Читать книгу Gossip in the First Decade of Victoria's Reign - John Ashton - Страница 7

Table of Contents

Thames Tunnel flooded—First mention of the Nelson column—Moustaches—Sale of the King’s stud—Marriage by Registrar—Commencement of New Houses of Parliament—Lunatics and the Queen—The Queen’s visit to the Guildhall—Lord Beaconsfield’s maiden speech.

Nowadays very little is thought of making a tunnel under the Thames, but the first one, designed and carried out by Sir Marc Isambard Brunel, was regarded, and rightly so, as a most wonderful feat of engineering. One was proposed in 1799, and a shaft was sunk in 1804, but the work went no further. The one now spoken of was approved by Act of Parliament 24 June, 1824, and the shaft was begun and the first brick laid on 2 March, 1825. It suffered several times from irruptions of water; one, on 18 May, 1827; another, in which six lives were lost, on 12 Jan. 1828. In 1837 there were two irruptions, the first taking place on 23 August, and it is thus described by one of Brunel’s assistants: “We were at work about two o’clock on Wednesday, when we found the water coming in faster than usual. At first, we observed a quantity of loose sand falling near the gallery, which changed to thin, muddy drops. This convinced us that the stratum in which the men were working was bad, loose soil. The increase of water made it necessary to withdraw the men, which was done by a passage under the crown of the arch, made for their safety in case of accidents. No injury was sustained by any of the men. I was not satisfied, at the time, of the real extent of the bad soil, and I ordered a boat to be brought, with a rope of sufficient length to enable us to float to the shield. The boat was brought, but the rope attached to it, and by which we were to be hauled into the shaft, was shorter than we had ordered it. This deficiency probably saved our lives. We had not proceeded far in the boat when I perceived, by the twinkling of the lights in the tunnel, and other indications of inundation, that the waters came in with increased rapidity. I then gave the signal to be hauled into the shaft, and had scarcely done so when I observed the ground above give way, and the water descending in a thousand streams, like a cascade, or the Falls of Niagara. We were rescued, but, had the rope by which we were relieved from our perilous situation been of a length to allow the boat to go to the extremity of the tunnel, in all probability we should have been drowned. This happened about four o’clock, and, soon after five, the tunnel was entirely filled. No lives were lost. The only injury done is the suspension of the works. The steam engine, when the leak is stopped, will throw out a ton of water per minute; and, in three days and nights, the whole of the tunnel may be pumped dry.”

The second irruption, on 3 Nov., also filled the Tunnel, but on this occasion one man lost his life.

In the Times of 9 Sep. of this year I find the first suggestion of a monument to Nelson, in Trafalgar Square:

“Sir, I observe in your paper of Tuesday last, that a correspondent has commented upon the proposed plan for laying out Trafalgar Square.

“Allow me to suggest through your columns the favourable opportunity and most appropriate situation, now afforded, of erecting in the centre of the Square some worthy trophy, or statue, commemorating the glorious victories of the immortal Nelson. Whilst other great commanders and statesmen are honoured with suitable public monuments to their fame, surely the British nation would be eager, if called on, to pay this tribute to the valour, intrepidity and success of this illustrious hero. Yours, etc.—J. B.”

In those days every man went clean shaven, or only had side whiskers, a full beard being unknown, and moustaches were confined to foreigners and to a few cavalry regiments, so that for a working man to sport them (although now so exceedingly common) would probably lead to derision and persecution, as in the following police case reported in the Times of 21 Sep.:

Marlborough Street.—Yesterday, a young man, “bearded like the pard,” who said he was a carpenter employed on the London and Birmingham Railroad, applied to Mr. Rawlinson, the sitting magistrate, for an assault warrant, under the following ludicrous circumstances:

Mr. Rawlinson: What do you want the warrant for?

Applicant: I’ll tell your worship, and you’ll say it’s the most haggrawating and provoking thing as ever was heard on. Veil, then, I goes to my vork, as usual, this ’ere morning, ven one of my shopmates said to me, “Bill, you arn’t shaved your hupper lip lately.” “Don’t mean it,” says I. “Vy?” says he. “’Cos,” I replied, “I intends vearing mustachios to look like a gentleman.” “Vell, then,” says he, “as you intends to become a fashionable gentleman, p’raps you’ll have no objection to forfeit half-a-gallon of ale, as it’s a rule here that every workman vot sports mustachios, to have them vetted a bit.” Veil, has I refused to have my mustachios christened, they made game of them, and said they weren’t half fledged; and, more nor all that, they hustled me about, and stole my dinner out of the pot, and treated me shameful, and so I want your advice respecting my mustachios.

Mr. Rawlinson: My advice is, to go to a barber and have them shaved off without loss of time.

Applicant: Can’t part with a single hair.

Mr. Rawlinson: You want to look like a grenadier, I suppose?

Applicant: My granny-dear (God bless her old soul!), she never had such a fashionable and warlike appendage in her life.

Mr. Rawlinson: What business has a carpenter with a quantity of long hair hanging from his lip?

Applicant: The reason vy I vears it is ’cos it’s fashionable, and makes me look like a man of some courage.

Mr. Rawlinson: Fashionable, indeed! I wish, with all my heart, that the fashion was discontinued. Why need an Englishman make a Jew of himself? It is disgusting to see persons strutting through the streets with mustachios, and, sometimes, a fringe of hair round the face and chin, which is dignified by the name of whiskers. As you won’t take my advice, I can’t assist you.

Applicant: Vot! not for striking me on the hupper lip?

Mr. Rawlinson: Then your mustachios must have saved you.

Applicant: No, they didn’t.

Mr. Rawlinson: How’s that?

Applicant: ’Cos the hair ain’t long and thick enough; they’re only young ’uns as yet. There was no occasion to strike me.

Mr. Rawlinson: And there’s no occasion for you to wear mustachios. You may have a warrant, if you like, but I think you had better not.

The man with mustachios then withdrew.

The late King’s stud at Hampton was doomed to be sold, and the sale thereof created something of a sensation. On this subject there is, in a little twopenny weekly magazine, called The Torch, 9 Sep., ’37 (vol. i., p. 19), a periodical now long forgotten, a poem by Tom Hood, which I have not seen in any collection of his poems. It is a