Part 7

Where we are living now is in Southampton-street, and was the house of Mr. Garrick, the author of "The School for Scandal," and all Shakspeare's plays. The waiter tells us that Mr. Johnston, of Covent-garden, and an old Goldsmith, of the name of Oliver, used very often to dine with him in the very room in which I write this, and that that excellent and amiable man, Sir George Beaumont, who, as you know, wrote half Mr. Fletcher's works, and who is alive and merry at this moment, used to dine here too--but that, I think, is a little trow four,[14] for Garrick, I believe, has been dead more than two hundred and fifty years.

I cannot let my house in Montague Place, because of the new Universality in Gore Street--however, if I go and live there, they say there will be a great many Bachelors in the College, and perhaps I may get off one or two of my girls. I write this while my French footer son-in-law is playing Macarty with his Dulcimer Amelrosa--Macarty is, to my mind, little better than a bad translation of all-fours into French; but above all, I cannot bare to hear Mounsheer while he is a playing, for whenever he has got the ace of spades in his hand, he talks of a part of Derbyshire which is never mentioned in decent society not by no means whatsoever.

In Paris we saw Mr. Cannon, the Secretary of State, but without any state at all--he was just like any other man--and as for his foreign affairs, I saw none that he had--he was quite without pride--not at all like Count Potto o' de Boggo, who is a great Plenipo there, and struts about just as grand as the Roman Consols did, when they used to have their Feces tied up in bundles and carried before them by their Lickturs. I have no notion of paying such reverence to officers of humane institution for my part, and I quite love Mr. Cannon for his want of ostensibility.

We met with an uncommon unpleasant accident coming to town--one of the horses, which was seized with the staggers, a disorder very like St. Witulus's dance in men, broke his breeches in going down an ill, which very nearly overturned the carriage, which we had hired at Hastings; for of course we had no coach in the batow, and were glad enough to catch a couple of flies even in this cold season, to convey us to Tunbridge Wells, a place I had never seen before, and which is like Cranburn Alley put out to grass--there are various ills about the neighbourhood, which are named after Scripture, why I cannot tell--we did not drink any of the waters, none of us being in any way deceased.

I think I have now taken leave of old Ossian for this season, at all events; and as far as that goes, if I never see the briny dip again I shall not fret, for though it is a very good thing to breed fish in, I never want to be upon its billies any more. I hope to leave this after Amelrosa is married, which will be soon, I suppose, and the moment I do I will write again; meanwhile, if you like to drop in to a tête-à-tête of six, we shall always be glad to see you; and so believe me, dear B., yours very truly,

DOROTHEA L. RAMSBOTTOM.

P.S.--I have some notion of taking a country house near London, but am divided at present between Acteon and Corydon.

XIII.

MRS. RAMSBOTTOM ON THE HOUSE OF COMMONS.

TO JOHN BULL.

Montague Place, Russell Square, Feb. 1, 1827.

DEAR B.,--You will be surprized at finding me back at the old house--but we have not been able to get rid of it, so we have resolved upon living in it till we can.

My second daughter, which married Monsheer Delcroy, is _on saint_, which pleases him very much--he is quite a gentleman, and has travailed all over Europe, and has seen all our allies (which means the friendly Courts) upon the Continent--he knows Lord Burgos, which is one of the Henvoys of England, and was chosen to make overtures to some foreign king--I think it was a very good choice, if _I_ may judge; for I heard one of his overtures the other night at a consort in town, which was beautiful. My son-in-law also knows the Admirable Sir Sidney Smith, what made such a disturbance in Long Acre many years since, of which I cannot say I know the rights.

I met your friend, Mr. Rogers, last week at a party, and he made what the French call a tambourine (I think)--there was a supper, and the lady of the house, whose husband is a See captain, had some of the veal on table which had been preserved in a pot, and carried out on a pole by Captain Parry in his last voyage to Ireland, and when Mr. Rogers heard what it was, he congratulated the lady that her husband was appointed to a ship, for, says he, "I see, ma'am, he has got the _Veal de Parry_!"--at which every body laughed--but I don't know why, because the _Veal de Parry_ is a French word, and means the Mephistopholis of France.

My son-in-law (number one, as I call him) Fulmer, which married Lavy, is a Member of Parliament--he is put in by a great man, whose name I cannot mention; he tells us a good deal of what they do in the house--he says there are two sets on 'em in there, one is called the Eyes and the other the Nose--the Eyes is the government side, because they watch over the people; and the Nose is them as tries to smell out something wrong--Mr. Calcraft, Mr. Broom, and Mr. Denman, and them belongs to the Nose party.

But what I never knew before is, that there is a coffee-house and a bar there--the gentleman which keeps the coffee-house is called _Belly-me_, and he gives them their dinner. Fulmer says you may see many a man who has a stake in the country taking his chop there; and, because sobriety is considered a pint of decency, they never drink more than a pint of wine with their vitals, which is very proper indeed. This place has been famous for its beef-steaks ever since the _rump_ Parliament. I believe the House of Lords pays for the dinners of the House of Commons, for I see they very often carry up their bills to them.

There is another strange thing, which is, that the Speaker has no voice, which I think very droll indeed--but what is more curious still, is, that ladies are never admitted to see the representation, as it is called; but sometimes they come and peep through the venterlater, which is a hole in the top to let out the smell, and so hears the speeches that way.

Talking of Mr. Broom; only think! our famous Hay-Tea Company being resolved after all--I got some shares, because I saw Mr. Broom's name to it, and because it was to do away with slavery in China, where the present tea comes from. I have lost a lump of money by _that_, and have been very unfortunate all through with these Joint Company peculations. Lavy has got three Real del Monte shares worth 110 premiums--those _I_ had, I believe, were not _real_ ones at all, for I never got anything whatsoever by them.

Only think, Sir, of poor Mr. Prince Tollyrang being knocked down while he was attending as chambermaid to the King, at Sandennie. They have got a joke now in France, my son-in-law (Number too, as I calls him) told me yesterday--They say, "il a reprit ses Culottes"--Culottes are things which the Popish Priests wear upon their heads; and the joke turns upon the difference between the culottes and soufflets, which are amulets of eggs, of which I once before wrote to you, from the other side of Old Ossian.

I should tell you that my Bowfeeze (as he calls himself) Delcroy, is learning English very fast, but he will not do it the wriggler way, but gets his Dicks and Harries, and so puzzells out every word. We had a great laugh against him the other day--

He was a coming home through St. Giles's (which is the only way to this), and there was two women a fighting in the street, and Delcroy he stood listening to hear what it was all about; but doose a word could he make out, till at last one of the women gave the other, what the fighters call a Flora, and she tumbled down, and then the friends of her agonist called out "Well done Peg," which Delcroy got into his head, and come home all the way, a saying to himself, "Well--done--Peg;" quite dissolved to find out what it meant, in he comes--up stairs he goes--down comes his Dicks and Harries, and out he finds the words--

First, he finds "Well"--an evacuation made in the earth to find water;

Next he finds "Dun"--a colour betwixt black and brown;

And last he finds "Peg"--a wooden nail.

Oh! then to hear him rave and swear about our Lang Anglay--it was quite orrible--for he knew well enough, with all his poking and groping, that that could not be the meaning; so now, whenever he begins to try his fine scheme, my girls (little toads) run after him and cry out "Well done Peg!"

I wish you would drop in and see us--we are all in the family way here; but my two youngest daughters play very pretty--one they say has as much execution as Muscles on the piano-forte, or Key-sweater on the fiddle; they play the late Mr. Weaver's overture to Obrien uncommon well as a do-it; the Roundo is very difficult they tell me--indeed I know it must be a beautiful piece of music, because they have printed FINE in large letters at the end of it.

But I waist too much of your time--do come and take your tea with us--we live a good deal out of the way, but when you get down to the bottom of Oxford-street, ask anybody, and they will tell you which road to take--it is all lighted at night here, and watched just like London--do come.

Adoo, yours, truly, LAVINIA D. RAMSBOTTOM.

XIV.

MRS. RAMSBOTTOM ON THE CANNING ADMINISTRATION.

TO JOHN BULL.

Montague Place, Bedford Square, May 18, 1827.

DEAR B.,--I am quite in a consternation--you are no longer a supporter of Government, and I am--indeed several ladies of my standing down in these parts have determined to stick to the Canine Administration, which you oppose. Mr. Fulmer takes in the _Currier_, and the _Currier_ supports them--besides, he knows the Duke of Deafonshire, and so we cannot help being on their side.

You did not, perhaps, expect so soon to see Lord Doodley in place, nor fancy Mr. Turney would be Master of the Mint, or else you would not have been again Mr. Canine--for I know you like Lord Doodley, and you always praise Mr. Turney.

Between you and me, I do not quite understand why they should have so much Mint in the Cabinet as to want a man to look after it, when they have no Sage there, nor do I see how our Statesmen can get into a Cabinet to sit--to be sure, the French Minister sits in a bureau, and one is quite as easy to get into as the other. I see by Mr. Canine's speeches, that the King (God bless him!) sits in a closet, which is much more comfortable, I think.

Fulmer tells me that Mr. Broom's brother is the Devil, and gets six or seven hundred a year by it--I always understood he was related to the family, but never knew how, till Mr. Canine's people got him a place at Court, which I think very wrong, only I must not say so.

I was very near in a scrape on Monday. I went down to Common Garden to buy some buckets for my Popery jars, out of which I empty the Popery in summer, and put in fresh nosegays, being a great votery of Floorar--when who should be there but Mr. Hunt, and Mr. Cobbett, and Mr. Pitt, the last of which gentlemen I thought had been dead many years; indeed I should not have believed it was him, still alive, only I heard Mr. Hunt call for his Old Van, which I knew meant the President of our Anti-Comfortable Society in Tattenham-court-road, who is a Lord now, and was a friend of Mr. Pitt's before he retired from public life into the Haddlefy.

Mr. Hunt told us a thing which I never knew before, which is, that the pavement of Common-garden is made of blood and prespiration, which is so curious that my two little girls and I are going down Toosday to look at it--after hearing him say that, I got away, but had my pocket picked of some nice young inions, which I had just before bought.

Mr. Fulmer does not know I am riting to you, but I do rite because I think it rite to do so, to warn you not to say that Mr. Canine has gone away from what he was formerly--for I know as a fact that it was _he_ which christened his present friends "all the talons," and rote a pome in praise of them, which he would not have done had he not thought eyely of them.

It is not true that he is going to make any new Pears, although his anymes says so. Mr. Russell, of Branspan, I have known all my life--he smokes more than his coles, and don't want to be a Lord at all; and as for Mr. Bearing, he is a _transit land take_ man, and cannot be a Lord here--at least so F. tells me. However, I think Sir George Warrener will be a Barren something, let what will happen elsewhere. I see, however, Mr. Canine has made both Plunkett and Carlile Lords, and given all the woods and forests to the latter.

You see I begin to pick up the noose--_awnter noo_, as the French say, have you seen our village clock in St. Giles's--it is lited up by itself every heavening, at hate o'clock; and on account of its bright colour, may be red at any hour of the nite: it is, indeed, a striking object; if you should be able to get out of town, do drive down this way and look at it.

Only think of these Mr. Wakefields being put into gaol for three years for marrying a young woman--I suppose there is no chance of her being confined in consequence of her going with them. Have you heard Madame Toeso? is she any relation to Miss Foote? My papa is full, and so'il hold no more, so adeu.

Yours truly, DOROTHEA L. RAMSBOTTOM.

P.S.--Have you read Sir Ruffian Donkey's Pumpflet about Lord Somersetshire?

XV.

MRS. RAMSBOTTOM ON SMOKING.

TO JOHN BULL.

August, 1827.

DEAR B.,--I wish you would please to say something about them nasty men what smokes about. I took my daughter to Market last week in the _Columbine_ packet, and there not only did the ship smoke, but almost every man had either a pipe or a seagar in his mouth.

I made a little fox pos on board, for I was so sick of the smoking that one of the men said I had better go and sit with the engineers, for let it be ever so hot they were used to it and never smoked. Now when we was living on Blackheath, poor Mr. Ram used to ask several of the engineers to dine with us, which always come in a pretty uniform of scarlet, with blue velvet facings, and which I knowed to be a genteel corpse, because there were not no men in it, but all officers. So I asked the gentlemen who talked of the engineers to show me the way to them, thinking perhaps I might see some of my old friends down there, but when I got into the place, which was like a firnest, what should I see but two or three men without their coats, with airy caps on their heads and dirty faces, a shovelling in coles like anything--and when I come down they laughed at me and asked if I wanted to be roasted. I soon found out they was different people from what I thought, and a gentleman who helped me up out of the hole were they was a grubbing, told me the difference was that the dirty men were civil engineers, which I could by no means agree to--for I thought them uncommon rude.

When I got up stairs again, I was sick of the smoking, and so I went into the cabin, where there were more smokers--in short, dear B., whether I travels by land or by water, still I am smoked to death--it is a most horrid custom, and, perhaps, if you notice it, some on 'em will leave it off. I will rite again when we are settled.--Yours truly,

L. D. RAMSBOTTOM.

XVI.

MRS. RAMSBOTTOM'S CONUNDRUMS.

TO JOHN BULL.

Montague Place, Dec. 28, 1827.

DEAR B.,--I never like to fail writing to you at this season, but I don't like puttin you to the expense of postage; and yet, when I hear of any thing peakant, I wish to send it you.

You must know that me and all the gulls have taken to making knundrums, as they call them, and what we can't make, we collex. We got the idear from having purchased some of the hannual perodicals. I boght the Omelet, and Lavinia boght the Bougie, and they set us upon putting knundrums into our Albions.

It being Christmas, and it coming but once a year, I have sent you some of ours, which perhaps you won't print, but may serve to make you laugh.

What three letters spell Archipelago--(what that is I don't know; but this is the answer)--E. G. and C.

Why is a man about to put his father in a sack like a traveller on his way to a city in Asia?--Because he is going to _Bag Dad_.

Why is a child with a cold in its head like a winter's night?--Because "it blows, it snows."--(nose, you know.)

Why is the Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland like a man inquiring what o'clock it is?--Because he is _as King_ for the time.

If a pair of spectacles could speak, what author would they name?--Eusebius--(You see by us.)

Why is a flourishing landlord sure to have plenty of relatives?--Because he must have _Ten-ants_.

What are the best shoes for wet weather?--_Pumps._

Why is a sermon on board ship like Sir Edward Codrington's red ribband?--Because it is a _deck oration_.

Why is a very little devil sitting on the top of a cow-house like a man who has squandered all his property?--Because he is _Imp over a shed_.

What sea would one wish to be in on a rainy night?--_A dry attic._

Why is a libeller in Newgate like a traveller who has caught a rheumatism at a bad inn?--Because he suffers for lying in damp sheets!

Why is a gentleman in a Calais packet on a stormy day, like a gentleman sailing in part of the Mediterranean?--Because he is amongst the _Cyclades_.

Why are glass coaches so plentiful in London?--Because they are without number.

When is a door not a door?--When it is _a-jar_.

When is it more than a door?--When 'tis _to_!

Why is the root of the tongue like a dejected man?--Because it is _down in the mouth_!

Why is a hired landau not a landau?--Because it is a _landau let_!

Why is a lean Monarch constantly worrying himself?--Because he is always _a thin king_!

Why is a Tragedy a more natural performance in a theatre than a Comedy?--Because the boxes are always in _Tiers_!

Why is Parliament-street like a compendium?--Because it goes to _a bridge_!

If all the alphabet were invited to dinner, why could they not all accept the invitation?--Because six of them come after T.

Why is a boy doing his first sums like a serpent erect?--Because he is an _adder-up_!

And last, dear Mr. B. (which I will not tell you),

Why am I like a sheep's tail?

Yours always, DOROTHEA R.

_Note._--Several of the above, with all respect to our dear friend Dorothea, are extracted from that excellent paper the _Berkshire Chronicle_, and others from a small book called "D'ye give it up?" sold at a Charitable Bazaar, established at Kensington.

J.B.

XVII.

A LETTER FROM CHELTENHAM.

TO JOHN BULL.

Cheltenham, April 11, 1828.

MY DEAR B.,--I have been prevented writing you of late; two of my youngest daughters have had the mizzles, which has been succeeded by a cough and considerable expectation, but I have changed my doctor, and shall do uncommon well now. The last person, who fancies himself a second Hippocrite, had the impotence to say my girls had a low fever--girls brought up as they have been, like duchesses--so I said nothing; but when he called again, I was denied to him and sent for his arrival; and we are all going on well, and keep up our spirits accordingly.

A regiment is I believe the best thing after all; for I have just discovered that Shakspeare, the mortal bird, as my son calls him, died of indisgestion, which I did not know till my new doctor told me so; he said, that poor Shakspeare was quite destroyed by common tato's, which must have been some coarse sort of the root in use in his time; and the doctor also told me, that he was attended by a Doctor Johnson and a Mr. Stevens; but I thought to myself, too many cooks spoil the broth; and even my medical said he thought he would have done better if they had left him alone. What made us talk about the great swain of Avon was my saying I thought She Stoops to Conquer a very droll play.

My son-in-law has bought a beautiful picture, a Remnant undoubted; it is as black as your hat, and shines like a tea tray, and is considered, as indeed it is, what the French call, a _shade over_ of that great master; he has also bought a jem of considerable vallew; he says it is an antic of a dancing fawn, but it looks to me like a man with a tail, a jumping. He has got several very curious things at shops here; but he goes poking his nose into all the oles and corners for curiosities, and sometimes gets into sad scrapes; he is a French Mounsheer, you recollect; and at one of the sails he scraped acquaintance with a young dandy-looking man with dark musquitos on his lips, which we had seen every morning a drinking the waters regularly, and so we let him walk and talk with us; and at last we was told that he was no better than he should be, and had been convicted of purgery, which I did not think so great a crime, considering where we was; however, he is gone away, which I am glad of.

I told you my son-in-law was a French Mounsheer, but I did not know till the other day that he was in the army, for he has been so sly as never to mention it; but I saw one of his letters from his elder brother, and in the direction he called him Cadet, which after all is no very high rank, you know. I should, however, have very much liked to have seen the boys from the Miliary Asslum march to the Surrey Theatre; it must have been a beautiful site; I suppose they got leave through the Egerton General's office.

Have you read Lord Normandy's _Yes or No_, or Mr. Liston's _Herbert Lacy_? I should think it must be very droll, he is such a droll cretur himself; and pray tell me if you have heard any news from Portingal of the Don. Major Macpherson calls him Don _M'Gill_, and Captain O'Dogherty calls him Don _My jewel_--how do you pronounce it? I am told Lord Doodley used to call him, while he was in London, _My gull_.

There is not much stirring here; the good effect of the waters is quite aperient in our family; we are all mending, and exorcise ourselves for four hours at a time on what is called the well walk, which is a different place from the sick walk, which is entirely for the innphaleeds. Lavinia has got hold of a book called _Bookarchy_, containing the lives of a hundred Knights, she says; but she won't shew it to her sisters as is not yet marred; it is translated out of a foren tongue by a Mr. D. Cameron; all the Scotch is very clever.

Mr. Fulmer is going to Hauksvut next term, to be made a Doctor of Laws. He says he shall be away only two days, but I doubt its being over so soon, because he told me himself it must be done by degrees. After he is made a Doctor, he says he means to practise; but I told him I thought he had better practise first, in order to understand what he has to do afterwards. A friend of his came here to see him from Hauksvut College, who I thought was a clergyman by his dress; but I found out, by what Mr. Fulmer told me, that it was an old lady in disguise, for he said she was Margaret Professor, and he even went so far as to call her a Divinity, which to me did seem uncommon strange. However, there is no understanding these scholars; for it is not more than a fortnight since, that Fulmer told me he expected a brazen-nosed man to dinner, and when the gentleman came, his nose was just like other people's: so I suppose it was to surprise Lavinia, who was reading a work on Nosology at the very time.