Part 3

“Isabel Walker, under sentence of death at Dumfries for child-murder, has actually got a remission. This unhappy creature was destitute of friends, and had none to apply for her but an only sister, a girl of a fine soul, that overlooked the improbability of success, helpless and alone went to London to address the Great, and solicit so well (_sic_) that she got for her, first, a reprieve, and now a remission. Such another instance of onerous friendship can scarce be shown; it well deserved the attention of the greatest who could not but admire the virtue, and on that account engage in her cause.”

The other paragraph records the death of Joe Miller, posthumous sponsor of the most profitable jest book ever published. He was as innocent of it as of any one of the jokes; the collection—having been benevolently made by his friend Jack Mottley for the benefit of Miller’s widow—eventually proved to be the best benefit ever known in the theatrical world. The obituary is brief but complimentary:—

“Yesterday morning died Jo: Miller, Comedian, of merry memory. Very few of his profession have gained more applause on the stage, and few have acted off it with so much approbation from their neighbours.”

The London Daily Post (there were three “Posts” in those days) of the same date gives more information on the mournful subject. It says:—

“Yesterday morning died of Pleurisy, Mr. Joseph Miller, a celebrated Comedian belonging to the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane; much admired for his performances in general, but particularly in the character of Teague, in _The Committee, or the Faithful Irishman_.”

The papers from which this _mélange_ of extracts has been culled are pigmies beside the present race of Giants. There is about as much matter in a single modern London morning newspaper as was contained in a year’s contents of the Postman, before it had two leaves. To present the contrast between to-day’s monsters of the press and their antecedents the more forcibly, we shall conclude with an extract from a paper recently read by Mr. E. Cowper at the Institution of Civil Engineers, relative to the _Times_:—

“On the 7th of May, 1850, the _Times_ and _Supplement_ contained 72 columns, or 17,500 lines, made up of upwards of a million pieces of type, of which matter about two-fifths were written, composed, and corrected after seven o’clock in the evening. The _Supplement_ was sent to press at 7 50 P. M., the first form of the paper at 4 15 A. M.; and the second form at 4 45 A. M.; on this occasion, 7000 papers were published before 6 15 A. M., 21,000 papers before 7 30 A. M., and 34,000 before 8 45 A. M., or in about four hours. The greatest number of copies ever printed in one day was 54,000, and the greatest quantity of printing in one day’s publication was on the 1st of March, 1848, when the paper used weighed 7 tons, the weight usually required being 4½ tons; the surface to be printed every night, including the Supplement, was 30 acres; the weight of the fount of type in constant use was 7 tons; and 110 compositors and 25 pressmen were constantly employed.”

At the beginning of the reign of Queen Anne, we question whether so many operatives as are now required, with the help of its extraordinary machinery, to produce the “Times,” found employment on the whole then existing newspaper press.

THE ROYAL ROTTEN ROW COMMISSION.

The Commission appointed to enquire into and report upon the state of Rotten Row, was entirely unpaid. The right honourable gentleman on whom the appointment of the Commissioners devolved, took great credit to himself that the members of a Commission whose report was likely to prove of such infinite value to society, and especially to metropolitan equestrians, had undertaken all the laborious duties appertaining to their office without expressing the slightest desire for remuneration or reward. “He believed,” he said, “that all the charges connected with the performance of this great public duty would begin and terminate with the mere cost of the indispensable official staff, and he undertook to pledge his word that the expenses connected with that department should all be settled at the lowest practicable scale.”

In accordance with this declaration, the Honourable Augustus Aigulet, first cousin of the right hon. gentleman aforesaid, was shortly after appointed Secretary to this indispensable Commission, at a salary of 1400_l._ per annum, and Mr. Slaney, of Somerset House, under a Special Minute of my Lords Commissioners of the Treasury, was promoted to perform the active duties of clerk to the Commission, at an increased salary of 60_l._ a year, “in accordance with the scale of savings recently effected in the public service.”

These economic views were further carried out by the saving of rent. The Rotten Row Commission was to be accommodated in certain new buildings, recently erected at a small charge of 300,000_l._ The apartments consisted of an office, a Secretary’s apartment, and a Board-room. Mr. Slaney took possession of his desk in the office, having instructions to prepare the large room for the meeting of a Board, which instructions he duly performed by arranging the inkstands in the centre of a table, and by spreading sundry sheets of blotting-paper, with a due proportion of foolscap and official pens, at equal distances on either side. The Board was to meet at two o’clock. At half-past one the Honourable Augustus Aigulet opened the door of the office, and proceeded to instal himself as Secretary. By the time he had taken possession of the key of a great despatch box, on which was emblazoned, in gilt letters, the words

ROTTEN ROW COMMISSION.

the Chairman and three of the Commissioners arrived. Her Majesty’s Commissioners for enquiring into the state and condition of Rotten Row, Hyde Park, did not commence business immediately; but began an ardent gossip about things in general. The noble President was in the midst of a discussion with his colleagues respecting the exact circumference of Carlotta Grisi’s ancle, when there came from the chimney an enormous volume of smoke. With prompt alacrity, Mr. Aigulet rose from behind the despatch box, rang the bell, summoned the clerk to his presence, and desired him to poke the fire. This was done; but the result was overwhelming. The smoke was so dense, that the noble chairman could scarcely find his way to the chair; but having succeeded, and a board having been formed, he addressed the secretary.

“These rooms” he said, “are excessively ill-ventilated; the air is positively pestilential; we must at once draw up a minute to the Treasury for alteration.”

“A minute, my Lord?”

“Yes, Sir; a minute.”

Mr. Aigulet took a sheet of paper, folded it lengthways, to make a margin; and proceeded to write as his superior instructed him.

ROTTEN ROW COMMISSION.

[Such a date.]

[Sidenote: Minute No. 1. ]

1, 6, 4—.

Her Majesty’s Commissioners represent to my Lords, that with a view to a complete and satisfactory discharge of the important duties devolved upon them opportunity is necessary for calm consideration of the varied subjects into which it is committed to them to inquire:—That such opportunity is totally denied them in the apartments assigned by my Lords, in which no suitable provision exists for ventilation, and in which the Smoke appears to come down the Chimney, instead of ascending in conformity with custom. In order to the due performance of their duties to the public Her Majesty’s Commissioners, therefore, request that my Lords will make an order for the attendance and inspection of the Ventilator-General, with instructions to consider and report upon a plan for improving the ingress of air, and egress of smoke, to and from the said apartments of Her Majesty’s Commissioners.

By order of the Board. (Signed) AUGUSTUS AIGULET.

The document was then handed to Mr. Slaney, who made a fine copy thereof, on an extremely large and thick sheet of cream-coloured foolscap, enclosed it in a ditto envelope, sealed it with an enormous official signet, rang the bell for the messenger, and dispatched the document to the Assistant Secretary of the Lords Commissioners of Her Majesty’s Treasury.

In two hours a reply was returned. This sufficiently demonstrates the extraordinary despatch which all matters of this sort receive at the hands of “my Lords,” and at once exhibits the fallacy and absurdity of the constant and therefore unreasonable complaints, which are made by poor widows, orphans, and other troublesome and disagreeable complainants concerning the delays which they suppose that they encounter in getting even the most reasonable claims attended to.

ROTTEN ROW COMMISSION.

[Sidenote: No. A. X. L. C. E. T. 24783261107. 1,6,4.

1. 1,6,4—

Minute. A. C. C. S. 2460077221.]

My Lords having taken into consideration the minute of Her Majesty’s Commissioners appointed specially to enquire into the state and condition of the district known as Rotten Row, in which statement is made of the important duties devolving on them, of the necessity for calm opportunity to consider the subjects committed to their inquiry; and of the imperfect provision for ventilation, &c., in those apartments placed at their disposal: are pleased to order that the Ventilator-General be instructed to inspect and report upon the condition of the said ventilation, and to propose a plan to be approved by Her Majesty’s Commissioners, and by them submitted to my Lords for improving the ingress and egress of air to and from the said apartments.

“Communicate this minute to the Ventilator-General, and direct him to prepare estimate.

“Inform Her Majesty’s Commissioners hereof.”

The Treasury minute was acted on, and this was the first day’s work of the Rotten Row Commission.

The Ventilator-General, who was thus instructed to attend to the wishes and directions of her Majesty’s Commission, applied the next day and Mr. Aigulet formed “a Board” for his reception. He took a survey of the office, and declared that all the architectural arrangements were so utterly erroneous in principle, as to place it beyond all possible skill to render the ventilation perfect. He demonstrated most completely that for the purposes of ventilation the door ought to have been precisely where the chimney was, and that the chimney should have stood exactly where the window was. The window itself he proposed to abrogate altogether, supplying its place either by oil burners, or by a fan-light opening into a dark passage, neither of which arrangements would interfere with the process of ventilation. He suggested, in addition, “a breathing floor,” which he thought it would be easy to obtain even in the present ill-constructed edifice; and to obviate the smoke, he proposed to place a hot air apparatus under Mr. Slaney’s desk, whereby, he said, the necessity of a chimney would be dispensed with altogether. A new shaft, communicating with an apparatus in the ceiling would, he said, carry off all the foul gases generated in the room; and if the height of the shaft outside was such as to injure the general effect of the building, why, the fault would not be his so much as that of the architect who had not adapted the edifice so as to anticipate this necessary erection. Upon the whole, his opinion was that the Rotten Row Commissioners would do well to postpone their sittings until early in the ensuing year, in order to enable him, during the interval, to carry out his designs for reconstructing the building with a view to its efficient ventilation.

Had this recommendation been made at the close of a Session, and the commencement of the grouse shooting, it is difficult to say whether the great and important business of the Rotten Row Commission might not have stood adjourned for six months, as the Ventilator-General suggested. But as the Opera season was still at its height, and as Mr. Augustus Aigulet had before his eyes the fear of an awkward question from some of those busybodies who occasionally interfere about other people’s business in the House of Commons, the secretary thought it desirable to recommend the Board to resolve at present only to adjourn to that day week. Adjourned accordingly.

This was the Board’s second day’s work.

On the day of re-assembling, the Hon. Mr. Augustus Aigulet found the following official communication from the chief of the ventilating department.

VENTILATOR-GENERAL’S OFFICE.

[Such a Date.]

The Ventilator-General presents his compliments to the Hon. Augustus Aigulet, and begs to inform him of a serious abuse of Mr. Aigulet’s authority, discovered in the office of the Rotten Row department, this morning.

It is reported to the Ventilator-General that in the absence of Mr. Aigulet, the clerk of the department, Mr. Slaney caused the chimney to be swept, and the window to be thrown open. The Ventilator-General submits that this is an interference with his peculiar duty which the Secretary to the Rotten Row Commission will not sanction.

It is also reported to the Ventilator-General that the clerk has had the consummate assurance to object to the proposed formation of an apparatus for heating air immediately under his own desk: an obstruction to the Ventilator-General’s proceedings which calls for marked reprobation.

The Ventilator-General repeats the occurrences to Mr. Aigulet, in order that the fact may be duly laid before my lords.

The Commissioners having assembled, their secretary read the letter, and the Chairman ordered in the Clerk. Mr. Slaney appeared, trembled a little, and thought he had done something dreadful. The following dialogue ensued:—

_Chairman._ _Did_ you open the window, Mr. Slaney?

_Clerk._ Yes, my lord.

_Chairman._ Did you order the chimney to be swept?

_Clerk._ Yes, my lord.

_Chairman._ Be pleased to state, briefly, your reasons for these proceedings.

_Clerk._ The chimney was very foul, and the rooms not having been recently used, the window had apparently not been opened for some time. The sash line was broken, and there is a little difficulty about opening it.

_Chairman._ You may withdraw.

Blushing to the very forehead, and feeling as if his ears were setting his hair on fire, Mr. Slaney retired.

After some discussion at the Board, the following minute to the Lords of the Treasury, was dictated to the Secretary.

ROTTEN ROW COMMISSION.

[Sidenote: Minute No. 2. ]

7, 6, 4—

[Sidenote: No. A. XL. ]

C. F. T. 24,783,261,107 1,6,4—

Her Majesty’s Commissioners having had from the Ventilator-General his report upon the state of ventilation in the apartments allotted to them in the Treasury Chambers, are of opinion that the adoption of his plans would involve very considerable expense, and would cause a delay seriously prejudicial to the business of the Commission. Her Majesty’s Commissioners, therefore, request that my lords will be pleased to dispense with the services of the Ventilator-General in this case, as granted under their lordships’ minute, referred to in the margin, and instead thereof, that they will pass a minute authorising the attendance of the Treasury carpenter to repair a line in a window, which does not at present open with all the facility desirable.

By Order of the Board. (Signed) AUGUSTUS AIGULET.

These labours concluded the third day’s proceedings.

The fourth day was occupied in receiving counter instructions from the Lords Commissioners of Her Majesty’s Treasury in accordance with the Rotten Row Board’s minute, No. 2—and in communicating with the official carpenter. The result was, that this humble individual superseded in half an hour the threatened six months’ labour of the Ventilator-General.

At its fifth meeting, the Royal Commission drew up a list of witnesses to be examined. The sixth day was wholly occupied in granting the summonses, and as the Board has not yet finished examining its first witness, the report will not, it is expected, be ready for the Exhibition of the Works of Industry of All Nations in May, 1851.

A VILLAGE TALE.

The rooks are cawing in the elms, As on the very day— That sunny morning, mother dear, When Lucy went away; And April’s pleasant gleams have come, And April’s gentle rain— Fresh leaves are on the vine—but when Will Lucy come again?

The spring is as it used to be, And all must be the same; And yet, I miss the feeling now, That always with it came; It seems as if to me she made The sweetness of the year— As if I could be glad no more, Now Lucy is not here.

A year—it seems but yesterday, When in this very door You stood; and she came running back, To say good bye once more; I hear you sob—your parting kiss— The last fond words you said— Ah! little did we think—one year, And Lucy would be dead!

How all comes back—the happy times, Before our father died; When, blessed with him, we knew no want, Scarce knew a wish denied— His loss, and all our struggles on, And that worst dread, to know, From home, too poor to shelter all, That one at last must go.

How often do I blame myself, How often do I think, How wrong I was to shrink from that From which she did not shrink; And when I wish that I had gone, And know the wish is vain; And say, she might have lived, I think,— How can I smile again.

I dread to be alone, for then, Before my swimming eyes, Her parting face, her waving hand, Distinct before me rise; Slow rolls the waggon down the road— I watch it disappear— Her last “dear sister,” fond “good-bye,” Still lingering in my ear.

Oh, mother, had but father lived It would not have been thus; Or, if God still had taken her, She would have died with us; She would have had kind looks, fond words, Around her dying bed— Our hands to press her dying hands, To raise her dying head.

I’m always thinking, mother, now, Of what she must have thought; Poor girl! as day on day went by, And neither of us brought;— Of how she must have yearned, one face, That was not strange, to see— Have longed one moment to have set One look on you and me.

Sometimes I dream a happy dream— I think that she is laid Beside our own old village church, Where we so often played; And I can sit upon her grave, And with her we shall lie, Afar from where the city’s noise, And thronging feet go by.

Nay, mother—mother—weep not so, God judges for the best, And from a world of pain and woe, He took her to his rest; Why should we wish her back again? Oh, freed from sin and care, Let us the rather pray God’s love, Ere long to join her there.

THE FIRE ANNIHILATOR

“Water, and nothing _but_ water!” exclaimed Mr. John Diggs, the great sugar-baker (everybody knows old John Diggs), “Water, I say, is the natural enemy of fire; and any man who dares to say otherwise is no better that a fool or a charlatan. I should like to knock such a fellow down. I know more about fire than all the learned talking chaps in England, and it’s of no use to tell me when a house is in a blaze, that any thing but water _can_ put it out. Not a bit of it. Don’t attempt to say so; I won’t hear it!”

Mr. Diggs gave vent to his feelings in the above oracular form at his Club, on Thursday evening last, on which occasion he happened to be the Chairman. It was in consequence of one of the junior members reading a passage from a scientific Journal, to the effect that water was almost as much a friend to fire, as an enemy—and that, at any rate, they were near of kin—quoting Mr. Phillips, the Inventor of the Fire Annihilator, as a practical authority on the subject. This was what had so enraged Mr. Diggs, sugar-baker, and chairman of the Albert Rock and Toffee Club.

Mr. John Diggs is a man who always carries his will before him, like a crown on a cushion, while his reason follows like a page, holding up the skirts of his great coat. Honest-hearted, and not without generosity, he is much esteemed in spite of his many perversities. He possesses a shrewd observation, and a good understanding, when once you can get at it; but his energies and animal spirits commonly carry him out of all bounds, so that to bring him back to rational judgment is a work of no small difficulty. He is _open_ to conviction, as he always says, but he is a tip-top specimen of the class who commonly use that expression; his open door is guarded by all the bludgeons of obstinacy, behind which sits a pig-headed will, with its eyes half shut.

This is the man, and in the condition of mind which may be conjectured from his speech in the chair, just quoted, who drove up in his gig last Friday, as the clock struck four, to the gates of the London Gas Works, Vauxhall, in order to hear, with his own ears, Mr. Phillips dare to say he could extinguish the most violent flames without the use of water; and to see, with his own eyes, the total failure of the attempt, and the exposure of the humbug.

To make sure of entire sympathy in all his perversities, Mr. Diggs had brought his wife with him; and to insure a ready assistance in the detection of any tricks, his foreman, Mr. White, had been sent on by the steamer. A real reason lay at the bottom of all this; for the work-place and warehouse of Mr. Diggs were worth 60,000_l._; part of which sum, no insurance could cover; and his stock in trade as well as his works, he but too well knew, were of a most combustible nature. No laughing matter—therefore not a thing to be trifled with.

Mr. Diggs met his foreman in the yard, waiting for his arrival; and the party having displayed their tickets, were ushered across and around, till they came to a large brick building, with a long row of arched window holes along the top, apparently for the ready escape of volumes of smoke. The window holes all looked very black about the edges. So did the door-posts. The walls were very dingy and besmutched. Mrs. Diggs had put on her best spring bonnet with orange ribbons, and her pink and fawn-coloured silk shawl. She had a sudden misgiving, but it couldn’t be helped now.