thirty millions of taxes have been removed; the Roman Catholics have been emancipated; slavery has been abolished; Parliament has been reformed; the poor-laws have been changed; the constitution of the Church of Ireland has been altered; several Bishops have been reduced; the East India Company's privileges have been abrogated; the Bank has resumed cash payments; bank-notes are now a legal tender; the gamelaws have been repealed, since which time poaching has increased in a ten-fold degree; beer-houses have been permitted in order to better the morals of the lower classes, which have produced drunkenness and all its evils to an unparalleled extent; for humanity's sake, forgery has been made punishable with transportation and not death, since which forgery has increased very much in the same ratio as drunkenness and poaching. It would, however, greatly exceed our limits, as we have already said, to enter into minute details of the wonderful alterations which have been worked during the century; we shall, therefore, select a few of those which strike the senses most forcibly, and which, from circumstances and localities, are most familiar, reserving to ourselves for some other opportunity a more elaborate working-out of our proposition. During this century, England has acquired the Cape, Ceylon, Curaçoa, Demerara, St. Eustatius, Mauritius, Bourbon, Madeira, Malta, Martinique, Senegal, and Surinam-several of which have been ceded. But what are these ?-what are her conquests in Egypt?-what her successful warfare at Nepaul or in the Burmese country?-what her wonderful extension of territory in India?—what her capture of Algiers? -what her sovereignty of the Ionian Islands?—what the recollections of the share she has borne in the glories of the world, under Providence, compared with the strides she has made in art, science, and mechanism since 1800? In 1800, would any man have believed-and in 1800 men fancied they travelled at a most extraordinary pace-would any man have believed that he could leave London in a stage-coach in the morning, and eat his supper by eleven o'clock at night in Manchester? or if his credulity could have been stretched so as to admit of such a possibility, would he have suffered himself to be told with impunity that if he chose, instead of supping at Manchester, he might proceed to Liverpool in one hour and three-quarters-a distance of upwards of thirty miles-that he might steam himself over to Dublin in time for breakfast the next morning, all of which he may now do supposing the conveyances ready? but, as it is, and without any hurry or trouble, a man breakfasts at the Bull and Mouth in London on the Monday, and breakfasts in Dublin on the Wednesday, according to the ordinary and established rules of stagecoach, rail-road, and steam-boat travelling. Well then, say we, this introduction of steam, or rather its adaptation to vessels and locomotive carriages, has been-and it is in its infancy yet -one of the greatest strides ever made in so short a space of time. Next comes gas. Let anybody read Mr. Davies Giddy's, now Mr. Davies Gilbert's, formal denunciation in the House of Commons of the bare idea of obtaining light and profit from gas, and the case will be made as strong as we can wish it. Not only is the use of gas as a light universal, but if anybody will take the trouble, or rather give themselves the pleasure, of visiting the Gallery of National Sciences, in the Lowther Arcade, they will find cookery performed by gas in the most perfect and satisfactory manner. Within the present century, vaccination has superseded, nay, annihilated, that tremendous affliction the small-pox-an event to which the wonderful decrease in the mortality of all classes, proportionably to the general increase of the population, may, in a great degree, be attributed, despite the evidence to the contrary afforded in the maudlin report of the Drunken Parliamentary Committee of the present year. Again, reducing, as we must, our sphere of observation, for want of room, let us look at our own metropolis within the present century; hovels and alleys have disappeared, and palaces and terraces risen in their places. Look at those splendid bridges, Waterloo and London-the vast iron bridge across the Thames in the city, and the extremely useful one at Vauxhall-see those stupendous works, the West India Docks, East India Docks, London Docks, St. Catherine Docks, Surry Canal Docks, all erected within this century-the magnificent Custom-house, the healthy and spacious Bedlam, the London University, the King's College. Within this century, Ranelagh has vanished from the earth, the Pantheon has become a bazaar, every theatre in London, except the Opera House, which had just risen from a conflagration, has been either burned or pulled down-Coventgarden, Drury-lane, the English Opera House, the Surry Theatre once, and Astley's twice, have been burned and rebuilt-the Haymarket pulled down, the Royalty pulled down, both rebuilt, and the latter, under the title of the Brunswick, destroyed in the twinkling of an eye. Carlton House, with all its splendour and gaieties, and all the associations of wit and mirth, has, with the noble and joyous company which made its walls ring with festivity, vanished. The Prince! Fox, Sheridan, Fitzpatrick, Hanger, Erskine, the Duke of Norfolk, and fifty others, are in their graves, the scene of their revels exists no more, splendid terraces and magnificent squares occupy its site. The wretched streets between Pall-Mall and Oxford-street have given place to grand and commodious drives and promenades. The interior of St. James's Park, which was a swampy meadow for the dull diversion of smoke-dried cows, has become a beautiful garden; and Buckingham House, built in the full uniform of bad taste-“ red with white facings "-has given place to a palace much censured originally, and latterly much disfigured; but which still is a palace worthy of the country. In the Regent's Park, groves, canals, villas, parades, dioramas, (what did we know of dioramas in 1800?) crescents, and terraces, ranges of splendid buildings, occupy a space previously monopolized by grazing cattle; while a navigable canal, which circumvents London, and forms a military ditch round her assailable parts, in case of rebellion, brings all the commodities of the world floating to the very doors of warehouses in the most inland part of the metropolis. In order to tranquillize the country, we have fifteen judges instead of "the twelve "-we have also " a vice-chancellor" to moderate the rigours of the law; and we have, what is more to the point, a Sir Somebody Macadam, who, by breaking the stones over which we used to travel has more successfully conduced to tranquillize the town than anything else in the world, except, perhaps, the New Metropolitan Police, which has utterly and entirely exterminated the ancient race of watchmen, except, we believe, in the case of one deluded veteran, who, under the special auspices of the Protestant Bishop of London, and the Popish Duke of Norfolk, still continues to howl at the moon in St. James's-square. In consequence of this Macadamization, the Londoners no longer measure distances by being on or off the stones, and are whisked in wet weather over noiseless masses of mud-pudding, in hearses painted of lively colours, called omnibuses,-vehicles of French origin, -in which they are packed by dozens; or whirled through the thoroughfares in hack cabriolets, carriages of which no human being in 1800 had any defined or undefined notion. Of greater things, look at the Breakwater at Plymouth, at the Tunnel under the Thames,-even unfinished as it is, and unprofitable as it ever will be, it is a triumph of science and perseverance-look at those bridges, hanging, as it were, in air, spanning arms of the sea, which, in 1800, no man would have thought possible by such means. That pretty toy, the Chain Pier at Brighton, is a toy that no man would have imagined in 1800. Who, in 1800, would have expected to find water without digging for it? Who would have engraved upon stone? Who would have thought of calculating sums by machinery? Who would have thought of stuffing cushions with iron for softness? Who would have worn a caoutchouc cloak or Indian rubber shoes to keep them from the wet, or who would have fancied it possible to make gin up the chimney while he was making bread in the oven? Look, too, at society. The young men drink nothing-in 1800 they drank deeply; in 1800, a man who smoked would have been voted a beast; now the vulgar under-bred shop-boys smoke about the streets, because they have heard that their betters do it elsewhere. Smoking was introduced during those campaigns to which we have already alluded, and then there were millions of reasons for its use; now nobody but the lowest and vulgarest continue the practice;-and what makes this custom as absurd as it is filthy, is the justification which these simpletons offer, by quoting it as a foreign custom: in no foreign city is this nastiness permitted in the streets-it may be in Paris, but that under the citizen-king is exactly the place for it. Look at our balls: in 1800, modest women danced modestly, and let the conversation which passed between two partners, standing as far distant from each other as people ordinarily do in a drawing-room, be what it might, it could do no harm in the way of example. Within this century it has become the fashion for a delicate girl, who would, as Fielding's "Huncamunca" says, "shudder at the gross idea" of man's advance, to permit herself, and be permitted by her mother-ay, or her husband-to flourish about a room to a wriggling German air, with a strange man's arm round her waist, and her delicate hand upon his brawny shoulder. This thing is called a waltz; there is another of the same character, called a gallopade, where the same operations are performed, and in which, instead of turning the woman about till she gets giddy, the fellow makes no more ado, but claps her up in his paws, and hurries her right on end from one corner of the room to the other. A dance, to be sure, existed in the time of the " Spectator," which must have been something of the same sort, for the old gentleman says (No. 67, vol. i.) "I suppose this diversion was first invented to keep up a good understanding between young men and women, but I am sure, had you been here, you would have seen great matter for speculation." This appears aptly to describe those irritating indecencies--the modern waltz and gallopade. Another extraordinary change has taken place in London society; we mean the universal introduction of clubs and hotels. In 1800 it was remarkable that London had scarcely any hotels, while all other cities were full of them; now almost every second house in the streets below Grosvenor-square is an hotel. Clubs were rare, and used by no means as clubs are now; White's, as old as Hogarth's time-Brookes's and Boodle's the Cocoa Tree, Graham's, and another, were all. The Union, which existed within this century, was a regular gambling club, and was held first at what is now the Ordnance Office, Pall Mall, and subsequently in the House now occupied by the Bishop of Winchester, in St. James's-square; but all these were clubs of recreation and amusement, of conversation or dissipation. Now see the difference. Crockford's, with the best cook and coffee-room, rears a splendid front, and well may, for its members are of the first class, and the aspersions cast upon it of the falsest character. The Travellers' is a magnificent house; they play high in the evenings, but no game of chance that we know of. The Junior and Senior United Service Clubs-invaluable institutions— where our gallant defenders are enabled, upon their shamefully small half-pay, to enjoy the comforts and luxuries they have so gallantly earned, at an easy rate. The Union, a resort of wealthy citizens, who just fetch Charing-cross to inhale the fresh air as it draws from the Park through the funnel by Berkeley House, out of Spring Gardens, into their bay window; and the Athenæum, where the mixture of whigs, radicals, savans, foreigners, dandies, authors, soldiers, sailors, lawyers, artists, doctors, and Members of both Houses of Parliament, together with an exceedingly good average supply of Bishops, renders the melange very agreeable, despite of some two or three bores who "continually do dine," and who, not satisfied with getting a six-shilling dinner for three and sixpence," continually do complain." Then there is the Wyndham Club, held at Lord Blessington's house, in St. James's-square, and called after Lord Nugent, who founded it; the two University Clubs; the Clarence, mischievously called the Clearance, because it was established upon getting rid of some disagreeable members; and the Oriental Club, which, as its name implies, consists of the curry and rice gentlemen from India, with their calico shirts and limber legs, and which the young women who sweep the crossing at Tenterden-street (where, par parenthèse, there has been within this century founded a Royal Academy of Music) invariably call the Horizontal Club. All these places-and there are one or two others, especially one called the Garrick, near Covent-garden, and another in Broad-street, called "the City," have been established upon a principle of economy, and on a scale of comfort and elegance which would have sounded like Hebrew to the unaccustomed ears of the world of 1800. The Carlton Club we have not noticed, because its splendid house in Pall Mall remains unfinished, owing to, what certainly was not known in 1800, a strike amongst the unionists. However, the Carlton is altogether a superior body, and ranks with, and perhaps above, the original White's, Brookes's and Boodle's. We must restrain ourselves-mercy to our readers compels us to stop, at least for the present, satisfied that, as far as we have gone, we have made out our case, and promising to continue what we flatter ourselves is not an altogether uninteresting subject, upon some future occasion. WHY DON'T THE MEN PROPOSE? WHY don't the men propose, mamma? It is no fault of yours mamma, You fete the finest men in town, I'm sure I've done my best, mamma, For coronets and eldest sons I'm ever on the watch: I've hopes when some distingué beau A glance upon me throws; But though he'll dance, and smile, and flirt, I've tried to win by languishing And dressing like a blue; I've bought big books, and talk'd of them As if I'd read them through! With hair cropp'd like a man, I've felt The heads of all the beaux; But Spurtzheim could not touch their hearts, I threw aside the books, and thought I felt convinced that men preferred And so I lisp'd out naught beyond Exclaim, "Now I propose again;" I really thought my time was come, But oh! I found 'twas only at And what is to be done, mamma? I really have no time to lose, For I am thirty-one : At balls I am too often left Where spinsters sit in rows; Why won't the men propose, mamma? Why won't the men propose? T. H. B. |