“I hate that drum's discordant sound, Still rolling round and round and round,”
 
[298] Exclaimed Dashall, as he advanced from the breakfast table towards the window, when a pleasing and singular street-exhibition presented itself, which had attracted around a numerous audience, of all ages and conditions.
An itinerant purveyor of novelties was in the act of showing forth to an admiring crowd, the docility of a tame hare. On a table in the street, on which was placed a drum, the little animal stood, in an erect posture, and with surprising tractableness obeyed the commands of its exhibiter, delivered in very broken English, with which, nevertheless, it seemed perfectly conversant.
“Vat mattiere now, dat you be so solky, and no take notice of your goot friends?—Come, Sare, shew your politesse, and salute de genteelmens at de window, who so kind as come to look at you.—Make way dere, goot peoples and leetel childer, dat de genteelmens sail see,—dat vill do. Now, sare, begin;—do your beisance all round.”
The animal, without any apparent instruction to whom to give the precedency of obeisance, immediately faced “de genteelmens at de window,” and saluted them with a conge of particular respect; which being acknowledged with a motion of the hand by Dashall, the intelligent animal expressed its sense of his complacency, by a second obeisance, more profound than the first.
The spectators applauded, and the performer testified its gratitude by a bow, all round.
“Dat all goot. Now, sare, tree role on de drom for le Roi d'Angletterre:—Vive le Roi d'Anglettere!”
This command the animal very promptly obeyed, by substituting its fore feet for sticks, and giving three prolonged rolls of the drum, each in distinct succession.
“Now den for Messieurs.”
[299] With equal alacrity this hint was attended to, and as le Roi d'Angletterre had three, so de genteelmens at de window were honoured with two rolls of the drum.
The like compliment was paid to all de Englise peoples; and the minor salute of one roll was given to the surrounding spectators.
The indefatigable drummer was next required to give a token of regard for the Cook; but this he declined to do, and the order, though frequently given, was as frequently uncomplied with.
“Vill you take notice of me, den?”
This question was instantly answered by the accustomed mark of respect.
“Genteelmans at de window, and peoples on de street, my leetel drommer no love de cook,—no show her de respect dat he show you—he know dat de cook be no friend of de pauvre hare; “—then turning towards the animal, —“Vat,” said he, “must I speak all de tanks mineself?”
In deficiency of speech, the animal reiterated its obeisances— “Diable!” exclaimed the exhibiter—“here comes de cook, to kill and spit you!”
The hare instantly hastened to its hiding place, and thus terminated the exhibition.
“This epitome of the world,” observed Tallyho, “lacks nothing to gratify every sense of man! Here industry is on the alert to accumulate wealth, and dissipation in haste to spend it. Here riot and licentiousness roll triumphantly in gilded state, while merit pines in penury and obscurity;—and here ingenuity roams the streets for a scanty and precarious subsistence, exhibiting learned pigs, dogs, and so forth, that will cast accounts with the precision of an experienced arithmetician; and a tame hare that will beat a drum, and make a bow more gracefully than a dancing-master. This last instance of human ingeniousness, by which the poor Frenchman picks up a living, would almost induce a belief that the power of art is unlimitable, and that apparently insurmountable difficulties may be overcome by diligent perseverance!—Who, besides this foreigner, would have thought of divesting a hare of its natural timidity, and rendering it subservient, by a display of intelligence, to the acquirement of his subsistence?”
[300] “And who,” said Dashall, “would have thought, but a German, of training canary-birds to imitate military evolution,—make a prisoner of one of their fellows as a deserter,—try and condemn him to death,—apparently execute the sentence, by shooting him with a small gun,—and finally, bear away the motionless and seemingly lifeless body on a wheel-barrow, for interment!—Nay, who would think of inverting the order of nature, by creating and cementing a union of friendship between cats and birds and mice, associating them together, within the confines of a cage, in the utmost harmony of social intercourse?—And who shall presume to set bounds to the human art, that from a deal board has constructed the figure of a man that will beat at the difficult game of chess, the first players in Europe;{1} and created a wooden musician, that in a solo from the trumpet, will excel the best living performers on that instrument!”
1 It appears by the following letter from Presburg, in
Hungary, that this wonderful automaton was originally
invented and exhibited there:—
 
“During my stay in this city, I have been so happy as to
form an acquaintance with M. de Kempett, an Aulic Counsellor
and Director General of the salt mines in Hungary. It seems
impossible to attain to a more perfect knowledge of
Mechanics, than this gentleman hath done. At least no artist
has yet been able to produce a machine, so wonderful in its
kind, as what he constructed about a year ago. M. de
Kempett, excited by the accounts he received of the
extraordinary performances of the celebrated M. de
Vaucanson, and of some other men of genius in Prance and
England, at first aimed at nothing more, than to imitate
those artists. But he has done more, he has excelled them.
He has constructed an Automaton, which can play at chess
with the most skilful players. This machine represents a man
of the natural size, dressed like a Turk, sitting before the
table which holds the chess-board. This table (which is
about three feet and a half long, and about two feet and a
half broad) is supported by four feet that roll on castors,
in order the more easily to change its situation; which the
inventor fails not to do from time to time, in order to take
away all suspicion of any communication. Both the table and
the figure are full of wheels, springs, and levers. M. de
Kempett makes no difficulty of shewing the inside of the
machine, especially when he finds any one suspects a boy to
be in it. I have examined with attention all the parts both
of the table and figure, and I am well assured there is not
the least ground for such an imputation. I have played a
game at chess with the Automaton myself. I have particularly
remarked, with great astonishment, the precision with which
it made the various and complicated movements of the arm,
with which it plays. It raises the arm, it advances it
towards that part of the chess-board, on which the piece
stands, which ought to be moved; and then by a movement of
the wrist, it brings the hand down upon the piece, opens the
hand, closes it upon the piece in order to grasp it, lifts
it up, and places it upon the square it is to be removed to;
this done, it lays its arm down upon   a   cushion   which
is   placed   on   the   chess-board.    If  it ought to
take one of its adversary's pieces, then by one entire
movement, it removes that piece quite off the chess-board,
and by a series of such movements as 1 have been describing,
it returns to take up its own piece, and place it in the
square, which the other had left vacant. I attempted to
practise a small deception, by giving the Queen the move of
a Knight; but my mechanic opponent was not to be so imposed
on; he took up my Queen and replaced her in the square she
had been removed from. All this is done with the same
readiness that a common player shews at this game, and I
have often engaged with persons, who played neither so
expeditiously, nor so skilfully as this Automaton, who yet
would have been extremely affronted, if one had compared
them to him. You will perhaps expect me to propose some
conjectures, as to the means employed to direct this machine
in its movements. I wish I could form any that were
reasonable and well-founded; but notwithstanding the minute
attention with which I have repeatedly observed it, I have
not been able in the least degree to form any hypothesis
which could satisfy myself. The English ambassador, Prince
Guistiniani, and several English Lords, for whom the
inventor had the complaisance to make the figure play, stood
round the table while I played the game. They all had their
eyes on M. de Kempett, who stood by the table, or sometimes
removed five or six feet from it, yet not one of them could
discover the least motion in him, that could influence the
Automaton. They who had seen the effects produced by the
loadstone in the curious exhibitions on the Boulevards at
Paris, cried out, that the loadstone must have been the
means here employed to direct the arm. But, besides that
there are many objections to this supposition, M. de
Kempett, with whom I have had long conversations since on
this subject, offers to let any one bring as close as he
pleases to the table the strongest and best-armed magnet
that can be found, or any weight of iron whatever, without
the least fear that the movements of his machine will be
affected or disturbed by it. He also withdraws to any
distance you please, and lets the figure play four or five
moves successively without approaching it. It is unnecessary
to remark, that the marvellous in this Automaton consists
chiefly in this, that it has not (as in others, the most
celebrated machines of this sort) one determined series of
movements, but that it always moves in consequence of the
manner in which its opponent moves; which produces an
amazing multitude of different combinations in its
movements. M. de Kempett winds up from time to time the
springs of the arm of this Automaton, in order to renew its
MOVING FORCE, but this, you will observe, has no relation to
its guiding FORCE or power of direction, which makes the
great merit of this machine. In general I am of opinion,
that the contriver influences the direction of almost every
stroke played by the Automaton, although, as I have said, I
have sometimes seen him leave it to itself for many moves
together; which, in my opinion, is the most-difficult
circumstance of all to comprehend in what regards this
machine. M. de Kempett has the more merit in this invention,
as he complains that his designs have not always been
seconded by workmen so skilful as was requisite to the exact
precision of a work of this nature; and he hopes he shall,
ere long, produce to the world performances still more
surprising than this. Indeed one may expect every thing from
his knowledge and skill, which are exceedingly enhanced by
his uncommon modesty. Never did genius triumph with less
ostentation.”
 
[302] “London is a rare place for sights,—always something new;—where the spirits need never flag through want of amusement. Let me recapitulate,—there is the automaton chess-player and the automaton trumpeter,—the family compact, alias amicable society of cat, birds, and mice,—the military canaries, and an hundred phenomena besides, of which we shall make the round in due time. In the meanwhile, let us set out, like the knight of La Mancha, in search of adventures, without running the risk of mistaking windmills for giants: one of the former would, indeed, be a high treat to the insatiable curiosity of the inhabitants of this metropolis; and as to giants, there are none on shew since Bartholomew-fair, excepting those stationary gentlemen, the twin-brothers, Gog and Magog, in Guildhall.”
Passing through the town without meeting with any new object worthy of particular notice, they found themselves at the extremity of Threadneedle-street, when Dashall, pointing to a neat plain building, “this,” said he, “is the South Sea House. The South Sea Company was established for the purpose of an exclusive trade to the South Seas, and many thousands were ruined by the speculation: the iniquity and deception were at last discovered, and those who were at the head were punished. The eager hope of wealth frequently engenders disappointment,—but here credulity attained her zenith;—amongst other schemes, equally practicable, the projectors of this notorious bubble set up a method of making butter from beech-trees; a plan to learn people to cast their nativity; an insurance against divorces; and a way of making deal boards out of saw-dust!”
“And is it possible,” inquired Tallyho, “that such most preposterous theories obtained belief?”
“Even so,” answered Dashall,—“What is there in which human folly will not believe?—We have all read of the bottle-conjurer.{1}—The prevalence of curiosity is universal. I could safely stake any money, that if public notice was given of a person who would leap down his own throat, he would gain belief, and a full audience would favour him with their company to witness his marvellous performance.”
1 This speculator by wholesale in English credulity,
advertised, “that he would, in the Haymarket theatre,
literally and bona fide creep into a quart bottle; and
further, would, when inside such quart bottle, entertain the
audience with a solo on the violin!”
 
Long before the appointed hour of performance, the house was
crammed at all points, and thousands were sent from the
doors for want of room. The most eager curiosity prevailed
as the time drew near for the commencement of these
extraordinary feats, and the clamour for the appearance of
the performer was incessant and vociferous. At last he came
forward upon the stage, and all was breathless attention.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I am sorry to say that I cannot, to-
night, find a bottle large enough for the purpose intended;
but to-morrow I faithfully engage to go into a pint bottle,
in atonement of the present disappointment!” He then
retired. The shock was electrical,—a dead silence prevailed
for a moment;—the delusion vanished, and “confusion worse
confounded” ensued; the interior of the house was nearly
demolished. His It. H. the D. of C. was present, and lost a
gold-hilted sword. During “the wreck of matter and the crush
of worlds,” the speculator made off with his booty.
[303] Proceeding into Bishopsgate-street, the new City of London Tavern caught the attention of Tallyho.
“This,” observed his friend, “is probably the first tavern in London, with reference to superior accommodation. Here congregate the most eminent corporate bodies, directors of public institutions and others, on occasions of business or enjoyment; here the admirable arrangement of every thing conducive to comfort is minutely attended to; here the plenitude of abundance, and the delicacies of luxury, distinguish the festive board, and the culinary art is shown forth to the very acme of perfection; which, together with the varied, unsophisticated excellence of the richest wines, secure to this celebrated tavern the continuance of a well-merited public approbation. But one of these days we shall avail ourselves of practical experience, by forming part of the company at dinner.”
Proposing in their way home to take the skirts of the metropolis, they directed their course through Moorfield, where Tallyho remarked on the unseemly desolate waste there presenting itself, and expressed surprise that it was not appropriated to some purposes of utility or ornament.
[304] “It appears,” answered Dashall, “as if some such improvement was in projection; probably a new square, if we may so opine from present indications; however, be the intention what it may, the execution is uncommonly tardy; with the exception of the central iron-railing, the handsome structure on the opposite side, the solitary building on the right, and range of new houses on the left, the tout ensemble was the same twenty years ago. It is a scene of dilapidation which might perhaps have been
“More honoured in the breach than in th' observance.”
I recollect, that when a boy, I frequently extended my rambles into the quarters of Moorfields, for so was this place then named, from its compartments, exhibiting rural appearance even in the centre of London. Here were four enclosed fields, displaying in the season the beautiful verdure of nature; and numerous trees branching, in ample shade, over two great walks, that intersected each other at right angles, and formed the afternoon promenade of the citizens' wives and daughters. In former times, the quarters of Moorfields were resorted to by holiday visitants, as the favourite place of rendezvous, where predominated the recreation of manly exercises, and shows, gambols, and merriment were the orders of the day. The present is an age of improvement,—and yet I cannot think, in an already monstrously overgrown metropolis, the substitution of bricks and mortar an equivalent for green fields and rural simplicity.”
Leaving Moorfields, they passed, in a few minutes, into Finsbury-square.
Tallyho appeared surprised by its uniformly handsome edifices, its spacious extent, and beautiful circular area, in which the ground is laid out and the shrubberies disposed to the very best advantage. “Here, at least,” he observed, “is a proof that Taste and Elegance are not altogether excluded a civic residence.”
“In this square, taking its name from the division of Finsbury,” said Dashall, “reside many of the merchants and other eminent citizens of London; and here, in the decorations, internally, of their respective mansions, they vie with the more courtly residents westward, and exceed them generally in the quietude of domestic enjoyment.”
[305] Renewing their walk along the City Road, the gate of Bunhill Fields burying-ground standing conveniently open, “Let us step in,” said Dashall,—“this is the most extensive depository of the dead in London, and as every grave almost is surmounted by a tombstone, we cannot fail in acquiring an impressive memento mori.”
While examining a monumental record, of which there appeared a countless number, their attention was withdrawn from the dead, and attracted by the living. An elderly personage, arrayed in a rusty suit of sables, with an ink bottle dangling from one of the buttons of his coat, was intently employed in copying a long, yet well written inscription, to the memory of Patrick Colquhon, L.L.D., author of a Treatise on the Police of the Metropolis, and several other works of great public utility. Having accomplished his object, the stranger saluted Dashall and Tallyho in a manner so courteous as seemingly to invite conversation.
“You have chosen, Sir,” observed Mr. Dashall, “rather a sombre cast of amusement.”
“Otherwise occupation,” said the stranger, “from which I derive subsistence. Amidst the endless varieties of Real Life in London, I am an Epitaph-Collector, favoured by my friends with the appellation of Old Mortality, furnished them by the voluminous writer and meteor of the north, Sir Walter Scott.”
“Do you collect,” asked Tallyho, “with the view of publishing on your own account?”
“No, Sir,—I really am not in possession of the means wherewith to embark on so hazardous a speculation. I am thus employed by an eccentric, yet very worthy gentleman, of large property, who ambitious of transmitting his name to posterity, means to favour the world with a more multitudinous collection of epitaphs than has hitherto appeared in any age or nation;—his prospectus states “Monumental Gleanings, in twenty-five quarto volumes!”
“Astonishing!” exclaimed Dashall,—“Can it be possible that he ever will be able to accomplish so vast an undertaking?”
“And if he does,” said Tallyho, “can it be possible that any person will be found to read a production of such magnitude, and on such a subject?”
[306] “That to him is a matter of indifference,” said Old Mortality,—“he means to defray the entire charges, and the object of publication effected, will rest satisfied with the approbation of the discerning few, leaving encomium from the multitude to authors or compilers more susceptible of flattery,—
“Born with a stomach to digest a ton!”
 
As to the quantum of materiel, he is indefatigable in personal research, employing besides numerous collectors even in the sister island, and in this, from the Land's-end to Johnny Grot's house.”
“And when,” asked Dashall, “is it probable that this gigantic work may be completed?”
“Can't say,” answered Old Mortality,—“I should think at no very remote period: the collection is in daily accumulation, and we are already in possession of above ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND.”
“Prodigious!” exclaimed Dashall, “as Dominic Sampson says. And pray, Sir, what number may your assiduities have contributed towards the aggregate?”
“That,” answered Old Mortality, “I cannot exactly ascertain; to those, however, already supplied, this ground will yield a considerable increase.”
“May we solicit,” said Tallyho, “without the imputation of intrusion, the favour of your reading to us from your table-book, a few of the most remarkable epitaphs?”
Old Mortality readily promised gratification as far as possible, but he had not his table-book with him; “I have been employed to day,” said he, “in making extracts from one of our manuscript folio volumes, for the purpose of insertion in the different metropolitan daily papers;—here they are”—taking a small bundle from his pocket, tied round with red tap............