Chapter I: Part 1

“_Familiar in their Mouths as HOUSEHOLD WORDS._”—SHAKESPEARE.

HOUSEHOLD WORDS.
A WEEKLY JOURNAL.

CONDUCTED BY CHARLES DICKENS.

N^{o.} 12.] SATURDAY, JUNE 15, 1850. [PRICE 2_d._

OLD LAMPS FOR NEW ONES.

The Magician in “Aladdin” may possibly have neglected the study of men, for the study of alchemical books; but it is certain that in spite of his profession he was no conjuror. He knew nothing of human nature, or the everlasting set of the current of human affairs. If, when he fraudulently sought to obtain possession of the wonderful Lamp, and went up and down, disguised, before the flying-palace, crying New Lamps for Old ones, he had reversed his cry, and made it Old Lamps for New ones, he would have been so far before his time as to have projected himself into the nineteenth century of our Christian Era.

This age is so perverse, and is so very short of faith—in consequence, as some suppose, of there having been a run on that bank for a few generations—that a parallel and beautiful idea, generally known among the ignorant as the Young England hallucination, unhappily expired before it could run alone, to the great grief of a small but a very select circle of mourners. There is something so fascinating, to a mind capable of any serious reflection, in the notion of ignoring all that has been done for the happiness and elevation of mankind during three or four centuries of slow and dearly-bought amelioration, that we have always thought it would tend soundly to the improvement of the general public, if any tangible symbol, any outward and visible sign, expressive of that admirable conception, could be held up before them. We are happy to have found such a sign at last; and although it would make a very indifferent sign, indeed, in the Licensed Victualling sense of the word, and would probably be rejected with contempt and horror by any Christian publican, it has our warmest philosophical appreciation.

In the fifteenth century, a certain feeble lamp of art arose in the Italian town of Urbino. This poor light, Raphael Sanzio by name, better known to a few miserably mistaken wretches in these later days, as Raphael (another burned at the same time, called Titian), was fed with a preposterous idea of Beauty—with a ridiculous power of etherealising, and exalting to the very Heaven of Heavens, what was most sublime and lovely in the expression of the human face divine on Earth—with the truly contemptible conceit of finding in poor humanity the fallen likeness of the angels of God, and raising it up again to their pure spiritual condition. This very fantastic whim effected a low revolution in Art, in this wise, that Beauty came to be regarded as one of its indispensable elements. In this very poor delusion, Artists have continued until this present nineteenth century, when it was reserved for some bold aspirants to “put it down.”

The Pre-Raphael Brotherhood, Ladies and Gentlemen, is the dread Tribunal which is to set this matter right. Walk up, walk up; and here, conspicuous on the wall of the Royal Academy of Art in England, in the eighty-second year of their annual exhibition, you shall see what this new Holy Brotherhood, this terrible Police that is to disperse all Post-Raphael offenders, has “been and done!”

You come—in this Royal Academy Exhibition, which is familiar with the works of WILKIE, COLLINS, ETTY, EASTLAKE, MULREADY, LESLIE, MACLISE, TURNER, STANFIELD, LANDSEER, ROBERTS, DANBY, CRESWICK, LEE, WEBSTER, HERBERT, DYCE, COPE, and others who would have been renowned as great masters in any age or country—you come, in this place, to the contemplation of a Holy Family. You will have the goodness to discharge from your minds all Post-Raphael ideas, all religious aspirations, all elevating thoughts; all tender, awful, sorrowful, ennobling, sacred, graceful, or beautiful associations; and to prepare yourselves, as befits such a subject—Pre-Raphaelly considered—for the lowest depths of what is mean, odious, repulsive, and revolting.

You behold the interior of a carpenter’s shop. In the foreground of that carpenter’s shop is a hideous, wry-necked, blubbering, red-headed boy, in a bed-gown; who appears to have received a poke in the hand, from the stick of another boy with whom he has been playing in an adjacent gutter, and to be holding it up for the contemplation of a kneeling woman, so horrible in her ugliness, that (supposing it were possible for any human creature to exist for a moment with that dislocated throat) she would stand out from the rest of the company as a Monster, in the vilest cabaret in France, or the lowest gin-shop in England. Two almost naked carpenters, master and journeyman, worthy companions of this agreeable female, are working at their trade; a boy, with some small flavor of humanity in him, is entering with a vessel of water; and nobody is paying any attention to a snuffy old woman who seems to have mistaken that shop for the tobacconist’s next door, and to be hopelessly waiting at the counter to be served with half an ounce of her favourite mixture. Wherever it is possible to express ugliness of feature, limb, or attitude, you have it expressed. Such men as the carpenters might be undressed in any hospital where dirty drunkards, in a high state of varicose veins, are received. Their very toes have walked out of Saint Giles’s.

This, in the nineteenth century, and in the eighty-second year of the annual exhibition of the National Academy of Art, is the Pre-Raphael representation to us, Ladies and Gentlemen, of the most solemn passage which our minds can ever approach. This, in the nineteenth century, and in the eighty-second year of the annual exhibition of the National Academy of Art, is what Pre-Raphael Art can do to render reverence and homage to the faith in which we live and die! Consider this picture well. Consider the pleasure we should have in a similar Pre-Raphael rendering of a favourite horse, or dog, or cat; and, coming fresh from a pretty considerable turmoil about “desecration” in connexion with the National Post Office, let us extol this great achievement, and commend the National Academy!

In further considering this symbol of the great retrogressive principle, it is particularly gratifying to observe that such objects as the shavings which are strewn on the carpenter’s floor are admirably painted; and that the Pre-Raphael Brother is indisputably accomplished in the manipulation of his art. It is gratifying to observe this, because the fact involves no low effort at notoriety; everybody knowing that it is by no means easier to call attention to a very indifferent pig with five legs, than to a symmetrical pig with four. Also, because it is good to know that the National Academy thoroughly feels and comprehends the high range and exalted purposes of Art; distinctly perceives that Art includes something more than the faithful portraiture of shavings, or the skilful colouring of drapery—imperatively requires, in short, that it shall be informed with mind and sentiment; will on no account reduce it to a narrow question of trade-juggling with a palette, palette-knife, and paint-box. It is likewise pleasing to reflect that the great educational establishment foresees the difficulty into which it would be led, by attaching greater weight to mere handicraft, than to any other consideration—even to considerations of common reverence or decency; which absurd principle, in the event of a skilful painter of the figure becoming a very little more perverted in his taste, than certain skilful painters are just now, might place Her Gracious Majesty in a very painful position, one of these fine Private View Days.

Would it were in our power to congratulate our readers on the hopeful prospects of the great retrogressive principle, of which this thoughtful picture is the sign and emblem! Would that we could give our readers encouraging assurance of a healthy demand for Old Lamps in exchange for New ones, and a steady improvement in the Old Lamp Market! The perversity of mankind is such, and the untoward arrangements of Providence are such, that we cannot lay that flattering unction to their souls. We can only report what Brotherhoods, stimulated by this sign, are forming; and what opportunities will be presented to the people, if the people will but accept them.

In the first place, the Pre-Perspective Brotherhood will be presently incorporated, for the subversion of all known rules and principles of perspective. It is intended to swear every P. P. B. to a solemn renunciation of the art of perspective on a soup-plate of the willow pattern; and we may expect, on the occasion of the eighty-third Annual Exhibition of the Royal Academy of Art in England, to see some pictures by this pious Brotherhood, realising HOGARTH’S idea of a man on a mountain several miles off, lighting his pipe at the upper window of a house in the foreground. But we are informed that every brick in the house will be a portrait; that the man’s boots will be copied with the utmost fidelity from a pair of Bluchers, sent up out of Northamptonshire for the purpose; and that the texture of his hands (including four chilblains, a whitlow, and ten dirty nails) will be a triumph of the Painter’s art.

A Society, to be called the Pre-Newtonian Brotherhood, was lately projected by a young gentleman, under articles to a Civil Engineer, who objected to being considered bound to conduct himself according to the laws of gravitation. But this young gentleman, being reproached by some aspiring companions with the timidity of his conception, has abrogated that idea in favour of a Pre-Galileo Brotherhood now flourishing, who distinctly refuse to perform any annual revolution round the Sun, and have arranged that the world shall not do so any more. The course to be taken by the Royal Academy of Art in reference to this Brotherhood is not yet decided upon; but it is whispered that some other large Educational Institutions in the neighbourhood of Oxford are nearly ready to pronounce in favour of it.

Several promising Students connected with the Royal College of Surgeons have held a meeting, to protest against the circulation of the blood, and to pledge themselves to treat all the patients they can get, on principles condemnatory of that innovation. A Pre-Harvey-Brotherhood is the result, from which a great deal may be expected—by the undertakers.

In literature, a very spirited effort has been made, which is no less than the formation of a P. G. A. P. C. B., or Pre-Gower and Pre-Chaucer-Brotherhood, for the restoration of the ancient English style of spelling, and the weeding out from all libraries, public and private, of those and all later pretenders, particularly a person of loose character named SHAKESPEARE. It having been suggested, however, that this happy idea could scarcely be considered complete while the art of printing was permitted to remain unmolested, another society, under the name of the Pre-Laurentius Brotherhood, has been established in connexion with it, for the abolition of all but manuscript books. These MR. PUGIN has engaged to supply, in characters that nobody on earth shall be able to read. And it is confidently expected by those who have seen the House of Lords, that he will faithfully redeem his pledge.

In Music, a retrogressive step, in which there is much hope, has been taken. The P. A. B., or Pre-Agincourt Brotherhood has arisen, nobly devoted to consign to oblivion Mozart, Beethoven, Handel, and every other such ridiculous reputation, and to fix its Millennium (as its name implies) before the date of the first regular musical composition known to have been achieved in England. As this Institution has not yet commenced active operations, it remains to be seen whether the Royal Academy of Music will be a worthy sister of the Royal Academy of Art, and admit this enterprising body to its orchestra. We have it on the best authority, that its compositions will be quite as rough and discordant as the real old original—that it will be, in a word, exactly suited to the pictorial Art we have endeavoured to describe. We have strong hopes, therefore, that the Royal Academy of Music, not wanting an example, may not want courage.

The regulation of social matters, as separated from the Fine Arts, has been undertaken by the Pre-Henry-the-Seventh Brotherhood, who date from the same period as the Pre-Raphael Brotherhood. This society, as cancelling all the advances of nearly four hundred years, and reverting to one of the most disagreeable periods of English History, when the Nation was yet very slowly emerging from barbarism, and when gentle female foreigners, come over to be the wives of Scottish Kings, wept bitterly (as well they might) at being left alone among the savage Court, must be regarded with peculiar favour. As the time of ugly religious caricatures (called mysteries), it is thoroughly Pre-Raphael in its spirit; and may be deemed the twin brother to that great society. We should be certain of the Plague among many other advantages, if this Brotherhood were properly encouraged.

All these Brotherhoods, and any other society of the like kind, now in being or yet to be, have at once a guiding star, and a reduction of their great ideas to something palpable and obvious to the senses, in the sign to which we take the liberty of directing their attention. We understand that it is in the contemplation of each Society to become possessed, with all convenient speed, of a collection of such pictures; and that once, every year, to wit upon the first of April, the whole intend to amalgamate in a high festival, to be called the Convocation of Eternal Boobies.

SAVINGS’ BANK DEFALCATIONS.

It is exactly fifty years ago since the clergyman of a little town in Bucks circulated among the poorer part of his parishioners a proposal, which excited the ridicule of many and the apprehension of not a few. “If any inhabitant of Wendover chooses,” said he, “to entrust me with any amount of his savings, in sums of not less than twopence at a time, I shall be happy to receive the money, and to repay the sum to him next Christmas, with an addition of one-third upon the amount of his deposit.” It was some time before the population of Wendover could be brought to understand the value of the proposal; but it was still longer before its universal application became appreciated. Five years elapsed ere any similar institution rose into existence: then a “Charitable Bank” was opened at Tottenham, by a lady named Priscilla Wakefield, assisted by six gentlemen, who undertook from their private purses to allow five per cent. interest on the deposits. Three years passed, and another society upon the same principle was formed at Bath. After this, the eyes of the public began to be opened; and by 1816, there were established in England seventy different Savings’ Banks; whilst Wales boasted of four, and Ireland of five. At present the number of Savings’ Banks in operation in Great Britain, is five hundred and eighty-four. Those doing the largest amount of business are of course in London; and some idea may be formed of the magnitude of their transactions, when it is stated that the St. Martin’s Bank, near Trafalgar Square, alone, has on its books at present, forty thousand depositors, whose investments amount to upwards of a million and a quarter sterling. Since this establishment was first commenced in 1816, it has opened one hundred and seventy-three thousand accounts for nearly eight millions of money. The bank which approaches the nearest to the St. Martin’s Bank in magnitude, is the Bishopsgate Bank in Moorfields. That bank has three-quarters of a million invested in it. The Bloomsbury Bank has half a million: the Marylebone Bank about 300,000_l._ There are banks as large as the last, at Newcastle, Nottingham, Norwich, Bristol, Hull, Devonport, Leeds, and Birmingham. The Liverpool and Manchester Banks have deposits of half a million each. In Exeter there is a bank with thirty-five thousand depositors, and half a million of money.

This immense amount of business is done at no very great cost. For the five hundred and eighty-four banks, there are altogether only eleven hundred and forty paid officers. The salaries of these officers amount to no more than seventy-five thousand pounds a year; and they manage the business of more than a million of depositors, whose accounts exceed twenty-eight millions sterling—a sum equal to the capital of the Bank of England.

The mere fact of any institution having to deal with so enormous a capital, renders it one of great importance commercially. But when it is remembered that the vast aggregate is made up of small savings; and that additions to, or withdrawals from it, furnish a clue to the fluctuations between the prosperity and depression of the largest, most useful, and least wealthy among us—the thews and sinews of the nation—the administration and management of Savings’ Banks cannot be too jealously watched.

Unhappily a painful interest has been lately imparted to the system by the abstraction of large sums by certain local managers; and by the discovery that to make these defalcations good, there exists no government liability. Indeed by law (the act of 1844) even the Trustees are not liable; but honour has always, as we shall see, proved with them stronger than the statute. A clear understanding of the actual connection of the State with Savings’ Banks is of vital importance, not only to depositors, but to those who interest themselves in promoting the banking system among the humbler classes; a system, which, it may be safely affirmed, has hitherto proved of the utmost benefit not only to the worldly prosperity, but to the morals of the working bees of our Great Hive.

Savings’ Banks were first established from motives of benevolence. They soon, however, came to involve such great responsibility that the managers were anxious that the State should give them the benefit of its support. The State was nothing loth, for it saw the advantage of having such large amounts of money in possession. Accordingly, in 1817, there was opened at the National Debt Office, a “Fund for the Banks for Savings,” and an act was passed compelling the Trustees to pay in their deposits to that Fund, receiving a debenture which bore interest at the rate of 4_l._ 10_s._ per cent.

The Government, therefore, is only responsible for the money _after_ it is paid to the National Debt Office: it is not accountable for deficiencies arising in the course of Savings’ Bank transactions, or from the embezzlement or mismanagement of local officers. Still depositors are seldom defrauded; for when such defaults have happened, the Trustees and Managers of the Bank concerned have stepped in to cover the deficiencies, except in a case which occurred in Wales in 1824, and in other instances subsequently in Ireland. In no one case, on the other hand, has the Government ever rendered assistance to the value of a farthing. Why, will be seen when the dealings between the local authorities of these banks and the National Debt Office are explained. They are simply as follows:—The accumulated deposits of each Savings’ Bank, are paid over to some neighbouring banker, or other person, who acts gratuitously as treasurer. The treasurer pays the money, by check or otherwise, to the National Debt Commissioners, who invest it in Exchequer Bills or Stock. At the end of the year they allow an interest upon the amount deposited. Out of this interest the Savings’ Banks Trustees are authorised by law to pay interest to the depositors at the rate of not less than 2_l._ 15_s._, nor more than 3_l._ 0_s._ 10_d._ per cent. per annum. The Banks vary in the precise rate; the average rate of interest afforded by all the Banks in the United Kingdom is 2_l._ 17_s._ 6_d._ Thus 7_s._ 6_d._ per cent.—which constitutes the difference between 2_l._ 17_s._ 6_d._ and the 3_l._ 5_s._—forms the fund out of which is defrayed the charges of management.

In the majority of Banks, there is only one paid officer; but of course the number varies according to the amount of business. The St. Martin’s Bank is the most complete establishment of the kind, and consists of sixteen persons. Some Banks have only one remunerated official. In every case, the National Debt Commissioners have power to make such regulations, under the Savings’ Bank Act, as enforce each paid officer giving heavy security for his honesty.

It is of great consequence that the public should understand that the defalcations which have of late caused some distrust in the stability of Savings’ Banks, have not arisen from any defect of the great principles, but only in the details, and from the abuses of the system. They have happened chiefly in consequence of the culpably loose and irregular conduct of the local managers; but partly from the carelessness or ignorance of depositors. The chief manager of an Institution in default—as in the latest case which has come before the public—has left everything to the actuary or cashier, who did precisely as he pleased, and he is blamable for laxity. On the other hand, most of the monies of which depositors were plundered never passed through a Savings’ Bank at all. They were paid to the Officers of the Banks at their own abodes, and these officers never gave any account of them to the Managers. The only way to stop this, is to make it criminal for any officer of a Bank to receive the money of any depositor, at any other time or place than at the Bank during the regular Bank hours. The fact is that there have rarely, if ever, hitherto been any _genuine_ frauds upon Savings’ Banks. The frauds have taken place upon irregular transactions out of doors. Hence it is that the National Debt Commissioners repudiate all liability to the depositors.

Against, however, the National Debt Office itself there is a very serious charge. As we have stated, it is bound to invest, in the public securities, the monies paid over to them by the Trustees and Treasurers of Savings’ Banks. It appears, from parliamentary returns, that at different periods the Commissioners have accumulated large sums of this money, and dealt with it in different classes of securities; although the necessities of Savings’ Banks did not require any such operations. The result has been very unfortunate. The National Debt Commissioners appear, by their accounts, to have less stock by _two millions_ of money, than the capital paid to them ought to represent. This glaring fact appears on the face of the public accounts. No explanation has ever been given; no reasons have ever been assigned. The belief is, that the operations by which the Savings’ Banks fund so seriously suffered, were necessitated by the financial exigencies of government some years since. They commenced in 1834 and continued down to 1843, when they were discovered and checked by public opinion. As, then, for this amount the Government is responsible, the nation will be, ultimately, obliged to pay it up to the depositors.

But a calm review of these facts—startling as some of them are—should not essentially affect the stability of Savings’ Banks, and alarm is comparatively groundless. Firstly, the defalcations of officers are generally made good by their sureties, or by the local trustees; and secondly, the deficiency of two millions is not likely to be called for so suddenly as to inconvenience the public purse.

It is now necessary to point out how—to glance at the opposite page of the account—the law guards against frauds attempted _by_ the public upon Savings’ Banks. The only way in which they could be so abused, would be by attempts, on the part of the comparatively wealthy, to obtain a higher rate of interest, for investments, than they could get elsewhere. But an average interest, 2_l._ 17_s._ 6_d._ per cent. with a maximum of 3_l._ 0_s._ 10_d._, would seem a sufficient bar to such deposits. But in order to guard against such a possibility, the law has enacted that no one person shall be permitted to deposit more than 30_l._ in any one year, or more than 150_l._ pounds in the whole; and if his principal and interest together ever amounts to 200_l._, then the payment of all further interest is stopped. These restrictions are effectual in preserving Savings’ Banks to the sole object of savings—the savings of the poor.

As regards actual frauds and attempts at fraud by the public, we have been obliged with the experience of the St. Martin’s Bank, which very probably speaks for that of all the Savings’ Banks in England:—“Since this Bank was instituted, in 1816,” says our informant, “there have been only five attempts at fraud, by forgery of depositors’ signatures, or otherwise. In two of those five cases the forgery was detected and no loss ensued. In the other three cases the Bank sustained the loss, which amounted in the whole to less than 50_l._ Attempts at personation seldom succeed,—nor are these always fraudulent; absent depositors are often consenting parties, in order to save themselves the trouble of attending personally. Such cases lead to dispute; but two such cases which have occurred here are rather curious. In 1847 a man married a female depositor, and induced her to withdraw the whole of her money (exceeding 100_l_), of which having possessed himself, he abandoned her. Subsequently he deposited 90_l._., part of this money, in three different Savings’ Banks, our own among the number. The wife having stated her case to us, we took advantage of the law which prohibited him from depositing in more than one Bank, and refused to allow him to withdraw. The case was referred; and the barrister appointed by act of Parliament to settle such questions awarded that, under the statute, the deposits were forfeited to the Commissioners of the National Debt. The Lords of the Treasury, upon the wife’s memorial, ordered the restitution of the money to her, for her own separate use, free from her husband’s control; and this arrangement we had the pleasure of carrying into effect.—The other case was equally singular. In 1848 the Painters’ and Glaziers’ Friendly Society had an account with us. They sought to eject one of the trustees of their fund from the benefits of their Society, on the ground that on the ‘10th of April’ he had acted as a Special Constable, contrary to the rule prohibiting him from ‘voluntarily entering Her Majesty’s service.’ The trustee protested to us, and we objected to pay the Society’s money without his signature to the order. Thereupon ‘the Painters and Glaziers’ caused the case to be referred, and the barrister awarded that the funds should not be transferred or withdrawn without the trustee’s consent.”

From the same quarter we ascertained, in reference to unclaimed money, a remarkable circumstance. The amount of unclaimed deposits in the St. Martin’s Place Bank has of late decreased instead of increased. In 1842 the Bank held 10,800_l._, which had been unclaimed for seven years. In 1849, although its business had so amazingly augmented, the amount which had remained unclaimed for seven years was 9898_l._ or nearly 1000_l._ less. This is accounted for by the great pains taken to trace and summon the depositors and their representatives. It certainly is remarkable that out of transactions to the extent of more than eight and a half millions of money, only 9900_l._ should remain unclaimed.

From what we have stated on this subject it will be seen that although Savings’ Banks are not on a satisfactory footing as between the Government and depositors, or as between the latter and the local managers; yet, on the whole, the system is so well contrived, that no good reason has lately been revealed for the public to withdraw their confidence from them. The cure of the more glaring defects is now under the consideration of Government, and this paper will be best concluded by a sketch of the proposed remedy. The bill introduced by the Chancellor of the Exchequer deals with all the defects we have pointed out: perhaps it introduces some new ones, but these it will be purged of probably in Committee. One of the chief evils is that exemption from liability which was extended to trustees in 1844: and it is proposed, for wilful or neglectful losses, to restore this liability. These officers are now unpaid; and it is proposed to pay them, Government being responsible for their acts, and having the privilege of appointing. To prevent fraud, occasioned by the treasurer or actuary receiving monies at his own house, it is intended that the treasurer alone shall receive money, and that he shall attend at certain stated times for that purpose. A local banker is to fill the office, who will not be wholly unremunerated. For any other person than the treasurer to receive money as a savings’ bank deposit, will be a misdemeanour. Daily accounts are to be rendered to the Commissioners of the National Debt; and those Commissioners will appoint auditors, who shall exercise a constant revision of the accounts, subject to supervision by special inspectors despatched at discretion. These arrangements will necessarily entail greater expence, and to meet it, the rate of interest allowed to depositors, is to be reduced to 2_l._ 15_s._, and deposits limited to 100_l._ Above that amount, Government will either hold the money without interest, or, at the depositor’s option, invest it in the funds free of charge.

THE SUMMER SABBATH.

The woods my Church, to-day—my preacher boughs,
Whispering high homilies through leafy lips;
And worshippers, in every bee that sips
Sweet cordial from the tiniest flower, that grows
’Mid the young grass, and, in each bird, that dips
Light pinions in the sunshine as it throws
Gold showers upon green trees. All things around
Are full of Prayer! The very blush which tips
Yon snowy cloud, is bright with adoration!
The grass breathes incense forth, and all the ground
Is a wide altar; while the stillest sound
Is vibrating with praise. No profanation
Reaches the thoughts, while thus to ears and eyes
Nature her music and her prayer supplies!

NEWSPAPER ANTECEDENTS.

Those in whom the appetite for news on which we have already commented is very strong, must wonder how our forefathers existed without newspapers; for so it happened that the lieges of these realms did get on very well without them up to the days of the first of the Stuarts. But although they had no printed newspapers, they could not and did not do without news; conveyed orally in the form of gossip, or by means of manuscript intelligencers. Friendly communications containing the gossip of the town for the enlightenment of cousins in the country are as old as pen and ink, and much older than paper; for many, still extant in the British Museum, were written on vellum. By-and-bye, the writing of such letters became a profession, and every country family of pretension could boast of “our own correspondent.” These writers were generally disbanded military officers, younger sons very much “about town,” and, not unfrequently, clergymen. Shirley in his “Love Tricks” draws the portrait of one of these antecedents of the present race of Editors.

“_Easparo._ I tell you, Sir, I have known a gentleman that has spent
the best part of a thousand pounds while he was prentice to the trade
in Holland, and out of three sheets of paper, which was his whole
stock, (the pen and ink-horn he borrowed,) he set up shop, and spent a
hundred pounds a year. It has been a great profession. Marry, most
commonly they are soldiers; a peace concluded is a great plague upon
them, and if the wars hold we shall have store of them. Oh, they are
men worthy of commendation. They speak in print.

“_Antonio._ Are they soldiers?

“_Eas._ Faith so they would be thought, though indeed they are but
mongrels, not worthy of that noble attribute. They are indeed
bastards, not sons of war and true soldiers, whose divine souls I
honour, yet they may be called great spirits too, for their valour is
invisible; these, I say, will write you a battle in any part of Europe
at an hour’s warning, and yet never set foot out of a tavern; describe
you towns, fortifications, leaders, the strength of the enemy, what
confederates, every day’s march. Not a soldier shall lose a hair, or
have a bullet fly between his arms, but he shall have a page to wait
on him in quarto. Nothing destroys them but want of a good memory, for
if they escape contradiction they may be chronicled.”

By the time James the First began to reign, this employment had so completely moulded itself into a regular craft, that news-writers set up offices and kept “emissaries,” or reporters, to bring them accounts of what was going on in various parts of the metropolis. These reports were sifted, collected, and arranged by the master of the office, or “Register,” who acted as Editor. To Nathaniel Butter, a news-writer of that period, was the British public indebted for the first printed newspaper. Ben Jonson in his “Staple of News” gives a vivid picture of Mr. Butter’s office before he took to printing.

_Enter Register and Nathaniel._

_Reg._ What, are those desks fit now? Set forth the table,
The carpet and the chair; where are the News
That were examined last? Have you filled them up?

_Nath._ Not yet, I had no time.

_Reg._ Are those News registered
That emissary Buz sent in last night,
Of Spinola and his eggs?

_Nath._ Yes, sir, and filed.

_Reg._ What are you now upon?

_Nath._ That our new emissary
Westminster gave us, of the golden heir.

_Reg._ Dispatch; that’s news indeed, and of importance.—

_Enter a Country-woman._

What would you have, good woman?

_Woman._ I would have, sir,
A groat’s-worth of any News, I care not what,
To carry down this Saturday to our vicar.

_Reg._ O! you are a butter-woman; ask Nathaniel,
The clerk there.

_Nath._ Sir, I tell her she must stay
Till emissary Exchange, or Paul’s send in,
And then I’ll fit her.

_Reg._ Do, good woman, have patience;
It is not now, as when the Captain lived;
You’ll blast the reputation of the office,
Now in the bud, if you dispatch these groats
So soon: let them attend in name of policy.

To have served his gaping customers too quickly, would have seemed as though the News was _made_ instead of being collected; so thought the Register.

Respecting the first English printed newspaper, the public have lain under a mistake for nearly a century. Some ten years ago, however, Mr. Thomas Watts of the British Museum exploded the long prevalent fallacy that the “_English Mercurie_,” dated in 1588, was originally the progenitor of modern journals. A copy of such a paper exists in the Birch Collection; but it is a manifest forgery, the concoction of which was traced to the second Lord Hardwicke. It pretends to give news from the expedition against the Spanish Armada; but, besides a host of blunders in dates, it is printed on paper made posterior to the date it bears. The truth is that no periodically printed newspaper appeared till thirty years after.

When the reign of James the First was drawing to a close; when Ben Jonson was poet laureate, and the personal friends of Shakspeare were lamenting his then recent death; when Cromwell was trading as a brewer at Huntingdon; when Milton was a youth of sixteen, just trying his pen at Latin verse, and Hampden a quiet country gentleman in Buckinghamshire; London was solicited to patronise its first Newspaper. There is now no reason to doubt that the puny ancestor of the myriads of broad sheets of our time was published in the metropolis in 1622, and that the most prominent of the ingenious speculators who offered the novelty to the world was Nathaniel Butter. His companions in the work appear to have been Nicholas Bourne, Thomas Archer, Nathaniel Newberry, William Sheffard, Bartholomew Downes, and Edward Allde. All these different names appear in the imprints of the early numbers of the first Newspaper—THE WEEKLY NEWES.[1] This prime, original progenitor of the acres of news which are now rolled out from the press failed, after many lapses and struggles, chiefly occasioned by the Star Chamber. Its end was untimely. The last number appeared on the 9th of January, 1640. Could it have survived a little longer it might have run a long career, for the incubus which smothered it was itself stifled—the Star Chamber was abolished in 1641.

Footnote 1:

The Fourth Estate, by F. K. Hunt.

Butter’s print was succeeded by a host of “Mercuries,” but none of them were long-lived. They were started for particular objects, to advocate certain views, and sometimes to circulate the likeliest lies that could be invented to serve the cause espoused. Each of these was laid down when its mission was accomplished. During the civil war, nearly thirty thousand journals, pamphlets, and papers were issued in this manner. In the heat of hostilities, each army carried its printing-press as part of its munitions of war. Leaden types were employed with as much rancour and zeal as leaden bullets. These were often headed as News, such as “Newes out of Worcestershire,” “Newes of a bloody battle,” fought at such a place, &c. In 1662 a regular periodical, called the “Kingdom’s Intelligencer,” was started, and in the following year the “Intelligencer, published for the satisfaction and information of the people,” was set up by Sir Roger L’Estrange.

All these were superseded by a journal, which has stood its ground so well that the last number came out only yesterday. This was the “Oxford Gazette,” set up in that city in 1665, and now known as the “London Gazette.” For many years after the Restoration this was the only newspaper; for the law restricted any man from publishing political news without the consent of the Crown. Charles and James the Second withheld that consent whenever it suited them, and put those who took “French leave” into the pillory.

As a specimen of a newspaper, when these restrictions were abated, after the flight of James the Second, we may instance the “Universal Intelligencer.” It was small in size, and meagre in contents. It appeared only twice a week, and consisted of two pages; that is to say, one leaf of paper a little larger than the page on which the reader’s eye now rests, and with hardly so much matter. The number for December 11, 1688, boasts two advertisements. A small paragraph amongst its News describes the seizing of Judge Jefferies, in his attempt to escape from the anger of his enemies. Besides this interesting morsel of intelligence, the paper has sixteen lines of News from Ireland, and eight lines from Scotland; whilst under its News of England, we have not very much more. One of the items tells us, that “on the 7th inst. the Prince of Orange supt at the Bear Inn, Hungerford.” There are other headings, such as “Forrain News” and “Domestick News.” Each item of intelligence is a mere skeleton—more in the nature of memoranda, or notifications of events, than accounts of them. “Further particulars” had not been invented then.

By Anne’s time, journalism had improved, and—when the victories of Marlborough and Rooke, the political contests of Godolphin and Bolingbroke, and the writings of Addison, Pope, Prior, Congreve, Steele, and Swift, created a mental activity in the nation which could not wait from week to week for its News—the first daily paper was started. This was the Daily Courant, which came out in 1709. Other such journals followed; but three years afterwards, they received a severe check by the imposition of the Stamp Duty. “All Grub Street,” wrote Swift to Stella, “is ruined by the Stamp Act.” On the 7th of August, 1712, he writes:—

“Do you know that Grub Street is dead and gone last week? No more
ghosts or murders now for love or money. I plied it pretty close the
last fortnight, and published at least seven penny papers of my own,
besides some of other people’s, but now every single half-sheet pays a
halfpenny to the Queen. The ‘Observator’ is fallen; the ‘Medleys’ are
jumbled together with the ‘Flying Post;’ the ‘Examiner’ is deadly
sick; the ‘Spectator’ keeps up, and doubles its price; I know not how
long it will hold. Have you seen the red stamp the papers are marked
with? Methinks it is worth a halfpenny the stamping.”

Grub Street was not, however, so easily put down; and from that time to the days of Dr. Johnson, newspapers had considerably increased in number and influence. In the Idler the Doctor says:—“No species of literary men has lately been so much multiplied as the writers of News. Not many years ago, the nation was content with one Gazette, but now we have not only in the metropolis Papers for every morning and every evening, but almost every large town has its weekly historian, who regularly circulates his periodical intelligence, and fills the villagers of his district with conjectures on the events of war, and with debates on the true interests of Europe.”

In Dr. Johnson’s day, the newspaper press was fairly set upon its legs, and it has gone on with some few vicissitudes to its present condition. As illustrations of the antecedents of the modern newspaper, we now purpose giving, at random, a few curious extracts from the earliest of them.

The Daily Courant, dated March 1, 1711, contains the following announcement of a publication which is still read with delight, and which was destined to play an important part in the reform of the coarse social manners of the time. It runs thus:—

“_This day is Published_,

“A paper entitled THE SPECTATOR, which will be continued every day.
Printed for James Buckley, at the Dolphin in Little Britain, and sold
by A. Baldwin, in Warwick Lane.”

In the first number thus announced, which was written by Addison, the Spectator says:—“As my friends have engaged me to stand in the front, those who have a mind to correspond with me may direct their letters to Mr. Buckley’s, in Little Britain.”

Hogarth never painted a more graphic picture of a horseman of the last century than that drawn in the Postman of Saturday, August 10, 1710. It is presented in the form of a hue and cry after a stolen horse.

“A Full Face, Round shoulder Middle sized Man, with a light Bob Goat’s
Hair Wig, a snuff-coloured Secretary Drugget coat, the trimming the
same colour, 2 waistcoats, one of Black cloath, the other blue,
trimmed with silver lace, Black cloath breeches, a Mourning Hatband,
wears a cane with a silver Head, made to screw at the top, a seafaring
man, stammering in his speech, his name William Tunbridge but goes by
the name of William Richardson, rode away from 7 Oaks in Kent the 20th
of July last, with a Sorrel Horse full 14 hands high, a star in his
forehead, white feet behind, high mettled, loth to have his hind feet
taken up, Bob Tail, a black saddle stitched with silver, Tan Leather
stirrup Leathers with a slit crupper buckled on the saddle with 2
buckles. Whoever gives notice of man or horse to Mr. Adams, Postmaster
of Seven Oaks, shall have a guinea reward and reasonable charges.”

The Daily Courant of Thursday, March 15, 1711, puts forth the announcement of a performance at the Haymarket Theatre, “on the 1st of April,” to which the Bottle Conjuror’s promised feat must sink into a mere common occurrence. A gentleman was to sup off several children “to the music of kettledrums.” The same advertisement appeared in the Spectator on the day after, namely, Friday, March 16:—

“On the first of April will be performed at the play house in the Hay
Market an Opera called the Cruelty of Atræus. N. B. The scene wherein
Thyestes eats his own children is to be performed by the famous Mr.
Psalmanazaar, lately arrived from Formosa, the whole supper being set
to kettle drums.”

Scattered through the journals of 1712 are advertisements of a patent medicine, which has not wholly ceased to be imbibed by the ailing of 1850. The Spectator of April 18th has it thus:—

“Daffy’s famous Elixir Salutis prepared by Catherine Daffy, the finest
now exposed for sale, prepared from the best drugs and the original
receipt which my Father Mr. Thomas Daffy having experienced the
virtues of it imparted it to Mr. Anthony Daffy who published the same
to his own great advantage. This very original receipt is now in my
possession, left me by my father under his own bond. My brother Mr.
Daniel Daffy, late apothecary in Nottingham, made this Elixir from the
same receipt and sold it there during his life. Those who know me will
believe me, and those who do not know me may be convinced I am no
counterfeit by the colour, taste, smell and just operation of my
Elixir. Sold at the Hand and Pen, Maiden-lane, Covent Garden, London,
and in many other places in Town and Country.”

Mist’s weekly journal of Saturday, March 6th, 1725, contains an artful paragraph most likely emanating from a despairing author whose play had not succeeded:—

“Mrs. Graspall, who has been our customer two years, desires us to
inform the masters of Drury Lane playhouse, that if they please to
play the comedy, called _A Wife to be Let_, within ten days, they will
oblige her and a great many of the quality to whom she has
communicated her design.”

We find by subsequent numbers that Mrs. Graspall’s request was not complied with.

There is an anecdote of historical interest in the St. James’s Evening Post of Sept. 17th, 1734. It relates to the Chevalier St. George, afterwards the rash but chivalric “Pretender” to the British throne. It appears that when the Spaniards made the Conquest of Italy, and were sailing for Sicily, the Chevalier was on board one of their ships with the young King of Naples, the latter, doubtless, a prisoner;—

“When the fleet set sail,” says the ‘special correspondent,’ “a blast
of wind blew the young Chevalier St. George’s hat off his head into
the sea. Immediately there were several officious enough to endeavour
to take it up; but the young Chevalier called out, _Let it alone, let
it alone; I will go and get another in England_. Whereupon the young
King of Naples threw his hat into the sea, and said, _and I will go
along with you_. But they may happen to go bare-headed a long time; if
they get no hats till they come amongst you: for we are well assured
that they will find none in England that will fit their heads.”

The designs of young Charles Edward must have been deeply rooted to have been entertained so early—for he was then only fourteen years old—and so long before they were fulfilled. At the end of his ’45 adventures, he did indeed go bare-headed for months without a hat or a roof to cover him.

The Daily Post of Thursday, August 17th, 1738, must be a priceless treasure in the eye of the collector for two remarkable paragraphs with which it is enriched. On one of them was founded the most pathetic and popular of Scott’s novels—The Heart of Mid-Lothian. The story of the girl “of a fine soul,” even as told by the paragraphist is touching. The communication is dated “Edinburgh, August 20th, 1738.”

“Isabel Walker, under sentence of death at Dumfries for child-murder,
has actually got a remission. This unhappy creature was destitute of
friends, and had none to apply for her but an only sister, a girl of a
fine soul, that overlooked the improbability of success, helpless and
alone went to London to address the Great, and solicit so well (_sic_)
that she got for her, first, a reprieve, and now a remission. Such
another instance of onerous friendship can scarce be shown; it well
deserved the attention of the greatest who could not but admire the
virtue, and on that account engage in her cause.”

The other paragraph records the death of Joe Miller, posthumous sponsor of the most profitable jest book ever published. He was as innocent of it as of any one of the jokes; the collection—having been benevolently made by his friend Jack Mottley for the benefit of Miller’s widow—eventually proved to be the best benefit ever known in the theatrical world. The obituary is brief but complimentary:—

“Yesterday morning died Jo: Miller, Comedian, of merry memory. Very
few of his profession have gained more applause on the stage, and few
have acted off it with so much approbation from their neighbours.”

The London Daily Post (there were three “Posts” in those days) of the same date gives more information on the mournful subject. It says:—

“Yesterday morning died of Pleurisy, Mr. Joseph Miller, a celebrated
Comedian belonging to the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane; much admired
for his performances in general, but particularly in the character of
Teague, in _The Committee, or the Faithful Irishman_.”

The papers from which this _mélange_ of extracts has been culled are pigmies beside the present race of Giants. There is about as much matter in a single modern London morning newspaper as was contained in a year’s contents of the Postman, before it had two leaves. To present the contrast between to-day’s monsters of the press and their antecedents the more forcibly, we shall conclude with an extract from a paper recently read by Mr. E. Cowper at the Institution of Civil Engineers, relative to the _Times_:—

“On the 7th of May, 1850, the _Times_ and _Supplement_ contained 72
columns, or 17,500 lines, made up of upwards of a million pieces of
type, of which matter about two-fifths were written, composed, and
corrected after seven o’clock in the evening. The _Supplement_ was
sent to press at 7 50 P. M., the first form of the paper at 4 15 A.
M.; and the second form at 4 45 A. M.; on this occasion, 7000 papers
were published before 6 15 A. M., 21,000 papers before 7 30 A. M., and
34,000 before 8 45 A. M., or in about four hours. The greatest number
of copies ever printed in one day was 54,000, and the greatest
quantity of printing in one day’s publication was on the 1st of March,
1848, when the paper used weighed 7 tons, the weight usually required
being 4½ tons; the surface to be printed every night, including the
Supplement, was 30 acres; the weight of the fount of type in constant
use was 7 tons; and 110 compositors and 25 pressmen were constantly
employed.”

At the beginning of the reign of Queen Anne, we question whether so many operatives as are now required, with the help of its extraordinary machinery, to produce the “Times,” found employment on the whole then existing newspaper press.

THE ROYAL ROTTEN ROW COMMISSION.

The Commission appointed to enquire into and report upon the state of Rotten Row, was entirely unpaid. The right honourable gentleman on whom the appointment of the Commissioners devolved, took great credit to himself that the members of a Commission whose report was likely to prove of such infinite value to society, and especially to metropolitan equestrians, had undertaken all the laborious duties appertaining to their office without expressing the slightest desire for remuneration or reward. “He believed,” he said, “that all the charges connected with the performance of this great public duty would begin and terminate with the mere cost of the indispensable official staff, and he undertook to pledge his word that the expenses connected with that department should all be settled at the lowest practicable scale.”

In accordance with this declaration, the Honourable Augustus Aigulet, first cousin of the right hon. gentleman aforesaid, was shortly after appointed Secretary to this indispensable Commission, at a salary of 1400_l._ per annum, and Mr. Slaney, of Somerset House, under a Special Minute of my Lords Commissioners of the Treasury, was promoted to perform the active duties of clerk to the Commission, at an increased salary of 60_l._ a year, “in accordance with the scale of savings recently effected in the public service.”

These economic views were further carried out by the saving of rent. The Rotten Row Commission was to be accommodated in certain new buildings, recently erected at a small charge of 300,000_l._ The apartments consisted of an office, a Secretary’s apartment, and a Board-room. Mr. Slaney took possession of his desk in the office, having instructions to prepare the large room for the meeting of a Board, which instructions he duly performed by arranging the inkstands in the centre of a table, and by spreading sundry sheets of blotting-paper, with a due proportion of foolscap and official pens, at equal distances on either side. The Board was to meet at two o’clock. At half-past one the Honourable Augustus Aigulet opened the door of the office, and proceeded to instal himself as Secretary. By the time he had taken possession of the key of a great despatch box, on which was emblazoned, in gilt letters, the words

ROTTEN ROW COMMISSION.