Chapter 3

The Victoria continues to kill "James Dawson," in spite of our prediction. The bills, however, promise that he shall die outright on Monday next, and a happy release it will be. The proprietor of "Sadler's Wells" is making most spirited efforts to attract play-goers to the Islington side of the New River, by a return to the legitimate drama of _his_ theatre, viz.--real water; while his box check-taker has kept one important integer of the public away; namely, that singular plural _we_--by impertinence for which we have exhausted all patience without obtaining redress.

There are, we hear, other theatres open in London, one called the "City of London," somewhere near Shoreditch; another in Whitechapel, both _terræ incognitæ_ to us. The proprietors of these have handsomely presented us with free admissions. We beg them to accept our thanks for their courtesy; but are sorry we cannot avail ourselves of it till they add the obligation of providing us with _guides_.

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THE CORN LAWS AND CHRISTIANITY.

Doctor Chalmers refused to attend the synod of Clergymen gathered together to consider the relative value of the Big and Little Loaf, on the ground that the reverend gentlemen were beginning their work at the wrong end. Wages will go up with Christianity, says the Doctor; cheap corn will follow the dissemination of cheap Bibles. "I know of no other road for the indefinite advancement of the working classes to a far better remuneration, and, of course, a far more liberal maintenance, in return for their toils, than they have ever yet enjoyed--it is a _universal Christian education_." Such are the words of Doctor CHALMERS.

We perfectly agree with the reverend doctor. Instead of shipping Missionaries to Africa, let us keep those Christian sages at home for the instruction of the English Aristocracy. When we consider the benighted condition of the elegant savages of the western squares,--when we reflect upon the dreadful scepticism abounding in Park-lane, May-fair, Portland-place and its vicinity,--when we contemplate the abominable idols which these unhappy natives worship in their ignorance,--when we know that every thought, every act of their misspent life is dedicated to a false religion, when they make hourly and daily sacrifice to that brazen serpent,

SELF!--

when they offer up the poor man's sweat to the abomination,--when they lay before it the crippled child of the factory,--when they take from life its bloom and dignity, and degrading human nature to mere brute breathing, make offering of its wretchedness as the most savoury morsel to the perpetual craving of their insatiate god,--when we consider all the "manifold sins and wickednesses" of the barbarians in purple and fine linen, of those pampered savages "whose eyes are red with wine and whose teeth white with milk,"--we do earnestly hope that the suggestion of Doctor Chalmers will be carried into immediate practical effect, and that Missionaries, preaching true Christianity, will be sent among the rich and benighted people of this country,--so that the poor may believe that the Scriptures are something more than mere printed paper, seeing their glorious effects in the awakened hearts of those who, in the arrogance of their old idolatry, called themselves their betters!

"A universal Christian education!" To this end, the Bench of Bishops meet at Lambeth; and discovering that locusts and wild honey--the Baptist's diet--may be purchased for something less than ten thousand a year,--and, after a minute investigation of the Testament, failing to discover the name of St. Peter's coachmaker, or of St. Paul's footman, his valet, or his cook,--take counsel one with another, and resolve to forego at least nine-tenths of their yearly in-comings. "No!" they exclaim--and what apostolic brightness beams in the countenance of CANTERBURY--what celestial light plays about the fleshy head of LONDON--what more than saint-like beauty surprises the cowslip-coloured face of EXETER--what lambent fire, what looks of Christian love play about and beam from the whole episcopal Bench!--"No!" they cry--"we will no longer have the spirit oppressed by these cumbrous trappings of fleshy pride! We will promote an universal Christian education--we will teach charity by examples, and live unto all men by a personal abstinence from the bickerings and malice of civil life. We will not defile the sacred lawn with the mud of turnpike acts--we will no longer sweat in the House of Lords, but labour only in the House of the Lord!"

Their Christian hearts sweetly suffused with sudden meekness, the Bishops proceed--staff in hand, and Bible under arm--from Lambeth Palace. How the people make way for the holy procession! Hackney-coachmen on their stands uncover themselves, and the drayman, surprised in his whistle, doffs his beaver to the reverend pilgrims. With measured step and slow, they proceed to Downing-street; the self-deputed Missionaries, resolved to give her Majesty's ministers "a Christian education." Sir ROBERT PEEL is immediately taken in hand by the Bishop of EXETER; who sets the Baronet to learn and exemplify the practical beauties of the Lord's Prayer. When Sir ROBERT comes to "give us this day our daily bread," he insists upon adding the words "_with a sliding scale_." However, EXETER, animated by a sudden flux of Christianity, keeps the baronet to his lesson, and the Premier is regenerated; yea, is "a brand snatched from the fire."

Lord LYNDHURST makes a great many wry mouths at some parts of the Decalogue--we will not particularise them--but the Bishop of London is resolute, and the new Lord Chancellor is, in all respects a bran-new Christian.

Lord STANLEY begs that when he prays for power to forgive all his enemies, he may be permitted to except from that prayer--DANIEL O'CONNELL. The Bishop is, however, inexorable; and O'Connell is to be prayed for, in all churches visited by Lord STANLEY.

Several of the bishops, smitten by the heathen darkness of the great majority of the Cabinet--affected by their utter ignorance of the practical working of Christianity--burst into tears. It will not be credited by those disposed to think charitably of their fellow-creatures, that--we state the melancholy fact upon the golden word of the Bishop of EXETER--several Cabinet ministers had never heard of the divine sentence which enjoins upon us to do to others as we would they should do unto us. Sir JAMES GRAHAM, for instance, declared that he had always understood the passage to simply run--"_Do_ others;" and had, therefore, in very many acts of his political life, squared his doings according to the mutilated sentence. All the Cabinet had, more or less, some idea of the miracle of the Loaves and the Fishes. Indeed, many of them confessed that with them, the Loaves and the Fishes had, during their whole political career, contained the essence of Christianity. Sir EDWARD KNATCHBULL, Lord ELLENBOROUGH, and GOULBURN declared that for the last ten years they had hungered for nothing else.

We cannot dwell upon every individual case of ignorance displayed in the Cabinet. We confine ourselves to the glad statement, that every minister from the first lord of the treasury to the grooms in waiting, vivified by the sacred heat of their schoolmaster Bishops, illustrate the great truth of Doctor CHALMERS, that the poor man can only obtain justice "by a _universal_ Christian education."

The Bench of Bishops do not confine their labours to the instruction of the Cabinet. By no means. They have appointed prebends, deans, canons, vicars, &c., to teach the members of both houses of Parliament practical Christianity towards their fellow-men. Lord LONDONDERRY has sold his fowling-piece for the benefit of the poor--has given his shooting-jacket to the ragged beggar that sweeps the crossing opposite the Carlton Club--and resolving to forego the vanities of grouse, is now hard at work on "The Acts of the Apostles." Colonel SIBTHORP--after unceasing labour on the part of Doctor CROLY--has managed to spell at least six of the hard names in the first chapter of St. Matthew, and can now, with very slight hesitation, declare who was the father of ZEBEDEE'S children!

"An universal Christian education!" Oh, reader! picture to yourself London--for one day only--operated upon by the purest Christianity. Consider the mundane interests of this tremendous metropolis directed by Apostolic principles! Imagine the hypocrisy of respectability--the conventional lie--the allowed ceremonial deceit--the tricks of trade--the ten thousand scoundrel subterfuges by which the lowest dealers of this world purchase Bank-stock and rear their own pine-apples--the common, innocent iniquities (innocent from their very antiquity, having been bequeathed from sire to son) which men perpetrate six working-days in the week, and after, lacker up their faces with a look of sleek humility for the Sunday pew--consider all this locust swarm of knaveries annihilated by the purifying spirit of Christianity, and then look upon London breathing and living, for one day only, by the sweet, sustaining truth of the Gospel!

Had our page ten thousand times its amplitude, it would not contain the briefest register of the changes of that day!

There is a scoundrel attorney, who for thirty years has become plethoric on broken hearts. The scales of leprous villany have fallen from him; and now, an incarnation of justice, he sits with open doors, to pour oil into the wounds of the smitten--to make man embrace man as his brother--to preach lovingkindness to all the world, and--without a fee--to chant the praises of peace and amity.

_Crib_ the stockbroker meets _Horns_ a fellow-labourer in the same hempen walk of life. _Crib_ offers to buy a little Spanish of _Horns_. "My dear _Crib_," says _Horns_, "it is impossible; I can't sell; for I have just received by a private hand from Cadiz, news that must send the stock down to nothing. I am a Christian, my dear _Crib_," says _Horns_, "and as a Christian, how could I sell you a certain loss?"

A mistaken, but well-meaning man, although a tailor, meets his debtor in Bow-street. A slight quarrel ensues; whereupon, the debtor (to show that the days of chivalry are _not_ gone) kicks his tailor into the gutter. Does the tailor take the offender before Mr. JARDINE? By no means. The tailor is a Christian; and learning the exact measure of his enemy, and returning good for evil, he, in three days' time, sends to his assailant a new suit of the very best super Saxony.

How many quacks we see rushing to the various newspaper offices to countermand their advertisements! What gaps in the columns of the newspapers themselves! Where is the sugary lie--the adroit slander--the scoundrel meanness, masking itself with the usage of patriotism? All, all are vanished, for--the _Morning Herald_ is published upon Christian principles!

Let us descend to the smallest matters of social life. "Will this gingham wash?" asks _Betty_ the housemaid of _Twill_ the linen-draper. _Twill_ is a Christian; and therefore replies, "it is a very poor article, and it will _not_ wash!"

We are with Doctor Chalmers for Christianity--but not Christianity of _one side_. "Pray for those who despitefully use you," say the Corn Law Apostles to the famishing; and then, cocking their eye at one another, and twitching their tongues in their mouths they add--"for this is Christianity!"

Q.

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ENCOURAGEMENT OF NATIVE TALENT.

Her Majesty has, it seems, presented the conductor of the _Gazette Musicale_ with a gold medal and her portrait, as a reward for his constant efforts in the cause of music (_vide Morning Post_, Sept. 9). From this, it may be supposed, foreigners alone are deemed worthy of distinction; but our readers will be glad to learn, that Rundells have been honoured with an order for a silver whistle for PUNCH. His unceasing efforts in the causes of _humbug_, political, literary, and dramatic, having drawn forth this high mark of royal favour.

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PUNCH'S PENCILLINGS--NO. X.

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THE OMEN OUTWITTED:

OR, HOW HIS REVERENCE'S HEELS TOOK STEPS TO SAVE HIS HEAD.

"So, Dick, I mean your 'reverence,' you like the blessed old country as well as ever, eh, lad?"

"As well, ay, almost better. My return to it is like the meeting of long-parted friends--the joy of the moment is pure and unalloyed--all minor faults are forgotten--all former goodness rushes with double force from the recollection to the heart, and the renewal of old fellowship grafts new virtues (the sweet fruits of regretted absence) upon him who has been the chosen tenant of our 'heart of hearts.'"

"His reverence's health--three times three (empty them heeltaps, Jack, and fill out of the fresh jug)--now, boys, give tongue. That's the raal thing; them cheers would wake the seven sleepers after a dose of laudanum. Bless you, and long life to you! That's the worst wish you'll find here."

"I know that right well, uncle. I know it, feel it, and most heartily thank you all."

"Enough said, parson. By dad, Dick, its mighty droll to be calling you, that was but yesterday a small curly-pated gossoon, by that clerical mouthful of a handle to your name. But do you find us altered much?"

"There is no change but Time's--that has fallen lightly. To be sure, yesterday I was looking for the heads of my strapping cousins at the bottom button of their well-filled waistcoats, and, before Jack's arrival, meant to do a paternal and patriarchal 'pat' on his, at somewhere about that altitude; a ceremony he must excuse, as the little lad of my mind has thought proper to expand into a young Enniskillen of six feet three."

"He's a mighty fine boy--the lady-killing vagabone!" said the father, with a kind look of gratified pride; and then added, as if to stop the infection of the vanity, "and there's no denying he's big enough to be better." Here a slight scrimmage at the door of the dining-room attracted the attention of the "masther."

"What's the meaning of that noise, ye vagabones?"

"Spake up, Mickey."

"Is it me?" "It is." "Not at all, by no means. Let Paddy do it, or Tim Carroll; they're used to going out wid the car, and don't mind spaking to the quality." "Take yourselves out o'that, or let me know what you want, and be pretty quick about it, too."

The result of this order was the appearance of Tim Carroll in the centre of the room--a dig between the shoulders, and vigorously-applied kick behind, hastening him into that somewhat uneasy situation, with a degree of expedition perfectly marvellous.

"Spake out, what is it?" "Ahem!" commenced Tim; "you see, sir (_aside_), I'll be even wid you for that kick, you thief of the world--you see, Paddy (bad manners to him) and the rest o' the boys, was thinking that, owing to the change o' climate, Master Richard--that is, his new riverence--has gone through by rason of laving England and comin' here--and mighty could, no doubt, he was on the journey--be praised he's safe--the boy, sir, was thinkin', masther dear, it was nothing but their duty, and what was due to the family, to ax your honour's opinion about their takin' the smallest taste of whiskey in life, jist to be drinking his riverence's Masther Richard's health, and"--"Success to him!" shouted the chorus at the door. "That's it!" said the masther. "And nothing but it!" responded the chorus. "Nelly, my jewel! take the kays and give them anything in dacency!" "Hurrah! smiling good luck to you, for ever and afther!" "That'll do, boys! but stay: it's Terence Conway's wedding night--it's a good tenant he's been to me--take the sup down there, and you'll get a dance; now be off, you devils!"

"Many thanks to your honour!" chorused the delighted group; and "I done that iligant, anyhow," muttered the gratified, successful, and, therefore, forgiving orator. "I'll try again. Ahem! wouldn't the young gentlemen just step down for a taste?" "By all manes!" was chimed at once; their hats were mounted in a moment, and off they set.

Terence Conway's farm was soon reached; the barn affording the most accommodation for the numerous visitors, was fitted up for the occasion. It was nearly full, as Terence was a popular man--one that didn't grudge the "bit and sup," and never turned his back upon friend or foe. Loud and hearty were the cheers of the delighted tenantry, as the three sons of their beloved landlord passed the threshold. The appearance of the "stranger" was received with no such demonstrations of welcome; on the contrary, there was a sullen silence, soon after broken by suppressed and angry murmurs. These were somewhat appeased by one of the sons introducing his "cousin," and endeavouring to joke the peasants into good-humour, by laughingly assuring them his "reverence" was but a bad drinker, and would not deprive them of much of the poteen; then passing his arm through the parson's, he led the way, as it afterwards turned out, rather unfortunately, to the top of the barn, and there, followed by his brothers, they took their seats.

The entrance of the Catholic priest (a most amiable man) at this moment attracted the entire attention of the party, during which time Tim Carroll elbowed his way to the place where his master was seated, and calling him partially aside, whispered, "Master John, dear, tell his riverence, Master Richard, to go."

"What for?"

"Sure, is not he entirely in black?"

"Well, what of it?"

"What of it? Houly Paul! the likes o' that! If my skin was as hard as a miser's heart, I wouldn't put it into a black coat, and come to a wedding in it; it's the devil's own bad omen, and nothing else!"

"You are right! What a fool I was not to tell Dick! Cousin, a word!"

Here the clamour became somewhat louder, the priest taking an active part, and speaking rapidly and earnestly in their native tongue to the evidently excited peasantry. He suddenly broke from them, and hastening to the Protestant clergyman, grasped his hand, and, shaking it heartily, wished him "health, long life, and happiness:" and lifting a tumbler of punch to his lips, drank off nearly half its contents, exclaiming the customary, "God save all here!" He then presented the liquor to the stranger, saying in a low earnest voice, "Drink that toast, sir!"

This order was instantly complied with. The clear tones of the young man's unfaltering voice and the hearty cordiality of his utterance had a singular effect upon the more turbulent; the priest passed rapidly from the one to the other, and endeavoured to say something pleasant to all, but, despite his attempts at calmness, he was evidently ill at ease.

Tim Carroll again sidled up to his young master.

"The boys mane harrum, sir," said Tim; "but never mind, there's five of us here. We've not been idle, we've all been taking pick o' the sticks, and divil a stroke falls upon one of the ould ancient family widout showing a bruck head or a flat back for it."

"What am I to understand by this?" inquired the young stranger.

"That you're like Tom Fergusson when he rode the losing horse--you've mounted the wrong colour; and, be dad, you are pretty well marked down for it, sir; but never mind, there's Tim Carroll looking as black as the inside of a sut-bag. Let him come on! he peeled the skin off them shins o' mine at futball; maybe, I won't trim his head with black thorn for that same, if he's any ways obstropolis this blessed night."

"Silence, sir! neither my inclination nor sacred calling will allow me to countenance a broil! I have been the first offender--to attempt to leave the room now would but provoke an attack; leave this affair to me, and don't interfere."

"By the powers! if man or mortal lifts his hand to injure you, I'll smash the soul out of him! Do you think, omen or no omen, I'll stand by and see you harmed?--not a bit of it! If you are a parson and a child of peace, I have the honour to be a soldier, and claim my right to battle in your cause."

Maugre the pacific tone of the unfortunately-accoutered ecclesiastic, there was something of defiance in his flashing eye and crimson cheek, as he turned his brightening glance upon what might almost be called the host of his foes; and the nervous pressure which returned the grasp of his cousin's sinewy hand, spoke something more of readiness for battle than could have been gathered from his expressed wishes.

"If, Jack, it comes to that, why, as human nature is weak--excuse what I may feel compelled to do; but for the present pray oblige me by keeping your seat and the peace; or, if you must move and fidget about, go and make that pugnacious Tim Carroll as decent as you can."

"I'll be advised by you, Dick; but look out!" So saying, the stalwart young officer bustled his way to the uproarious Tim.

It was well he did so, or bloodshed must have ensued, as at that moment a tall and powerful man, brother-in-law to the bride, lifted his stick, and after giving it the customary twirl aimed a point-blank blow at the head of the ill-omened parson. The bound of an antelope brought the girl to the spot; her small hand averted the direction of the deadly weapon, and before the action had been perceived by any present, or the attempt could be resumed, she dropped a curtesy to the assailant, and in a loud voice, with an affected laugh, exclaimed--

"You, if you plaise, sir;" and, turning quickly to the fiddler, continued: "Any tune you like, Mr. Murphy, sir; but, good luck to you, be quick, or we won't have a dance to-night!"

"Clear the floor!--a dance! a dance!" shouted every one.