N.B. No Widow from Bath or Cheltenham will be treated with.
In the Times, at the close of the year 1826, an advertisement appeared, which ran as follows:—
TO SCHOOL ASSISTANTS.—Wanted, a respectable GENTLEMAN of good character, capable of TEACHING the CLASSICS as far as Homer and Virgil. Apply ——
There is nothing noticeable in this, the reader will think, nor is there; but the sequel, which is told in a number of the now leading journal a few days afterwards, will perhaps repay perusal. A day or two after the advertisement had appeared, the gentleman to whom application was to be made received a letter as follows: “Sir—With reference to an advertisement which were inserted in the Times newspaper a few days since, respecting a school assistant, I beg to state that I should be happy to fill that situation; but as most of my frends reside in London, and not knowing how far Homer and Virgil is from town, I beg to state that I should not like to engage to teach the classics farther than Hammersmith or Turnham Green, or at the very utmost distance farther than Brentford.—Wating your reply, I am, Sir, &c. &c., John Sparks.” The errors in orthography and syntax have been copied as in the letter, but we fancy the matter looks suspiciously like a hoax. The editor, however, thinks otherwise, and after appending a few remarks, says, “This puts us in mind of a person who once advertised for a ‘strong coal heaver,’ and a poor man calling upon him the day after, saying, ‘he had not got such a thing as a strong coal heaver, but he had brought a strong coal scuttle, made of the best iron; and if that would answer the purpose, he should have it a bargain.’” About this time the following request for a minister was published in the Monthly Mirror, and doubtless applications were numerous for the engagement:—
WANTED, for a newly erected Chapel, near Grosvenor Square, a gentleman of elegant manners, and insinuating address, to conduct the theological department to a refined audience. It is not necessary that he believe in the Thirty-nine Articles; but it is expected that he should possess a white hand and a diamond ring; he will be expected to leave out vulgar ideas, and denunciations against polite vices which he may meet with in the Bible; and, upon no account, be guilty of wounding the ears of his auditory with the words h——ll, or d——n. One who lisps, is near-sighted, and who has a due regard for amiable weaknesses, will be preferred.
N.B.—If he is of pleasing and accommodating manners, he will have a chance of being introduced to the first company, and three card parties every Sunday evening. One who knows a few college jokes, or who has been Chaplain to the Whip Club, will be preferred. He will have no occasion to administer Baptism, &c. &c. there being an old gentleman employed, who, on account of extreme distress, has agreed, for ten pounds per annum, to preach in the afternoon, and do all the under work.
Letters must be addressed to James Speculate, Esq., Surveyor’s Office, New Square, Mary-le-Bone.
Apropos of the foregoing, “The Goodfellow’s Calendar,” a handbook of humorous anecdote and criticism for nearly every day in the year—some stray leaves of which have found their way into our possession—gives some account of a parson who, it says, would have been eminently fitted for the situation. “The Rev. R. C. Maturin, Curate of St. Peter’s, Dublin, and author of one of the most immoral and trumpery tragedies, ‘Bertram,’ that ever disgraced the stage, or gratified the low taste of an acting manager, died October 30th 1824. This exemplary pillar of the Established Church was exceedingly vain, both of his person and accomplishments, and as his income would not allow him to attract attention by the splendour of his dress and manners, he seldom failed to do so by their singularity. Mr Maturin was tall, slender, but well proportioned, and on the whole a good figure, which he took care to display in a well-made black coat tightly buttoned, and some odd light-coloured stocking-web pantaloons, surmounted, in winter, by a coat of prodigious dimensions, gracefully thrown on, so as not to obscure the symmetry it affected to protect. The Curate of St. Peters sang and danced, and prided himself on performing the movements and evolutions of the quadrille, certainly equal to any other divine of the Established Church, if not to any private lay gentleman of the three kingdoms. It often happened, too, that Mr. Maturin, either laboured under an attack of gout or met with some accident, which compelled the use of a slipper or bandage on one foot or one leg; and by an unaccountable congruity of mischances he was uniformly compelled on these occasions to appear in the public thoroughfares of Dublin, where the melancholy spectacle of a beautiful limb in pain never failed to excite the sighs and sympathies of all the interesting persons who passed, as well as to prompt their curiosity to make audible remarks or inquiries respecting the possessor.” We are much afraid that the vanity of Mr Maturin was not wonderfully peculiar, and with due allowance for those differences in our styles of dress and living which have been made in fifty years, it would not be difficult to find ministers of the gospel who would prove strong rivals to the curate of St Peter’s.
In 1825 the New Times presented the public with the original of that singular advertisement which has been so often quoted as an Irish bull, but which would appear to be home-bred: “Wanted by a Surgeon residing at Guildford, two apprentices, who will be treated as one of the family.” The Hibernian companion to this would most fitly be the Dublin editor’s statement, in reference to a newly-invented laundry machine, that by its use every man would probably become his own washerwoman. From washerwomen to general servants is but a step, and so from the Times of five-and-twenty years back we extract a model specimen, supposed to emanate from that rarest of raræ aves, a pattern domestic:—
DO YOU WANT A SERVANT? Necessity prompts the question. The advertiser OFFERS his SERVICES to any lady or gentleman, company, or others, in want of a truly faithful, confidential servant in any capacity not menial, where a practical knowledge of human nature in various parts of the world would be available. Could undertake any affair of small or great importance, where talent, inviolable secrecy, or good address would be necessary. Has moved in the best and worst societies without being contaminated by either; has never been a servant, begs to recommend himself as one who knows his place; is moral, temperate, middle-aged; no objection to any part of the world. Could advise any capitalist wishing to increase his income and have the control of his own money. Could act as secretary or valet to any lady or gentleman. Can give advice or hold his tongue, sing, dance, play, fence, box, preach a sermon, tell a story, be grave or gay, ridiculous or sublime, or do anything from the curling of a peruke to the storming of a citadel—but never to excel his master. Address ——.