Mornings at Bow Street — Page 35-49

THE LOVES OF M'GILLIES AND JULIA COB.

Mr. Robert M'Gillies was brought before the magistrates to answer the complaint of Miss Julia _Cob_.

Mr. Robert M'Gillies was a tall, stout, portly, middle-aged, Scottish gentleman; and Miss Julia Cob, a diminutive Hibernian young lady, in a richly braided dark blue habit, smart riding hat, long black veil, and red morocco _ridicule_.

Miss Julia Cob made a multitude of complaints, by which it appeared that whilst she was living, a gay and happy spinster, with her friends in Dublin, she was courted by Mr. Robert M'Gillies, whose card bore the initials "M. P."

after his name: and she, conceiving that M. P.

meant "Member of Parliament," lent a willing ear to his honied words.

That she afterwards discovered his profession was the taking of likenesses, and that the M. P.

meant _Miniature-Painter_.

That notwithstanding the disappointment of this discovery, she continued her affections towards him, and eventually consented to come with him to England--not as his wife, but as his friend _pro tempore_; for she could not think of taking up with a miniature-painter for life.

That they did come to England accordingly, and took up their rest in London; but from that period Mr. Robert M'Gillies became an altered man; he relinquished his M. P.

profession, and lived entirely upon her means, spending almost his whole time in smoking and drinking, lying in bed with his clothes on, and amusing himself between whiles with tearing his and her garments in shreds and tatters.

That at length her affection for him began to evaporate, and, being much impoverished by these vagaries of his, she determined "To whistle him off, and let him down the wind to prey on fortune," as Othello talked of doing by the gentle Desdemona.

That in consequence of this determination she "got herself acquainted" with another lover--not a Scottish and sottish _soi-disant_ M. P.

, but a real, unadulterated, and genuine Irish Mem.

Par.

--one who had taken a house for her in Norfolk-street, Strand, furnished it fit for a princess to live in, and provided her with all things fitting for a lady in her situation.

That Mr. Robert M'Gillies felt himself so dissatisfied at this new arrangement, that he forced his way into her new abode in Norfolk-street, turned her char-woman out of doors, broke her glasses, tore her clothes to ribbons, spat in her face seventeen times, and swore he loved her so that she should never live with any other _jontleman_ till she was _completely_ dead and done with.

--Nay more--having done all this, he laid himself down on the best bed in the house, and, taking out his pipe, began smoking away as he used to do at home; though she told him her new lover "couldn't abide the smell of _baccah_."

[Illustration: MR. ROBERT M'GILLIES.

] Under these circumstances, Miss Julia Cob begged the magistrates to interpose the strong arm of the law between her and Mr. Robert M'Gillies.

He was a strong, powerful man, she said, and she verily believed he would never let her go to her grave alive--a figure of speech which she afterwards explained to mean--that she verily believed be intended to do her some grievous bodily harm--or, in other words, he intended to prevent her going to her grave in the natural way.

The officers who took Mr. Robert M'Gillies into custody, stated that they found him--though in the middle of the day--stretched out at full length in bed, with all his clothes on, except his coat, and smoking a long pipe;

and on the chair by his bedside was a quantity of tobacco, and a large jorum of ale.

Mr. Robert M'Gillies, who had been with difficulty restrained while these statements were making, now entered upon his defence in form and manner following:-- "She is a _villain_, and will swear anything!"

(Thumping the table and bursting into tears.

) "But I don't blame her, I blame her evil advisers."

(Another thump and more tears.

) "She has been heard as a woman, and now let me be heard as a man!"

(A louder voice, a heavier thump, and a greater flood of tears.

) "I was a bright man before I knew her!

--Her name is not _Julia Cob_.

She has deceived many a man under the name of '_Julia Cob_.'

Her right name is Jane Spencer!

and she knows it.

I don't want to go near her, I tell you!"

(A fresh supply of tears.

) "I love her better than my own heart's blood; but I don't care--I won't be used in this manner--I'll be d----d if I will!

Confound her and them altogether, I say!

But I don't blame her--I blame the devils she has got about her.

She said to me one day, says she, 'Come, M'Gillies,' says she, 'let you and I go down upon our bare knees and swear to be true to each other for ever and ever!'

and now she uses me in this manner!

--Oh!

oh!

oh!"

(Lots of tears.

) "What am I brought here for?

What have I done?

Answer me that!

--Oh!

oh!

oh!"

&c. Mr. Robert M'Gillies filled up the pauses in this speech, by licking in with his tongue the tears, &c. which flowed plentifully through the stubble on his upper lip; and having made an end of speaking-- The magistrate told him he was a very foolish man, and Miss Julia Cob was not a bit better than she should be; nevertheless she must not be subjected to personal violence, and he therefore must put in bail to keep the peace towards her--himself in 50_l.

_ and two sureties in 25_l.

_ each.

It appeared, however, that his friends had previously been bound for him in a charge of assault upon the same lady, and the magistrate declaring their recognizances forfeited by this his subsequent violence, they declined coming forward again.

So Mr. Robert M'Gillies was consigned to his own lamentations in the dreary dungeons of Tothill-fields' Bridewell, and the false-hearted _Julia Cob_ returned to her new lover in Norfolk-street.

[Illustration] TIPSY JULIA.

Miss Julia Johnson was charged by a watchman with infesting his _bate_ in a state of _bastely_ drunkenness.

"It was King-street, your honour, that same I'm now spaking about," thundered Phelim O'Donaghue, "and she _wouldn't_ come out of it anyhow, _becase_ the beer had got the best of her, an' she _couldn't_, your honour; an' so I gathered her up, with her silks an' satins, an' put 'em altogether in the watch-house, your honour."

"Did she _abuse_ you?"

asked his worship.

"Fait, an' she hadn't _sense_ enough for that, your honour!"

replied the strong-lunged Phelim.

Miss Julia's "silks and satins" gave manifest proof that she had not been able to keep her feet; and, as she had nothing but tears to offer in her defence, she was adjudged to be drunken and disorderly, and ordered to find sureties for her better behaviour in future.

AN EVENING'S PLEASURE.

A schoolmaster of Greenwich, an apothecary of Plymouth, and a London sheriff's-officer,--"three good fellows and true," were brought before the bench, charged with having "shown off" a little too much in the pit of the Olympic Theatre.

Their situation in the office, when the magistrate took his seat on the bench, was thus:--The sheriff's-officer dead drunk on the floor of the outer passage; the apothecary dead drunk on the benches within the office;

and the schoolmaster very drunk, but very sprightly withal, upon his legs before the magisterial table.

Then as to their personal condition:--the sheriff's-officer had only half a coat--the entire sinister side having been torn away vertically; and he was moreover so grievously bedaubed with blood about the face, that his features were indistinguishable.

The apothecary had his garments entire, but the exterior case of his olfactory apparatus was marvellously swollen and distorted--more like the budding proboscis of an infant elephant, than the nose of a Christian compounder of medicine.

The schoolmaster's countenance was like that of his friend, the sheriff's-officer, excessively bloody; and his left eye was closed by a large blue and green tumour--from an orifice in the centre of which the _claret_ flowed continually towards the corner of his mouth, as if in mockery of the bumpers that had brought him before the bench.

As to their achievements, it appeared by the evidence of sundry theatrical prompters, scene-shifters, firemen, constables, and deputy-constables, that they entered the theatre arm in arm, with each a flaming cigar in his mouth.

That they had no sooner got within the pit than they began to shout lustily for the music.

That the music not answering to their shouts the schoolmaster rushed gallantly forward over the heads of the more un-Corinthian part of the audience--to the infinite detriment of sundry Leghorn and other bonnets--and clearing the barrier of the orchestra, at one audacious leap he dashed into the regions beneath the stage in search of the musicians.

That he was thence expelled by the united efforts of supernumeraries attached to the concern; and that, as the said supernumeraries of the concern attempted to get him back over the barrier of the orchestra, the sheriff's-officer and the apothecary scrambled forward to his assistance, and prevented his being so put back with all their might.

That a general fight ensued--that many people left the theatre in dismay--that others who were entering refused to complete their _entree_--that at length the riotous _trio_ were got over by dint of numbers--that they were carried to this office--and that the manager was positively determined to prosecute!

To all this the schoolmaster was the only one of the three who could say anything in reply; but then he was a host in himself.

He, as in duty bound by the nature of his calling, was the "_Logic_" of the "_spree_;" but unfortunately his logical powers were mystified with old port and beating, and he could make little or nothing of it.

He began his defence with three distinct emissions of the fumes of the old Port above-mentioned, and then told the magistrate how they were all three Devonshire men, and old friends, who had met for an evening's pleasure, after a long and tedious separation--how the apothecary had never been in London in all his life before, and had been let into a secret by that night's adventure--how he himself had taken his tea before he set out from Greenwich to meet the apothecary--how the apothecary dined, and how he did not--how they met with the sheriff's-officer--how they got drunk at the Shades at London Bridge, at the expense of the apothecary--how they got more drunk in Fleet-street, at the expense of himself (the schoolmaster)--and how they got drunk in the superlative degree, "somewhere hereabouts"--how somebody gave them orders for the Olympic--how they went there, and found the pit as silent as the grave--how they called for music, and no music came--how the schoolmaster dashed into the _cellar_ in search of the _fiddlers_, but couldn't find any--how the folks felt themselves offended at his interference--how a devil of a row ensued--how he might have escaped, but scorned to do so--how they were finally captured--and how they were vastly sorry for all of it.

Lots of conversation ensued upon these premises, and the manager, after two or three private conferences, declared himself satisfied, but the magistrate said he was not.

"If poor men," said his worship, "were brought before me, charged with such mischievous absurdities, they would be inevitably sent to prison, unless they could find bail; and I will not suffer others to escape, because they may have certain means of satisfying those they injure."

So the schoolmaster and the sheriff's-officer were held to bail for their appearance at the sessions; and the apothecary was suffered to return to his disconsolate family _unscathed_, because he had not been quite so obstreperous as his companions.

A LAMPLIGHTER'S FUNERAL.

An elderly matron, one Mrs. Bridget Foggarty--the lady of an operative architect (_vulgo_ a bricklayer) was charged with having wantonly assaulted a patrol, whilst in the execution of his duty.

It seems that a deceased lamplighter was interred, the evening before, in St. Pancras' burying ground, with much funeral pomp--there being more than two hundred of his brother _illuminati_ present, each bearing a flaming torch in celebration of his obsequies.

This, it was said, is the universal mode of lighting a lamplighter to "that bourne from whence no traveller returns," and, of course, the spectacle attracted crowds of people.

Wherever crowds of people are collected, there the patrol very properly repair, to prevent disorder: and the officer in question was there for that meritorious purpose, when Mrs. Bridget Foggarty abruptly gave him a slap on the cheek with her own right hand--that hand being all begrimed with tar, in consequence of her having held one of the half-melted funeral torches while the bearer of it took a little of _Deady's_ consolatory[12] on his way back from the mournful ceremonies.

This was the assault complained of; but the officer said he did not wish to be hard with Mrs. Foggarty; neither would he have taken her into custody, had not the surrounding multitude echoed the blow with such a shout of exultation as gave the lady a very evident intention of repeating it.

Mrs. Bridget Foggarty, when asked by the magistrate what she had to say for herself, wept audibly, and assured his worship that she took the gentleman for a friend of her husband's, or she never should have taken such a liberty as that 'ere.

She declared that it was not _tar_ upon her hand, but _soot_--plain, ordinary soot, "off of a chimney-sweeper;" and, if his worship pleased, she would tell him all about it.

His worship did not object, and she proceeded to state that she had been to see her husband, then lying ill in the hospital; that on her return, she went to see the lamplighter's burying, and that the folks were all very merry, "and quite _larkish_ in a manner;" that being curious to see what sort of a coffin it was, she _skrouged_ herself through the mob till she reached the brink of the grave, and she had no sooner done so, than the mob pushed a chimney-sweeper into it, and pushed her atop of him; and that was the way her hands were blacked.

The magistrate told her he thought her visit to her sick husband should have disposed her more seriously, than to be mingling in such a disgraceful scene; and desired her to go home, and conduct herself more decently in future.

Mrs. Foggarty was very thankful for the lenity shown to her, and departed courtesying and drying her eyes.