Chapter XXIII

Men's dress--Education--School advertisements--The original of
Squeers--Girls' schools--Tea as a meal--Food--A foreigner's
sketch of an English dinner-party--A high-class dinner--An ideal
dinner.

Men's dress was very much as in our time, the trousers were somewhat tighter, the coat collars higher, the waistcoats were worn more open, and there was somewhat more than a _soupçon_ of stays. Hair was worn long and artificially curled, and no one but a cavalry man, or a blackleg, wore a moustache. The neckcloths or "stocks," as they were called, must have been veritable instruments of torture, being lined with slips of whalebone, and coming tight under the chin; a rivulet or rather river of satin flowed over the shirt, and was fastened by two pins connected by a chain. But, if any one wants the man's costume of William the Fourth's reign he will find it in the very familiar engravings by "Phiz," to _Pickwick_ and _Nicholas Nickleby_. Elderly gentlemen still wore knee breeches and silk stockings, with gaiters for outdoor wear, and among them the pigtail was still to be found; nay, I recollect two old gentlemen who wore them, as I also remember some middle-aged men wearing the very handsome Hessian boot.

The Spanish cloak came in about 1834, and in the following advertisement we see its size and price, together with the prices of other clothes. _Times_, November 19, 1834--

"Spanish cloak of superfine blue cloth, a complete circle of
9-1/2 yards, £4 4_s._; Opera ditto, £2 2_s._; boy's ditto, £1
1_s_; camlet ditto, 11_s._; boy's ditto, 12_s._ Fashionable
Petersham great coat, bound, £2 2_s._; Saxon frock coat, faced
silk, £2 10_s._; an elegant suit of superfine cloth, complete, £4
4_s._; the very best that is made, £4 15_s._; suit of livery, £3
3_s._ Contract prices:--Two suits per year, £6 6_s._; extra fine
quality, the very best, £7 7_s._; three suits, £10 17_s._; ditto,
£12 5_s._; four suits, £14 6_s._; ditto, £15 18_s._; the old to
be returned. Stout cloth winter trousers, 13_s._ 6_d._"

Respecting education in England at this time, Count Edouard de Melfort, who wrote his _Impressions of England_ in 1836, says--

"Even in the lowest classes in England it is difficult to find a
person who does not know how to read or write. There is scarcely
any village, however insignificant, which has not its 'National
School;' and, without meaning any offence to other countries, I
think I may assert that the education of the people in England is
superior to that of any other."

In this opinion, I think, the Count is too optimistic, for the lower classes were woefully uneducated, my early experience being that comparatively few could read and write, especially in the rural districts. The upper class, of course, received an education to prepare for the Universities; and, in the middle-class, a classical education was decidedly predominant over one that would fit its recipient for mercantile pursuits. The ordinary boarding-schools charged from thirty to forty-five guineas per annum, but their proprietors had a knack of including extras, which very greatly increased this sum. Here is an advertisement of a middle-class school in 1830--

"Exeter College, Snaresbrook, six miles from London, for the
reception of gentlemen designed for mercantile pursuits, the
legal and medical professions, the naval and military
institutions, and the Universities. The number is limited, they
are parlour boarders, and each has a separate bed. The
establishment is under the immediate attention of the Principal
and resident classical assistants, with the regular attendance of
professional gentlemen of eminence in the departments of French,
drawing, music, dancing, &c. Terms per annum--A mercantile
course, with mathematics, history, geography, use of the globes,
astronomy, etc., twenty-five guineas; or with the classics, in
Latin, Greek, and including drawing, music, and dancing, thirty
guineas; any one of the languages or accomplishments selected
with the first course, four guineas. Every department of this
establishment is arranged and conducted on the most comprehensive
scale of liberality. The pupils are the sons of private and
professional gentlemen of the highest respectability in London
and various parts of the kingdom," etc.

This was a comparatively cheap school. Let us take another, to which well-to-do people would be likely to send their children. It was situated near Newbury, and was conducted on the plan of a regular grammar school--

"Young Gentlemen are received from 4 to 20 years of age.
Terms--from 4 to 10 years of age, 25 guineas; 10 to 15, 35
guineas; 15 to 20, 40 guineas; parlour-boarders, 80 guineas per
annum."

But there were lower class schools--such as Dickens has immortalized in Nicholas Nickleby. He says in his preface to the 1839 edition that he meant no one in particular, but we may, perhaps, think differently after reading what I have to write. We all remember the story when Snawley brings his sons-in-law to the Saracen's Head--

"'Mr. Squeers, I believe, sir?'

"'The same, sir,' said Mr. Squeers, with an assumption of extreme
surprise.

"'The gentleman,' said the stranger, 'that advertised in the
_Times_ newspaper?'

"_'Morning Post_, _Chronicle_, _Herald_, and _Advertiser_,
regarding the academy called Dotheboys Hall, at the delightful
village of Dotheboys near Greta Bridge, in Yorkshire,' added Mr.
Squeers. 'You come on business, sir, I see by my young
friends....'

"'Hem!' said the other; 'twenty pounds per annum, I believe, Mr.
Squeers?'

"'Guineas,' rejoined the schoolmaster, with a persuasive smile.

"'Pounds for two I think, Mr. Squeers,' said Mr. Snawley,
solemnly.

"'I don't think it could be done, sir,' replied Mr. Squeers, as
if he had never considered the proposition before. 'Let me see:
four times five is twenty, double that, and deduct the ---- Well,
a pound either way shall not stand betwixt us. You must recommend
me to your connection, sir, and make it up that way....'

"'And this,' resumed Snawley, 'has made me anxious to put them to
some school a good distance off, where there are no
holidays--none of those ill-judged comings home twice a-year that
unsettles children's minds so--and where they may rough it a
little; you comprehend?'"

That Dickens saw the following advertisements there is no doubt, for they were inserted every half-year throughout the reign, in the _Times_--

_Times_, July 15, 1830--

"EDUCATION. By Mr. SHAW, at BOWES ACADEMY, Greta Bridge,
Yorkshire.--YOUTHS are carefully INSTRUCTED in the English,
Latin, and Greek languages, common and decimal arithmetic,
book-keeping, mensuration, surveying, geometry, geography, and
navigation, with the most useful branches of the mathematics, and
provided with board, clothes, and every necessary, at 20 guineas
per annum each. No extra charges. No vacations. Further
particulars may be known on application to.... Mr. Shaw attends
at the George and Blue Boar, Holborn, from 12 to 2 daily, where a
card of particulars may be seen."

_Times_, September 18, 1830--

"At KIRBY HILL ACADEMY, near Richmond, Yorkshire, conducted by I.
Nelson and assistants. The system of instruction comprehends all
the usual branches of a liberal education, comprising the Greek
and Latin Classics, mathematics, etc., at 22 guineas per annum.
No extra charges. No vacation. French language and drawing on the
usual terms. I. N. will attend daily at the Saracen's Head, Snow
Hill, etc."

In these two advertisements we have, in the first, Greta Bridge and Squeers's prospectus; in the other, his London place of abode, the Saracen's Head, Snow Hill. Bowes is about five miles from Castle Barnard.

Mr. Jonathan Bourchier sends a communication to _Notes and Queries_ (4th S. xii. 324) enclosing extracts from a letter from an old friend who writes from Bowes--

"It is a very fine country--fresh mountain air. _Dotheboys Hall_
is still here, no longer a school. Mr. Shaw, the original of
Squeers, married a Miss Laidman, who was a sort of cousin of my
father. The school buildings are pulled down, but the house
(Dotheboys) is still a very nice handsome one, with large
offices, cowhouses, etc. We learn from our landlady that in the
room where we are now sitting (Unicorn Inn, Bowes) Dickens had
lunch the day he and a friend rode over from Barnard Castle to
see and make sketches of Mr. Shaw's school, and this same old
lady, Mrs. Highmoor, waited on them. Dickens was only here that
day, but he stayed longer in Barnard Castle, and got a great deal
of gossip, not too true, about the school from one ----, a
quondam usher of Shaw's and 'a bad lot,' who had, indeed, been
turned off for bad conduct.

"Mrs. Highmoor tells me, as indeed my father always says, that
Dotheboys Hall is a most exaggerated caricature. But somehow the
description was in some respects so correct that everybody
recognized it. Poor Shaw quite took it to heart, and did no more
good, got childish and paralytic, and soon died. The school went
down fast. Mrs. Shaw also died broken-hearted. But a good deal of
money was left behind. Mrs. Highmoor says there were an immense
number of boys; that Mr. Shaw chartered a special coach to bring
them from London (this place is on one of the great coaching
roads between York and Glasgow); and that there was great joy in
the village on the arrival of the coach and its precious
freight--quite _the event_ it was. She says the boys were used
very well, and fed as well as could be expected for £20 a-year;
that there might be things wrong, but no complaints were ever
made; that Shaw made money, because on his own farm he grazed the
cows and fed the sheep and pigs which supplied the boys' food.

"My impression is that Yorkshire schools were bad, but not so bad
as Dickens makes out, and Shaw's was better than most of them.
There is a strong feeling here of indignation against Dickens,
who no doubt ruined poor Shaw."

"An old pupil of Mr. Squires--the Mr. Squeers of Dickens's
'Nicholas Nickleby'--has died at New Brunswick, leaving behind a
record of his schooldays. This is to be published as a sort of
post-mortem vindication of Mr. Squires, whose career as a
pedagogue was rather unfairly caricatured by the novelist. The
old pupil is the Rev. Ralph Willis, a native of London. He went
to school at Bowes, in Yorkshire, and it was through his father
that Dickens heard of the school. Many of the scenes in the book
he describes as inventions; but the moral of the reminiscences is
that Squires was not as black as he was painted" (_Globe_, June
5, 1895).

A girl at boarding-school cost about the same as a boy, but day schools seem to have been very cheap, judging by one in Salisbury Square, Fleet Street, where the governesses say, in their advertisement, that

"Their system of education is the result of close observation,
blended with long experience; and it embraces all the advantages
of a superior private instruction, with those which will ever be
found to exist in a well-conducted school. Terms, including
reading, geography, history, grammar, and useful and ornamental
needlework, one guinea per quarter. The Misses Thompson are
assisted in the departments of penmanship and arithmetic, the
French, Italian, and Latin languages, music, drawing, and dancing
by professors of eminence, on the usual terms."

But I fancy the following advertisement appealed to a far richer _clientèle_:--

"At a first-rate FINISHING LADIES' SEMINARY, VACANCIES occur for
a few PUPILS. The system of education adopted is of the highest
order, embracing superior and peculiar advantages. In addition to
an extensive course of English studies, invaluable to young
ladies finishing their education, they will be perfected in the
French and Italian languages, music, comprising the harp,
pianoforte, and singing, with a knowledge of harmony and thorough
bass, drawing, dancing, and every research in science and
literature to qualify them to move in the first circles."

We may note that the guitar, which was then very fashionable, is not mentioned, and we never find the German or Spanish languages taught. The dancing comprehended galop, mazurka, waltz, quadrilles, and a variety of fancy dances, such as the shawl dance, etc., which were never used out of dancing academies. The poor little dears had no other physical exercises, no swimming, nor Swedish gymnastics, and their punishments consisted in being put in the stocks, which made them turn out their toes, and in the back-board, which tended to expand the chest and cure round shoulders. Their principal relaxation was, as now, a solemn walk in procession.

Afternoon tea, as we know it, was unknown; but, as people dined much earlier than now, it was a fairly substantial meal of hot buttered toast, muffins, Sally Lunns, and other tea cakes. It was essentially a chatty cosy meal, the same that Cowper sang of--

"Now stir the fire and close the shutters fast,
Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round."

Either the copper tea-kettle sang on the hob or on a trivet on the bars, or the tea-urn hissed on the table; whilst on the polished brass three-legged trivet, standing on the hearth, were the muffins, crumpets, toast, or what not, keeping nice and hot. In many middle-class houses a toasting-fork hung with a hearth broom by the side of the mantelpiece, and it was thought no harm for the younger portion of the family to "make the toast" by the dining-room fire. The tea drank was exclusively of Chinese growth, that of India and Ceylon never having been dreamed of, and the prices (retail) ranged from 3_s._ 6_d._ to 7_s._ 6_d._ per lb. A paragraph in the _Times_, July 15, 1836, gives us an idea of the amount consumed.

"Yesterday the East India Company" (who at this time had the
monopoly of the tea trade) "issued their declaration for the
sale of teas in September next. The declaration amounts to
4,000,000 lbs., and comprises 500,000 lbs. of bohea, 2,770,000
lbs. of congou, souchong, and pekoe, 600,000 lbs. of twankay, and
130,000 lbs. of hyson. In the present declaration there are
100,000 lbs. less of bohea than in the June sale, 100,000 less of
twankay, an increase of 170,000 lbs. of congou, souchong, &c.,
and 30,000 more of hyson. The whole amount of bohea teas entered
under the Treasury minute for payment of the duty of 1_s._ 6_d._
per pound until the 1st of August next is above 12,000,000 lbs."

With regard to the food, it was plain and wholesome, but was supplied with such prodigality that the table literally "groaned" under its weight, and I may safely say that at a dinner-party there was at least six times more food provided than the guests could eat. It was their way of showing hospitality. There was some truth in the description by the old French _émigré_, who found England uninhabitable, because "there were twenty-four religions and only one sauce, no ripe fruit but roasted apples, and that each man ruined his health in drinking to the health of others." But as it is good sometimes to "see oursen' as ithers see us," let us hear what Count Melfort has to say on the English middle-class dinner in this reign. After giving a most humorous description of the _mauvais quatre d'heure_ before dinner, he says--

"At last, hurried steps are heard, and the door opening briskly,
Mr. Jackson (the host) in person appears, who excuses himself for
his delay on account of some business, which, he says, kept him;
he shakes your hands, both at once, in each of his, and tells you
dinner is served; and then you offer your arm to Mrs. Jackson, I
take that of the timid eldest daughter, and we descend to the
ground floor, to the dining-room, which, like the two
drawing-rooms, is everywhere the same, in form, size, and
situation. You can hardly fail to observe all the brilliant
plate, not only on the table but also on the sideboard, where
trays of every size, goblets, covers, plates, and other objects
of the same metal are ranged against the wall; this display puts
one in mind of a silversmith's shop.

"The table is out of all proportion long; each end is occupied,
the one by Mr. Jackson, who undertakes to serve the fish and to
carve the large joints (such as an immense turbot, and then an
enormous piece of roast beef); the other end by _madame_, who,
having placed you on her right, and me on her left, begins to
serve the soup; she will afterwards ask you to carve the
everlasting boiled fowls, _à la sauce blanche_. As for the French
_ragouts_, which are ranged lengthwise down the table in covered
dishes, be careful and avoid them; I recommend it as a friend.
You have accepted soup, and I see that you are astonished to find
little _côtelettes_, bones, forced meat balls, etc., swimming
about; the cayenne pepper and other hot spices cause you to make
a grimace, whilst they burn your throat; never mind! eat some
turbot, you will find it excellent.

"You must now bravely 'screw your courage to the sticking place;'
you are nailed to that chair for the space of two hours and a
half at least, without any chance of conversation, except only a
few interrupted words, each person speaking occasionally in a low
tone to his or her neighbour. The burly Mr. Crack, to whom Mrs.
Jackson introduced us, has, as yet, only opened his mouth for the
purpose of endeavouring to satisfy his extraordinary appetite;
this, however, appears to be labour in vain; he is placed in the
middle of the table, and fills the place of two persons, whilst
he eats enough for four. As to that _soi-disant élégant_--that
little personage placed next to Miss Maria, who cannot turn his
head because of his stiff black stock which keeps it in
prison--you will guess by his ridiculous affectation and
exaggerated politeness to his neighbours to what sphere he
belongs; particularly when, during the dessert, on her asking him
the favour to give her an orange, he will take it up between two
spoons, one in each hand, his elbows raised and his fingers
extended. The only speech which you will have heard him utter
was when good Mr. Jackson cried out, after emptying his glass,
'After all, the climate of England is the best in the world!' and
he rejoined, 'It is unquestionably true!' Thus pass two hours!
However, at last the cloth is removed, and we continue round the
well-rubbed or polished mahogany table. At this point of the
entertainment Mr. Jackson makes us a bow, pronouncing at the same
time a few indistinct words; we all return his bow. This, after
dinner, is a regular custom--a sort of _agimus tibi gratias_,
which is thus said in abridgment.

"The table is now covered with crystal, fruit, and flowers, and
wine decanters; these are first arranged in battle array before
the host; and, at his signal, made by pushing the first round,
they begin their promenade of the table, one gentleman sliding
them along to the next; the ladies take a little, taste the
fruit, and, having occupied some moments in putting on their
white gloves, rise, following the example of Mrs. Jackson; we all
do the same, but only to conduct them to the door of the room.
Here, however, the force of habit makes you forget the
recommendation I had given you--you try to escape; but a hand
retains you by the tail of your coat; it is that of Mr. Jackson,
who observes to you that you have still a bottle of claret to
finish with him. Mr. Crack, too, had made a polite effort to rise
on the departure of the ladies, but his own weight reseated him;
he has now got to the raisins and preserved fruits, etc.

"After another mortal hour a servant enters, and announces that
the tea and coffee are taken upstairs; we ascend. Mrs. Jackson
advances to us immediately, she asks if we play or sing, and
tells us how amiable we should be to do so--this is a request
rarely addressed to an Englishman, one is too sure of a reply in
the negative. Mrs. Jackson appears very much astonished that
neither you nor I can satisfy her in this respect; and, after
many protestations in order to convince her, she makes a sign to
Miss Dorothy, the great musician of the family, who opens the
piano, places her two feet on both the pedals, and begins a
confused din, under which the instrument itself seems to suffer.
When she has finished you will be much embarrassed to tell me
whether it was an adagio, a waltz, or a quadrille which she has
favoured us with. But, never mind; like great Mr. Crack, who is
seated in his armchair, digesting his dinner, you cry out,
'Delightful!' This is all that is required.

"At length midnight is nearly arrived, and ceremony and
restraint, the _nous ne savons que faire_, still reigns at Mrs.
Jackson's; having wished them good-night, let us go!"

In No. XVI. of the _Original_, September 2, 1835, in an article on the "Art of Dining," there are the following criticisms on contemporary dining, which show that some of the sore points were known then:--

"It appears to me that nothing can be better contrived to defeat
its legitimate end than a large dinner-party in the London
season--sixteen, for instance. The names of the guests are
generally so announced that it is difficult to hear them; and, in
the earlier part of the year, the assembling takes place in such
obscurity that it is impossible to see. There is often a tedious
and stupefying interval of waiting, caused perhaps by some
affected fashionable, some important politician, or some
gorgeously decked matron, or, it may be, by some culinary
accident. At last comes the formal business of descending into
the dining-room, where the blaze of light produces by degrees
sundry recognitions; but many a slight acquaintance is prevented
from being renewed by the chilling mode of assembling. In the
long days the light is more favourable, but the waiting is
generally more tedious, and half the guests are perhaps leaving
the Park when they ought to be sitting down to dinner.

"At table intercourse is prevented as much as possible by a huge
centre piece of plate and flowers, which cuts off the one half of
the company from the other, and some very awkward mistakes have
taken place in consequence, from guests having made personal
observations upon those who were actually opposite to them. It
seems strange that people should be invited to be hidden from one
another. Besides the centre piece, there are usually massive
branches to assist in interrupting communication; and perhaps you
are placed between two persons with whom you are not acquainted,
and have no community of interest to become so.

"When the company is arranged, then comes the perpetual motion of
the attendants, the perpetual declining of what you do not want,
and the perpetual waiting for what you do, or a silent
resignation to your fate. To desire a potato, and to see the dish
handed to your next neighbour, and taking its course in a
direction from you round an immense table, with occasional
retrograde movements and digressions, is one of the
unsatisfactory occurrences which frequently take place; but,
perhaps, the most distressing incident in a grand dinner is to be
asked to take champagne, and, after much delay, to see the butler
extract the bottle from a cooler, and hold it nearly parallel to
the horizon, in order to calculate how much he is to put into the
first glass to leave any for the second. To relieve him and
yourself from the chilling difficulty, the only alternative is to
change your mind and prefer sherry, which, under the
circumstances, has rather an awkward effect. These and an
infinity of minor evils are constantly experienced amidst the
greatest displays, and they have, from sad experience, made me
come to the conclusion that a combination of state and
calculation is the horror of horrors. Some good bread and cheese
and a jug of ale, comfortably set before me and heartily given,
are heaven and earth in comparison.

"I must not omit to mention, amongst other obstacles to
sociability, the present excessive breadth of fashionable tables,
for the purpose of holding, first, the cumbrous ornaments and
lights before spoken of; secondly, in some cases the dessert, at
the same time with the side dishes; and, lastly, each person's
cover, with its appurtenances; so that to speak across the table,
and through the intervening objects, is so inconvenient as to be
nearly impracticable. To crown all, is the ignorance of what you
have to eat, and the impossibility of duly regulating your
appetite. To be sure, in many particulars, you may form a
tolerably accurate guess, as that, at one season, there will be
partridges in the third course, and at another pigeons, in dull
routine.

"No wonder that such a system produces many a dreary pause, in
spite of every effort to the contrary, and that one is obliged,
in self-defence, to crumble bread, sip wine, look at the
paintings, if there are any, or, if there are not, blazon the
arms on the plates; or, lastly, retreat into one's self in
despair, as I have often and often done. When dinner is over,
there is no peace till each dish in the dessert has made its
circuit, after which the wine moves languidly round two or three
times, and then settles for the rest of the evening, and coffee
and small talk finish the heartless affair."

The writer, previously (in No. XV.), gives his views of an ideal dinner, which he seems to think perfection--

"I will give you, dear reader, an account of a dinner I have
ordered this very day, at Lovegrove's at Blackwall, where, if you
have never dined, so much the worse for you. This account will
serve as an illustration of my doctrines on dinner-giving better
than a long abstract discourse.

"The party will consist of seven men besides myself, and every
guest is asked for some reason--upon which good fellowship mainly
depends, for people brought together unconnectedly had, in my
opinion, better be kept separate. Eight I hold to be the golden
number, never to be exceeded without weakening the efficiency of
concentration. The dinner is to consist of turtle, followed by no
other fish but whitebait, which is to be followed by no other
meat but grouse, which are to be succeeded by apple fritters and
jelly; pastry on such occasions being quite out of place. With
the turtle, of course, there will be punch, with the whitebait
champagne, and with the grouse claret; the two former I have
ordered to be particularly well iced, and they will all be placed
in succession upon the table, so that we can help ourselves as we
please. I shall permit no other wines, unless, perchance, a
bottle or two of port, if particularly wanted, as I hold a
variety of wines a great mistake. With respect to the adjuncts, I
shall take care that there is cayenne, with lemons cut in halves,
within reach of every one for the turtle, and that brown bread
and butter in abundance is set upon the table for the whitebait.
The dinner will be followed by ices and a good dessert, after
which coffee and one glass of liqueur each and no more."