LORD WENABLES AGAIN.[55]
The editor of these memoirs, anxious to do justice to Mr. Firkins's feelings, and to Mr. Gurney's accuracy in recording them, considers that he cannot do more for the establishment of the sincerity of one party, and the correctness of the other, than may be done by submitting a few extracts from an authentic work, published many years subsequent to the period to which Mr. Gurney refers, giving an account of the journey of Lord Mayor Wenables to Oxford, written and published at the desire of his lordship, and his companions in that enterprise, by his lordship's chaplain. As the romance of real life is said to be infinitely more romantic than that of fiction, so the details of dignity, splendour, and magnificence, ably and carefully written by the rev. gentleman, by which the expedition of Alderman Wenables was distinguished, very much transcend the description given by our respected acquaintance Firkins, to my much-regretted friend Gurney. The extracts must be brief—but I am convinced they will be highly satisfactory.
The first quotation I shall make from the reverend author's book, is the description of the departure of the Lord Mayor from the Mansion House. It is headed "Tuesday," and begins at page 11:—
"On the morning of the 25th (July), the lord mayor accompanied by the lady mayoress, and attended by the chaplain, left the Mansion House soon after eight o'clock.
"The private state carriage" (I ought to observe, the italics are mine) "had driven to the door at half-past seven" (which, by the way, as an act of volition upon the part of the private state coach, was extremely attentive). "The coachman's countenance was reserved and thoughtful; indicating full consciousness of the test by which his equestrian skill would this day be tried, in having the undivided charge of four high spirited and stately horses, a circumstance somewhat unusual: for in the lord mayor's carriage, a postilion usually guides the first pair of horses,"—i.e. the postilion in the carriage guides the leaders, which are the farthest removed from it.
"These fine animals," says the reverend author, "were in admirable condition for the journey—having been allowed a previous day of unbroken rest; they were quite impatient of delay, and chafed and champed exceedingly on the bits, by which their impetuosity was restrained.
"The murmur of expectation, which had lasted for more than half an hour amongst the crowd who had gathered around the carriage, was at length hushed, by—the opening of the hall door. The lord mayor had been filling up this interval" (the door?) "with instructions to the femme de ménage and other household officers who were to be left in residence, to attend with their wonted fidelity and diligence to their respective departments of service during his absence, and now appeared at the door. His lordship was accompanied by the lady mayoress, and followed by the chaplain.
"As soon as the female attendant of the lady mayoress had taken her seat, dressed with becoming neatness, at the side of the well-looking coachman, the carriage drove away; not, however, with that violent and extreme rapidity which rather astounds than gratifies the beholders; but at that steady and majestic pace which is always an indication of real greatness."—P. 12.
The reverend gentleman describes this majestic progress through London to Cranford Bridge; a powder-mill at Hounslow is blown up on the way; but at Cranford Bridge, "just thirteen miles from London," the lord mayor staid only long enough to change horses—"for his lordship intending to travel post from Cranford Bridge to Oxford, his own fine horses were, after a proper interval of rest, to return to town under the coachman's care."