“Even so,” answered Dashall,—“What is there in which human folly will not believe?—We have all read of the bottle-conjurer.{1}—The prevalence of curiosity is universal. I could safely stake any money, that if public notice was given of a person who would leap down his own throat, he would gain belief, and a full audience would favour him with their company to witness his marvellous performance.”
1 This speculator by wholesale in English credulity, advertised, “that he would, in the Haymarket theatre, literally and bona fide creep into a quart bottle; and further, would, when inside such quart bottle, entertain the audience with a solo on the violin!” Long before the appointed hour of performance, the house was crammed at all points, and thousands were sent from the doors for want of room. The most eager curiosity prevailed as the time drew near for the commencement of these extraordinary feats, and the clamour for the appearance of the performer was incessant and vociferous. At last he came forward upon the stage, and all was breathless attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, I am sorry to say that I cannot, to- night, find a bottle large enough for the purpose intended; but to-morrow I faithfully engage to go into a pint bottle, in atonement of the present disappointment!” He then retired. The shock was electrical,—a dead silence prevailed for a moment;—the delusion vanished, and “confusion worse confounded” ensued; the interior of the house was nearly demolished. His It. H. the D. of C. was present, and lost a gold-hilted sword. During “the wreck of matter and the crush of worlds,” the speculator made off with his booty.
Proceeding into Bishopsgate-street, the new City of London Tavern caught the attention of Tallyho.
“This,” observed his friend, “is probably the first tavern in London, with reference to superior accommodation. Here congregate the most eminent corporate bodies, directors of public institutions and others, on occasions of business or enjoyment; here the admirable arrangement of every thing conducive to comfort is minutely attended to; here the plenitude of abundance, and the delicacies of luxury, distinguish the festive board, and the culinary art is shown forth to the very acme of perfection; which, together with the varied, unsophisticated excellence of the richest wines, secure to this celebrated tavern the continuance of a well-merited public approbation. But one of these days we shall avail ourselves of practical experience, by forming part of the company at dinner.”
Proposing in their way home to take the skirts of the metropolis, they directed their course through Moorfield, where Tallyho remarked on the unseemly desolate waste there presenting itself, and expressed surprise that it was not appropriated to some purposes of utility or ornament.
“It appears,” answered Dashall, “as if some such improvement was in projection; probably a new square, if we may so opine from present indications; however, be the intention what it may, the execution is uncommonly tardy; with the exception of the central iron-railing, the handsome structure on the opposite side, the solitary building on the right, and range of new houses on the left, the tout ensemble was the same twenty years ago. It is a scene of dilapidation which might perhaps have been
“More honoured in the breach than in th' observance.”
I recollect, that when a boy, I frequently extended my rambles into the quarters of Moorfields, for so was this place then named, from its compartments, exhibiting rural appearance even in the centre of London. Here were four enclosed fields, displaying in the season the beautiful verdure of nature; and numerous trees branching, in ample shade, over two great walks, that intersected each other at right angles, and formed the afternoon promenade of the citizens' wives and daughters. In former times, the quarters of Moorfields were resorted to by holiday visitants, as the favourite place of rendezvous, where predominated the recreation of manly exercises, and shows, gambols, and merriment were the orders of the day. The present is an age of improvement,—and yet I cannot think, in an already monstrously overgrown metropolis, the substitution of bricks and mortar an equivalent for green fields and rural simplicity.”
Leaving Moorfields, they passed, in a few minutes, into Finsbury-square.
Tallyho appeared surprised by its uniformly handsome edifices, its spacious extent, and beautiful circular area, in which the ground is laid out and the shrubberies disposed to the very best advantage. “Here, at least,” he observed, “is a proof that Taste and Elegance are not altogether excluded a civic residence.”