The language of the Mobility is very incorrect in point of grammar, and rather abounds in strong and forcible, than in soft and elegant terms. Perhaps, in treating of the Children of the Mobility more particularly, we shall unavoidably be forced to quote a little of it; but we shall be as chary as a Poor Law Commissioner of what we put into their mouths, recollecting that those introduced by us are intended as companions to the Children of the Nobility. For, as the moralist informs us in the copybook, "Evil communications corrupt good manners."
The Children of the Mobility are distinguished by a remarkable circumstance, at their very birth, from those of the Nobility. The latter are said to enter the world with a certain silver implement in their mouths; at all events, they have one placed there so soon as almost to warrant the idea that it was really bestowed on them by Nature. The former, on the contrary, are endowed with no such thing; and if they were, it would infallibly be transferred, with all possible expedition, to the hands of a particular relative. In short, it would be made a means of procuring the nutriment which a less costly article would serve as effectually to insert.
Further, the Children of the Nobility, justly compared in various poetical effusions to delicate plants and tender flowers, are, with great propriety, reared in a nursery. But the Children of the Mobility, who are the subjects of no effusions but those of indignation at their appetite or their cries, vegetate, many of them, like kitchen stuff, in the open air, and are never grown, if under shelter at all, in any place resembling a hot-house.
It is, perhaps, to the supply of moisture which, in consequence of their exposure, they receive, that their preservation is owing; for we might otherwise reasonably question how they are induced to live.
The Children of the Mobility are not, in early infancy, interesting creatures; they are invested with none of those angelic attributes so peculiar to the aristocratic babe. It will be well, therefore, to pass over this period of their lives, and to consider them as they exhibit themselves, at a somewhat more advanced age, in the streets.
Those talented artists who have so laudably devoted their lofty energies to the delineation of the youthful forms of the Children of the Nobility, have correctly represented them as replete, in all their actions, with elegance. Sleeping on banks of flowers, sitting on rocks and musing o'er flood and field, contemplating with youthful but reflective eye, the beauties of a leaf or rose-bud, standing self-enraptured and Narcissus-like in some exquisite attitude before a mirror, or playing, in unconscious boldness, with a large dog, they seem to us like the denizens of a brighter sphere. Such, indeed, they may with truth be said to be; for, in the spacious park, the fragrant parterre, and the splendidly furnished drawing-room, their delicious existence glides away. This, together with their innate refinement, accounts, perhaps, for that beautifully indescribable something that mingles with all they do. So, conversely, the inherited bias, and surrounding circumstances incidental to the Children of the Mobility, may be supposed to explain the very opposite "something" so peculiar to them. We find them perched on stiles and gates, and loitering about lanes and ditches, peering into periwinkles, hopping up and down the steps of door-ways, or setting a couple of mongrels together by the ears. They are not gentle – they are not sylph-like – we search in vain for a nameless grace in their steps, and a depth of hidden meaning in their young eyes. They have never been taught to dance, and their complexions have been sadly neglected.
Aided by Mr. Leech's pictures, we shall now take the liberty of introducing our young plebeians into the drawing-room.
PLATE I. Miss Margaret Flinn, Master Gregory Flinn, Miss Katherine O'Shaughnessy, and Master Donovan
These young persons are the Children of a Mobility said to be the finest in the universe. The scene of their existence is a place denominated the Rookery, a region situated in those obscure territories among which Oxford Street terminates. This district is very appositely named, and we are surprised that there is no corresponding neighbourhood, of an aristocratic character, denominated an Aerie. It is a place remarkable, like an actual abode of rooks, for the noisy, pugnacious, and predatory character of its inhabitants, who however, unlike those birds, are not very active in feeding their young. Their building propensities, however, are just as remarkable. Humble as they are, it cannot be denied that they have much to do in the raising of the noblest houses; and if any part of the Mobility may lay claim to heraldic honours, these, as well as the proudest landlords, are entitled to bear the "Bricklayers' Arms." Their children display a peculiarly imperfect state of costume, owing to a practice, too common among their parents, of devoting the family revenues to the purchase of a certain spirituous liquor, and of converting, for this purpose, their wardrobes into ready money; conduct highly reprehensible, since, if oppressed by ennui, or incommoded by the calls of appetite, they ought to have recourse to the consolations of philosophy.
The Flinns, the O'Shaughnessys, and the Donovans are, as we have hinted, of Hibernian extraction. Miss Margaret Flinn was born January 10, 1824, and is now consequently in her eighteenth year. Her brother, Master Gregory Flinn, is in his ninth; his birth took place on December 28, 1832. They are the sole remaining issue of Cornelius and Mary Flinn, the remainder of whose family, amounting to ten, all died in their infancy, with the exception of their sixth son, Michael Flinn, whose afflicting death at the age of five, in St. Bartholomew's Hospital, in consequence of his clothes catching fire, was lately recorded in the journals. Miss Katherine O'Shaughnessy (born June 10, 1834) is the eldest of the seven children, the remainder of whom are males, of Judith and Terence O'Shaughnessy. It will be recollected that the late Mr. O'Shaughnessy was killed in scaling a chimney. Master Patrick Donovan is virtually an orphan, his parents, Jane and Peter Donovan, being necessitated, from some mistake with respect to property, to pass their existence in exile. He was born March 18, 1830.
The sensitive mind is condemned to meet with some things in this sublunary scene which are cruelly harrowing to its delicate susceptibilities. We intimated, a little above, that the Children of the Mobility, generally, have no pretensions to beauty; there is no rule, however, without an exception, and Miss Margaret Flinn is an exception here. Her mild dewy eyes, of a bright lustrous grey, softly shaded by her dark and pencilled brows; her small and exquisitely-formed nose; her sweet lips, well-turned chin, graceful neck, lovely complexion, and almost perfect figure, form a tout ensemble decidedly prepossessing. Now is it not distressing to see such charms in so uncultivated a state? Who does not breathe an anxious wish that a wreath of roses should encircle that brow, – that gems should deck those petites oreilles, – that the gentle coercion of the corset should add the one thing wanting to that admirable but untutored waist? And then those feet – now so disgraced! – Would we could see thee, fair Child of the Mobility, arrayed in hues of beauty by the hand of Fashion, and irradiating with the beams of thy loveliness the circles of Ton! But it may not be! the decrees of Destiny are inscrutable, and we weep in
There are few, we apprehend, to whom the following beautiful lines are not familiar: —
The Minstrel Boy to the war is gone,
In the ranks of death you'll find him;
His father's sword he has girded on,
And his wild harp slung behind him."
Now, girding on, or putting on their fathers' things, appears to be a national peculiarity of the Minstrel boy's young countrymen. So, at least, it would seem from the coat of Master Gregory Flinn; though it is very possible that the said vestment may properly belong to some other young gentleman's papa. Our readers may, perhaps, have read of a set of people called Socialists, whose chief characteristic is a community of property, and of almost everything else; and who, besides, live huddled together in colonies, and are not very scrupulous in their behaviour. This description applies so closely to the Rookery, that we cannot but think that it is actually one of these people's establishments. Its inhabitants evidently possess their clothes in common; no private individual having any of his own, but putting on, as occasion may require, the first thing that he finds lying about. Hence it happens that, as the pairs of shoes, for instance, in the settlement, do not nearly equal the number of wearers, some are obliged to go without any shoes at all, and others, as in the case of Master Gregory Flinn, to be content with one. In this latter predicament, also, is Master Patrick Donovan; while in the former is Miss Katherine O'Shaughnessy. The excellence of the Social system is further exemplified by this interesting group, not only in respect of their apparel, but also in what they exhibit of the domestic economy of their connexions. The loaf which Miss Katherine O'Shaughnessy is carrying is the family loaf, and the tankard at her lips contains the family beverage, of which, in the simvainplicity of innocence, she is taking her little share. Master Patrick Donovan has just obtained possession of a herring – probably on Social principles, and is conveying it, with the kettle, which the fire of some neighbouring Socialist has warmed, homewards for breakfast. He is a youth of a lively turn, and the jest that hangs on his lip is called forth by the contemplative look, – (oh that such eyes should rest on such an object!) with which Miss Margaret Flinn is regarding his finny prize. He is facetiously inquiring whether she would like a soldier; that term being, in the language of the Mobility, applied to the delicacy in question.
Master Gregory Flinn, to whom Master Patrick Donovan's sally seems to have given great amusement, is provided, it will be observed, with a hoop. It is fit that the superior classes, who are so apt to be guilty of misplaced charity, an amiable but fatal weakness, should know, that the Children of the Mobility are in many instances possessed of the superfluity of toys; which, of course, if they were really hungry, they would dispose of, and get something to eat. We certainly think that the country should not be saddled with the expense of maintaining those Children of the Mobility who can afford to keep hoops.
There is one circumstance which, in considering the Children of the Mobility in general, and particularly this part of them, strikes us very forcibly indeed. We mean, the style of their chevelure. How easy it would be to part Master Gregory Flinn's hair in the middle, or to bid waving ringlets to stray down the shoulders of Miss Katherine O'Shaughnessy, instead of allowing elf-locks to dangle about her ears! and what an improvement would thereby be effected in the personal appearance of both! To require farther attentions to this department of the toilet on the part of such persons as the Mobility, may perhaps appear a little unreasonable; but we must say, that did we belong to that description of persons, we would decidedly debar ourselves of the common necessaries of life, as long as Nature would permit us so to do, in order to procure those (to us) indispensable articles on which the gloss and brilliancy of the hair depend.
Another little improvement, and one unattended by the slightest expense, might so easily be made in the condition of the Children of the Mobility, that we wonder that no benevolent individual has hitherto endeavoured to effect it. A glance at the group now under consideration must convince the most tasteless observer that the youthful personages therein depicted are supporting themselves on their feet in the most ungraceful posture imaginable. Whoever looks at the portraits of the Children of the Nobility, will see that some are represented as standing in the first; others in the second position; while others again are resting, with all the elegance of a Cerito, upon the very tips of their very little feet. Dove-like in everything else, they are as unlike that bird as possible in their attitudes. Why should the young Mobility tread the earth like pigeons, when the opposite mode of standing and of progression is so much more becoming?
Before we take leave of these young, – we might say unfledged, – inhabitants of the Rookery, we may remark, that they are much addicted to an amusement greatly conducive to the advantage of the pedestrian, that of displacing the superfluous matter which is apt to accumulate upon crossings. They also pursue an employment which, were it a legal one, we might compare to that of the Solicitor General. Or we might describe its followers as probationers belonging to the Society of Mendicants; an order, it would seem, which Henry VIII. could not entirely suppress.
LINES TO MISS MARGARET FLINN
Hadst thou, by Fortune's hest, been born
Th' Exclusive Circles to adorn,
Thy beauty, like a winged dart,
Had pierced my unresisting heart!
Those charms should grace the lordly hall,
The gay salon, the brilliant ball,
Where Birth and Fashion, Rank and Style,
Might bask enraptured in thy smile.
There, there, methinks I see thee glide,
Distinguish'd Persons at thy side;