

Transcribed from the 1860 William Tinsley edition by David Price, email
ccx074@pglaf.org





                              ABOUT LONDON.


                                * * * * *

                                    BY

                            J. EWING RITCHIE,

          Author of "Night Side of London;" "The London Pulpit;"
                     "Here and There in London," &c.

                                * * * * *

                                * * * * *

             "The boiling town keeps secrets ill."--AURORA LEIGH.

                                * * * * *

                                * * * * *

                                 LONDON:
                      WILLIAM TINSLEY, 314, STRAND.
                                  1860.




ADVERTISEMENT.


The author of the following pages, must plead as his apology for again
trespassing on the good nature of the public, the success of his other
books.  He is aware that, owing to unavoidable circumstances, the volume
here and there bears marks of haste, but he trusts that on the whole it
may be considered reliable, and not altogether unworthy of the public
favour.

                                * * * * *

FINCHLEY,
      _June_ 16_th_, 1860.




CONTENTS.

                      CHAPTER I.                             PAGE.
NEWSPAPER PEOPLE                                                 1
                     CHAPTER II.
SPIRITUALISM                                                    12
                     CHAPTER III.
ABOUT COAL                                                      23
                     CHAPTER IV.
HIGHGATE                                                        44
                      CHAPTER V.
TOM TIDDLER'S GROUND                                            60
                     CHAPTER VI.
WESTMINSTER ABBEY                                               68
                     CHAPTER VII.
LONDON CHARITIES                                                76
                    CHAPTER VIII.
PEDESTRIANISM                                                   84
                     CHAPTER IX.
OVER LONDON BRIDGE                                              92
                      CHAPTER X.
THE HOUSE OF COMMONS AND THE EARLY-CLOSING MOVEMENT            101
                     CHAPTER XI.
TOWN MORALS                                                    110
                     CHAPTER XI.
THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED                                     121
                     CHAPTER XII.
LONDON MATRIMONIAL                                             131
                    CHAPTER XIII.
BREACH OF PROMISE CASES                                        141
                     CHAPTER XIV.
COMMERCIAL LONDON                                              149
                     CHAPTER XV.
LONDON GENTS                                                   158
                     CHAPTER XVI.
THE LONDON VOLUNTEERS                                          165
                    CHAPTER XVII.
CRIMINAL LONDON                                                174
                    CHAPTER XVIII.
CONCERNING CABS                                                185
                     CHAPTER XIX.
FREE DRINKING FOUNTAINS                                        193
                     CHAPTER XX.
CONCLUSION                                                     203



CHAPTER I.
NEWSPAPER PEOPLE.


What would the Englishman do without his newspaper I cannot imagine.  The
sun might just as well refuse to shine, as the press refuse to turn out
its myriads of newspapers.  Conversation would cease at once.  Brown,
with his morning paper in his hand, has very decided opinions
indeed,--can tell you what the French Emperor is about,--what the Pope
will be compelled to do,--what is the aim of Sardinia,--and what is
Austria's little game.  I dined at Jenkins's yesterday, and for three
hours over the wine I was compelled to listen to what I had read in that
morning's _Times_.  The worst of it was, that when I joined the ladies I
was no better off, as the dear creatures were full of the particulars of
the grand Rifle Ball.  When I travel by the rail, I am gratified with
details of divorce cases--of terrible accidents--of dreadful
shipwrecks--of atrocious murders--of ingenious swindling, all brought to
light by means of the press.  What people could have found to talk about
before the invention of newspapers, is beyond my limited comprehension.
They must have been a dull set in those dark days; I suppose the farmers
and country gentlemen talked of bullocks, and tradespeople about trade;
the ladies about fashions, and cookery, and the plague of bad servants.
We are wonderfully smarter now, and shine, though it be with a borrowed
light.

A daily newspaper is, to a man of my way of thinking, one of the most
wonderful phenomena of these latter days.  It is a crown of glory to our
land.  It is true, in some quarters, a contrary opinion is held.  "The
press," Mr. David Urquhart very seriously tells us, "is an invention for
the development of original sin."  In the opinion of that amiable cynic,
the late Mr. Henry Drummond, a newspaper is but a medium for the
circulation of gossip; but, in spite of individuals, the general fact
remains that the press is not merely a wonderful organization, but an
enormous power in any land--in ours most of all, where public opinion
rules more or less directly.  Our army in the Crimea was saved by the
_Times_.  When the _Times_ turned, free-trade was carried.  The _Times_
not long since made a panic, and securities became in some cases utterly
unsaleable, and some seventy stockbrokers were ruined.  The _Times_ says
we don't want a Reform Bill, and Lord John can scarce drag his measure
through the Commons.  But it is not of the power, but of the organization
of the press I would speak.  According to geologists, ages passed away
before this earth of ours became fit for human habitation; volcanic
agencies were previously to be in action--plants and animals, that exist
not now, were to be born, and live, and die--tropical climates were to
become temperate, and oceans, solid land.  In a similar way, the
newspaper is the result of agencies and antecedents almost equally
wondrous and remote.  For ages have science, and nature, and man been
preparing its way.  Society had to become intellectual--letters had to be
invented--types had to be formed--paper had to be substituted for
papyrus--the printing-press had to become wedded to steam--the
electric-telegraph had to be discovered, and the problem of liberty had
to be solved, in a manner more or less satisfactory, before a newspaper,
as we understand the word, could be; and that we have the fruit of all
this laid on our breakfast-table every morning, for at the most
five-pence, and at the least one-penny, is wonderful indeed.  But,
instead of dwelling on manifest truisms, let us think awhile of a
newspaper-office, and those who do business there.  Externally, there is
nothing remarkable in a newspaper-office.  You pass by at night, and see
many windows lighted with gas, that is all.  By daylight there is nothing
to attract curiosity, indeed, in the early part of the day, there is
little going on at a newspaper-office.  When you and I are hard at work,
newspaper people are enjoying their night; when you and I are asleep,
they are hard at work for us.  They have a hot-house appearance, and are
rarely octogenarians.  The conscientious editor of a daily newspaper can
never be free from anxiety.  He has enough to do to keep all to their
post; he must see that the leader-writers are all up to the mark--that
the reporters do their duty--that the literary critic, and the theatrical
critic, and the musical critic, and the city correspondent, and the
special reporter, and the host of nameless contributors, do not
disappoint or deceive the public, and that every day the daily sheet
shall have something in it to excite, or inform, or improve.  But while
you and I are standing outside, the editor, in some remote suburb, is, it
may be, dreaming of pleasanter things than politics and papers.  One man,
however, is on the premises, and that is the manager.  He represents the
proprietors, and is, in his sphere, as great a man as the editor.  It is
well to be deferential to the manager.  He is a wonder in his
way,--literary man, yet man of business.  He must know everybody, be able
at a moment's notice to pick the right man out, and send him, it may be,
to the Antipodes.  Of all events that are to come off in the course of
the year, unexpected or the reverse, he must have a clear and distinct
perception, that he may have eye-witnesses there for the benefit of the
British public.  He, too, must contrive, so that out-goings shall not
exceed receipts, and that the paper pays.  He must be active, wide-awake,
possessed of considerable tact, and if, when an Irish gentleman, with a
big stick, calls and asks to see the editor or manager, he knows how to
knock a man down, so much the better.  Of course, managers are not
required for the smaller weeklies.  In some of the offices there is very
little subdivision of labour.  The editor writes the leaders and reviews,
and the sub-editor does the paste-and-scissors work.  But let us return
to the daily paper;--outside of the office of which we have been so rude
as to leave the reader standing all this while.

At present there is no sign of life.  It is true, already the postman has
delivered innumerable letters from all quarters of the globe--that the
electric telegraph has sent its messages--that the railways have brought
their despatches--that the publishers have furnished books of all sorts
and sizes for review--and that tickets from all the London exhibitions
are soliciting a friendly notice.  There let them lie unheeded, till the
coming man appears.  Even the publisher, who was here at five o'clock in
the morning, has gone home: only a few clerks, connected with the
financial department of the paper, or to receive advertisements, are on
the spot.  We may suppose that somewhere between one and two the first
editorial visit will be paid, and that then this chaos is reduced to
order; and that the ideas, which are to be represented in the paper of
to-morrow, are discussed, and the daily organs received, and gossip of
all sorts from the clubs--from the house--from the city--collected and
condensed; a little later perhaps assistants arrive--one to cull all the
sweets from the provincial journals--another to look over the files of
foreign papers--another it may be to translate important documents.  The
great machine is now getting steadily at work.  Up in the composing-room
are printers already fingering their types.

In the law-courts, a briefless barrister is taking notes--in the
police-courts, reporters are at work, and far away in the city, "our city
correspondent" is collecting the commercial news of the hour--and in all
parts of London penny-a-liners, like eagles scenting carrion, are
ferreting out for the particulars of the last "extraordinary elopement