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Chapter 4

SCOTLAND-YARD

Scotland-yard is a small--a very small-tract of land, bounded on
one side by the river Thames, on the other by the gardens of
Northumberland House: abutting at one end on the bottom of
Northumberland-street, at the other on the back of Whitehall-place.
When this territory was first accidentally discovered by a country
gentleman who lost his way in the Strand, some years ago, the
original settlers were found to be a tailor, a publican, two
eating-house keepers, and a fruit-pie maker; and it was also found
to contain a race of strong and bulky men, who repaired to the
wharfs in Scotland-yard regularly every morning, about five or six
o'clock, to fill heavy waggons with coal, with which they proceeded
to distant places up the country, and supplied the inhabitants with
fuel. When they had emptied their waggons, they again returned for
a fresh supply; and this trade was continued throughout the year.

As the settlers derived their subsistence from ministering to the
wants of these primitive traders, the articles exposed for sale,
and the places where they were sold, bore strong outward marks of
being expressly adapted to their tastes and wishes. The tailor
displayed in his window a Lilliputian pair of leather gaiters, and
a diminutive round frock, while each doorpost was appropriately
garnished with a model of a coal-sack. The two eating-house
keepers exhibited joints of a magnitude, and puddings of a
solidity, which coalheavers alone could appreciate; and the fruit-
pie maker displayed on his well-scrubbed window-board large white
compositions of flour and dripping, ornamented with pink stains,
giving rich promise of the fruit within, which made their huge
mouths water, as they lingered past.

But the choicest spot in all Scotland-yard was the old public-house
in the corner. Here, in a dark wainscoted-room of ancient
appearance, cheered by the glow of a mighty fire, and decorated
with an enormous clock, whereof the face was white, and the figures
black, sat the lusty coalheavers, quaffing large draughts of
Barclay's best, and puffing forth volumes of smoke, which wreathed
heavily above their heads, and involved the room in a thick dark
cloud. From this apartment might their voices be heard on a
winter's night, penetrating to the very bank of the river, as they
shouted out some sturdy chorus, or roared forth the burden of a
popular song; dwelling upon the last few words with a strength and
length of emphasis which made the very roof tremble above them.

Here, too, would they tell old legends of what the Thames was in
ancient times, when the Patent Shot Manufactory wasn't built, and
Waterloo-bridge had never been thought of; and then they would
shake their heads with portentous looks, to the deep edification of
the rising generation of heavers, who crowded round them, and
wondered where all this would end; whereat the tailor would take
his pipe solemnly from his mouth, and say, how that he hoped it
might end well, but he very much doubted whether it would or not,
and couldn't rightly tell what to make of it--a mysterious
expression of opinion, delivered with a semi-prophetic air, which
never failed to elicit the fullest concurrence of the assembled
company; and so they would go on drinking and wondering till ten
o'clock came, and with it the tailor's wife to fetch him home, when
the little party broke up, to meet again in the same room, and say
and do precisely the same things, on the following evening at the
same hour.

About this time the barges that came up the river began to bring
vague rumours to Scotland-yard of somebody in the city having been
heard to say, that the Lord Mayor had threatened in so many words
to pull down the old London-bridge, and build up a new one. At
first these rumours were disregarded as idle tales, wholly
destitute of foundation, for nobody in Scotland-yard doubted that
if the Lord Mayor contemplated any such dark design, he would just
be clapped up in the Tower for a week or two, and then killed off
for high treason.

By degrees, however, the reports grew stronger, and more frequent,
and at last a barge, laden with numerous chaldrons of the best
Wallsend, brought up the positive intelligence that several of the
arches of the old bridge were stopped, and that preparations were
actually in progress for constructing the new one. What an
excitement was visible in the old tap-room on that memorable night!
Each man looked into his neighbour's face, pale with alarm and
astonishment, and read therein an echo of the sentiments which
filled his own breast. The oldest heaver present proved to
demonstration, that the moment the piers were removed, all the
water in the Thames would run clean off, and leave a dry gully in
its place. What was to become of the coal-barges--of the trade of
Scotland-yard--of the very existence of its population? The tailor
shook his head more sagely than usual, and grimly pointing to a
knife on the table, bid them wait and see what happened. He said
nothing--not he; but if the Lord Mayor didn't fall a victim to
popular indignation, why he would be rather astonished; that was
all.

They did wait; barge after barge arrived, and still no tidings of
the assassination of the Lord Mayor. The first stone was laid: it
was done by a Duke--the King's brother. Years passed away, and the
bridge was opened by the King himself. In course of time, the
piers were removed; and when the people in Scotland-yard got up
next morning in the confident expectation of being able to step
over to Pedlar's Acre without wetting the soles of their shoes,
they found to their unspeakable astonishment that the water was
just where it used to be.

A result so different from that which they had anticipated from
this first improvement, produced its full effect upon the
inhabitants of Scotland-yard. One of the eating-house keepers
began to court public opinion, and to look for customers among a
new class of people. He covered his little dining-tables with
white cloths, and got a painter's apprentice to inscribe something
about hot joints from twelve to two, in one of the little panes of
his shop-window. Improvement began to march with rapid strides to
the very threshold of Scotland-yard. A new market sprung up at
Hungerford, and the Police Commissioners established their office
in Whitehall-place. The traffic in Scotland-yard increased; fresh
Members were added to the House of Commons, the Metropolitan
Representatives found it a near cut, and many other foot passengers
followed their example.

We marked the advance of civilisation, and beheld it with a sigh.
The eating-house keeper who manfully resisted the innovation of
table-cloths, was losing ground every day, as his opponent gained
it, and a deadly feud sprung up between them. The genteel one no
longer took his evening's pint in Scotland-yard, but drank gin and
water at a 'parlour' in Parliament-street. The fruit-pie maker
still continued to visit the old room, but he took to smoking
cigars, and began to call himself a pastrycook, and to read the
papers. The old heavers still assembled round the ancient
fireplace, but their talk was mournful: and the loud song and the
joyous shout were heard no more.

And what is Scotland-yard now? How have its old customs changed;
and how has the ancient simplicity of its inhabitants faded away!
The old tottering public-house is converted into a spacious and
lofty 'wine-vaults;' gold leaf has been used in the construction of
the letters which emblazon its exterior, and the poet's art has
been called into requisition, to intimate that if you drink a
certain description of ale, you must hold fast by the rail. The
tailor exhibits in his window the pattern of a foreign-looking
brown surtout, with silk buttons, a fur collar, and fur cuffs. He
wears a stripe down the outside of each leg of his trousers: and
we have detected his assistants (for he has assistants now) in the
act of sitting on the shop-board in the same uniform.

At the other end of the little row of houses a boot-maker has
established himself in a brick box, with the additional innovation
of a first floor; and here he exposes for sale, boots--real
Wellington boots--an article which a few years ago, none of the
original inhabitants had ever seen or heard of. It was but the
other day, that a dress-maker opened another little box in the
middle of the row; and, when we thought that the spirit of change
could produce no alteration beyond that, a jeweller appeared, and
not content with exposing gilt rings and copper bracelets out of
number, put up an announcement, which still sticks in his window,
that 'ladies' ears may be pierced within.' The dress-maker employs
a young lady who wears pockets in her apron; and the tailor informs
the public that gentlemen may have their own materials made up.

Amidst all this change, and restlessness, and innovation, there
remains but one old man, who seems to mourn the downfall of this
ancient place. He holds no converse with human kind, but, seated
on a wooden bench at the angle of the wall which fronts the
crossing from Whitehall-place, watches in silence the gambols of
his sleek and well-fed dogs. He is the presiding genius of
Scotland-yard. Years and years have rolled over his head; but, in
fine weather or in foul, hot or cold, wet or dry, hail, rain, or
snow, he is still in his accustomed spot. Misery and want are
depicted in his countenance; his form is bent by age, his head is
grey with length of trial, but there he sits from day to day,
brooding over the past; and thither he will continue to drag his
feeble limbs, until his eyes have closed upon Scotland-yard, and
upon the world together.

A few years hence, and the antiquary of another generation looking
into some mouldy record of the strife and passions that agitated
the world in these times, may glance his eye over the pages we have
just filled: and not all his knowledge of the history of the past,
not all his black-letter lore, or his skill in book-collecting, not
all the dry studies of a long life, or the dusty volumes that have
cost him a fortune, may help him to the whereabouts, either of
Scotland-yard, or of any one of the landmarks we have mentioned in
describing it.

Charles Dickens