Portraits of Children of The Mobility

Suffice it, then, to say, that Blenkinsop, – that is to say, the father of our Blenkinsops, – was a mechanic, in a country town. In his early youth his conduct was exemplary; but yielding at length to the force of temptation, he was so unfortunate as to be guilty of – matrimony. For a time all went well; but punishment is sure, sooner or later, to overtake the evil-doer, as, one fine morning, it overtook Blenkinsop. An improvement in machinery threw him suddenly out of employ, and after ten years' reckless indulgence in domestic felicity, he found himself with a wife and six children, and without wages. He was now, of course, obliged to break up his establishment. The Union offered its benevolent institution for his accommodation, but the asylum was proffered in vain. Its salutary regulations were repugnant to his fastidious taste. Among other things, its corrective arrangements displeased him. The rod of affliction, he impertinently said, he could kiss, but not that which was to flog his children.

He had also an unreasonable objection to the system of separate maintenance, and put a most perverse construction on a certain moral precept which seemed to forbid it; as if that applied to paupers! He therefore spurned the parochial paradise, and betook himself, in hopes of finding something to do, to London. The only piece of good fortune that befell him there was, that the small-pox provided for three of his family. The same complaint, too, affecting the eyes of his wife —

But we are violating the principle which we have prescribed to ourselves. Let us be brief. Mrs. Blenkinsop labours under a privation of vision; her husband under a paralytic state of the extremities; and the whole family are mendicants.

It is the divine Shakspere who thus sings: —

"Sweet are the uses of Adversity;Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,Wears yet a precious jewel in his head."

The jewel of adversity, therefore, is the moral which it furnishes to the reflective mind: as in the persons of the young Blenkinsops it offered to the pretty little Adeline, daughter of Sir William and Lady Grindham. The elegant child was exercising her observant and contemplative faculties at the window of the magnificent drawing-room in – Street.

The fond eye of her Papa was resting, in tranquil admiration, on her graceful proportions; that of her Mamma, which would otherwise have been similarly employed, was directed towards an expensive mirror.

"Oh! dear Papa," suddenly exclaimed Adeline, "look, do look!"

"At what, my love?" replied the doting parent.

"Oh! Papa – those poor children!"

"What of them, dearest?"

"Poor little things! – how they shiver! Do look at them."

Sir William advanced to the window, and, elevating his eye-glass, directed his attention on the objects which had so powerfully excited the sympathy of Adeline: – they were the Blenkinsops!

"Oh!" said Sir William; "ah! – yes, I see, love."

"See, Papa" pursued Adeline, "that poor little boy holding the girl's cloak, – he is all in rags! And look how the girl is crying! And the tall boy – how wretchedly ill he looks!"

"I see, dear."

"Oh, but, Papa, those two have no shoes nor stockings; and they seem so hungry. May I give them this shilling, Papa? to go and get something to eat?"

"My dear Adeline," answered the Baronet, "those children are beggars."

"Yes, Papa, I know that; do let us give the poor things something."

"Beggars, Adeline, ought never to be encouraged, we should soon be eaten up by them if they were. They have no business there, it is contrary to law; and I am surprised that the policeman does not take them up.

"Take them up, Papa?" said Adeline, the phrase producing an association of ideas in her youthful mind; "Dr. Goodman said in his sermon that we ought to take poor people in."

"Dr. Goodman is a – that is, dear, he means that the poor should be taken in – charge by the – I mean that they should be properly provided for."

"What did you say, Papa?"

"Provided for; taken care of. There are places, you know, on purpose for them. That large building that we passed yesterday in the carriage is one of them. It is called a workhouse."

"What, that place where the funny man with the great cocked-hat was standing at the door, Papa?"

"You mean the beadle? Yes, dear."

"And do they give them food there?"

"Certainly; that is, a coarser kind of food, fit for such people."

"And things to put on?"

"And things to put on, too. They have clothes made on purpose for them. That man that you saw sweeping in front of the house was wearing a suit."

"But what a fright he was, Papa. He looked as if he had been dressed up to be laughed at. I should not like to be dressed so if I were a man."

"No, dear, nor is it meant that he should. It would never do to make a workhouse too delightful; for one great use of such places is to prevent people from becoming poor, just as houses of correction are intended to keep them from turning thieves. So the persons who go into one are not dressed and fed, and otherwise treated, so as to make their situation at all enviable. The consequence is, that those who know what they have to expect in such an asylum, learn not to be extravagant and careless, for fear they should become poor themselves."

"But can all people help being poor, Papa?"

"Most of them, my love; and those who cannot – can't be helped."

"But those poor children, Papa, – why don't they go into the workhouse?"

"Why, perhaps, they prefer remaining where they are. To be sure, they ought not be allowed to do so. Still, however, they are of some use. Everything has its use, you know, Adeline." Sir William was connected with the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.

"But what use are beggars of, Papa," demanded Adeline, "when they do not work?"

"Do you not recollect, dear," responded Sir William, "what Farmer Gibbs puts up in his corn-fields just after they have been sown?"

"Yes, Papa, he fixes one of those great birds, those rooks, to a stick, to frighten the other rooks away from coming and eating the wheat."

"Just so, my love. Well; many years ago, before you were born, a man who had been guilty of highway robbery or other very bad things, used to be dealt with much in the same way, that is, he was hung up on a tree in chains, after he was dead, for a warning to other thieves."

"Oh, Papa! how dreadful!"

"Yes, my love, it was very unpleasant; and, besides, as the man could no longer feel, it was no punishment to him; and so, you know, the example was in a great measure lost. When bad people see other bad people suffering for what they have done, that it is that terrifies them. Now when you see a beggar in the streets, all cold and naked and uncomfortable, what do you say?"

"I say, 'Poor man! how I wish I could relieve you.'"

"Well, dearest, it is always proper to be kind, and all that; but what you ought to say, too, is, 'How glad I am that I am so well off, and have a nice house and good clothes, and plenty to eat and drink; and how dreadful it must be to stand shivering in the snow without any shoes, selling Congreve matches! I will take care to keep all the money I get, and not to spend it like an extravagant little girl, for fear one of these days, I should come to be like that person.' Beggars, my sweet, are – shall you remember, do you think, what beggars are, if I tell you?"

"Yes, Papa."

"Beggars, Adeline, are Living Scarecrows."

THOUGHTS ON A JUVENILE MENDICANT BY A LADY OF FASHIONAlas! I faint, I sink, I fall ISome fragrant odour quickly bring;What could thy bosom thus appal? —Dost ask? – Behold yon little thing!Art thou a father's darling joy?Art thou a tender mother's hope?If so, oh how, my little boy,How are they circumstanced for soap?Thy hands – thy face – in what a state!In what a shocking plight thy head!Oh! cease my nerves to lacerateImagination, – Demon dread!Cease to suggest that Zephyrs mildMid these luxuriant tresses straying,Have met, perchance, that horrid child,And with its tangled locks been playing!Away, distracting thought, away,That e'en these fingers fair might closeOn some infected coin, which mayHave haply passed through hands like those!Augustus Montague Fitzroy,Illustrious infant! Can it beThat such an object of a boy,Is made of flesh and blood like thee?

PLATE V. Master Charley Wheeler, Master Moses Abrahams, Master Ned Crisp, Master Dick Muggins, and Master Joe Smart

No, no, Moses, old birds arn't to be caught with chaff." The speaker, Master Joe Smart, means, that young tigers are not to be caught with cocoa-nuts, – particularly those which have been tapped at the "monkey's nose," and of which the fluid contents have been replaced by water. Such a cocoa-nut is Master Moses Abrahams endeavouring to dispose of; but he is regarded by the group around him with eyes of jealousy, – from which, however, according to their proprietors, the hue so characteristic of that passion is peculiarly absent. He is, therefore, unable, as we should say, to sell his fruit, or, as his companions would express themselves, to sell them. To no purpose does he pledge the immortal part of him as an assurance that his commodities have not been tampered with; they have no confidence in the security.

Some little doubt, perhaps, may be entertained with respect to the propriety of classing Master Abrahams with the Children of the Mobility; he belonging, in a more especial manner, to the Children of Israel. His habits, manners, education, language, and dress, clearly warrant us in so disposing of him; although, on the one hand, we have placed him where his company may be scarcely considered an honour; and, on the other, his peculiar connexions, though celebrated, in one sense of the word, for taking everybody in, are reputed to be of an exclusive character.

Those who know any thing of the Mobility are aware, that one very frequent expression of theirs, indicating a desire to occupy the station of such and such a person, is, "I wish I was in his shoes." Now Master Moses, and his case is a common one with his tribe, is in the boots, at least, of one of the superior classes; nay, it is questionable whether the same thing may not also with justice be asserted of the remainder of his costume.

We intimated that Master Joe Smart is what is vernacularly termed a tiger: and he is sharp enough, were he a child of an order higher than the Mobility, for a lion. His jacket has no stripes upon it, certainly; which perhaps (at times, at least) it deserves to have: but his waistcoat has. He belongs to a menagerie, consisting chiefly of individuals of the equine and canine species. It will be seen at a glance what striking advantages our young tiger has derived from his contact with aristocracy. His attitude, gestures, and expression of countenance, indicate a knowledge of the world and of the usages of Society much beyond that of his comrades; and although it is undoubtedly very improper to smoke cigars, as he is doing, yet there is a certain air of committing an offence, which greatly palliates its enormity; and such an air he displays. A cigar, too, is infinitely preferable to a nasty pipe. He is moreover wearing what we at once recognise as a hat, coat, intervening garments, and boots, whereas rude imitations of these articles of attire are all that most Children of the Mobility appear in. The cultivation which his intellectual faculties have received, has given him a vast superiority over his acquaintance. None of them dare – we have already explained the word, – to "chaff" him. His felicity of expression, particularly as regards terms of raillery, would render the contest hopeless; even if the aggressor were not, at the first onset, disarmed by his speaking eye. We mean, his left eye, which he causes to speak very eloquently on proper occasions, by closing it in a peculiar manner.

The best place for the social education of youth is the drawing-room.

PLATE VI. Master Bob White and Master Nick Baggs

Behold those two chimney-sweeps; glance at their attire and their complexions; and think for one moment of the state of the thermometer. Who does not remember, among the legends of his earlier days, a pathetic but harrowing story of an interesting child who was stolen, in a highly fashionable neighbourhood, from under the maternal roof, and subsequently brought up by his kidnappers to the sooty employment of Masters White and Baggs? The touching conclusion of the tale, where the young gentleman comes at last to sweep his own Mamma's chimney, has beguiled many a fair eye of a pearl or two. Is it possible, – can it be, – that we may have too hastily included those youths among the Children of the Mobility; and that they also may have been snatched, by some felonious hand, from the mansions of their distinguished, – perhaps noble parents? Can we have unwittingly indulged in a smile at aristocratic misfortune? No, no; away with such a fear! Instinct, as unerring as that which at once enabled the tender mother to recognise her disguised cherub, would have revealed to us lustre of birth in spite of obscurity of skin. Whatever may be the similarity of their external circumstances, there is always an essential difference, which we filter ourselves we can instantly detect, between patricians and plebians, Cholmondeleys and Chummies.

The following piece of impassioned poesy, forming the "Thoughts of a Young Gentleman," suggested by their situation and appearance, may not be unacceptable to our feeling readers: —

Ye sable youths, ye reck notHow sweet and sad a trainOf thoughts which I can check not,Ye rouse within my brain.Sweep on! – and join the light ones —Yet no: a moment stay;I would not have that bright one'sFair image swept away!Oh! do not look so darkling!The sight I cannot bear —Methinks I see them sparklingThose eyes! that raven hair!And are ye chill'd and frozen?Alas! and so am I;And she – my loved, – my chosen —Congeals me with her eye.Gaze not, with orbs of sadness,On Nature's mantle white;Her heart, – oh! thought of madness, —Is just as cold and bright.That bell – oh! mournful token! —Ye vainly seek to ring,For ah! – the link is broken; —Frail, fickle, faithless thing!And you and I, deceived ones,What waits us here below,But sighing, like bereaved ones,To murmur "Herb 'sago!"

PLATE VII. Miss Moody and her infant sister Miss Martha Moody, Master George Dummer, and the Misses Ann and Sarah Grigg

The juvenile personages above enumerated are represented as they appeared in the Hampstead Road, when, on a late occasion, they honoured the performance of the young Italian instrumentalist, Carlo Denticci, with their presence. So deeply were their infant minds absorbed in the harmonious entertainment, that mute attention, during its continuance, rested, almost without interruption, on their lips; a situation where it does not usually love to dwell. Miss Moody was occasionally heard to address a few words, or rather syllables, but only a few, to her infant sister; and even Master Dummer, to whom the attire and personal appearance of the tuneful stranger seemed almost as interesting as his art, once only murmured, in an under tone, as he contemplated his hat, "My eye, what a rummy tile!"

The performance, which occupied upwards of half an hour, included several of the airs most fashionable at the Mobility's concerts. The well-known gem from "Jack Sheppard" was productive of its customary effect; even the younger of the Misses Moody was seen to beat time, unequivocally, to the air. The ever new American melodies elicited smiles of universal approbation; and the little party appeared to be much delighted with the Caledonian March, "The Campbells are coming," although they had previously had the advantage of hearing this piece performed on a somewhat perhaps more appropriate instrument. But what made amusement bliss and converted interest into ecstacy, – what opened not the ears only, but also the mouth of Master George Dummer, and lighted the glow-worm fire of enthusiasm in the eyes of Miss Ann Grigg, was the beautiful, the mellifluous, the voluptuous "Cachucha." Oh! had they heard it in a brighter scene, where Rank and Fashion melt at Music's breath, where mingled sighs and perfumes load the air; – that atmosphere of Love and rose-water; – in short, at Her Majesty's Theatre; and had they there seen the graceful Fanny! But whither are we borne away? No! Such rapture – almost too intense for the ethereal spirits of the Children of the Nobility, – could not have been felt by them.

During the piece of music last-mentioned, a Terpsichorean impulse seized on a small boy, who was standing at some little distance from our group. Cracking a couple of bits of slate together in imitation of castanets, he went through a succession of eccentric movements which we should imagine must have really been what is termed the Sailor's Hornpipe. This exhibition appeared greatly to divert the surrounding Mobility, who are much better judges, it would seem, of the humour, than they are of the poetry, of motion; and whose bosoms would not be very likely to heave the sigh, even at the pathos of Taglioni.

Miss Moody appeared without a head-dress; as most of the Children of the Mobility are seen at their Promenade Concerts. In this place may be noticed the social soirées which take place annually about the end of December among the inferior circles, and which are principally sustained by juvenile performers. We mean those Concerts D'Hiver commonly known as Christmas Carols.

The Misses Grigg were in bonnets, from which circumstance, and from that of Miss Sarah Grigg carrying a basket – would we could say reticule! – on her arm, and displaying in her small hand what seemed to be a street-door key, it was conjectured that they had been shopping.

The presence of Master Dummer at the performance was occasioned by his being en route to the Academy, at which he is a diurnal student. The interruption of his progress to the Seminary may be attributed rather to a disinclination for arithmetic than to a love of harmony; his genius, we understand, being more of an observant and contemplative, than of a mathematical or literary tendency, and music being interesting to him, merely, to use a common expression, as "something going on." His steps, when directed towards the abode of learning, are not remarkable, generally, for rapidity; and are very apt to be arrested by a variety of little occurrences; in short, he has a strong natural inclination for the philosophical amusement improperly termed lounging. The remark which he was heard to make with reference to a peculiarity in Denticci's dress, may be considered as an example of his reflective turn. This, too, is very decidedly observable in the expression of his eye, whose appearance is the more striking for the contrast which it presents to that of his cheek, – a part in which he strongly resembles the young gentleman alluded to in "As You Like It," who is represented.

Indeed, if for satchel, we read slate, we shall find Master Dummer, taken altogether, to be no bad representative of the second of Man's "Seven Ages," – viewing Man as he exists in the Mobility. His slate may be said, in one sense, though not perhaps in that which his preceptor would approve of, to be his amusement, being usually covered with hieroglyphics rather than figures, and exhibiting much stronger indications of a predilection for "Tit-tat-to," than of proficiency in the Rule of Three.

.....With his satchel,

And shining morning face, creeping like snail

Unwillingly to school.

The young Denticci, who had the honour of entertaining our philharmonic group, perhaps it would be more in keeping to say, batch, of plebeian minors, is the child of a foreign Mobility. To us, however, he is an object of greater interest as a Child of Song, and as exciting in our breast all those deep and delightful associations with which all that ends in "icci" and "ini", is so intimately and powerfully connected.

PLATE VIII. Master Tom Scales and Master Ben Potts

Have any of our readers heard an introductory lecture on the Practice of Physic? Or have they ever looked through the preface of a medical book. In either case, the importance of the practitioner, considered as are topics which they must have found enlarged upon. The hero preserved for his country, the father for his family, the child for the parent, all are represented as having to thank the doctor. The sufferer, perhaps a delicate female, stretched on the bed of sickness, is described as hailing his approach as that of some ministering spirit, listening anxiously for his footstep, and hearing in the creaking of his shoes, (provided it be not too loud,) a sweet and soothing music. All this is as it ought to be. But let praise be awarded where it is due, and let us not, while we appreciate the claims of the doctor, be unmindful of those of the doctor's boy. His instrumentality in the restoration of health, at least among the higher orders, cannot be denied, any more than can that of the organ bellows-blower in the production of harmony. And yet, while the thundering rap of his master at the front door, falls so harmoniously on the ear, his gentle ring at the area, and the softly-whistled air with which he beguiles the time until it is answered, are no more regarded than the idle wind.

He is observed speeding on his way to the abode of sickness, without interest, and loitering on it without indignation: he acquits himself, without admiration, of his high responsibilities; he violates them, and excites no horror.

Masters Scales and Potts are, respectively, the subordinate assistants of Mr. Graves and Mr. Slaymore. The latter of these gentlemen, with whom Master Potts is situated, dispenses health from a private surgery; the former from a more public establishment. The difference in point of grade between these two disciples of Galen is very plainly discernible even in their dependants, the two Children of the Mobility now before us. The uniform of Master Scales is much less aristocratic, and much less professional also, than that of Master Potts, who looks, particularly about the feet and legs, as if he had been intended by Nature for a licentiate of the Society of Apothecaries, rather than for the servant of one.

Mr. Graves and Mr. Slaymore being two out of half-a-dozen medical men residing in the same street, their young auxiliaries are in the habit of coming frequently in contact, and dialogues of a characteristic nature often take place, on these occasions, between them. We hope the following colloquy may seem less in need of abbreviation to the reader than it might be to a patient dependent on its termination for his dose of calomel.

"Hallo! old feller, where are you off to in sitch a hurry?" The querist was Master Scales, who in sauntering along the neighbouring square was passed by Master Potts, walking at a rapid pace, with his salutiferous burden upon his arm.

"Hallo!" replied Master Potts; and turning round he beheld his young acquaintance, Tom. "Well, young stick-in-the-mud!"

"I say, who's got the cholera, to make you stir your stumps like that 'ere?"

"Who do you think? – Mrs. Walker."

"Gammon! What's up tell us."

"Why it's the old gal at 42; she 's precious bad, I can tell yer."

"What's got her then? I see her the day 'fore yesterday, lookin' all right enough."

"Paralatic – least that's what maws'r says 'tis. He 'll be precious wild if she dies. My eye what a lot o' bottles I've a-took there! I warrand you ain't got sitch a good un!"

"Ain't we though; there's a old chap we've got from the East Ingies, as I'd back agin her any day."

"What! that old cove with the gamboge sneezer and swivel eye?"

"Aye; he've a-had the dropsy the last three months. Just haven't the guv'ner stuck it into im!"

"Look there, whose black job is that goin' along close by old Punch, – your guv'ner's?"

"Over the left – Come, I say, don't be orf jist yet."

"Must. I'm in for it as 'tis."

"No, no. Here! I 'll toss yer for a pint." As he made this offer, Master Scales deposited his basket on the pavement, and produced a halfpenny.

"Well, come, be quick then! Now! Heads, I win; tails, you lose."

"Heads! Heads 'tis!

"Come, I say, Master Ben, give us my change, will yer."

"Take your change out of that!" So saying, and suiting an appropriate action to the word, Master Potts turned rapidly on his heel; and before his professional brother could pack up his materia medica from the ground, had turned a corner and was out of sight.