Portraits of Children of The Mobility

PLATE II. Master Jim Curtis, Master Mike Waters, and Master Bill Sims

Youths in full, such prolixity being, among the Order of Mobility to which they belong, a thing entirely unknown. The group last described, we might have represented as taken from the genus, "Ragamuffin;" this, in like manner, we may consider as pertaining to the tribe, "Varlet." Masters Curtis, Waters, and Sims, are members of that numerous republic of boys frequenting, like the canine race, (indeed it is not unusual to hear them described as "young dogs,") all manner of public walks, squares, streets, and alleys. Pot-boys, butchers' boys, bakers' boys, errand-boys, doctors' boys, and all other boys whose professed character is that of being generally useful, but whose real one is that of being generally idle, come under this head. Our readers, while in their breakfast-parlours, have no doubt often heard them notifying their presence at the area railings by noises peculiar to each. Our refined taste revolts at the idea of having to describe such characters; but the task, however repugnant to our feelings, must be performed. We will endeavour to do this with as much delicacy as the nature of the subject will admit of; and we hope that while apparently sinning against Refinement, we shall be earning the palliative merit of a stern fidelity to Truth.

"Happy Land! – Happy Land! – Hallo, Bill?" Such is the greeting with which Master Mike Waters, pausing in his song, and halting in his trot, accosts Master Bill Sims, whom he meets at the turning of a corner in a place called Bloomsbury Square. "How are yer, my tulip?" exclaims Master Jim Curtis, who, arriving at the same moment, completes the group. We have not expressed the Christian names of the above-mentioned.

Of the parentage of these young gentlemen we shall say nothing. Master Jim Curtis, we learn from undoubted authority, to any question touching the name of his father, would infallibly answer "Hookey Walker;" a reply, to say the least of it, of an evasive character. As certainly would Master Bill Sims respond "Vot odds;" while Master Mike Waters would only notice the demand at all, by applying the tip of his thumb to the end of his nose, and twiddling his fingers.

Master Jim Curtis and Master Mike Waters, but particularly Master Curtis, are amusing themselves by chaffing, or, according to their pronunciation, "charfin," Master Bill Sims. Chaffing, translated into intelligible language, signifies, "quizzing," "rallying," or "persiflage" Thus understood, it will at once be recognised as a species of intellectual diversion often indulged in by those moving in good society. No one, for example, who has paid attention, either temporary or permanent, to a young lady, can be otherwise than aware of this fact. "Chaffing," indeed, is a very venerable recreation. Shakspere represents it as practised among the ancient Romans. Witness his "Antony and Cleopatra," Act II. Scene 7.

Lepidus (supposed to be in a state of wine) – "What manner of thing is your crocodile?"

Antony. "It is shaped, Sir, like itself; and it is just as broad as it hath breadth; it is just so high as it is, and moves with its own organs; it lives by that which nourisheth it; and the elements once out of it, it transmigrates."

See also Henry IV. (first part) Act II. Scene 4.

Our readers may perhaps wish to know what the nature of the "chaffing," of which Master Sims is the object, may be: hoping that in attempting to gratify their curiosity, we shall not outrage their feelings, we present them with the following scene: —

Master Mike Waters. "Crikey, Bill!"

Master Bill Sims. "Well; Wot?"

Master Jim Curtis. "My eye, Bill, wot a swell we are!"

Bill. "Wot d'ye mean? I dessay you think yourself very clever, – don't yer now?"

Jim. "I say, Bill, do your keep that 'ere collar button'd ven you has yer grub?"

Bill. "Wot odds?"

Jim. "That 'ere letter of yourn's post-haste, I s'pose, Bill?"

Bill. "Do yer? How long have them muffins bin 'All Hot? '"

Jim. "As long agin as half. I 'll bet you I know who that letter's for." Bill. "I 'll bet yer you don't!"

Mike. "My eye! what a plummy tile!"

Bill. "It's as good as yourn any day, spooney!"

Jim. "I say, Mike, twig the yaller."

Mike. "Ho! ho! ho!"

Bill. "Wot a pretty laugh!"

Jim. "Do your Missus keep a buss, Bill?"

Bill. "Find out."

Jim. "Cos you'd do uncommon well to get up behind – wouldn't he, Mike?"

Mike. "I b'lieve yer. Benk! Benk!"

Jim. "Helephant! C'tee, C'tee!"

Mike. "Now, Sir! Now, Sir!"

Jim. "Now, marm, goin' down! goin' down!"

Bill. "I tell you wot, you fellers; you'd just best cut your stick. I ain't goin' to stand bein' bullied by you, I can tell yer."

Jim. "I say, Mike, his monkey's up."

Mike. "Don't you stand it, Bill; pitch into him – punch 'is 'ed."

Jim. "Lor bless yer, his Missus won't let him spile his beauty; she's too fond of him."

Bill. "Yaa! you great fool! You've got enough to do to mind your own business. There's them people at 24 a-waitin' for you. Won't you catch it! – that's all."

Jim. "See any green, Bill? Good b'ye."

Mike. "Never you mind, Bill, Good b'ye – Happy land! happy land," &c.

Master Jim Curtis is one of those youths whose office it is to supply the tea-tables of the higher classes with muffins and crumpets, nominally all hot, but really, owing to the colloquial propensities of the bearers, in general not at all hot. Among his compeers he is considered a peculiarly accomplished lad. He is always sure to be acquainted with the last new song, for shocking as the idea appears, there are "last new songs," in streets as well as in drawing-rooms – we are informed that the present popular favourite is "Happy Land;" it having succeeded "Sitch a gittin' up stairs;" previously to which the alleys were taught by our young Mobility to echo the atrocious "Jim Crow." These various airs Master Jim Curtis is also in the habit of whistling as he runs along; his execution being characterised by great power, particularly in the higher notes; though his compass, perhaps, is not very extended. He is likewise a first-rate performer on that classical instrument the Jews'-harp. In all those various games of skill which consist in tossing coins and buttons about in gutters, his attainments are unrivalled; and he is equally expert at the pastime called "leap-frog," and similar gymnastic exercises. Genius, it is said, is shown in striking out new paths; and Master Curtis, in the language of his acquaintance, is an "out-and-outer" (a low term for a person of talent) at striking out a slide. In a general way, so remarkable is his intellectual acumen, that he is said by all who know him to be perpetually – we cannot avoid the phrase – wide awake. In disposition he has somewhat of a satirical turn, and his caustic powers are not only evinced in "chaffing" his equals, but also, whenever an opportunity occurs, at the expense of his superiors.

Master Mike Waters is connected with the press, in the capacity of an acting distributor of diurnal literature. He is a cultivator, to a certain extent, of those elegant pursuits in which Master Curtis has made such striking progress. His natural endowments, indeed, are not of so brilliant a class as those of the latter; as a vocalist, for instance, he does not rise much above mediocrity, his notion of a tune being generally not quite perfect, and his memory seldom serving to retain more than the first line of a song. He appears, however, to be very diligent in his musical studies, and what he does know, is almost continually in his mouth. There is, too, one particular science for which he certainly has a decided taste; namely, Natural Philosophy, and he may frequently be seen on a day fit for the purpose, that is, on a wet one, performing pneumatic experiments on loose stones and cellar plates.

Of the nature of these experiments it may be necessary that we should give a brief description. Their object is to elevate the paving stones or plates from the situation which they occupy, and is thus effected:

A disc of leather is procured, and to its centre is fixed a strong piece of cord or string of about a yard in length. The leather, having been deposited at the side of the kerb-stone, a sufficient time to effect its perfect saturation with moisture, is applied, in its wet state, to the body intended to be raised, and trodden flat on its surface. The experimenter, then, pressing down the circumference of the leather with his feet (a process requiring peculiar dexterity), raises the centre of it by means of the piece of string. A vacuum is thus produced between the leather and the stone; and the pressure of the atmosphere retains them, with considerable power, in contact. By repeated efforts the stone is at length loosened, and at last, sometimes, actually displaced. This scientific recreation is now and then suppressed by the hand of authority: and certainly, were it ever practised in a fashionable neighbourhood, the interference of the Executive would be necessary; as, for obvious reasons, it is highly detrimental to the chaussure.

To return, however, to Master Waters. Notwithstanding the moderate nature of his abilities and acquirements, he occupies a respectable place in the esteem of his associates; as there is scarcely any matter of amusement which he is not ready to promote, and in which he is unable to share. Naturally, too, of a placid disposition, he is ever desirous of shining himself, or of taking the shine, as his comrades express it, out of others. He thus avoids exciting envy and resentment in their breasts; a misfortune which his friend Master Curtis does not always escape. A circumstance, also, which strongly tends to render him a general favourite, is, that though not very witty himself, he has a great capacity for appreciating wit, – that species of it, at least, which he is in the habit of hearing among his acquaintance. Nor is a sally, of which he is himself the object, less pleasing to him than one directed against another party; he receives it with an open, tranquil, reflective, and cheerful countenance, indicating that he is on the best terms with all around him, and on better still, if possible, with himself. There is one peculiarity in his disposition which must not be forgotten, – he is a youth of a very large appetite. This fact seems, on inspection of his mouth, to confirm the phrenological axiom that size is, other circumstances being equal, a measure of power.

Master Bill Sims rejoices in the prettily-sounding title of Page. We say, rejoices, only by a figure of speech; for the various remarks which his appearance calls forth from his extensive circle of young friends, render his situation a not very pleasant one. He is not aware, moreover, of the romantic associations connected with the office which he holds, and, if he were, the circumstance that he is a Page, not to a Noble Lord, but to an elderly lady, would rather serve to embitter than to sweeten his reflections. What makes him so keenly alive to animadversions on his costume, is, that on being first inducted into it, he felt particularly proud of his exterior, which certainly underwent at that time a change for the better, as he was then a newly transformed Charity Boy. We should mention that before he had been three months in place, his altered diet made it necessary that he should have a fresh suit of livery; that with which he was at first invested having become much too small to accommodate his increasing proportions. The notion that he is happily situated as to alimentary comforts, has much to do in provoking the taunts of his juvenile acquaintances, who take a rather invidious view of his good fortune in that respect. They do not consider that this is very dearly purchased. Master Sims being forced to forego, almost entirely, all those little gratifications in which they, during their leisure hours, can indulge without limitation. In particular, he is precluded, both from the tenseness of his attire, and the necessity which he is under of keeping it clean, both of which circumstances prohibit kneeling, and – we believe we express ourselves correctly – knuckling down – from partaking of the diversion of marbles, of which he is passionately fond.

We have now a few observations to make, generally, on that particular set of the Children of the Mobility with which Masters Curtis, Waters, and Sims are connected, which may tend, perhaps, to place the characters of those young gentlemen in a clearer light; though we fear that many fine minds have been already sufficiently tried by the picture which we have drawn.

Their curiosity is remarkable. Any person who attracts their attention by a conspicuous dress – as, for instance, a Highlander in full costume – is sure to be followed by a crowd of them, and very likely, provided they are certain of impunity, to be assailed by them with stones and other missiles. A delinquent of any kind, proceeding, under the auspices of the Executive, to his state apartments, is invariably pursued by a train of them. They never fail, also, to collect around the subject, whether human or brute, of a street accident.

It is desirable that their manners should be a little more respectful than they at present are. In the use of all titles of honour they are exceedingly economical, seldom dignifying any one with the term, "Sir," but a Policeman.

Strangely enough, they are, in their way, votaries of Fashion. Besides their songs, they have various phrases, which have, as dogs are said to do, their day. Many of these will not bear mentioning; but the last in vogue, which embodies an inquiry after the health of the Mamma of the person addressed, is not, perhaps, so objectionable as the majority.

They have, also, particular seasons for their various amusements. Thus, "hop-scot," or "hop-scotch," is "in," as the phrase is, at one time; marbles, or "dumps," at another. Now hoops, then kites are all the rage. There is one species of recreation, however, which is practised among them at all times, denominated "overing a post;" for which Charity Boys are especially renowned; a certain peculiarity of their singular attire, combined with the remarkable lightness of their limbs and bodies, rendering them particularly adroit at this feat.

In connection with the genus of the Children of the Mobility now under consideration, we beg to call attention to their habit of hopping alternately from side to side during a conversation. From this the philosophical observer will perhaps infer, that the graceful accomplishment of dancing is the offspring of an instinct of Nature.

PLATE III. Master "Young Spicy," and Master "Tater Sam."

These hopeful scions of our Mobility are engaged in "an affair of honour." We apprehend that the names by which they are above designated, and by which they are commonly known, are not, bona fide, their own, but have been imposed upon them by the suffrages of their acquaintance, probably with reference to the occupations of their respective parents, and partly, perhaps, in conformity with the custom which generally attaches a sobriquet to fistic proficiency. Master "Tater Sam" is attended by Master "Lanky Tim," a student attached to a parochial seminary. Master "Young Spicy" – for street encounters are not always characterised by the strictest regularity – has no professed second; though the place of one may be considered as supplied by the exhortations of the spectators generally. As to the young gentleman midway behind the two combatants, a retainer of one of the Knights of the Azure Vest, his attentions are bestowed alternately on both; his object being, to enjoy to the full what he regards as a "prime lark;" the reciprocation of as large an amount of blows as possible. The extremity of the by-standers' delight may be read in their animated and dilating eyes; even the soul of yonder small boy in the corner, who, but for the evident care with which he has been enveloped in his cloak, might have been suspected of having left his home without maternal cognisance, is on fire. The contrast presented by the vivacious ardour of the juvenile group to the subdued complacency with which the approving elders overlook the scene, is as interesting as it is remarkable.

The hostile encounter may be supposed to have originated, and to proceed in the following manner. The parties are at first engaged in that particular game at marbles technically termed "shoot ring."

Tater. "Now then, Spicy, knuckle down; 'fend dribbling."

Spicy. "Come, then, stand out of the sunshine."

Tater. "In! Three clayers and a alley. Game! Hooray!"

Spicy. "Oh ah! I dare say. It's no go; play agin."

Tater. "No, no, it's my game."

Spicy. "I say t'an't."

Tater. "I say 'tis."

Spicy. "You'm a story!"

Tater. "Y ou'm another!"

Spicy. "Come, give me my alley, will yer?"

Tater. "No I sharn't!"

Spicy. "Won't yer though?"

Tater. "No I won't, frizzle wig!"

Spicy. "Won't yer, puggy nose? Come, I say, leave go!"

(Here a scuffle ensues.)

Tater. "Don't yer wish yer may get it?"

Spicy. "You'm a strong feller, arn't you?"

Tater. "D 'ye think I'm afeard o' you?"

Spicy. "D 'ye think I'm afeard o' you then?"

Tater. "Ah! jist you hit me!"

Spicy. "You hit me first; that's all!"

Tater. "Well, there then!"

Spicy. "Here's at yer!"

(The contest now commences.)

Cries of "Hallo! here's a mill!"

"Here's a scrimmage!"

"A battle, a battle! 'tween two sticks and a rotten apple!" &c. from various quarters. (A ring formed.)

Butcher Boy. "Now then! Fair play! fair play! Go it!"

A Boy. "'It im ard; he've got no friends."

Second Boy. "Give it im, Spicy! 'It im a peg in the mouth!"

Third Boy. "At im, Tater!"

Charity Boy. "Fetch im a wipe 'tween the heyes!"

Butcher Boy. "Well done, little un, great un's biggest!"

First Boy. "Well done, Tater! My eye wot a whop!"

Second Boy. "Brayvo! Spicy. Had im there!"

Hackney Coachman. "A nasty vun, that ere!"

Cabman. "Rayther."

Charity Boy. "Go in at im, Tater, – that's it!"

(The combatants close and wrestle. Both fall; Spicy under. At this stage of the proceedings a sanguine stream is seen escaping from Spicy's nose; his eyes, too, are in a state of incipient tumefaction. The size of Tater's lip appears considerably augmented; and he bleeds copiously at the mouth. After a short pause, hostilities are resumed.)

Butcher Boy. "That's the time o' day. 'It im, Spicy! Skiver im, Tater. That's it, my cocks!"

Third Boy. "One for his nob! That's the ticket!"

Charity Boy. "Under the ribs! Well done!"

First Boy. "That's a vinder for im!"

Third Boy. "Tater, keep your pecker up, old chap!"

Butcher Boy. "Right and left! Hooroar! Fake away!"

All science is now abandoned, and they rush together, pell-mell; but in the heat of the conflict a Policeman appears, and advancing to the scene of action, separates, with some difficulty, the incensed opponents. After a little additional altercation, they are persuaded to shake hands, and each gathering up his cap from the field of battle, returns home, accompanied by his partisans, the victory remaining undecided.

The horrid scene which we have profaned our pen in describing suggests a few reflections which it may behove our readers to consider. In the first place, with reference to the coarse practice of boxing among the Children of the Mobility, we think it decidedly objectionable. It tends to eradicate from their minds all those fears and susceptibilities with regard to personal safety, by means of which, alone, they are manageable; and to replace them with those unamiable qualities which render them, when grown up, offensive to the genteel and the delicate. It also enables them to repay any little playfulness in which a distingué youth may happen to indulge with them, such as tilting off their caps, or knocking their marbles out of the ring, with rude and painful blows. The frightful violence, too, which their street broils do to the ears and eyes of any of the superior classes who may have the misfortune to witness them, ladies for instance, in their carriages, is such, that we are shocked to think of it. Some people say that it is best to let them have their quarrels out, as they express it, that they may be prevented from bearing malice. We hear, too, a great deal about the danger of stabbing becoming prevalent, were pugilism discountenanced, among the lower orders. Still, being beaten about with great hard knuckles, is very horrid; and the knife, if more sanguinary than the fist, is decidedly more romantic and piquant.

But what shall we say of the Children of the Nobility learning, at public schools, to emulate the boys of the street, transforming themselves from innocent and interesting lambs, into ferocious bull-dogs, if we may use so strong a metaphor, and making one another perfect frights? What must be the feelings of their Mammas?

PLATE IV. The Family Of Mr. And Mrs. Blenkinsop

Among the Mobility, the Blenkinsops are what in the more elevated ranks would be termed, parvenus. Two generations back they were very respectable people; but a series of misfortunes, commencing with the failure of Messrs. Flykite and Co. which occurred some years ago, has reduced them to their present position. We shall not dwell on the steps of their descent. Tales of distress, unless they are invested with a certain je ne sais quoi, which gives them an air of elegance, are extremely uninteresting.