Fashionable Parties57
The season of festivities is arrived—the balmy breath of Spring has called the dormant vegetation into life—the flowers are bursting from their buds, the blossoms hang on every tree—the birds sing melodiously, and the sun shines brightly over the fresh foliage; in consequence of the completion of which arrangements, everybody is coming to London, in order to take the dust in the Parks, or pace the burning pavement in the streets. Such is the order of things, and shady groves and cooling grots are abandoned for drawing rooms at ninety-six, and half-a-score sickly orange-trees tubbed on the top of a staircase.
Thursday last was a fruitful day in the annals of our town. Lord Dudley had a grand dinner—so had the Bishop of London—so had Lady Sykes—so had Mrs. Bethel, and so had half a score of the leaders of Ton. The Society for the Relief of Foreigners in Distress (to which his Royal Highness Don Miguel borrowed fifty pounds of Lord Dudley to subscribe) had their anniversary feast at the City of London Tavern; and the Chimney Sweepers of the metropolis held theirs—contrast is every thing—at the White Conduit House!
This last was amongst the most elegant affairs of the season—every thing which could possibly have reference to the profession was interdicted; black puddings and black strap were banished; and when the amiable and excellent Mr. Duck, after doing what few Ducks can do (we mean stuffing himself with sage and onions), called attention to Non nobis Domine—sung, the newspapers say, “by some professional vocalists”—the grace was received by the fraternity with sootable attention; that they did not exactly understand it, Mr. Duck said was a misfortune, not a fault; but as he could almost see from the windows the chimneys—(loud cries of Order interrupted the speaker)—the roof, he meant, of that noble pile, the London University, he did hope that before many years had gone over their heads, he should find the younger branches of the profession to which he had the honour to belong, bringing the dead languages to life, and conversing flue-ntly—(Order, order!)—he meant easily, in Latin and Greek.”
“The immortal memory of Marshal Saxe and Sir Cloudesly Shovel,” were then given by Mr. Figgins, and were shortly followed by the health of Mr. Brougham, who was expected to have favoured the party with his presence, but he was unable to get away from the House of Commons.
Mr. Duck felt it necessary to rise, in order to endeavour to do away with an impression which had got abroad, that the gentlemen of the profession disliked the introduction of machines to supersede the necessity of climbing-boys—he repelled the insinuation, although, added the Honourable Gentleman, “if machines had been invented in my time, I, perhaps, should not have had the honour of being here, for I began at the bottom of the chimney and climbed my way to the very top”—(loud cheers). “I dare say, gentlemen,” said Mr. Duck, “you have heard the story of the humane man who proposed to supersede the necessity of climbing-boys by letting a goose down the chimney by a string, which would, by the fluttering of its wings, effectually clean the whole flue—the lady to whom he proposed this plan replied that she thought it would be very cruel treatment of the goose. ‘Lord love your eyes, Ma’am,’ said the professor, ’if so be as you are particular about the goose, a couple of ducks will do as well!’—and, gentlemen, I never hear that professional anecdote but I think of myself when I was but a duckling, as I may say, and the laudable ambition into which I climbed and climbed, and rose, as I may say, like a phonix out of the hashes, until I reached my grand climacteric.”
Mr. Duck sat down amidst shouts of applause.
In the Old Times of yesterday we find the following report of some part of the entertainment, which we were unfortunate enough to miss—we take the liberty of borrowing it:
“Mr. Watson said that he was present, a few evenings since, at a Lecture delivered by Dr. Birkbeck, on the utility of the machine to supersede the necessity of the climbing-boy. The Doctor, he admitted, argued candidly and fairly on the subject, and produced an improvement in Glass’s machine, which was unquestionably the best invention of the kind; yet, with all its perfections, he (Mr. Watson) was convinced that it would never answer the expectations of those who entertained such a favourable opinion of its efficacy in cleansing chimnies. In the course of the lecture the Doctor said that the machine must succeed in all cases where it is used, if the prejudices of the master chimney-sweepers did not interfere with the trial. It was true that the machine so eloquently eulogized by the Doctor would answer in cleansing perpendicular chimnies, but where there were impediments from various causes, no machine, however pliable, would overcome them.
“Several master chimney-sweepers addressed the chair in the course of the afternoon. One of them commenced ‘I’m blowed, but if we had Dr. Bucbuck, or whatever you may call him, here at our dinner, I think we should soon make a conwert of him to our opinions. Gemmen, I say it is impossible that ere chimney (pointing to the chimney in the room) can be swept unless one of us goes up it; and I’ll give you a proof of it now.’ The speaker here began to doff his long coat, and would have run up the chimney in earnest, had he not been prevented by some of his brother tradesmen, who caught hold of him by the legs just as his body was about disappearing from the company. When he alighted on the floor, he said that he did not mind a fig getting a sooty shirt, so that he succeeded in showing the strangers present, how little danger was to be apprehended in doing the work as it should be done, and that was by encouraging climbing-boys. He had ascended upwards of 5,000 chimnies in his life, of all sorts and sizes, and never yet met with an accident.”
“Archdeacon Pott and the Clargy of Middlesex,” were then given.
Mr. Duck then rose and said, “Gentlemen—we all of us have known what it is to climb; and as my honourable friend on the left says—I may say I have been up five thousand chimnies, long and short, and never failed in doing my duty to my employers—but what was it repaid me for my toil—what was it that cheered me in my labour—the sixpence as I got when I kimm’d down?—or the bread and cheese the kitchen-maid would give me afore I went out?—No, sir; it was not that—no—neither the one nor the other;—it was the smile of ooman—lovely ooman, which rules us all;—in her favour there is indeed a sweeping-clause; and I have the pleasure to tell you, that there is a splendid assembly of the dear creechurs a waiting in the next room, ready to trip it on their fantastic toeses—so, if you please, gemmen, we’ll wind up the arternoon, by drinking—‘Success to the brush and shovel all over the world’—and then join the fair.”
To this proposal no possible objection could be made; and the doors being thrown open, a most splendid collection of the dear creechurs appeared ready for the quadrilles, which commenced about five. The principal dancers were—
| Mr. | William Duck, | Miss | Grigson, |
| Mr. | Watson, | Miss | Hawkins, |
| Mr. | Robert Tottie, | Mrs. | Tom Ducks, |
| Mr. | Wilkinson. | Miss | Anne Smith. |
The refreshments were of the first quality, and the whole day passed off with the greatest hilarity.