Part 3

Mr. John Bloomer began his defence by informing the magistrate, that it was an understood thing--a sort of _street etiquette_ observed by all well-bred people--that when one gentleman happened to be in company with ladies of a certain description, no other gentleman should at all interfere in the business; either by "casting tender regards" upon the said ladies, or otherwise. This general understanding the complainant had grossly violated, by looking very significantly towards the whole party; and he, therefore, very properly, as he thought, applied the term "_index-post_" to him and his shouldered umbrella; but complainant took the term so to heart that he seized him by the collar, and then he certainly did strike him something in the manner he had described; and he would do so again under similar circumstances, let the consequences be what they might. He would not be insulted, he said, by any man, or attorney either.

Mr. William Henry Squibb now drew forth a large bundle of letters (supposed to be the warlike epistles above-mentioned) and was preparing himself to go more fully into his case, when the magistrate desired him to reserve his _documents_ for the sessions, for he really had no more time to _waste_ upon the matter; and having so said, he ordered the defendant to find bail.

In less than ten minutes, however, the parties again presented themselves before the bench, and said they had agreed to shake hands and say no more about it; upon which his worship observed, that he wished with all his heart they had thought of that mode of settling the matter an hour sooner.

THE LOVES OF M'GILLIES AND JULIA COB.

Mr. Robert M'Gillies was brought before the magistrates to answer the complaint of Miss Julia _Cob_. Mr. Robert M'Gillies was a tall, stout, portly, middle-aged, Scottish gentleman; and Miss Julia Cob, a diminutive Hibernian young lady, in a richly braided dark blue habit, smart riding hat, long black veil, and red morocco _ridicule_.

Miss Julia Cob made a multitude of complaints, by which it appeared that whilst she was living, a gay and happy spinster, with her friends in Dublin, she was courted by Mr. Robert M'Gillies, whose card bore the initials "M. P." after his name: and she, conceiving that M. P. meant "Member of Parliament," lent a willing ear to his honied words. That she afterwards discovered his profession was the taking of likenesses, and that the M. P. meant _Miniature-Painter_. That notwithstanding the disappointment of this discovery, she continued her affections towards him, and eventually consented to come with him to England--not as his wife, but as his friend _pro tempore_; for she could not think of taking up with a miniature-painter for life. That they did come to England accordingly, and took up their rest in London; but from that period Mr. Robert M'Gillies became an altered man; he relinquished his M. P. profession, and lived entirely upon her means, spending almost his whole time in smoking and drinking, lying in bed with his clothes on, and amusing himself between whiles with tearing his and her garments in shreds and tatters. That at length her affection for him began to evaporate, and, being much impoverished by these vagaries of his, she determined "To whistle him off, and let him down the wind to prey on fortune," as Othello talked of doing by the gentle Desdemona. That in consequence of this determination she "got herself acquainted" with another lover--not a Scottish and sottish _soi-disant_ M. P., but a real, unadulterated, and genuine Irish Mem. Par.--one who had taken a house for her in Norfolk-street, Strand, furnished it fit for a princess to live in, and provided her with all things fitting for a lady in her situation. That Mr. Robert M'Gillies felt himself so dissatisfied at this new arrangement, that he forced his way into her new abode in Norfolk-street, turned her char-woman out of doors, broke her glasses, tore her clothes to ribbons, spat in her face seventeen times, and swore he loved her so that she should never live with any other _jontleman_ till she was _completely_ dead and done with.--Nay more--having done all this, he laid himself down on the best bed in the house, and, taking out his pipe, began smoking away as he used to do at home; though she told him her new lover "couldn't abide the smell of _baccah_."

Under these circumstances, Miss Julia Cob begged the magistrates to interpose the strong arm of the law between her and Mr. Robert M'Gillies. He was a strong, powerful man, she said, and she verily believed he would never let her go to her grave alive--a figure of speech which she afterwards explained to mean--that she verily believed be intended to do her some grievous bodily harm--or, in other words, he intended to prevent her going to her grave in the natural way.

The officers who took Mr. Robert M'Gillies into custody, stated that they found him--though in the middle of the day--stretched out at full length in bed, with all his clothes on, except his coat, and smoking a long pipe; and on the chair by his bedside was a quantity of tobacco, and a large jorum of ale.

Mr. Robert M'Gillies, who had been with difficulty restrained while these statements were making, now entered upon his defence in form and manner following:--

"She is a _villain_, and will swear anything!" (Thumping the table and bursting into tears.) "But I don't blame her, I blame her evil advisers." (Another thump and more tears.) "She has been heard as a woman, and now let me be heard as a man!" (A louder voice, a heavier thump, and a greater flood of tears.) "I was a bright man before I knew her!--Her name is not _Julia Cob_. She has deceived many a man under the name of '_Julia Cob_.' Her right name is Jane Spencer! and she knows it. I don't want to go near her, I tell you!" (A fresh supply of tears.) "I love her better than my own heart's blood; but I don't care--I won't be used in this manner--I'll be d----d if I will! Confound her and them altogether, I say! But I don't blame her--I blame the devils she has got about her. She said to me one day, says she, 'Come, M'Gillies,' says she, 'let you and I go down upon our bare knees and swear to be true to each other for ever and ever!' and now she uses me in this manner!--Oh! oh! oh!" (Lots of tears.) "What am I brought here for? What have I done? Answer me that!--Oh! oh! oh!" &c.

Mr. Robert M'Gillies filled up the pauses in this speech, by licking in with his tongue the tears, &c. which flowed plentifully through the stubble on his upper lip; and having made an end of speaking--

The magistrate told him he was a very foolish man, and Miss Julia Cob was not a bit better than she should be; nevertheless she must not be subjected to personal violence, and he therefore must put in bail to keep the peace towards her--himself in 50_l._ and two sureties in 25_l._ each.

It appeared, however, that his friends had previously been bound for him in a charge of assault upon the same lady, and the magistrate declaring their recognizances forfeited by this his subsequent violence, they declined coming forward again.

So Mr. Robert M'Gillies was consigned to his own lamentations in the dreary dungeons of Tothill-fields' Bridewell, and the false-hearted _Julia Cob_ returned to her new lover in Norfolk-street.

TIPSY JULIA.

Miss Julia Johnson was charged by a watchman with infesting his _bate_ in a state of _bastely_ drunkenness. "It was King-street, your honour, that same I'm now spaking about," thundered Phelim O'Donaghue, "and she _wouldn't_ come out of it anyhow, _becase_ the beer had got the best of her, an' she _couldn't_, your honour; an' so I gathered her up, with her silks an' satins, an' put 'em altogether in the watch-house, your honour."

"Did she _abuse_ you?" asked his worship.

"Fait, an' she hadn't _sense_ enough for that, your honour!" replied the strong-lunged Phelim.

Miss Julia's "silks and satins" gave manifest proof that she had not been able to keep her feet; and, as she had nothing but tears to offer in her defence, she was adjudged to be drunken and disorderly, and ordered to find sureties for her better behaviour in future.

AN EVENING'S PLEASURE.

A schoolmaster of Greenwich, an apothecary of Plymouth, and a London sheriff's-officer,--"three good fellows and true," were brought before the bench, charged with having "shown off" a little too much in the pit of the Olympic Theatre.

Their situation in the office, when the magistrate took his seat on the bench, was thus:--The sheriff's-officer dead drunk on the floor of the outer passage; the apothecary dead drunk on the benches within the office; and the schoolmaster very drunk, but very sprightly withal, upon his legs before the magisterial table. Then as to their personal condition:--the sheriff's-officer had only half a coat--the entire sinister side having been torn away vertically; and he was moreover so grievously bedaubed with blood about the face, that his features were indistinguishable. The apothecary had his garments entire, but the exterior case of his olfactory apparatus was marvellously swollen and distorted--more like the budding proboscis of an infant elephant, than the nose of a Christian compounder of medicine. The schoolmaster's countenance was like that of his friend, the sheriff's-officer, excessively bloody; and his left eye was closed by a large blue and green tumour--from an orifice in the centre of which the _claret_ flowed continually towards the corner of his mouth, as if in mockery of the bumpers that had brought him before the bench.

As to their achievements, it appeared by the evidence of sundry theatrical prompters, scene-shifters, firemen, constables, and deputy-constables, that they entered the theatre arm in arm, with each a flaming cigar in his mouth. That they had no sooner got within the pit than they began to shout lustily for the music. That the music not answering to their shouts the schoolmaster rushed gallantly forward over the heads of the more un-Corinthian part of the audience--to the infinite detriment of sundry Leghorn and other bonnets--and clearing the barrier of the orchestra, at one audacious leap he dashed into the regions beneath the stage in search of the musicians. That he was thence expelled by the united efforts of supernumeraries attached to the concern; and that, as the said supernumeraries of the concern attempted to get him back over the barrier of the orchestra, the sheriff's-officer and the apothecary scrambled forward to his assistance, and prevented his being so put back with all their might. That a general fight ensued--that many people left the theatre in dismay--that others who were entering refused to complete their _entree_--that at length the riotous _trio_ were got over by dint of numbers--that they were carried to this office--and that the manager was positively determined to prosecute!

To all this the schoolmaster was the only one of the three who could say anything in reply; but then he was a host in himself. He, as in duty bound by the nature of his calling, was the "_Logic_" of the "_spree_;" but unfortunately his logical powers were mystified with old port and beating, and he could make little or nothing of it. He began his defence with three distinct emissions of the fumes of the old Port above-mentioned, and then told the magistrate how they were all three Devonshire men, and old friends, who had met for an evening's pleasure, after a long and tedious separation--how the apothecary had never been in London in all his life before, and had been let into a secret by that night's adventure--how he himself had taken his tea before he set out from Greenwich to meet the apothecary--how the apothecary dined, and how he did not--how they met with the sheriff's-officer--how they got drunk at the Shades at London Bridge, at the expense of the apothecary--how they got more drunk in Fleet-street, at the expense of himself (the schoolmaster)--and how they got drunk in the superlative degree, "somewhere hereabouts"--how somebody gave them orders for the Olympic--how they went there, and found the pit as silent as the grave--how they called for music, and no music came--how the schoolmaster dashed into the _cellar_ in search of the _fiddlers_, but couldn't find any--how the folks felt themselves offended at his interference--how a devil of a row ensued--how he might have escaped, but scorned to do so--how they were finally captured--and how they were vastly sorry for all of it.

Lots of conversation ensued upon these premises, and the manager, after two or three private conferences, declared himself satisfied, but the magistrate said he was not. "If poor men," said his worship, "were brought before me, charged with such mischievous absurdities, they would be inevitably sent to prison, unless they could find bail; and I will not suffer others to escape, because they may have certain means of satisfying those they injure."

So the schoolmaster and the sheriff's-officer were held to bail for their appearance at the sessions; and the apothecary was suffered to return to his disconsolate family _unscathed_, because he had not been quite so obstreperous as his companions.

A LAMPLIGHTER'S FUNERAL.

An elderly matron, one Mrs. Bridget Foggarty--the lady of an operative architect (_vulgo_ a bricklayer) was charged with having wantonly assaulted a patrol, whilst in the execution of his duty.

It seems that a deceased lamplighter was interred, the evening before, in St. Pancras' burying ground, with much funeral pomp--there being more than two hundred of his brother _illuminati_ present, each bearing a flaming torch in celebration of his obsequies. This, it was said, is the universal mode of lighting a lamplighter to "that bourne from whence no traveller returns," and, of course, the spectacle attracted crowds of people. Wherever crowds of people are collected, there the patrol very properly repair, to prevent disorder: and the officer in question was there for that meritorious purpose, when Mrs. Bridget Foggarty abruptly gave him a slap on the cheek with her own right hand--that hand being all begrimed with tar, in consequence of her having held one of the half-melted funeral torches while the bearer of it took a little of _Deady's_ consolatory[12] on his way back from the mournful ceremonies.

This was the assault complained of; but the officer said he did not wish to be hard with Mrs. Foggarty; neither would he have taken her into custody, had not the surrounding multitude echoed the blow with such a shout of exultation as gave the lady a very evident intention of repeating it.

Mrs. Bridget Foggarty, when asked by the magistrate what she had to say for herself, wept audibly, and assured his worship that she took the gentleman for a friend of her husband's, or she never should have taken such a liberty as that 'ere. She declared that it was not _tar_ upon her hand, but _soot_--plain, ordinary soot, "off of a chimney-sweeper;" and, if his worship pleased, she would tell him all about it.

His worship did not object, and she proceeded to state that she had been to see her husband, then lying ill in the hospital; that on her return, she went to see the lamplighter's burying, and that the folks were all very merry, "and quite _larkish_ in a manner;" that being curious to see what sort of a coffin it was, she _skrouged_ herself through the mob till she reached the brink of the grave, and she had no sooner done so, than the mob pushed a chimney-sweeper into it, and pushed her atop of him; and that was the way her hands were blacked.

The magistrate told her he thought her visit to her sick husband should have disposed her more seriously, than to be mingling in such a disgraceful scene; and desired her to go home, and conduct herself more decently in future.

Mrs. Foggarty was very thankful for the lenity shown to her, and departed courtesying and drying her eyes.

LATE HOURS AND OYSTERS.

Two gentlemen of pretty considerable respectability--one tall, and the other short--were charged with having assaulted the watch; and no fewer than five "ancient and quiet watchmen" appeared, to testify against them.

Dennis Mack was the first in order. He said he found the two gentlemen at the door of the oyster shop in New-street, Covent-garden, between one and two o'clock in the morning, kicking up a great row with a hackney-coach and two ladies. He told them to go home to bed, and not be making such a bother as all that, when the short one laid hold of his staff, and tried to twist it out of his hand, whereupon he sprung his rattle for assistance, &c.

Thomas Robinson was the next. He was a smart, upright, _Corporal Trim_-like sort of a watchman, and his discourse was somewhat "stuffed with epithets of war." He heard the _rattle-call_ of his _comrade_, and _advanced_ to his _relief_--he made his _approaches_ with caution in order to _reconnoitre_ the party--having so done, he challenged the offenders to _surrender_, and received the point-blank charge of a fist in his belly--saving his worship's presence.

"What are you?" asked the magistrate, struck by the novelty of his phraseology.

"I have been a soldier, your honour," he replied; "but since I was discharged from the army, I have endeavoured to fulfil the part of a cobbler."

Patrick Donaghue, a six-foot Emerald Islander, with an astonishing perpendicular expansion of countenance, was the third in order. He heard the _hubbuboo_ as he was _paceably_ walking his _bate_, and went, right on end, to _larn_ the rights of it; and the biggest of the two--without saying "by yer _lave_,"--took him a mighty _dacent_ stroke over the _jaws_.

Two other watchmen followed; but, as they said, they only came in at the tail of the _row_, and therefore they did not see the beginning of it. However, they bore testimony to the extreme repugnance of the gentlemen to go to the watch-house.

The gentlemen were now called upon for their defence, and the short one undertook the task of making it. It appeared that he and his tall friend were out so late _because_ they were eating _oysters_, consequently the oysters were solely to blame, as far as late hours were concerned. Then, as they were coming out of the oyster-shop, they found two _ladies_, who also had been up stairs eating oysters, sitting in a hackney coach at the door. There was nothing extraordinary in this; but somehow or other the coachman had got it into his head that these two unlucky gentlemen had ordered the coach for the use of the ladies, then comfortably sitting therein, and of course he looked to them for the fare. The _ladies_ themselves encouraged the coachman in this "iniquitous idea," and seemed to enjoy it very much; but our oyster-eaters were not to be had in this way. They _re_-sisted the "abominable demand," the coachman _per_-sisted, the ladies laughed, the watch came up, and the oyster eaters were hauled off to durance, most unjustly. As to the blow on the belly, the _dacent_ stroke on the jaws, &c., they denied all that sort of thing _in toto_.

They were nevertheless held to bail for their appearance at the sessions; and, doubtless, should they ever be taken with an oyster fit again, they will try to get it over earlier.

SUPPING OUT.

Messrs. Theodore Planque (a very tall gentleman), Hugh Jackson (a very short one), and Robert Thomas Huff (neither tall nor short, but, as it were, between both), and a _bamboo cane_, almost as long and large as a little scaffold-pole, were brought before the magistrates from the subterraneous saloons of St. Martin's watch-house, charged with dreadful doings among the _Charleys_.[13]

It appeared by the statements _pro_ and _con._, that the prisoners are very respectable people, and that on Friday night they went to sup with an unquestionably highly respectable tradesman in Long-acre. This supper was given on the occasion of his brother, who is a captain in the navy, having returned from a long and perilous voyage; and, of course, on such an extraordinary occasion, they drank deeper than ordinary. It is really surprising what a quantity of thirsty sentiments an occasion of this kind gives rise to. At last the tall gentleman--or, as one of the watchmen called him, "the _long_ one"--was found stretched out at his length on the pavement before the door, completely done up. It was a _charley_ who found him, and a very honest charley too, as times go; but whilst he was endeavouring to gather him up, the short gentleman came behind and floored poor charley himself, with the great _bamboo_, above mentioned. He was soon up again, however--though, as he said, he never was floored by such a queer thing in his life before, nor half so _clanely_. Once on his legs again, round went his rattle, and in half-a-dozen seconds up came half-a-dozen of his brethren. The short gentleman with his bamboo, seeing this, laid about him lustily--ribs, canisters,[14] or lanterns, it was all one to him. But "who can control his fate?" or what can one single arm do against a dozen? He was _bundled_ up, or enveloped as it were, in a _posse_ of _charleys_, all in full _tog_, enough to smother up a Hercules; and after some little ineffectual sprunting, he, and "the long one," and the "middle-sized one," and the great bamboo, were all safely lodged in the watch-house; where the long one, having shaken off his drunken slumbers, committed divers outrageous assaults upon the night constable and his men, as they were putting them down into the cellars.

In their defence before the magistrate, they admitted the drunkenness, but denied the violence; and begged his worship to believe that it was "entirely a case of _simple intoxication_."

The magistrate ordered the long one to find bail upon four distinct assaults; the short one to find bail upon two distinct assaults; and the middle-sized one was discharged on payment of his fees.

A GREAT MAN IN DISTRESS.

A personage, who described himself as "General Sarsfield Lucan, Viscount Kilmallock in Ireland, a peer of France, and a descendant of Charlemagne," presented himself before the magistrates to solicit a few shillings to enable him to proceed on important business to Wexford.

General Sarsfield Lucan wore an old brown surtout, with the collar turned up behind to keep his neck warm, and a scrap of dirty white ribbon fastened to one of the button-holes; a black velvet waistcoat, powdered with tarnished silver _fleurs-de-lis_, and an ancient well-worn _chapeau bras_, surmounted with a fringe of black feathers. He carried under his arm a large roll of writings, and all his pockets were stuffed with tin cases, pocket-books, and bundles of papers: his "fell of hair" was ruefully matted; an enormous tawny whisker covered either cheek and his upper lip and chin,--which, for want of shaving, "showed like a stubble-field at harvest home,"--was all begrimed with real Scotch.