There was a furore about the Polka; not only in dancing it, but there was an absolute mania for naming articles of dress after it. Ladies wore Polka hats, Polka jackets and Polka boots, and men had Polka ties. Jullien published a new Polka about every fortnight, and the whole people were Polka mad. Here is a street ballad on the subject:
Oh! sure the world is all run mad,
The lean, the fat, the gay, the sad—
All swear such pleasure they never had,
Till they did learn the Polka.Chorus.
First cock up your right leg—so,
Balance on your left great toe,
Stamp your heels, and off you go
To the Original Polka. Oh!There’s Mrs. Tibbs, the tailor’s wife,
With Mother Briggs is sore at strife,
As if the first and last of life
Was but to learn the Polka.Quadrilles and waltzes all give way,
For Jullien’s Polkas bear the sway,
The chimney sweeps, on first of May,
Do, in London, dance the Polka.If a pretty girl you chance to meet,
With sparkling eyes and rosy cheek,
She’ll say, young man, we’ll have a treat,
If you can dance the Polka.A lady who lives in this town,
Went and bought a Polka gown,
And for the same she gave five pound,
All for to dance the Polka.But, going to the Ball one night,
On the way she got a dreadful fright,
She tumbled down and ruined quite
The gown to dance the Polka.A Frenchman has arrived from France,
To teach the English how to dance,
And fill his pocket—“what a chance”—
By gammoning the Polka.Professors swarm in every street,
’Tis ground on barrel organs sweet;
And every friend you chance to meet
Asks, if you dance the Polka.Then over Fanny Ellsler came,
Brilliant with trans-Atlantic fame;
Says she, I’m German by my name,
So best I know the Polka.And the row de dow she danced,
And in short clothes and red heels pranced,
And, as she skipped, her red heels glanced
In the Bohemian Polka.But, now, my song is near its close,
A secret, now, I will disclose,
Don’t tell, for it’s beneath the rose,
A humbug is the Polka.Then heigh for humbug France or Spain,
Who brings back our old steps again,
Which John Bull will applaud amain,
Just as he does the Polka.”
CHAPTER XXIII.
An English dinner—Consols at par—The “Running Rein” case—Other frauds—Royal visitors—Opening letters by Government—Duke of Wellington’s Statue—Barry on the Thames—Visit of Louis Philippe—Guano—Queen opens Royal Exchange—Lord Mayor hissed.
As the length of time between this date, and the present writing is great, and our social habits have somewhat changed, it may be interesting to some of my readers to hear a Frenchman’s account of an upper-class dinner. It is taken from the Constitutionel, the organ of M. Thiers:
“Madeira wine has been out of fashion, in England, for some time. Sherry and Port (to which are occasionally added Bordeaux and Champagne, Rhenish wines and Hermitage) are, now, the only wines to be seen on the tables of the rich. As for beer (the national drink), it only makes its appearance at a banquet, for remembrance sake, and in very small quantity. Port wine is held in especial favour by the English, because, while it is more impregnated with alcohol than any other, it is, at the same time the least irritating, and facilitates, more than all the rest, the important operations of the digestive organs. In order, however, to be possessed of all the requisite qualities, it must not only be of the finest growth, or have been eight or nine years in the cellar, but the regular connoisseurs insist that it must cross the line several times, in order to be first-rate. Five or six servants, with powdered wigs, in silk stockings and knee breeches, hover about the table. The covers are always changed at every successive course, and there is no fear of eating off the dirty plate of one’s neighbour, or using his knife or fork, the sideboard being laden with piles of plates and conveniences of every description. After fish, which always constitutes the first course, the host invites one of his guests to drink a glass of wine with him, desiring him to help himself to that which he likes best. You take that which is offered you. Your host then pours out a glass for himself, and sends you the bottle by a servant. You fill your glass, you raise it to your lips with a half bow, and drink as much of it as you feel inclined. The same ceremony is repeated among the other guests. It should be mentioned that, if you ask a lady to take wine, you always fill her glass before your own; but, if you invite a gentleman so to do, you never fail to help yourself first. This custom was, formerly, very inconvenient to strangers, it being, then, absolutely necessary to empty one’s glass; at present, you need only drink a portion, and ladies may satisfy the rules of etiquette by merely moistening their lips. After fish, come roast meats, boiled vegetables, and various delicate sauces, with which you make your cuisine upon your own plate; puddings and game of all sorts follow, amongst which there is, always, to begin with, one dish, especially appropriate to the season. It is to the former article of diet (puddings), that English children are indebted, it is said, for their excellent health, and their magnificent rosy complexions. The cloth is at length removed, and the mahogany table shines forth in all its splendour. Dessert follows, consisting of a few sweetmeats, or confitures, but abounding in fruits from all five parts of the world, and the produce of all the four seasons, and including superb pineapples, Portugal grapes, almonds, red nuts of a delicious flavour, dates, figs, rich juicy oranges, etc., etc. The wine is brought on in glass decanters, ticketed and placed in silver stands. These stands glide along the shining table, which is as smooth as ice, in the midst of silver, or crystal vases filled with fruit, etc. The host, after helping himself to wine, pushes about the whole ‘battery’ of decanters, which, going the round of the table, soon regain their original situation. A quarter of an hour elapses, when the mistress of the house rises and retires, followed by all the ladies. It is then that the séance de vin begins. The subject of conversation soon changes, and political questions are discussed. The conversation, without getting stormy, acquires that degree of warmth and animation, which a good dinner, when one is blessed with a strong head and a good digestion, generally inspires. Hard drinking has, generally speaking, fallen into desuetude. It is only foxhunters and country gentlemen who remain faithful, nowadays, to that ignoble custom. A gentleman who has any self-respect, never so far forgets himself as to get tipsy, for he would certainly be looked upon with an evil eye, by the company, if he were to enter the drawing-room with an indistinct articulation, or with trembling legs. Dinner is over about half-past nine. The gentlemen then rejoin the ladies to take tea and coffee, and the conversation turns, as before, upon the news of the day.”
On 8 April, Consols rose to par, or £100 for £100 stock, for the first time for nearly a century. The last time they were at £100 was in 1749, the year after the peace of Aix la Chapelle; at which period the public debt was rather more than £78,000,000. The highest price the Three per Cents, ever rose to, previously, was in June, 1737, and again, in May, 1739, when they attained the high price of £107. In September, 1797, they fell to 47⅜, which is the lowest price to which they have ever fallen.
On 23 May, the Derby was won by a horse called Running Rein, which was the occasion of an Action in the Court of Exchequer, on 1 July, before Baron Alderson. It was alleged that the horse had not been truly described, that he was not of the age which qualified him to run for the Derby, and that he ought not, therefore, to be deemed the winner of the race. Colonel Peel, the owner of Orlando, the second horse, claimed the stakes, on the ground that Running Rein was not the horse represented; and Mr. Wood, the owner of Running Rein, brought this action against the Colonel.
Mr. Cockburn, who conducted the plaintiff’s case, gave the pedigree of Running Rein, and his whole history. Among other things, Mr. Cockburn mentioned that, in October, 1843,