THE TEMPLAR AND THE COOK.
This was a matter of assault, battery, riot, and false imprisonment, between Theodosius Todd, Esq. and Mr. John Cutmore. Mr. Theodosius Todd is a gentleman, it is said, of considerable property; rather diminutive in stature, and very fond of cold boiled ham. Mr. John Cutmore is a vender of cold boiled ham, and many other good things, at a large house near Temple Bar—a house well known to many a kitchenless bachelor. Mr. Theodosius Todd having complained to the magistrate that he had been violently assaulted by Mr. John Cutmore, the magistrate granted his warrant to bring Mr. Cutmore before him, when Mr. Cutmore pleaded justifiable collaring, and thereupon issue was joined.
It appeared by the evidence for the prosecution, that on a certain day named, Mr. Todd sent his servant boy, from his chambers in the Temple, to the shop of Mr. Cutmore, for a quarter of a pound of cold boiled ham—fully intending to take the said ham for a lunch in the form of a sandwich, between slices of bread, or bread and butter, as the case might be. He, moreover, instructed his servant boy to bring ham of the very best quality, and he made no stipulation whatever with regard to price. In due time the boy returned with a quarter of a pound of ham; but it was by no means of such quality, or complexion, as Mr. Todd had anticipated; and he therefore sent it back again, with a request, either that it should be exchanged for some of a better quality, or the money returned forthwith. In answer to this very reasonable request, Mr. Cutmore sent word that Mr. Todd did not know good ham when he saw it, and he should neither exchange it nor return the money. Mr. Todd sent the boy a second time, and a second time Mr. Cutmore returned the same contumacious answer. By this time the ham began to exude copiously through the smoky fly-spotted bit of paper in which it was wrapped, and Mr. Todd felt very much annoyed at the predicament in which he found himself—as any man naturally would do under the circumstances. There was lunch-time sliding rapidly away unsatisfied; and there was the ham melting away as rapidly; and there was the boy with his time wasted, and the yellow unctuous juices of the ham dripping from between his fingers; and there was money uselessly expended; and there was the unprovoked contumely of the ham-monger to be endured—forming altogether such a concatenation of provocatives as is rarely to be met with. And in this light Mr. Todd viewed the matter. So he wrapped up the greasy cause of all these miseries in a clean half-sheet of foolscap, and slipping it carefully into the breast pocket of his surtout, he set out for the ham-shop, determined to seek redress by stratagem, since it was not to be had otherwise, and at the same time procure something fit for a lunch, without incurring further expense. With this determination he went into the shop, where, it seems, he was quite unknown, and pointing to a beautiful and nicely-corned buttock of beef which stood on the counter, he quietly desired Mr. Cutmore to cut him a quarter of a pound of it in nice thin slices for a sandwich. Mr. Cutmore did as he was desired—he cut the beef in delicate slices, fit for the mouth of a princess, and wrapping them up in a clean piece of paper, he laid them down before Mr. Todd, rubbed his hands, and waited smilingly for the money.
"Thank you, Sir," said the wily Mr. Todd, coolly thrusting the packet of cold beef into his breast pocket, and at the same time throwing the sweating packet of ham upon the counter,—"thank you, Sir! and there is your nasty dab of ham in exchange for it!" And having so said, he stalked out of the shop, buttoning up his coat (to keep his beef safe), and exulting in the success of his stratagem. Mr. Cutmore stood aghast for a moment; and then, all hot as his own mustard, he sprung over the counter, rushed into the street—with the powder flying from his hair at every step, and his snow-white apron streaming in the wind—caught Mr. Todd just as he was popping through Temple-bar, seized him by the collar, and, without uttering a word, began dragging him back towards his shop, and at every step giving him a shake, just as a thorough-bred terrier shakes a half-expiring rat when it feebly resists his violence. The scuffle soon created a crowd, and some took one side, some the other; but the cook was too much for the Templar—he pulled him by main force into his shop, and kept him shut up in his larder till he paid the uttermost farthing!
This was the case for the prosecution.
Mr. Cutmore, in his defence, began by expatiating on the superior excellence of his ham in general, and on the slices sent to the complainant in particular. He had the honour, he said, of serving many gentlemen in the Temple exclusively with ham; and it was a well-known fact, that there were no better judges in existence. Mr. Todd's servant brought him word that the ham was mighty (mite-y), and he returned him for answer, that he did not know what he meant by the word. The fact was, that the ham was as good as ever was cut, and Mr. Todd knew nothing about the article. He was ready to admit that Mr. Todd's statement was generally correct, but he conceived he was justified in treating him as he had done, inasmuch as he had carried off his beef without paying for it; and as to the ham pretended to be given in exchange for it, whether the said ham was good or bad, there was nothing to prove to him that it was bought at his shop.
The magistrate thought Mr. Todd's ruse de bœuf a very derogatory proceeding for a Templar; but as Mr. Cutmore had perhaps used more violence than was absolutely necessary in seeking redress, he recommended them to retire, and compromise their differences without further expense and exposure.
Mr. Todd expressed his readiness to treat; but the angry cook refused his overtures with indignation, and the matter ended in his being bound in his own recognizance for his appearance at the Sessions, to answer any complaint that might be preferred against him.