
 the rioters, which was replied to by another written 
 in the interest of the English actors, but in the 
 meantime Drury Lane Theatre was "to be let." 
 
 G. V. BROOKE. 
 
 Gustavus Vaughan Brooke, the tragedian, was 
 in 1848 fulfilling an engagement at the Olympic 
 Theatre, and was announced to appear on a certain 
 date as Othello. A lad from the printing-office had 
 been sent across the road to a tavern situated in 
 a court near the stage-door, and he brought back 
 the news that Brooke was there, sitting on a barrel, 
 drunk. The lads thought that consequently there 
 would be some fun imported into the tragedy, and 
 went over into the theatre that night, ready for a 
 lark. The anticipated contretemps, however, did not 
 happen. Brooke, who had a fine voice, began his 
 first speech somewhat huskily, but there was other- 
 wise no indication of his condition ; in fact, he 
 acted his part so well, and delivered his lines with 
 such effect, that the audience repeatedly applauded 
 him. His gestures, the play of his features, his 
 rendering of the text, combined, as the piece pro- 
 ceeded, to evoke increased enthusiasm, which cul- 
 minated in "the house rising at him" in the last
 
 102 Brooke's " Othello? 
 
 scene. Just before his final speech, Othello realises 
 that he has been deceived, and exclaims, "O fool, 
 fool, fool ! " I cannot attempt to describe the 
 manner in which the actor, by repeating this one 
 word, putting his hands upon his head and tottering 
 towards the footlights, revealed to his listeners the 
 agony which he was supposed to be enduring, but 
 the effect upon the audience was electrical, and 
 some moments elapsed before the applause abated. 
 It is said that Edmund iKean once created a similar 
 demonstration by delivering a brief sentence, but 
 such an occurrence must be exceedingly rare. I 
 was afterwards told that the actors who played with 
 him that night never saw him go upon the stage in 
 a worse condition, or remembered him to have 
 played so brilliantly. I have in my time seen most 
 of the actors who have played Othello in London, 
 but Brooke's impersonation on that occasion rests 
 on my memory as by far the best. The old style 
 of acting the legitimate drama may be described as 
 consisting of a series of well-studied postures, the 
 delivery of the principal speeches as if they were 
 isolated recitations given as specimens of elocution, 
 and the making of certain points, at which the 
 applause was expected to come in. Brooke's method 
 differed entirely. He seldom, if ever, played the 
 same character twice in the same manner, and 
 therefore his performances were unequal, and the 
 actors who supported him, not knowing what he 
 would do, found it difficult to "play up to him." 
 He knew his lines, sank his personal individuality
 
 The Wreck of the "London" 103 
 
 in the character he represented, and let himself go 
 whither his simulated passion, grief, or other feeling 
 carried him. His other most successful impersona- 
 tion was undoubtedly Sir Giles Overreach. Like 
 Edmund Kean, with whom he was often compared, 
 he was a victim to drink, and this infirmity pre- 
 vented his attaining the position to which his talent 
 would otherwise have entitled him. His end was a 
 tragedy in which he played a noble part. Leaving 
 his wife, Avonia Jones, who was then playing at the 
 Surrey Theatre, he took a passage for Melbourne, 
 accompanied by his sister, in the ill-fated ship 
 London, which sailed from Plymouth on Saturday, 
 January 6, 1866. On the Monday following, when 
 in the Bay of Biscay, the vessel encountered a terrific 
 storm, and for several days all hands laboured at the 
 pumps to keep her afloat, Brooke taking more than 
 his share of the work, and endeavouring to raise the 
 spirits of his fellow-passengers. In the meantime 
 his sister had died from fear. Their efforts, how- 
 ever, proved unavailing, and on Thursday five days 
 after their departure from Plymouth the passengers 
 and crew took to the boats, leaving but the captain 
 and Brooke on board. The final scene is thus 
 described by W. J. Lawrence in his biography of 
 the actor, published in Belfast in 1892 : 
 
 " Just as they were pushing off, Gardiner, the assistant-steward, 
 observed him leaning with stern composure against the half-door 
 of the companion way. There he stood calmly surveying the scene, 
 with his chin resting on his hands as they grasped the top of the 
 door, which swayed slowly to and fro under the pressure. ' Will 
 you come with us, Mr. Brooke ? ' shouted Gardiner, pity welling up
 
 IO4 The Old Olympic. 
 
 in his heart for the man who had toiled so bravely. ' No ! no ! ' 
 replied Brooke. ' Good-bye. Should you survive, give my last 
 farewell to the people of Melbourne.' ... As they rowed slowly 
 away, many of the passengers, anxious that some one should survive 
 to tell the tale, waved their handkerchiefs and cheered as best they 
 could. Straining their eyes back eagerly as the distance grew 
 greater, the men saw that the ill-fated vessel was sinking rapidly by 
 the stern. In fact, the stem rose so high out of the water three 
 minutes after their departure that the keel was visible for a moment 
 as far as the foremast. Then the cutter went down into the trough 
 of the sea, and when she had climbed a hill of water, Olympus 
 high, no trace of the London or of the remnants of her living freight 
 was to be seen : nothing but an awful gulf of dark whirling water." 
 
 THE END OF THE OLD OLYMPIC. 
 
 I knew several persons connected with the old 
 Olympic Theatre, especially a man named Charles 
 Bender, who was an actor and, I think, stage- 
 manager. It was then usual for certain theatrical 
 officials to be allowed to take a "benefit" once a 
 year in fact, it was generally included in the terms 
 of their engagement. Bender was about to avail 
 himself of this privilege, and had arranged for the 
 production, " for this night only," of three very 
 popular plays, " The Rent Day," " Faint Heart 
 Never Won Fair Lady," and "Time Tries All." 
 There was not much money expended upon adver- 
 tising such events in those days, the beneficial re 
 depending for success chiefly upon the efforts of 
 his friends to dispose of tickets. I had assisted him 
 in this way, and in the middle of the day appointed 
 (March 29, 1849) I went into the theatre to give him 
 the result of my endeavours, and remained for some
 
 The Destruction of the Olympic. 105 
 
 time behind the scenes during the rehearsal of one 
 of the plays. A heavy green velvet curtain, which 
 parted in the centre, was drawn up at the sides of 
 the proscenium. About five o'clock, when we were 
 enjoying our usual cup of tea in the printing-office, 
 a lad rushed in and shouted "The Olympic's a-fire !" 
 We all scampered out into Drury Lane and joined 
 the gathering crowd of people, which soon num- 
 bered some thousands, and witnessed the speedy 
 and total destruction of the theatre. The building 
 being constructed chiefly of wood, which the heat of 
 the gas had rendered highly combustible, the whole 
 was soon a huge mass of flame, threatening the 
 surrounding property with a similar fate. There 
 were no less than twenty engines playing upon the 
 fire before it was got under, and the operations of 
 the firemen were directed by James Braidwood, the 
 then superintendent of the London Fire Brigade, 
 who lost his life in 1861 at the great fire in Tooley 
 Street. The fire was caused by one side of the 
 velvet curtain becoming detached and falling against 
 the prompter's gaslight. Poor Bender, who was at 
 the time in a private room attending to financial 
 matters, had a very narrow escape of his life, as he 
 afterwards told me. It seems strange in these days 
 to describe a London theatre as being constructed 
 of wood, and perhaps the Olympic was unique in 
 that respect. Its history, however, accounts for this. 
 . It was built in the reign of George III. by old Philip 
 Astley, who had rendered some service to the State 
 during the war with France, and was personally
 
 A Wooden Theatre. 
 
 known to the king. A circus in Lambeth which he 
 owned was destroyed by fire, and he thereupon 
 applied to the king to give him an old French man- 
 of-war, named La Ville de Paris, with which to con- 
 struct another. This he succeeded in obtaining, and 
 
 THE RUIXS OF THE OLYMPIC, FROM A CONTEMPORARY ENGRAVING. 
 
 out of the timbers of the disused ship he built the' 
 Olympic The masts of the old French vessel 
 formed part of the flies, and these well-seasoned 
 poles resisted the fire sufficiently to remain. standing 
 when all else had been consumed, as shown in the 
 accompanying contemporary sketch. The tall build- 
 ing on the right is the tavern before referred to, 
 where Brooke was discovered sitting on a barrel.
 
 An Actor in Pawn. 107 
 
 I also witnessed the destruction by fire of the 
 Surrey Theatre, and wrote a descriptive report for 
 The Son tli London Press, which was just started 
 under the editorship of Charles Gibbon, the 
 novelist, whom I knew intimately. 
 
 HOW A STORY MAY BE SPOILED. 
 
 While on matters theatrical, I will relate an 
 anecdote at second-hand. The circumstance was 
 brought to my mind by reading, a year or two ago, 
 in one of the weekly journals, the following para- 
 graph :- 
 
 " Ax ACTOR IN PAWN. A one-time well-known actor was always 
 head over heels in debt, despite an enormous salary, and was always 
 busy devising schemes by which he could raise money. One 
 evening, an hour before the curtain was to rise upon a new play, a 
 pawnbroker entered the private office of the manager of the theatre. 
 ' Here is a pawnticket for you, sir.' ' For me ? ' exclaimed the 
 astonished manager. ' Yes, sir. It is for 150, and I hold your 
 leading man for security. He cannot leave my place until I have 
 been paid.' And the pawnbroker was telling the truth. The 
 manager had to pay this amount before he could get his star. 
 Subsequently the actor and the pawnbroker divided the spoils." 
 
 Now, I had never before seen this in print, and am 
 quite ignorant as to its source. More than fifty 
 years ago, however, I heard my father tell a similar 
 story, which is probably the true version. My parents 
 lived in a house in Russell Street, exactly opposite the 
 stage-door of Drury Lane Theatre, where, in fact, 
 I first saw the light. Next door, on the east side, 
 was the shop of a pawnbroker, named Townsend. 
 On the west side, some half-dozen houses beyond,
 
 io8 Edmund Kean. 
 
 was (and is) " The Harp " tavern, a favourite haunt 
 of Edmund Kean. About 1829 Kean was playing 
 Hciirv r. at Drury Lane Theatre. One night the 
 actor, in entering the stage-door, struck his foot 
 against something and stumbled. The manager, 
 who happened to be in the doorkeeper's box, 
 noticed this, and gave strict orders that no one was 
 to be allowed to go out for drink, no doubt con- 
 cluding that Kean, whose habits were notorious, had 
 already imbibed more than he could safely carry. 
 After a short time a boy came downstairs and was 
 about to make his exit, when he was arrested by the 
 doorkeeper. "Where are you going ? " he inquired. 
 " I'm going out for Mr. Kean," replied the boy, no 
 doubt thinking that the magic name of the eminent 
 actor would be a sufficient passport. " You must 
 not go out for Mr. Kean, nor for anybody else 
 those are my orders." " But Mr. Kean wants his 
 brandy, as usual," persisted the lad. " You must go 
 back, my boy," replied the janitor. And back he 
 went and told his story. " What ! " exclaimed Kean, 
 "did you tell him it was for me, me, ME ?" tapping 
 his breast and raising his voice. On receiving a 
 reply, the enraged actor, who was already partially 
 dressed for his part, took down from a peg the 
 ample cloak he usually wore, threw it over his stage 
 costume, and bolted out through the door, to the 
 astonishment of the man in the box. Crossing the 
 road, he entered Townsend's shop and inquired for 
 the proprietor, whom he well knew as a frequenter 
 of the actors' room at "The Harp." "Townsend,"
 
 Kearis Stratagem. 109 
 
 said he, " lend me a guinea on my clothes." " With 
 pleasure, Mr. Kean, if you will take them off." Being 
 informed of the circumstances, and the intended 
 trick, it was arranged that Kean should sit in the 
 parlour, with the usual pawnbroker's ticket pinned 
 to his breast, that the duplicate should be sent across 
 to the manager with his compliments, and that a 
 bottle of brandy should be forthwith procured from 
 " The Harp." The bottle had scarcely been opened 
 when the manager rushed in and exclaimed, " Good 
 heavens ! Mr. Kean, what is the meaning of this ? 
 The overture has commenced and we shall have to 
 ring up in five minutes." Kean replied that it was 
 no fault of his if the stage were kept waiting. It was 
 absolutely necessary that he should have the brandy 
 before going on, and if he, the manager, would drink 
 with him, he would return at once, which he did, 
 and thus the incident ended. The delay, however, 
 necessitated a repetition of the overture. I may add 
 that my father knew Edmund Kean personally, 
 owing to his occasionally strolling into the book- 
 seller's shop in the Strand. He died in May, 1833, 
 at the early age of forty-six, a victim of intemperate 
 habits. 
 
 THE -WORKING MAN'S GARDENER. 
 
 In the 'fifties I was introduced to a man who was 
 chiefly instrumental in making the Botanical Gardens 
 at Kew available for the general public, and who 
 successfully laboured for many years to encourage a
 
 1 1 o The Working Mans Gardener. 
 
 taste for horticulture among the working classes of 
 large towns George Glenny. I used occasionally 
 to visit him at Dungannon House, Fulham, to which 
 a large garden was attached, and very much enjoyed 
 his gossip, for he had had considerable journalistic 
 experience. On one occasion I induced him to lend 
 me certain papers and other materials, from which I 
 wrote a sketch of his chequered career. This arose 
 from his telling me that he had always been a 
 working man, and that he had, in fact, been appren- 
 ticed to a mechanical trade before taking to gar- 
 dening and journalism. His bent was discovered 
 in this wise : he was taken by his father to see the 
 tulips at a nursery in Walworth, a neighbourhood 
 then considered out of town, where they were 
 grown with remarkable success. At this time tulip- 
 growing was a mania. He became so enamoured 
 of the beauty of the flowers that he determined to 
 try his hand at growing them himself. Although 
 indulged by his parents and encouraged by friends, 
 tulips were rather above his means, for in those days 
 they commanded very high prices. I remember, 
 when very young, to have visited an uncle of mine, 
 who was an amateur tulip-grower, and he pointed 
 out a by no means large bed that had cost him over 
 a hundred pounds ; I also remember that he kept 
 composition matches, like long pencils, slowly 
 burning in the garden, for the purpose of lighting 
 the cigars of visitors who came to admire his tulips. 
 Young Glenny, notwithstanding his very limited 
 means, was determined to obtain possession of the
 
 George Glenny. 1 1 1 
 
 coveted bulbs, and entered into an arrangement 
 with a nurseryman living in the City Road to pur- 
 chase a whole bed of tulips for ^20, unknown to 
 his parents, the payment for which was to be made 
 in instalments of 53. per week out of his pocket- 
 money. After having made some half-dozen pay- 
 ments, the youthful customer was astonished one 
 day to find his purchase brought home without 
 notice, and a demand made for the balance. This 
 of course caused a dispute, which began in an 
 undertone, on account of the secrecy of the trans- 
 action, but ended in an open quarrel, the noise of 
 which soon brought his father to the door, and the 
 facts had to be explained. A friend was called in to 
 appraise the value of the tulips, when it was dis- 
 covered that they were not worth a quarter of the 
 price charged, so the matter ended by the dealer 
 having to take back his bulbs and returning the 
 money. His father then purchased for him a more 
 valuable collection, and from that time he became 
 an enthusiastic florist. In the course of a few years 
 he won no less than three hundred prizes at flower 
 shows, and on a subsequent occasion' he told me 
 that he invited fifty-seven guests to partake of his 
 hospitality, and placed before each a silver prize cup 
 which had been awarded to him for the exhibition 
 of his flowers. 
 
 Being thus successful as a gardener, he was invited 
 to contribute articles upon horticultural subjects to 
 papers and magazines, and this brought him into 
 communication with the journalists of the day. He
 
 1 1 2 George Glenny. 
 
 did not, however, confine his pen to the subjects in 
 which he was a technical expert, for he became 
 editor of The British Luminary, and subsequently 
 of The Royal Lady's Magazine, which numbered 
 amongst its contributors the Ettrick Shepherd, 
 Miss Pardoe, Miss Porter, Miss Mitford, and the 
 
 GEORGE GLEXXY. 
 
 Misses Strickland. About the year 1837 he was 
 proprietor of The Gardeners' Gazette, and in a series 
 of articles he drew public attention to the deplorable 
 condition and the mismanagement of Kew Gardens, 
 which caused him to be summoned before a Trea- 
 sury committee. A commission was thereupon 
 appointed, including Dr. Lindley and, at the sugges-
 
 Kew Gardens. 1 1 3 
 
 tion of Glenny, Mr. (afterwards Sir Joseph) Paxton, 
 who investigated the matter and confirmed the 
 statements made in the Gazette. Dr. Lindley de- 
 scribed the then existing state of things as follows : 
 " You rang a bell at the side of a wooden gate, 
 which of itself was perfectly emblematic of the 
 secrecy, the unnatural privacy, of the working prin- 
 ciple within. You were let in as if by stealth, as if 
 the gatekeeper were ashamed to see you come, or 
 as if you yourself were ashamed to be seen there ; 
 and when you were there you were dodged by an 
 official, as if you were likely to carry off the St. 
 Helena willow-tree in your button-hole, or one of 
 the smaller hothouses in your waistcoat pocket. 
 You entered unwelcome, you rambled about sus- 
 pected, and you were let out with manifest gladness 
 at your departure." A reform in the management 
 at once commenced, and we who can now r enjoy a 
 visit to the beautiful gardens at Kew are reaping the 
 benefit of a change that was initiated by the pen of 
 George Glenny. 
 
 Had he "stuck to his last," Glenny might have 
 acquired a fortune, but unfortunately he was seized 
 with the quixotic idea of converting certain advanced 
 Radical and infidel papers into what he deemed 
 might be made, under his editorship, organs of 
 "respectable" and orthodox opinion. With this 
 end in view he purchased of Henry Hetherington 
 the copyrights of The London Dispatch, The London 
 Mercury, and other papers, changed their political 
 opinions and anti-clerical tendencies, reduced their 
 
 8
 
 114 The Duke of York's Column. 
 
 already limited circulation, and ultimately lost above 
 -2,000. In this speculative adventure he told me 
 that he "had been promised financial support by 
 several noblemen, but that they failed to assist him 
 as he expected, and he therefore had to pay the cost 
 of his injudicious experiment. 
 
 Besides his literary work, Glenny associated him- 
 self with many public movements. On the death of 
 the Duke of York, whom he knew as a patron, he 
 called a meeting of noblemen and gentlemen which 
 was held at his house, under the presidency of Earl 
 Cathcart, and proposed 'the erection of a monument 
 to his memory, which was ultimately carried out 
 under the presidency of the Duke of Wellington. 
 
 "Thou pillar, longitudinally great, 
 And also perpendicularly straight ; 
 Thou art, I fear, but flattery's handiwork, 
 Being a tribute unto Royal York." 
 
 To a similar effort Greenwich Hospital owes the 
 monument to Charles Dibdin. The chief work, 
 however, by which George Glenny ought to be 
 remembered is his attack upon the mismanagement 
 of Kew Gardens, which resulted in its reform ; his 
 establishing a recognised standard by which to judge 
 of the properties of cultivated flowers ; and his 
 popular articles on gardening which appeared for 
 many years in Lloyd's Ncivspaper, CasseU's Familv 
 Paper, and other publications. When I fast saw 
 him he gave me his photograph taken on his yand 
 birthday, of which the accompanying portrait is an 
 engraved copy.
 
 us 
 
 AN EXAMPLE OF PERSEVERANCE. 
 
 About Christmas-time the post generally brings to 
 me a seasonable and genial greeting from the Anti- 
 podes, signed by an old friend, named John Plum- 
 mer, whose early career was certainly remarkable, 
 and may be quoted as a striking instance of what 
 may be accomplished by indomitable perseverance, 
 even under the most unfavourable conditions. 
 His parents were staymakers, in a very humble 
 station, and occupied but two rooms in a house 
 in Rosemary Lane, one of the poorest East-end 
 localities of London. He received but little educa- 
 tion, and while still a child was attacked with fever, 
 which resulted in his becoming lame and deaf. His 
 infirmities not only prevented his taking part in the 
 usual amusements of childhood, but rendered him 
 an object of ridicule among his schoolfellows. This 
 preyed upon his mind, and drove him to seek amuse- 
 ment and consolation in reading, when he was not 
 employed in assisting his parents in their work. 
 Though still very young he applied himself to study, 
 and devoted every spare moment to the acquirement 
 of some kind of knowledge. When he became 
 sufficiently strong he used to carry his parents' work 
 to the warehouse, and on returning would linger at 
 the bookstalls, and sometimes be tempted to spend 
 a few coppers, which could ill be spared, in the 
 purchase of an old book or current publication, 
 although at that time unable to read with facility. 
 His family and friends were by no means disposed 
 to encourage him in thus spending his pocket-
 
 ii6 An Example of Perseverance. 
 
 money and "wasting his time." The benefit of 
 education was then, in the 'forties, not realised by 
 the labouring classes, a large proportion of whom 
 
 JOHX PLUMMER. 
 
 could do little more than read very imperfectly and 
 sign their name. Having, in the course of his 
 reading, seen some article which related how that
 
 A Shoemaker^ Strike. 117 
 
 certain painters of humble means had raised them- 
 selves from poverty and obscurity to wealth and 
 fame, young Plummer resolved to devote himself to 
 art, and attended a School of Design in Spitalfields, 
 where he made great progress and obtained several 
 prizes. His studies in this direction were, however, 
 brought to an abrupt termination. His father's 
 employer became bankrupt and the family were 
 compelled to remove to Kettering, where they had 
 been promised work in a stay-factory. Here he had 
 an offer of gratuitous tuition at the local School of 
 Design ; but he had grown older, and was required 
 to earn his living, and to do this he had to work 
 long hours, which rendered him unfit for study. 
 
 John Plummer had now reached the age of 
 twenty-two, and still worked at his trade, but he 
 occupied such leisure as his circumstances afforded 
 in writing letters and poems to the local papers, 
 some of which, to his great gratification, found their 
 way into print. In 1858 there occurred a strike 
 among the shoemakers of Northampton. Certain 
 employers had introduced machinery which the 
 workmen considered was prejudicial to their inte- 
 rests. A kind of trades union was thereupon formed, 
 and rules were formulated by w r hich the conditions 
 of work were to be governed. It happened at the 
 time that Plummer had a younger brother, Japhet, 
 aged nineteen, who desired to abandon staymaking 
 and take to shoemaking, an occupation for which he 
 had a liking. He therefore applied to a master shoe- 
 maker, who undertook for a consideration to teach
 
 1 1 8 John Plummer. 
 
 him the trade. In the meantime, however, the 
 trades union had passed a bye-law by which no 
 one was allowed to be taught the trade after the 
 age of seventeen. The effect of this was that those 
 who were willing to teach him were threatened with 
 a strike if they persisted, and although he succeeded 
 in acquiring sufficient knowledge and practice to 
 enable him to obtain employment, he was so per- 
 secuted that he was eventually driven to enlist as a 
 soldier. This tyranny so irritated his brother John 
 that he wrote and published a pamphlet, " Freedom 
 of Labour," in which he vindicated his brother's 
 right to employment, but the author was burnt in 
 effigy and threatened with personal violence. This 
 pamphlet, however, which was dedicated to Lord 
 Brougham, brought John Plummer into notice. He 
 had been writing for papers and magazines for some 
 time, although employed from half-past six in the 
 morning till seven at night, and received but little 
 remuneration. At this time (1858) Lord Brougham 
 delivered an address in Liverpool on Popular 
 Literature, in which he said : "There lies before me 
 a short treatise by a working man, written with a 
 view of removing the prevalent but dangerous 
 delusions on the subject of capital and w r ages, by 
 explaining the true principles of economic science 
 on this head. No student of that philosophy at the 
 English nay, at any of the Scotch universities, 
 where it is more cultivated could have produced a 
 better-reasoned tract, or one showing more entire 
 acquaintance with its principles."
 
 Factory Hand turned Editor. 119 
 
 John Plummer happened next day to be in a 
 newsvendor's shop, and accidentally took up The 
 Tina's, when the above passage caught his atten- 
 tion. "I was so astonished," he said, "that I 
 could hardly believe my senses. Had I, the deaf, 
 lame, neglected boy, the humble factory toiler, 
 won the approbation of one of our greatest 
 men ? " Such, however, was the case, and shortly 
 afterwards he succeeded in obtaining literary work 
 that enabled him to leave the factory and devote 
 himself to more congenial employment. On one 
 occasion he won a prize offered for the best essay 
 on Sanitary Reform ; on another he contributed 
 a paper " On Strikes," which was read before the 
 Social Science Association, and declared to be the 
 best that had dealt with the subject. He soon 
 made up his mind to try his fortune again in 
 the Metropolis, but under very different conditions 
 to those under which he had left it. He there- 
 fore came to London, and when . I became 
 acquainted with him he was editor of Cassell's 
 Family Paper. He had previously written a 
 volume of poems entitled " Songs of Labour," 
 and this induced me to ask him to write an 
 "Ode to Labour," which was set to music by 
 Dr. Spark, and sung upon an occasion hereafter 
 referred to. He ultimately went to Sydney to 
 edit some newspaper, and, to judge from a view 
 of his house which he sent me, is no doubt 
 now occupying a good position in the colony.
 
 AN OLD BOHEMIAN. 
 
 Not long since there died, at a ripe old age, a 
 gentleman who, had he 'felt disposed to write his 
 recollections of Bohemian life in London, could 
 have carried them back to a very early date. This 
 was Mr. Jonas Levy, J.P., the vice-chairman of 
 the London, Brighton, and South Coast Railway. 
 
 '/ 
 
 JONAS LEVY. 
 
 I had known him for more than five-and-twenty 
 years, and had many a time listened to the stories 
 he told of the Reunion, the Savage, the Urban, 
 the Whitefriars, and other clubs to which he 
 belonged, where his presence was ever welcome. 
 He had ample means, and, being a barrister,
 
 An Old Bohemian. 121 
 
 occupied chambers in Gray's Inn (where he had 
 an extensive and valuable library), besides a house 
 in Tavistock Square and a little castle at Kings- 
 gate in the Isle .of Thanet. His father was a 
 well-known toll-gate contractor, who amassed a 
 fortune by controlling the revenues of turnpike- 
 roads, farming market tolls, coal dues, &c. When 
 the railways drove the coaches from the roads, 
 and the turnpikes became unprofitable, he invested 
 his capital wisely in railway stock, which he left 
 to his son, who told me that he had never parted 
 with a single share that had been thus bequeathed 
 to him. This fact, combined with his legal know- 
 ledge and business habits, led Lord Westbury to 
 propose his joining the directorate of the London 
 and Brighton Railway, of which he became deputy- 
 chairman in 1869, an office he retained until his 
 decease. He also took a great interest in the 
 management of the Crystal Palace, of which like- 
 wise he was a director. 
 
 There was scarcely an individual of any standing 
 who trod the London stage a quarter of a century 
 ago, or who was engaged in 
 journalism at that period, who 
 did not know Jonas Levy. His 
 social position and independent 
 means in no way affected his con- 
 duct towards those whom he met 
 as club chums, for he was thoroughly Bohemian 
 when away from his official duties, and never felt 
 more at home than when he was smoking his short
 
 122 Reporting a Butchers' Dinner. 
 
 clay pipe and drinking his weak brandy and water, 
 surrounded by agreeable companions.* It may be 
 added that the fact of his being a bachelor en- 
 abled him to indulge his gregarious inclinations 
 without reproach. 
 
 On one of these occasions he told a story of a 
 reporter on The Morning Advertiser, whom he knew, 
 one of whose duties was to attend City banquets, 
 charity dinners, and similar functions. He was an 
 old toper, but, being well seasoned, he generally 
 managed to get through his work satisfactorily. 
 On one occasion he was commissioned to report 
 the proceedings of the annual dinner of a Butchers' 
 Benevolent Institution, at which the menu was 
 always enticing and the wines were abundant. He 
 enjoyed his dinner, declaring that it was equal to 
 a Company's banquet, and washed it down with 
 appropriate vintages, and it was said that he secreted 
 a bottle of champagne under the table for his 
 private use. By the time the speeches had some- 
 what advanced, he had conceived the idea that 
 the orators required encouraging, and made a point 
 of shouting " Hear, hear " whenever a benevolent 
 butcher hesitated or came to a dead stop. The 
 chairman at first solicited the favour of silence 
 for the speaker in general terms, and then pointedly 
 directed his admonitions to the reporter, who had 
 uttered the words " Get on ! " " Rubbish ! " " Spit 
 
 * The little sketch on page 121, which is an excellent likeness, was taken by 
 Mr. Alfred Bryan at the annual dinner of the Royal General Theatrical Fund 
 (1889) and appeared at the time in Moonshine.
 
 A Bit of Shakespeare. 123 
 
 it out ! " &c., and was evidently not in his right 
 mind. After a while he interrupted a speaker by 
 exclaiming, " Give us a bit of Shakespeare ! " which 
 caused one of the stewards to suggest that, as he 
 was o///v a reporter, he should be turned out. The 
 meeting by their applause evidently approved of 
 this course, and it would have been immediately 
 carried into effect had he not risen, put his hand 
 in his vest, assuming a theatrical attitude, and said, 
 in a deep voice, " Only a reporter ! 
 
 " Oh pardon me . . . 
 That I am meek and gentle with these butchers ! " * 
 
 and then, with a wave of the hand, made an igno- 
 minious exit. 
 
 Stories of this kind, passing from one to another, 
 and being retold, become considerably altered, and 
 sometimes improved, but not always as in the case 
 of the Kean incident before related. I happened 
 to be spending a few days with Jonas Levy at 
 Kingsgate, and mentioned that in "The Life and 
 Reminiscences of E. L. Blanchard," then recently 
 published, there was a version of a story differing 
 from the one I had heard him tell more than once. 
 " I don't care about that," said the old man ; " mine 
 is the correct one, for I was in the parlour the 
 same night, and heard all about it." And he 
 repeated it, as nearly as I can remember, as 
 follows : In the early days of The Daily Telegraph 
 several convivial companions used to meet at the 
 "Bedford Head," a public-house in Maiden Lane, 
 
 * " Julius C;csar," iii. i.
 
 124 Another Story. 
 
 Covent Garden. Here they told their troubles, 
 smoked their pipes, and drank their modest half- 
 and-half out of pewter pots. One day E. L. 
 Blanchard told them that he had forwarded an 
 article to the Telegraph which he thought would 
 just suit, and promised, if it were accepted, that 
 he would stand " drinks round." The pot-boy was 
 sent for a copy of the paper, but it was found 
 not to contain the article. "Just my luck," said 
 Blanchard. " I had hoped that it might lead to 
 something. I'll go and get it back." "Don't 
 do that," remarked William Romer ; " give them 
 another day" which suggestion was adopted. Next 
 day the paper was again procured, and, to the 
 delight of Blanchard, the article not only appeared, 
 but was put into leader type. They then discussed 
 what might be considered a fair remuneration for 
 the author, and decided amongst themselves that 
 it should bring a couple of guineas. Blanchard 
 thereupon went to the office in the Strand, near 
 Temple Bar (now the site of the new Law Courts), 
 but was told to come the next day. They assembled 
 as usual on the following afternoon, and it was 
 chaffingly suggested that, as Blanchard had pro- 
 mised drinks round, Romer should accompany him, 
 so that the funds should not be misapplied ; and 
 away they went accordingly. On Blanchard making 
 his application to be paid, a paper was handed to 
 him which, on being opened, was found to contain 
 but a half-sovereign. This he declined to accept. 
 " What ! " said he, " a leader like that for ten bob !
 
 A Lost Half -Sovereign. 125 
 
 It's a downright insult. Let me see the editor." 
 " Can't see him, sir, except by appointment," replied 
 the clerk. Much against Romer's inclination, they 
 left the office, and while ascending a few steps that 
 led to a court at the back of the building, he asked 
 Blanchard if he would mind waiting a few minutes. 
 He then went speedily back to the office, said that 
 his friend had decided to accept the money, and 
 brought it back. Blanchard was ill-pleased at this, 
 but Romer had calculated how many pots of half- 
 and-half ten shillings represented, and feared there 
 was little chance of obtaining any more. In the 
 endeavour to force Blanchard to accept the money, 
 the half-sovereign fell upon the ground, and rolled 
 down the area-grating of one of the houses in the 
 court. They peered down through the iron bars, 
 but failed to discover it, the coin having disappeared 
 among the rubbish that lay below. They next 
 knocked at the door and asked to be permitted to 
 descend and look for it, but they were met with 
 uncomplimentary remarks and gibes from the loose 
 women who occupied the house, and presently the 
 inhabitants came out of the adjacent houses and 
 joined in the chaff, while several pretended to 
 search for the missing coin. It was ultimately 
 declared to be a "plant," and the two friends 
 were glad enough to escape without achieving 
 their object. When they returned to the tavern 
 they were at first received with cheers, but, after 
 relating their adventures, the cheerful greeting was 
 voted premature, and they experienced some diffi-
 
 126 Jonas Levy's Generosity. 
 
 culty in making their companions believe I their 
 story. " Now, that's true," concluded Jonas Levy, 
 "for I was there the same evening, and, what is 
 more, stood the drinks round." 
 
 It is almost impossible for any one who knew 
 Jonas Levy intimately, to speak of him without 
 referring to his readiness to assist any charitable 
 object. Sala, in a kindly notice of his death, 
 called him "the most generous and the most 
 charitable of mankind, but one who never let his 
 left hand know what his right hand did in the 
 way of writing cheques for the necessitous." In 
 confirmation of this I may refer to a conversation 
 I had with the late Henry Lee, the naturalist. 
 Levy at the time was in a weakly condition, and 
 I made the remark that many would miss him when 
 he was called away. " Yes," said Lee, " I always 
 knew he was generous, but I did not know till 
 the other day the extent of his generosity. I met 
 him in the Strand, and he told me he thought he 
 could not last much longer, and that he would 
 like me to go with him to his chambers in Verulam 
 Buildings. When we got there he lit his pipe, and, 
 opening a drawer, said that it contained a lot of 
 papers, some of which he would not like to leave 
 behind him, and he therefore intended to look 
 through them and destroy those which I could 
 help him to select. These proved to be promis- 
 sory notes, I.O.U.'s, and receipts for loans, many 
 of them bearing names not unfamiliar to the 
 Jiabitiies of Clubland. Without an unkind remark.
 
 " Bohemianism" \ 27 
 
 he tore up and threw into the fire documents that 
 represented an amount which must have exceeded 
 a thousand pounds. He said he ithought it as well 
 to do it in the presence of a witness upon \vhose 
 secrecy he could rely, and of course I now mention 
 this in confidence." I spent some days with him 
 at Kingsgate a few weeks before his death, and the 
 ladies who were attending upon him told me that 
 he was constantly forwarding cheques to people 
 who were not tradesmen, from whom he required 
 no acknowledgment. When I parted from him he 
 put a packet into my hand, saying, " I may never 
 see you again ; take this ; it used to be my 
 favourite." The packet contained a silver-mounted 
 meerschaum pipe, with a slip of paper, on which 
 was written, under my name, " From his old friend 
 Jonas Levy." 
 
 I have used the word " Bohemianism " in con- 
 nection with several of the men herein referred to. 
 Forty or fifty years ago the term had a definite 
 meaning. Its votaries were clever, irregular, impe- 
 cunious, and often intemperate, but they were 
 generous and fraternal. They met in public-houses, 
 because they could not afford better accommoda- 
 tion, and their lack of means evoked a feeling of 
 mutual sympathy that created a bond of good- 
 fellowship. They not only condoled with each 
 other over their failures, but forgave each other 
 their little successes. There was no interviewing 
 no process-block portraiture no log-rolling. The
 
 Autographs. 
 
 AUTOGRAPHS OF A FEW PERSONS HEREIN REFERRED TO, 
 
 front letters, etc., in possession of the writer.
 
 Dog Stories. 129 
 
 " Literary Gossip " of the day mentioned only the 
 very few who had achieved fame. In fact, they 
 had to fight their way unaided, and many of them 
 died before their talents were recognised. All this 
 is now, in some respects happily, changed. Lights, 
 however dim, are no longer hid under a bushel. 
 There is a fair market for literary and journalistic 
 work, and therefore the old Bohemianism has 
 passed away, only leaving its fraternal spirit as an 
 inheritance to a few old clubs that still exist in 
 the neighbourhood of the " highway of letters." 
 
 DOG STORIES. 
 
 But not of the usual kind. For many years I 
 have been accustomed to take half an hour's walk- 
 ing exercise before breakfast, accompanied by a dog 
 in fact the daily excursion is taken for the dog's 
 especial benefit. He calls for me regularly at the 
 appointed time, takes me out, and brings me back, 
 and should I feel indisposed to fulfil what he evi- 
 dently deems my duty towards him, he expostulates 
 in unmistakable canine language. Some few years 
 since I used to pass the corner of a road at which 
 stood an old woman who sold matches. She was 
 always neatly, though poorly, clad, and her acknow- 
 ledgment of the penny I occasionally gave her 
 " I thank you very much," or " Sir, you are very 
 kind" indicated rather the tone of a lady in very 
 reduced circumstances than that of an ordinary 
 street hawker. One morning the dog greeted her 
 
 9
 
 1 30 A DaugJitcr of Theodore Hook. 
 
 more effusively than usual, and scattered her matches 
 into the muddy road. She smiled and apologised 
 for the offender, whilst I gathered up her stock-in- 
 trade, which I could not do otherwise than purchase 
 as a solatium. Every day after that occurrence the 
 dog used to stop and receive a smile and a pat 
 on the head from the old lady. Being a collie, 
 he was a good judge of character, and evidently 
 shared my conviction that she was not an ordinary 
 mendicant. One morning, however, she was miss- 
 ing from her accustomed 'station. The next day 
 she was also absent, and I inquired after her of a 
 crossing-sweeper who stood nearly opposite. This 
 man was as much a character as the old woman 
 herself. He stood near a school, and whenever 
 the boys were puzzled about a sum in algebra or a 
 Latin termination, he would help them over their 
 difficulty ; but drink had condemned him to sweep 
 a crossing, and although several efforts had been 
 made to improve his position, he was found to be 
 irreclaimable. " She is dead, poor body," was his 
 reply to my inquiry. Upon subsequently making 
 further investigation, I discovered that, owing to 
 the suddenness of her decease, a coroner's inquest 
 had been held, at which evidence was given by a 
 witness who had known her for thirty-eight years 
 that she was the daughter of Theodore Hook. She 
 had for many years maintained herself by teaching 
 in private schools about the neighbourhood of 
 Brixton, but age and infirmity had deprived her 
 of the means of support, and she was at last driven
 
 An Irish Rag-picker. 131 
 
 to expose her poverty at the street corner. She was 
 the eldest of the five children whose mother was 
 betrayed and deserted by the clever, unscrupulous, 
 dissipated man who started the John Bull newspaper 
 in the Tory interest to vilify Queen Caroline. 
 
 On other occasions, while perambulating a dif- 
 ferent neighbourhood with my dog, I had frequently 
 noticed an aged woman, who, like the rag-pickers of 
 Paris, carried a pointed stick, with which she con- 
 veyed any selected refuse from the gutters into a 
 bag she held in her hand. Although her occupa- 
 tion was necessarily uncleanly and degrading, she 
 was always in herself clean and tidy. A black 
 straw bonnet confined her neatly-brushed grey hair ; 
 her body was wrapped in a bright-coloured hand- 
 kerchief ; and she wore a short dark skirt and a 
 pair of good boots. I had often watched her from 
 a distance and wondered how she could manage 
 to pick up a decent living in such a way, for she 
 never begged nor even looked up at a passer-by. 
 On one occasion I put a penny into her hand, at 
 which she seemed surprised, but thanked me in a 
 most pronounced Irish brogue. I again saw her 
 shortly afterwards in the middle of the road engaged 
 in her usual pursuit. Having nothing less, I placed 
 a shilling on a lamp-post, beckoned her to the spot, 
 and walked on. Turning round to assure myself 
 that she had found it, I saw her running after me. 
 " God bless you, sir," she said ; " but sure you've 
 made a mistake. I can't take this it's too much."
 
 132 "Do You Want a Dog?" 
 
 She, however, accepted it, though somewhat reluc- 
 tantly, and when I again turned to look after her 
 she was kneeling in a devout attitude before the 
 lamp-post, probably thanking some saint for having 
 induced me to purchase so much pleasure for so 
 little money. It was perhaps just as well she did 
 not know I gave her the smallest coin I had. I 
 could not help feeling an interest in the poor old 
 woman, who doubtless had a blameless life-story 
 to tell that might be worth hearing, and I intended 
 to interview her on a subsequent occasion. Had 
 I done so there would probably have been more 
 point in this anecdote, but I saw her never again. 
 
 " Do you want a dog ? " This inquiry was 
 addressed to me some years ago by a friend who 
 will doubtless read these lines. " What kind of a 
 dog ? " I replied, availing myself of the privilege of 
 a man with Scottish blood in his veins, who may 
 be expected to reply to one question by asking 
 another. "A pure-bred fox terrier that was once 
 
 in the possession of Mrs. B , a lady who, you 
 
 will remember, underwent a criminal trial that 
 created some sensation." Although I had always 
 admired the fox terrier, I had never owned one, 
 and I thankfully accepted the gift. On taking him 
 home I was pleased to find that instead of snapping 
 at my collie, which the fox terrier generally does, 
 he assumed a very friendly attitude towards him, 
 and they went frisking along together when I took 
 them out for their usual exercise. I had possessed
 
 A Knowing Fojc Terrier. 133 
 
 him but a few days when I was informed that he 
 spent his leisure time in extracting the pebbles 
 from the lawn, in which I took some pride, and 
 this tended to increase my regard for him. After 
 a few weeks, however, having exhausted the supply 
 of surface pebbles, he proceeded to excavate for 
 others that may have been beneath, and scratched 
 up the grass in all directions. Expostulation, 
 accentuated physically, proved of no avail to break 
 him of his objectionable habit, and I consulted 
 my friend the donor, who assured me that that was 
 his only vice, which he had forgotten to mention. 
 I therefore determined to part with him as soon 
 as a favourable opportunity occurred. One day I 
 took him for an outing down Camberwell way, and 
 saw him far ahead frisking around the skirts of an 
 old lady who was evidently taking notice of him, 
 but before I reached the spot she had entered her 
 house. Mounting some steps I could see into her 
 garden, and, there being no lawn, I said some 
 farewell words to the little fellow, and carefully 
 dropped him over the wall, thinking that I had 
 secured for him a good home and a kind mistress. 
 When I returned home a distance of about a mile 
 and a half I found the dog sitting on the steps. 
 He wagged his tail, looked at me with his head 
 cocked on one side, as if to say that he was not 
 to be got rid of by so mean a trick, and made at 
 once for the field of his previous exploits, evi- 
 dently intending to take his revenge. " I really 
 do not know what to do with that little dog you
 
 134 Workmen's Exhibitions. 
 
 gave me," I said to my friend. He smiled blandly 
 and replied, " I think you had better do as I did 
 give him to a friend." 
 
 WORKMEN'S EXHIBITIONS. 
 
 Some time prior to the year 1864 I had taken an 
 active interest in Ragged Schools, and occasionally 
 visited the Lamb and Flag School, Clerkenwell, to 
 which institution a friend of mine was treasurer. I 
 thus became acquainted with the secretary, who one 
 day invited me to accompany him to the Lambeth 
 Baths, where a small exhibition of amateur produc- 
 tions, contributed by the poor of the locality, was 
 being held. He thought that possibly something 
 of the kind could be done in connection with his 
 school, and thus increase the interest of the parents 
 in the institution. We accordingly went and in- 
 spected a very curious collection. The contents 
 of the exhibition consisted of articles contributed 
 by 173 persons of all ages, most of the objects being 
 the result of the occupation of their leisure hours. 
 The exhibitors being unskilled and mostly unedu- 
 cated, the merit of the exhibits was confined to the 
 amount of ingenuity or perseverance displayed in 
 their production, but the undertaking answered the 
 purpose of its originator, the Rev. G. M. Murphy, 
 which was purely philanthropic. 
 
 On comparing notes with my friend, I found that 
 we viewed the matter from different standpoints. 
 He thought it was an excellent plan to encourage
 
 North London ExJiibition. 135 
 
 the poor to spend their leisure time in doing any- 
 thing that would tend to amuse them, no matter how 
 useless, inartistic, or trivial the product might be. 
 I argued that, although it might be impolitic to dis- 
 courage such efforts, it would be more useful and 
 more profitable to induce workmen to display speci- 
 mens of skill in their own craft. The matter was 
 talked over by a few mutual friends, the result being 
 that it was agreed to combine both ideas. I was 
 thereupon invited to formulate a complete scheme, 
 which I did, and thus originated the first of a long 
 series of workmen's exhibitions which were held 
 throughout the country. Probably no undertaking, 
 commenced under such humble conditions, ever 
 achieved a success so remarkable. The exhibition, 
 originally intended to be held in a schoolroom, 
 ultimately occupied the largest available building 
 in London, the Agricultural Hall, Islington, and 
 was open for three w r eeks, during which time it was 
 visited by nearly 200,000 persons. Lord John Russell 
 presided at the opening ceremony, Mr. Gladstone 
 closed the exhibition, and Lord Shaftesbury dis- 
 tributed the awards. The Times in a leading article 
 thus referred to it : "The North London Industrial 
 Exhibition originated in a meeting of some half- 
 dozen persons, all belonging to the working classes, 
 and from first to last it has been practically 
 independent of external aid. Its formation and 
 management are useful exercises of the principle 
 of association, and it is not easy to overrate its 
 influence upon the career of a workman brought
 
 136 Workmen's Exhibitions. 
 
 within its sphere." All the daily papers published 
 complimentary notices, and even the critical Athe- 
 nceum honoured it with an appreciative article. 
 The publicity given to the exhibition by the press 
 caused me to receive scores of letters from all parts 
 of the kingdom, asking for information, the replies 
 to which often involved an amount of gratuitous 
 " nightwork " quite incompatible with the present 
 idea of the rights of labour. The undertaking was 
 very economically managed, the services of all the 
 officers being given without remuneration, and the 
 financial result was therefore satisfactory, and a 
 surplus was handed over to the Society of Arts 
 to be devoted to some object in harmony with the 
 aims of the exhibition. 
 
 Within two years of the closing of this exhibition 
 similar undertakings had been carried out in the 
 Guildhall (London), West London (Floral Hall, 
 Covent Garden), East London (Beaumont Institute), 
 Wandsworth, Whitechapel, Greenwich, Wakefield, 
 Birmingham, Nottingham, Bristol, Preston, Hulme, 
 Liverpool, Manchester, Reading, Plymouth, Glasgow, 
 and other places, all more or less following olir 
 plans. 
 
 The first exhibition had been so successful, and 
 therefore profitable to the Agricultural Hall Com- 
 pany, whose building had never previously been 
 used for a similar purpose, that the directors offered 
 to place the Hall at the disposal of the former 
 executive for a second and more comprehensive 
 undertaking. A conference was accordingly held
 
 138 The Second Exhibition. 
 
 in the board-room of the Agricultural Hall shortly 
 afterwards, when by request I laid the chief features 
 of the proposed new undertaking before the meeting, 
 which resulted in the unanimous adoption of the 
 following resolution : " That this meeting has heard 
 with satisfaction the proposal to hold a Metropolitan 
 and Provincial Working Classes' Industrial Exhibi- 
 tion at the Agricultural Hall in the autumn of 1866, 
 having for its objects the practical benefit of skilled 
 workmen, the encouragement of amateurs, and the 
 rational recreation of the working classes, and 
 cordially agrees with the Agricultural Hall Company 
 in placing its management in the hands of the 
 Secretary, Treasurer, and Secretary of the Space 
 Committee of the late North London Exhibition, 
 assisted by any others w r hom they may invite to 
 co-operate with them." At that meeting ^500 was 
 voluntarily subscribed towards a guarantee fund, 
 which was afterwards increased to .1,500, among 
 the subscribers being the Duke of Rutland, the 
 Bishop of Chichester, the Earl of Shaftesbury, Lord 
 Brougham, Lord Denman, Professor Fawcett, Mr. 
 Samuel Morley, and many other noblemen and 
 gentlemen. The three men who thus undertook 
 the task of managing the proposed exhibition were 
 already fully employed. One was an employee of 
 the London and North Western Railway, another 
 was in business as the proprietor of a small saw-mill 
 in Clerkenwell, and the third party, a printer, added 
 the duties involved in the appointment to those of 
 assistant manager of a large London firm.
 
 A Workmen's Festival. 139 
 
 The exhibition, which contained objects brought 
 together from all parts of the country, was opened 
 at the Agricultural Hall on the 3rd of September, 
 1866. An " Ode to Labour," written by John 
 Plummer (who had been a factory operative at 
 Kettering), and set to music by Dr. Spark, was sung 
 at the opening ceremony by a choir of a thousand 
 voices. Arrangements had been made to supple- 
 ment the attractions of the exhibition by auxiliary 
 features, care having been taken that these should 
 be in harmony with the desire to make it a genuine 
 " Workmen's Festival," into which should not enter 
 any political or trades union element. Accordingly, 
 the Tonic-Sol-Fa Association organised six concerts, 
 at each of which from five hundred to a thousand 
 choristers took part ; the Band of Hope Union 
 furnished eight concerts of a thousand voices ; there 
 were also oratorio performances, miscellaneous con- 
 certs, and organ recitals. The National Temperance 
 League held five meetings, the United Kingdom 
 Alliance two meetings, and there were special 
 gatherings of the Foresters, Working Men's Clubs, 
 Sunday Schools, Ragged Schools, &c., besides 
 numerous lectures upon subjects of interest to 
 workmen. The exhibition was open for ten weeks, 
 during which time upwards of 530,000 persons paid 
 for admission, the fee in the evening being two- 
 pence. The financial results of the undertaking 
 enabled the council to provide prize medals of silver 
 and bronze, and illuminated certificates of merit, 
 which were awarded by the officials of the Society
 
 140 Workmen's Exhibitions. 
 
 of Arts, and presented to most of the exhibitors 
 personally at Exeter Hall by the Right Hon. G. 
 J. Goschen, and also to present to every exhibitor 
 a large framed chromo view of the interior of the 
 exhibition, as a souvenir. 
 
 My share in the management of these exhibitions 
 was certainly the most arduous and most responsible 
 undertaking that ever fell to my lot outside of my 
 ordinary occupation, and, as an old soldier is ex- 
 pected to display his medals on special occasions, 
 I may perhaps be excused the vanity of recording 
 that the exhibitors gave me a silver snuff-box, the 
 Agricultural Hall Company a costly clock and 
 candelabra, the council a vote of thanks elaborately 
 illuminated on vellum, and the adjudicators awarded 
 me a silver medal. Similar presentations were made 
 to my two coadjutors, but they paid dearly for them,
 
 Concluding Remarks. 141 
 
 for the labours and anxiety incidental to the under- 
 taking, which extended over eighteen months, were 
 said to have shortened their lives. 
 
 L'ENVOI. 
 
 In conclusion, permit me to remind the reader 
 that this booklet does not profess to be an attempt 
 at autobiography. Were my powers of description 
 equal to the tenacity of my memory, I might be 
 tempted to refer to very many " things I have seen " 
 that were remarkable. For instance : 
 
 From a window at 352, Strand, I saw the Royal 
 procession on its way to the City, on the 9th of 
 November, 1837, when Her Majesty went in State 
 to dine with the Lord Mayor on her accession. 
 
 About the same time I saw Scott, " the American 
 diver," accidentally hang himself on a scaffold which 
 had been erected for his use on the east side of 
 Waterloo Bridge, and shall never forget the excite- 
 ment of the mob when it was discovered by his wife 
 that his eccentric movements were not the antics of 
 a mountebank, but the struggles of a dying man. 
 
 I well remember Bartholomew Fair, Richardson's 
 Show (with its band of gorgeously apparelled musi- 
 cians), Wombwell's Menagerie, and the long rows of 
 stalls, one of the chief features of which was the 
 gingerbread " cock in breeches." 
 
 I was once taken by a lady friend of Mr. Green, 
 the celebrated aeronaut, to Vauxhall Gardens, and 
 sat in the car of the Great Nassau Balloon while it
 
 142 Concluding Remarks. 
 
 was being inflated. This was the balloon in which 
 Albert Smith took an aerial trip some years after- 
 wards from Cremorne Gardens, an account of which 
 he gave in The Man in the Moon, which was, I think, 
 illustrated by Sala. 
 
 When a schoolboy I had a strong desire to see 
 the inside of the House of Commons, and, knowing 
 a reader engaged on The Morning Post, I sought his 
 help. I went as the reporters' errand-boy, was ad- 
 mitted into the gallery, and heard Sir Robert Peel 
 Daniel O'Connell, and Richard Lalor Shiel, address 
 the House. 
 
 I once passed some hours locked up in a police 
 cell at Bow Street. It happened thus : Samuel 
 Taylor printed a weekly paper entitled The Patent 
 Journal, in which appeared an article deemed libel- 
 lous. The injured party, instead of prosecuting the 
 editor or proprietor, caused the printer to be arrested. 
 There was of course no difficulty in procuring bail, 
 but the prosecutor's solicitor demanded twenty-four 
 hours' notice, during which the defendant had to 
 remain in prison. He was, however, permitted to 
 read proofs, and I was his reading-boy. 
 
 I saw the notorious Lola Montez (Countess of 
 Landsfeld) brought before the magistrate at Marl- 
 borough Street on a charge of bigamy, the young 
 man she married (Lieut. Heald) standing by her 
 side all the while. Her influence over the eccen- 
 tric King of Bavaria, the consequent revolt of the 
 people, and her flight, are matters of history. 
 
 I heard Louis Kossuth deliver his first oration
 
 Conclusion. 143 
 
 in English at Copenhagen Fields, and Father 
 Mathew address an enormous crowd on Kennington 
 Common, and witnessed the triumphant entry of 
 Garibaldi into London. 
 
 And so on. But such incidents come not within 
 the scope of these pages, which contain merely a 
 plain colloquial statement recalling a few facts that 
 may have some interest for printers, and a recital 
 of a few anecdotes, some of which I have before 
 related, with just sufficient personal reference to link 
 them together. With that remark I desire to make 
 my bow, and to wish the reader 
 
 A HAPPY NEW YEAR. 
 
 LA BELLE SAUVAGE. 
 Dec., 1896. 
 
 THE WRITER. 
 
 (A Sketch by liis old friend, John Proctor.)
 
 CJresbam 
 
 UXWIN BROTHERS, 
 WOKIXG AND LONDON.