Thither then they repaired, and were much pleased with two very extraordinary productions of ingenuity, the first Mr. Theodon's grand Mechanical and Picturesque Theatre, illustrative of the effect of art in imitation of nature, in views of the Island of St. Helena, the City of Paris, the passage of Mount St. Barnard, Chinese artificial fireworks, and a storm at sea. The whole was conducted on the principle of perspective animation, in a manner highly picturesque, natural, and interesting.
Here also our party examined the original model of a newly invented travelling automaton, a machine which can, with ease and accuracy, travel at the rate of six miles an hour, ascend acclivities, and turn the narrowest corners, by machinery only, conducted by one of the persons seated within, without the assistance of either horse or steam.
This extraordinary piece of mechanism attracted the particular attention of the Baronet, who minutely explored its principles, with the view, as he said, of its introduction to general use, in the province of Munster, in substitution of ricketty jaunting-cars and stumbling geldings. Miss Judith Macgilligan likewise condescended to honour this novel carriage with her approbation, as an economical improvement, embracing, with its obvious utility, a vast saving in the keep of horses, and superseding the use of jaunting-cars, the universal succedaneum, in Ireland, for more respectable vehicles; but which, she added, no lady of illustrious ancestry should resort to.
This endless recurrence to noble descent elicited from Sir Felix another “palpable hit;” who observed, that those fastidious dames of antiquity, to whatever country belonging, of apparent asperity to the present times, would do well in laying aside unfounded prejudices; that the age to which Miss Macgilligan so frequently alluded, was one of the most ignorant barbarism; and the unpolished females of that day unequal to a comparison with those of the present, as much so, as the savage squaws of America with the finished beauties of an Irish Vicegerent's drawing-room.{1}
1 The pride of ancestry, although prevalent in Ireland, is not carried to the preposterous excess exemplified by Cambrian vanity and egotism. A gentleman lately visited a friend in Wales, who, among other objects of curiosity, gratified his guest with the inspection of his family genealogical tree, which, setting at naught the minor consideration of antediluvian research, bore in its centre this notable inscription,—About this time the world was created!!!
Re-entering St. James's Park, our party directed their course towards the Mall, eastward of which they were agreeably amused by the appearance of groupes of children, who, under the care of attendant nursery maids, were regaling themselves with milk from the cow, thus presenting to these delighted juveniles a rural feast in the heart of the metropolis.
Here Dashall drew the attention of his friends to a very important improvement. “Until within these few months,” said he, “the Park at night-fall presented a very sombre aspect; being so imperfectly lighted as to encourage the resort of the most depraved characters of both sexes; and although, in several instances, a general caption, by direction of the police, was made of these nocturnal visitants, yet the evil still remained; when a brilliant remedy at last was found, by entirely irradiating the darkness hitherto so favourable to the career of licentiousness: these lamps, each at a short distance from the other, have been lately introduced; stretching along the Mall, and circumscribing the Park, they shed a noon-tide splendor on the solitude of midnight. They are lighted with gas, and continue burning from sunset to day-break, combining ornament with utility. Thus vice has been banished from her wonted haunts, and the Park has become a respectable evening promenade.
“This Park,” continued the communicative Dashall, “which is nearly two miles in circuit, was enclosed by King Charles II., who planted the avenues, made the Canal and the Aviary adjacent to the Bird-cage Walk, which took its name from the cages hung in the trees; but the present fine effect of the piece of ground within the railing, is the fruit of the genius of the celebrated Mr. Brown."{1}
1 St. James's Park was the frequent promenade of King Charles II. Here he was to be seen almost daily; unattended, except by one or two of his courtiers, and his favorite grey-hounds; inter-mixing with his subjects, in perfect confidence of their loyalty and attachment. His brother James one day remonstrating with him on the impolicy of thus exposing his person,—“James,” rejoined his majesty, “take care of yourself, and be under no apprehension for me: my people will never kill me, to make you king!” In more recent times, Mr. Charles Townsend used every morning, as he came to the Treasury, to pass by the Canal in the Park, and feed the ducks with bread or corn, which he brought in his pocket for that purpose. One morning having called his affectionate friends, the duckey, duckey, duckies, he found unfortunately that he had forgotten them;— “Poor duckies!” he cried, “I am sorry I am in a hurry and cannot get you some bread, but here is sixpence for you to buy some,” and threw the ducks a sixpence, which one of them gobbled up. At the office he very wisely told the story to some gentlemen with whom he was to dine. There being ducks for dinner, one of the gentlemen ordered a sixpence to be put into the body of a duck, which he gave Charles to cut up. Our hero, sur-prised at finding a sixpence among the seasoning, bade the waiter send up his master, whom he loaded with epithets of rascal and scoundrel, and swore bitterly that he would have him prosecuted for robbing the king of his ducks; “for,” said he, “gentlemen, this very morning did I give this sixpence to one of the ducks in the Canal in St. James's Park.”
The party now seated themselves on one of the benches in the Mall, opposite the spot where lately stood the Chinese or Pagoda bridge. Tallyho had often animadverted on the absurdity of the late inconvenient and heterogeneous wooden structure, which had been erected at a considerable public expense; its dangling non-descript ornaments, and tiresome acclivity and descent of forty steps each. “What,” said he, “notwithstanding the protection by centinels of this precious memento of vitiated taste, has it become the prey of dilapidation?”