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not willingly part with their habitual dignity. An old beau or so would also retain it, in memory of its victories when young. We remember its going away from the heads of the Foot Guards. The heavy dragoons retained it till very lately. It is now almost sunk into the mock-heroic, and confined, as we before observed, to beadles and coachmen, &c. The modern clerical beaver, agreeably to the deliberation with which our establishments depart from old custom, is a cocked hat with the hind flap let down, and only a slight pinch remaining in front. This is what is worn also by the judges, the lawyers being of clerical extraction. Still, however, the true cocked-hat lingers here and there with a solitary old gentleman ; and wherever it appears in such company, begets a certain retrospective reverence.
There was a something in its connexion with the high-bred drawing-room times of the seventeenth century—in the gallant though quaint ardour of its look, and in its being lifted up in salutations with that deliberate loftiness, the arm arching up in front, and slowly raising it by the front angle with finger and thumb—that could not easily die. We remember when our steward at school, remarkable for his inflexible air of precision and dignity, left off his cocked-hat for a round one, there was, undoubtedly, though we dared only half confess it to our minds, a sort of diminished majesty about him. His infinite self-possession began to look remotely finite. His crown-imperial was a little blighted. It was like divesting a column of its capital. But the native stateliness was there, informing the new hat. He
“Had not yet lost
Of glory obscured.” The late Emperor Paul had conceived such a sense of the dignity of the cocked-hat, aggravated by its having given way to the round one of the French republicans, that he ordered all persons in his dominions never to dare be seen in public with round hats, upon pain of being knouted and sent to Siberia.
Hats, being the easiest part of the European dress to be taken off, are doffed among us out of reverence. The Orientals, on the same account, put off their slippers, instead of turbans ; which is the reason why the Jews still keep their heads covered during worship. The Spanish grandees have the privilege of wearing their hats in the royal presence, probably in commemoration of the free spirit in which the Cortes used to crown the sovereign; telling him (we suppose in their corporate capacity) that they were better men than he, but chose him of their own free will for their master. The grandees only claim to be as good men, unless their families are older. There is a wellknown story of a picture, in which the Virgin Mary is represented with a label coming out of her mouth, saying to a Spanish gentleman, who has politely taken off his hat, “Cousin, be covered.” But the most interesting anecdote connected with a hat, belongs to the family of the De Courcys, Lord Kinsale. One of their ancestors, at an old period of our history, having overthrown a huge and insolent champion, who had challenged the whole court, was desired by the king to ask him some special favour. He requested that his descendants should have the privilege of keeping their heads covered in the royal preserice ; and they do so to this day. The new lord, we believe, always comes to court on purpose to vindicate his right. We have heard, that on the last occasion, probably after a long interval, some of the courtiers thought it might as well have been dispensed with ; which was a foolish as well as a jealous thing : for these exceptions only prove the royal rule. The Spanish grandees originally took their privilege, instead of receiving it ; but when the spirit of it had gone, their covered heads were only so many intense recognitions of the king's dignity, which it was thought such a mighty thing to resemble. A Quaker's hat is a more formidable thing than a grandee's.
HE sole business of a seaman on shore, who has to go to
sea again, is to take as much pleasure as he can. The
moment he sets his foot on dry ground, he turns his back on all salt-beef and other salt-water restrictions. His long absence, and the impossibility of getting land pleasures at sea, put him upon a sort of desperate appetite. He lands, like a conqueror taking possession. He has been debarred so long, that he is resolved to have that matter out with the inhabitants. They must render an account to him of their treasures, their women, their victualling-stores, their entertainments, their everything; and in return he will behave like a gentleman, and scatter his gold.
And first of the common sailor. The moment the common sailor lands, he goes to see the watchmaker, or the old boy at the Ship.
Reader. What, sir ? Before his mistress?
Indicator. Excuse me, madam. His mistress, christened Elizabeth Monson, but more familiarly known by the appellation of Bet Monson, has been with him already. You remember the ballad
“When black-eyed Susan came on board." Lady's Maid. I hope, sir, you are not going to be vulgar in your remarks.
* The great changes produced in people's fortunes by the nature of the times, have unfortunately rendered this title but too common to a great variety of females ; many of whom will not at all come under our present description. The “ Lady's Maid” in the text is heiress to the Honours and Mrs Slipslops of the last century.
Indicator. Good God, Mrs Jane, why should you think so ! I am sure your lady does not expect it, or I should have had none but men for listeners on this subject.
Lady's Maid. Oh, sir, if my lady does not think it vulgar, I'm sure I shan't ; for there isn't a more delicater nor inore genteeler person than my lady in all England, though I say it to her face who shouldn't. But you mentioned something about alehouses, or inns, or something; and you know they are rather vulgar.
Indicator. I'm sure, Mrs Jane, I didn't think so, three years back, when you handed me that frothed glass of porter, with your pretty fingers, on a hot summer's day, under the great elmtree there, at the door of the Jolly Miller.
Lady's Maid. Lard in heaven, Mr Hindergaiter, why, I vow you're a witch !
Who'd have thought you'd have ever known that I kept my father-in-law's house for him, while my poor mother was laid up with the rheumatiz, all along of that vixen, (God forgive me !) my own great aunt, who wouldn't let her come home one night in the shay, because she had married Tom Butts after being the wife of a serjeant of dragoons. And yet I must say for Mr Butts, that for a landlord, and a man in a vulgarish situation, he was as well-behaved a man, though a bold one, and might hold up his head as high, and was as kind and good-natured, and was as free from pride, and said as civil things to a body
Lady. In short, Jane, he was not vulgar, and your dear old vixen of a great aunt was. There is no vulgarity, child, but impertinence and common cant; or being gross and ignorant, and proud of both ; or having a feeling for all, and being ashamed of it. Remember the ragged sailor whom you kissed.
Lady's Maid. Lord, ma'am, and did you see me kiss my poor brother William ? For it was my own brother, ma'am, who you've heard me speak of—in the navy; and he was so ragged then, because he had to cross the whole country to his home, and had spent all his money at Portsmouth ; and so I gave him my box of half-crowns, and he's now captain's clerk’s man, and it was he as sent me that live tortoise that made me scream so, and the cocoa-cup, and the shawl, and the purse made of grass, and the Hoty-hity feathers; and I do think, if he was here I could kiss him again, if he was as ragged as a rag-or-a-muffin, before all the world, ay, even before Sally Jones.
Indicator. Good. Now there you come round, Mrs Jane, to the true point of politeness. I thought you better bred than you supposed, since I recollected how good-natured you looked at the Jolly Miller.
Lady's Maid. Oh, Mr Intricater, you 're such another man !
Indicator. Nay, I assure you I do not think you even more genteel than you were then.
Lady's Maid. Nay, now, Mr Hingy-grater, I'm sure you fatter.
Indicator. But pray, Mrs Jane, who is the awful presence of Sally Jones ?
Lady's Maid. Presents, sir ? She never gives no presents, lawful or unlawful, not she ; nor, for that matter, never gets none, as I know of; except, mayhap, a brass-thimble at Christmas, or a two-penny song-book, or a trifle, as they very properly calls it, from Margate, with a piece of looking-glass in the inside, to see her proud, affected, niminypiminy face in.
Indicator. But why should she object to your kissing your brother William ?
Lady's Maid. Oh, forsooth, it's vulgar, sir! So she said, when I kissed him before her once ; as if one's brother wasn't one's brother ; and as for that, she'd kiss her cousin fast enough before twenty people, if he'd make anything like an advantage. She is but a maid at boarding-school, where I was; and never writes Miss on my letters ; and yet, whenever she goes home to her father's, who is nothing but a little petty green-grocer in an alley, she insists, forsooth, on my Missing and Missing her, or she won't send me any news of the private theatre ; and she knows that vexes me, because I really have