A child for sale—Trial, &c, of Daniel O’Connell—General Tom Thumb—His visit to the Queen—The Polka—How to dance it—“Jullien’s Grand Polka.”

The Times of 19 Jan. copies the following from the Worcester Chronicle: “A Child for Sale.—The following extraordinary letter was received, a short time ago, by a gentleman in the neighbourhood of Tewkesbury, from a person residing here. The letter is dated from a certain court in this town, but we omit the precise locality, and the writer’s name, hoping that, without pursuing the exposure to that extent, it will be sufficient to teach him that natural affection is not to be made a matter of bargain and sale, and that it is the duty of a parent himself to cherish the child which he has been the means of bringing into the world:—‘Sir,—Having heard that you expressed a wish to have a child and did not mind giving a sum of money as an inducement i flatter myself that I have it in my power to furnish you with one to answer your purpose in every respect it is a boy 2 years old a good looking healthy spirited child and sound in wind and limb and that you can rair him up to suit your inclination you can send word by the bearer and appoint any time to inspect the child.’”

With every wish, in this book of Gossip, to steer as clear of politics as possible, yet it would belie its name were the famous trial of Daniel O’Connell not to be mentioned. “Repeal of the Union” was his watchword and perpetual cry, and with it he stirred up the Irish people to a pitch when he found it difficult to manage and restrain them. On 16 March, 1843, was held at Trim the first of great public meetings which he designed, but did not carry out; and on 15 Aug. was a monster meeting on the Hill of Tara; but the one to be held at Clontarf on 8 Oct. was to have eclipsed its predecessors. But this was forbidden by the Government, and, a week later, warrants were issued for the arrest of O’Connell, his son John, and his chief colleagues, on a charge of conspiring to create discontent and disaffection among the liege subjects of the Queen, and with contriving, “by means of intimidation, and the demonstration of great physical force, to procure and effect changes to be made in the government, laws, and constitution of this realm.” O’Connell was allowed bail, but on 8 Nov. a true bill was found by the jury, yet the trial did not take place till the 15th Jan. of this year. On the 12th Feb., the jury returned a verdict of guilty of unlawful and seditious conspiracy, but judgment was not delivered till 30 May, when he was sentenced to imprisonment for twelve months, a fine of £2,000, and to find surety to keep the peace for seven years. He had to go to prison, where he was well treated and allowed to see his friends; his sentence was appealed against, and reversed in the House of Lords, on 4 Sep., 1844, when he was instantly liberated.

Repeal button

During all this time there was great excitement, people wearing Repeal buttons, one of which is here delineated, and other emblems, while the uncrowned King of Ireland was presented, at Mullaghmast, with a velvet cap surmounted with shamrocks, and having a green tassel; the cap, in fact, with which readers of Punch are so familiar.

Of course, his release from prison was an occasion to be made the most of. An amphitheatrical triumphal car was provided, and, upon it, were mounted O’Connell, his son, and the Rev. Dr. Miley, and this gimcrack piece of property was drawn by six horses ridden by postillions. The following is an account by an eye witness:

“The ovation commenced at two o’clock. First came the trades of Dublin, each preceded by the banner of its body, and a band playing such music as only temperance bands can play, and, generally, with much discrimination, selecting rather difficult pieces for their performance, and eschewing all national airs. The banners were usually displayed from coaches, intended to hold four, but contriving to allow from sixteen to eighteen to fit into, and hang on by them. Thus they came on: Bricklayers (with a painting of the Bank of Ireland, and the superscription of ‘Our Old House at Home’); slaters, woollen operatives (in a small open car); nailors (with a picture of Brian Boroihme ‘nailing’ the Danes at Clontarf); coach makers, tailors (with a very gorgeous equipage, six horses, postillions and outriders); tinplate workers, displaying as their sign, a man with a tin helmet on his head, and a dish cover of the same metal on his arm—otherwise unassumingly attired in a blue coat and white trousers; and other bodies of tradesmen too numerous to mention, with their appropriate emblems and banners.

O’Connell’s Cap

“Next came a number of Repeal wardens, bearing wands, and occupying respectable-looking coaches and carriages. After them drove the committee of the political trades’ unions; the members of it attired in green sashes and scarves, and bearing wands with green flags in their hands. Next in order were the various members of the Corporation, aldermen, town councillors, and officers, dressed in their robes of office and cocked hats, glittering with chains, and furred from head to foot. The majority of these gentlemen were in their own carriages, into each of which were packed as many of the owner’s friends as could find standing room, several private vehicles being mixed up through the order of procession. Then came the private carriages of the Lord Mayor, who was in full dress; and then, preceded by a confused mass of wand bearers, the triumphal chariot itself, surrounded by a mob so dense that it was with great difficulty that the six splendid dappled greys could force the cumbrous vehicle along, which, every instant, seemed to become a second Car of Juggernaut, and crush some of its adorers. More vehicles, a few horsemen, multitudes of hack cars and pedestrians, a tail of old women and little boys, followed; and so the monster procession, after winding its slow length along through the greater part of Dublin, and causing a total cessation of business in the line of its progress, terminated.”

In February appeared, in London, at the Princess’s Theatre, “General Tom Thumb,” the most popular of modern dwarfs—thanks to the advertising qualities of his exhibitor, P. T. Barnum. The real name of this mite was Charles S. Stratton, and he was said to have been born on 11 Jan., 1832, but this, as with all data connected with him, must be accepted with caution. It was said of him, that, at his birth, he weighed 9 lbs. 2 oz., somewhat more than the average weight of a newly born infant. At about 5 months old, he weighed 15 lbs., and measured 25 inches in height; since which time he never increased in stature; and, at the time of his arrival in England, he weighed but 15 lbs. 2 oz. He had, previously, been exhibited in New York and the principal cities of America, where his miniature palace, furniture and equipage excited considerable curiosity. When he embarked from New York for England, he was escorted to the packet by not less than 10,000 persons.

On 1 April, he appeared, by command, before Her Majesty at Buckingham Palace, when the Queen presented him, with her own hand, with “a superb souvenir, of the most exquisite handicraft, manufactured of mother of pearl, and mounted with gold and precious stones. On one side are the crown and Royal initials, V.R., and, on the reverse, bouquets of flowers in enamel and rubies. In addition to this splendid gift, Her Majesty subsequently presented the General with a beautiful gold pencil case, with the initials of Tom Thumb, and his coat of arms, engraved on the emerald surmounting the case.”

Tom Thumb. Ill. Lon. News, 24 Feb., 1844, p. 124

Anent this, Punch is exceedingly satirical: “Her Majesty has again commanded ‘the performances of Tom Thumb, the Yankee Dwarf.’ This, indeed, was to have been expected. We have only to reflect upon the countless acts of patronage towards the Arts and Sciences—had only to remember a few of the numerous personal condescensions of the Queen towards men of letters, artists and philosophers—to be assured that even Tom Thumb would be welcomed with that graceful cordiality which has, heretofore, made Buckingham Palace and Windsor Castle the homes of Poetry and Science. De minimis curat Regina! Continental monarchs stop short in their Royal favours at full-grown authors and artists; but the enthusiasm of Her Majesty Queen Victoria, not content with showering all sorts of favours and rewards upon the literary and artistic spirits of her own country and age, lavishes, with prodigal hand, most delicate honours upon an American Tom Thumb, whose astounding genius it is, to measure, in his boots, five-and-twenty inches! To this, how small is Victor Hugo at the Tuileries; to this, how mean and petty GÖthe at the Court of Saxe-Weimar!

* * * * *

“Tom Thumb being—according to the biography published by his showman, Barnum—the son of a Yankee carpenter, we should much like to know the General’s arms. Did Her Majesty, before the ‘performance,’ send to learn them, that they might be duly engraved? or were they, as Mathew’s French Shoemaker made his little boot, struck off in ‘a moment of enthusiasm’?”

About this time came to us “that sweet boon,” the Polka. Originally a Bohemian Peasant dance, it was imported into fashionable saloons of Berlin and St. Petersburg. It was, at this time, the rage in Paris, as the Times observes: “The Paris papers are destitute of news. Our private letters state that ‘politics are, for the moment, suspended in public regard, by the new and all-absorbing pursuit—the Polka—a dance recently imported from Bohemia, and which embraces in its qualities the intimacy of the waltz, with the vivacity of the Irish jig. You may conceive how completely is ‘the Polka’ the rage, from the fact that the lady of a celebrated ex-minister, desiring to figure in it at a soirÉe dansante, monopolised the professor, par excellence, of that specialitÉ for three hours, on Wednesday morning last, at 200 francs the hour.’”

On its first importation into England, it was used as a ballet, on the stage, with very fancy Bohemian costume, as we may see in the three following illustrations of Mdlle. Carlotta Grisi and M. Perrot, dancing their idea of it at Her Majesty’s Theatre in 1844.

The Polka.—Figure 2. Ill. Lon. News, 27 April, 1844, p. 301

But it soon became a Drawing-room dance, and it is edifying to know exactly how it was danced then. It was found too elaborate, and the number of steps had to be reduced in quantity, and curtailed in quality. But this is the dance as given in the Illustrated London News of 11 May:

“THE DRAWING-ROOM POLKA.

We are much gratified in being enabled to lay before our readers an accurate description of the vÉritable, or Drawing-room Polka, as danced at Almack’s, and at the halls of the nobility and gentry of this country.

La Polka having appeared amongst us under so many different guises, we determined to spare no pains to procure a true description of its danse; for which we are indebted to Mrs. James Rae, who has been fortunate enough to secure the details from M. Coralli, fils, the instructor of the young noblemen and gentry in Paris.

La Polka, like its predecessors, the waltz and galop, is a danse À deux, couples following each other in the salle de danse, commencing at pleasure, and adopting, of the following figures, that which pleases them most at the moment. All those anxious to shine in La Polka, will dance the whole of them, returning from time to time, by way of rest, to the first figure.

The measure, or time, is 2–4; but, to facilitate our definition, we subdivide each measure, or bar, into one—two—three—four; the accent on the two, etc., to be played not so fast as the galop.

The steps are two, and the following description may, in some measure, convey them to our readers; we commence with the first, and most general. At the one, hop on the right leg, lifting, or doubling up your left leg at the same moment; at the two, put your left leg boldly forward on the ground; at the three, bring your right toe up to your left heel; at the four, advance your left foot a short step forward: now, at the one, in the next measure, or bar of the time, hop on the left leg, doubling, or lifting up your right leg, and so on, proceeding in this step, with your arm encircling your partner’s waist, round the room. This may be termed the first figure.

Figure 2.—Still adopting the same step, with your right arm round your partner’s waist, and her right hand in your left, you place your lady exactly before you, and back all round the room, your lady pursuing you (as shown in the sketch); you then reverse this figure, and let your partner do the back step, whilst you pursue her, and, at the same time, carefully guide her round the room.

The Drawing-room Polka.—Figure 2. Ill. Lon. News, 11 May, 1844, p. 301

In backing, the leg which in figure one, you put boldly forward on the ground, you now fling boldly backward, and are thus enabled to effect your progress round the room.

Figure 3.—With the same step you waltz round the room—in other words, you perform the Galop waltz, substituting the Polka step as described.

Figure 4.—This is also a waltz with the second step, which we will now describe as “the Heel and Toe step.” At the one, make a little hop on your right leg, dropping your left heel close to your right foot; at the two, another little hop on the right leg, pointing your left toe (not forward, but as close to your right foot as possible); at the tree, another little hop on the right leg, advancing one step forward with the left foot; at the four, bring up the right foot, turning at the same instant, and passing your partner over to your left arm from your right arm; in your next measure, return your lady to your left arm, and so on.

The Drawing-room Polka.—Figure 5

Figure 5.—This is termed the back waltz. The step adopted in it by yourself and partner, is the back step described in figure two, and you turn in this waltz exactly the contrary way to that in which you turn in all other waltzes—hence its name.

In La Polka, before commencing the figures we have just described, there is a short introduction (of which we give a sketch), consisting of four measures, danced thus; leading your partner from her seat, and giving her her place in the circle, and placing themselves vis-À-vis, you take her left hand in your right, and make the first step four times—first forward, then backward, forward again, and then backward, taking care to gain ground in the forward steps; you then start with the first figure.

The Drawing-room Polka.—Introduction

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:

“Jullien’s Grand Polka.

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.”