Gossip in the First Decade of Victoria's Reign

In the beginning of December the bronze equestrian statue of George IV. was set up on a pedestal at the north-east corner of Trafalgar Square. It is the work of Chantrey, and was intended to be mounted on the Marble Arch, which was, originally, the gateway to Buckingham Palace, until its removal to Cumberland Gate, Hyde Park, in 1851.

In the very early part of December, some of Her Majesty’s subjects, Canadian Indians, from the north-eastern shores of Lake Huron, came to visit England. They were of the Ojibbeway tribe, and were nine in number, two old chiefs, four warriors, two women, and a little girl, 10 years old. On the 20 Dec. they were presented to the Queen at Windsor, and received from Her Majesty a cheque for £20, and a quantity of gorgeous plaid, with which to astonish the other natives, on their return. They afterwards exhibited themselves, danced war dances, etc., at the Egyptian Hall, at an admission fee of half-a-crown.

CHAPTER XXII

A child for sale – Trial, &c, of Daniel O’Connell – General Tom Thumb – His visit to the Queen – The Polka – How to dance it – “Jullien’s Grand Polka.”

The Times of 19 Jan. copies the following from the Worcester Chronicle: “A Child for Sale. – The following extraordinary letter was received, a short time ago, by a gentleman in the neighbourhood of Tewkesbury, from a person residing here. The letter is dated from a certain court in this town, but we omit the precise locality, and the writer’s name, hoping that, without pursuing the exposure to that extent, it will be sufficient to teach him that natural affection is not to be made a matter of bargain and sale, and that it is the duty of a parent himself to cherish the child which he has been the means of bringing into the world: – ‘Sir, – Having heard that you expressed a wish to have a child and did not mind giving a sum of money as an inducement i flatter myself that I have it in my power to furnish you with one to answer your purpose in every respect it is a boy 2 years old a good looking healthy spirited child and sound in wind and limb and that you can rair him up to suit your inclination you can send word by the bearer and appoint any time to inspect the child.’”

With every wish, in this book of Gossip, to steer as clear of politics as possible, yet it would belie its name were the famous trial of Daniel O’Connell not to be mentioned. “Repeal of the Union” was his watchword and perpetual cry, and with it he stirred up the Irish people to a pitch when he found it difficult to manage and restrain them. On 16 March, 1843, was held at Trim the first of great public meetings which he designed, but did not carry out; and on 15 Aug. was a monster meeting on the Hill of Tara; but the one to be held at Clontarf on 8 Oct. was to have eclipsed its predecessors. But this was forbidden by the Government, and, a week later, warrants were issued for the arrest of O’Connell, his son John, and his chief colleagues, on a charge of conspiring to create discontent and disaffection among the liege subjects of the Queen, and with contriving, “by means of intimidation, and the demonstration of great physical force, to procure and effect changes to be made in the government, laws, and constitution of this realm.” O’Connell was allowed bail, but on 8 Nov. a true bill was found by the jury, yet the trial did not take place till the 15th Jan. of this year. On the 12th Feb., the jury returned a verdict of guilty of unlawful and seditious conspiracy, but judgment was not delivered till 30 May, when he was sentenced to imprisonment for twelve months, a fine of £2,000, and to find surety to keep the peace for seven years. He had to go to prison, where he was well treated and allowed to see his friends; his sentence was appealed against, and reversed in the House of Lords, on 4 Sep., 1844, when he was instantly liberated.

During all this time there was great excitement, people wearing Repeal buttons, one of which is here delineated, and other emblems, while the uncrowned King of Ireland was presented, at Mullaghmast, with a velvet cap surmounted with shamrocks, and having a green tassel; the cap, in fact, with which readers of Punch are so familiar.

Of course, his release from prison was an occasion to be made the most of. An amphitheatrical triumphal car was provided, and, upon it, were mounted O’Connell, his son, and the Rev. Dr. Miley, and this gimcrack piece of property was drawn by six horses ridden by postillions. The following is an account by an eye witness:

“The ovation commenced at two o’clock. First came the trades of Dublin, each preceded by the banner of its body, and a band playing such music as only temperance bands can play, and, generally, with much discrimination, selecting rather difficult pieces for their performance, and eschewing all national airs. The banners were usually displayed from coaches, intended to hold four, but contriving to allow from sixteen to eighteen to fit into, and hang on by them. Thus they came on: Bricklayers (with a painting of the Bank of Ireland, and the superscription of ‘Our Old House at Home’); slaters, woollen operatives (in a small open car); nailors (with a picture of Brian Boroihme ‘nailing’ the Danes at Clontarf); coach makers, tailors (with a very gorgeous equipage, six horses, postillions and outriders); tinplate workers, displaying as their sign, a man with a tin helmet on his head, and a dish cover of the same metal on his arm – otherwise unassumingly attired in a blue coat and white trousers; and other bodies of tradesmen too numerous to mention, with their appropriate emblems and banners.

“Next came a number of Repeal wardens, bearing wands, and occupying respectable-looking coaches and carriages. After them drove the committee of the political trades’ unions; the members of it attired in green sashes and scarves, and bearing wands with green flags in their hands. Next in order were the various members of the Corporation, aldermen, town councillors, and officers, dressed in their robes of office and cocked hats, glittering with chains, and furred from head to foot. The majority of these gentlemen were in their own carriages, into each of which were packed as many of the owner’s friends as could find standing room, several private vehicles being mixed up through the order of procession. Then came the private carriages of the Lord Mayor, who was in full dress; and then, preceded by a confused mass of wand bearers, the triumphal chariot itself, surrounded by a mob so dense that it was with great difficulty that the six splendid dappled greys could force the cumbrous vehicle along, which, every instant, seemed to become a second Car of Juggernaut, and crush some of its adorers. More vehicles, a few horsemen, multitudes of hack cars and pedestrians, a tail of old women and little boys, followed; and so the monster procession, after winding its slow length along through the greater part of Dublin, and causing a total cessation of business in the line of its progress, terminated.”

In February appeared, in London, at the Princess’s Theatre, “General Tom Thumb,” the most popular of modern dwarfs – thanks to the advertising qualities of his exhibitor, P. T. Barnum. The real name of this mite was Charles S. Stratton, and he was said to have been born on 11 Jan., 1832, but this, as with all data connected with him, must be accepted with caution. It was said of him, that, at his birth, he weighed 9 lbs. 2 oz., somewhat more than the average weight of a newly born infant. At about 5 months old, he weighed 15 lbs., and measured 25 inches in height; since which time he never increased in stature; and, at the time of his arrival in England, he weighed but 15 lbs. 2 oz. He had, previously, been exhibited in New York and the principal cities of America, where his miniature palace, furniture and equipage excited considerable curiosity. When he embarked from New York for England, he was escorted to the packet by not less than 10,000 persons.

On 1 April, he appeared, by command, before Her Majesty at Buckingham Palace, when the Queen presented him, with her own hand, with “a superb souvenir, of the most exquisite handicraft, manufactured of mother of pearl, and mounted with gold and precious stones. On one side are the crown and Royal initials, V.R., and, on the reverse, bouquets of flowers in enamel and rubies. In addition to this splendid gift, Her Majesty subsequently presented the General with a beautiful gold pencil case, with the initials of Tom Thumb, and his coat of arms, engraved on the emerald surmounting the case.”

Anent this, Punch is exceedingly satirical: “Her Majesty has again commanded ‘the performances of Tom Thumb, the Yankee Dwarf.’ This, indeed, was to have been expected. We have only to reflect upon the countless acts of patronage towards the Arts and Sciences – had only to remember a few of the numerous personal condescensions of the Queen towards men of letters, artists and philosophers – to be assured that even Tom Thumb would be welcomed with that graceful cordiality which has, heretofore, made Buckingham Palace and Windsor Castle the homes of Poetry and Science. De minimis curat Regina! Continental monarchs stop short in their Royal favours at full-grown authors and artists; but the enthusiasm of Her Majesty Queen Victoria, not content with showering all sorts of favours and rewards upon the literary and artistic spirits of her own country and age, lavishes, with prodigal hand, most delicate honours upon an American Tom Thumb, whose astounding genius it is, to measure, in his boots, five-and-twenty inches! To this, how small is Victor Hugo at the Tuileries; to this, how mean and petty Göthe at the Court of Saxe-Weimar!

* * * * *

“Tom Thumb being – according to the biography published by his showman, Barnum – the son of a Yankee carpenter, we should much like to know the General’s arms. Did Her Majesty, before the ‘performance,’ send to learn them, that they might be duly engraved? or were they, as Mathew’s French Shoemaker made his little boot, struck off in ‘a moment of enthusiasm’?”

About this time came to us “that sweet boon,” the Polka. Originally a Bohemian Peasant dance, it was imported into fashionable saloons of Berlin and St. Petersburg. It was, at this time, the rage in Paris, as the Times observes: “The Paris papers are destitute of news. Our private letters state that ‘politics are, for the moment, suspended in public regard, by the new and all-absorbing pursuit – the Polka – a dance recently imported from Bohemia, and which embraces in its qualities the intimacy of the waltz, with the vivacity of the Irish jig. You may conceive how completely is ‘the Polka’ the rage, from the fact that the lady of a celebrated ex-minister, desiring to figure in it at a soirée dansante, monopolised the professor, par excellence, of that specialité for three hours, on Wednesday morning last, at 200 francs the hour.’”

On its first importation into England, it was used as a ballet, on the stage, with very fancy Bohemian costume, as we may see in the three following illustrations of Mdlle. Carlotta Grisi and M. Perrot, dancing their idea of it at Her Majesty’s Theatre in 1844.

But it soon became a Drawing-room dance, and it is edifying to know exactly how it was danced then. It was found too elaborate, and the number of steps had to be reduced in quantity, and curtailed in quality. But this is the dance as given in the Illustrated London News of 11 May:

“THE DRAWING-ROOM POLKA

We are much gratified in being enabled to lay before our readers an accurate description of the véritable, or Drawing-room Polka, as danced at Almack’s, and at the halls of the nobility and gentry of this country.

La Polka having appeared amongst us under so many different guises, we determined to spare no pains to procure a true description of its danse; for which we are indebted to Mrs. James Rae, who has been fortunate enough to secure the details from M. Coralli, fils, the instructor of the young noblemen and gentry in Paris.

La Polka, like its predecessors, the waltz and galop, is a danse à deux, couples following each other in the salle de danse, commencing at pleasure, and adopting, of the following figures, that which pleases them most at the moment. All those anxious to shine in La Polka, will dance the whole of them, returning from time to time, by way of rest, to the first figure.

The measure, or time, is 2–4; but, to facilitate our definition, we subdivide each measure, or bar, into one – two – three – four; the accent on the two, etc., to be played not so fast as the galop.

The steps are two, and the following description may, in some measure, convey them to our readers; we commence with the first, and most general. At the one, hop on the right leg, lifting, or doubling up your left leg at the same moment; at the two, put your left leg boldly forward on the ground; at the three, bring your right toe up to your left heel; at the four, advance your left foot a short step forward: now, at the one, in the next measure, or bar of the time, hop on the left leg, doubling, or lifting up your right leg, and so on, proceeding in this step, with your arm encircling your partner’s waist, round the room. This may be termed the first figure.

Figure 2. – Still adopting the same step, with your right arm round your partner’s waist, and her right hand in your left, you place your lady exactly before you, and back all round the room, your lady pursuing you (as shown in the sketch); you then reverse this figure, and let your partner do the back step, whilst you pursue her, and, at the same time, carefully guide her round the room.

In backing, the leg which in figure one, you put boldly forward on the ground, you now fling boldly backward, and are thus enabled to effect your progress round the room.

Figure 3. – With the same step you waltz round the room – in other words, you perform the Galop waltz, substituting the Polka step as described.

Figure 4. – This is also a waltz with the second step, which we will now describe as “the Heel and Toe step.” At the one, make a little hop on your right leg, dropping your left heel close to your right foot; at the two, another little hop on the right leg, pointing your left toe (not forward, but as close to your right foot as possible); at the tree, another little hop on the right leg, advancing one step forward with the left foot; at the four, bring up the right foot, turning at the same instant, and passing your partner over to your left arm from your right arm; in your next measure, return your lady to your left arm, and so on.

Figure 5. – This is termed the back waltz. The step adopted in it by yourself and partner, is the back step described in figure two, and you turn in this waltz exactly the contrary way to that in which you turn in all other waltzes – hence its name.

In La Polka, before commencing the figures we have just described, there is a short introduction (of which we give a sketch), consisting of four measures, danced thus; leading your partner from her seat, and giving her her place in the circle, and placing themselves vis-à-vis, you take her left hand in your right, and make the first step four times – first forward, then backward, forward again, and then backward, taking care to gain ground in the forward steps; you then start with the first figure.

There was a furore about the Polka; not only in dancing it, but there was an absolute mania for naming articles of dress after it. Ladies wore Polka hats, Polka jackets and Polka boots, and men had Polka ties. Jullien published a new Polka about every fortnight, and the whole people were Polka mad. Here is a street ballad on the subject:

“Jullien’s Grand PolkaOh! sure the world is all run mad,The lean, the fat, the gay, the sad —All swear such pleasure they never had,Till they did learn the Polka.ChorusFirst cock up your right leg – so,Balance on your left great toe,Stamp your heels, and off you goTo the Original Polka. Oh!There’s Mrs. Tibbs, the tailor’s wife,With Mother Briggs is sore at strife,As if the first and last of lifeWas but to learn the Polka.Quadrilles and waltzes all give way,For Jullien’s Polkas bear the sway,The chimney sweeps, on first of May,Do, in London, dance the Polka.If a pretty girl you chance to meet,With sparkling eyes and rosy cheek,She’ll say, young man, we’ll have a treat,If you can dance the Polka.A lady who lives in this town,Went and bought a Polka gown,And for the same she gave five pound,All for to dance the Polka.But, going to the Ball one night,On the way she got a dreadful fright,She tumbled down and ruined quiteThe gown to dance the Polka.A Frenchman has arrived from France,To teach the English how to dance,And fill his pocket – “what a chance” —By gammoning the Polka.Professors swarm in every street,’Tis ground on barrel organs sweet;And every friend you chance to meetAsks, if you dance the Polka.Then over Fanny Ellsler came,Brilliant with trans-Atlantic fame;Says she, I’m German by my name,So best I know the Polka.And the row de dow she danced,And in short clothes and red heels pranced,And, as she skipped, her red heels glancedIn the Bohemian Polka.But, now, my song is near its close,A secret, now, I will disclose,Don’t tell, for it’s beneath the rose,A humbug is the Polka.Then heigh for humbug France or Spain,Who brings back our old steps again,Which John Bull will applaud amain,Just as he does the Polka.”

CHAPTER XXIII

An English dinner – Consols at par – The “Running Rein” case – Other frauds – Royal visitors – Opening letters by Government – Duke of Wellington’s Statue – Barry on the Thames – Visit of Louis Philippe – Guano – Queen opens Royal Exchange – Lord Mayor hissed.

As the length of time between this date, and the present writing is great, and our social habits have somewhat changed, it may be interesting to some of my readers to hear a Frenchman’s account of an upper-class dinner. It is taken from the Constitutionel, the organ of M. Thiers:

“Madeira wine has been out of fashion, in England, for some time. Sherry and Port (to which are occasionally added Bordeaux and Champagne, Rhenish wines and Hermitage) are, now, the only wines to be seen on the tables of the rich. As for beer (the national drink), it only makes its appearance at a banquet, for remembrance sake, and in very small quantity. Port wine is held in especial favour by the English, because, while it is more impregnated with alcohol than any other, it is, at the same time the least irritating, and facilitates, more than all the rest, the important operations of the digestive organs. In order, however, to be possessed of all the requisite qualities, it must not only be of the finest growth, or have been eight or nine years in the cellar, but the regular connoisseurs insist that it must cross the line several times, in order to be first-rate. Five or six servants, with powdered wigs, in silk stockings and knee breeches, hover about the table. The covers are always changed at every successive course, and there is no fear of eating off the dirty plate of one’s neighbour, or using his knife or fork, the sideboard being laden with piles of plates and conveniences of every description. After fish, which always constitutes the first course, the host invites one of his guests to drink a glass of wine with him, desiring him to help himself to that which he likes best. You take that which is offered you. Your host then pours out a glass for himself, and sends you the bottle by a servant. You fill your glass, you raise it to your lips with a half bow, and drink as much of it as you feel inclined. The same ceremony is repeated among the other guests. It should be mentioned that, if you ask a lady to take wine, you always fill her glass before your own; but, if you invite a gentleman so to do, you never fail to help yourself first. This custom was, formerly, very inconvenient to strangers, it being, then, absolutely necessary to empty one’s glass; at present, you need only drink a portion, and ladies may satisfy the rules of etiquette by merely moistening their lips. After fish, come roast meats, boiled vegetables, and various delicate sauces, with which you make your cuisine upon your own plate; puddings and game of all sorts follow, amongst which there is, always, to begin with, one dish, especially appropriate to the season. It is to the former article of diet (puddings), that English children are indebted, it is said, for their excellent health, and their magnificent rosy complexions. The cloth is at length removed, and the mahogany table shines forth in all its splendour. Dessert follows, consisting of a few sweetmeats, or confitures, but abounding in fruits from all five parts of the world, and the produce of all the four seasons, and including superb pineapples, Portugal grapes, almonds, red nuts of a delicious flavour, dates, figs, rich juicy oranges, etc., etc. The wine is brought on in glass decanters, ticketed and placed in silver stands. These stands glide along the shining table, which is as smooth as ice, in the midst of silver, or crystal vases filled with fruit, etc. The host, after helping himself to wine, pushes about the whole ‘battery’ of decanters, which, going the round of the table, soon regain their original situation. A quarter of an hour elapses, when the mistress of the house rises and retires, followed by all the ladies. It is then that the séance de vin begins. The subject of conversation soon changes, and political questions are discussed. The conversation, without getting stormy, acquires that degree of warmth and animation, which a good dinner, when one is blessed with a strong head and a good digestion, generally inspires. Hard drinking has, generally speaking, fallen into desuetude. It is only foxhunters and country gentlemen who remain faithful, nowadays, to that ignoble custom. A gentleman who has any self-respect, never so far forgets himself as to get tipsy, for he would certainly be looked upon with an evil eye, by the company, if he were to enter the drawing-room with an indistinct articulation, or with trembling legs. Dinner is over about half-past nine. The gentlemen then rejoin the ladies to take tea and coffee, and the conversation turns, as before, upon the news of the day.”

On 8 April, Consols rose to par, or £100 for £100 stock, for the first time for nearly a century. The last time they were at £100 was in 1749, the year after the peace of Aix la Chapelle; at which period the public debt was rather more than £78,000,000. The highest price the Three per Cents, ever rose to, previously, was in June, 1737, and again, in May, 1739, when they attained the high price of £107. In September, 1797, they fell to 47⅜, which is the lowest price to which they have ever fallen.

On 23 May, the Derby was won by a horse called Running Rein, which was the occasion of an Action in the Court of Exchequer, on 1 July, before Baron Alderson. It was alleged that the horse had not been truly described, that he was not of the age which qualified him to run for the Derby, and that he ought not, therefore, to be deemed the winner of the race. Colonel Peel, the owner of Orlando, the second horse, claimed the stakes, on the ground that Running Rein was not the horse represented; and Mr. Wood, the owner of Running Rein, brought this action against the Colonel.

Mr. Cockburn, who conducted the plaintiff’s case, gave the pedigree of Running Rein, and his whole history. Among other things, Mr. Cockburn mentioned that, in October, 1843, Running Rein won a race at Newmarket; that he was objected to on the score of age; but, eventually, the stewards had decided in his favour. The horse was, originally, the property of Mr. Goodman; and, Mr. Cockburn said, it was because suspicion attached to some transactions of Goodman, and because certain persons had betted heavily against Running Rein, that opposition was raised against Mr. Wood receiving the stakes. He made a severe attack on Lord George Bentinck, who, he asserted, was the real party in the cause. Witnesses for the plaintiff described the horse at various periods of its career; it was of a bay colour, with black legs, and a little white on the forehead; its heels were cracked, and, in 1842, it broke the skin on one leg, which left a scar. George Hitchcock, a breaker of colts, employed to break Running Rein in October, 1842, was cross-examined to this effect: