MR. ASHTON'S "OLD TIMES."

Tars is a book of shreds and patches, paste-and-scissors work essentially, if not actually ; but we can give it a hearty welcome. For Mr. Ashton sails under no false colours, and honest paste- and-scissors work is far better than that amalgam of fine phrases and false facts which is too often set before the unwary • Old Time: a Picture of Social Life at the End of the Eighteenth Century. By John Aghton. London : J. C. blimmo. 1895. as history. We shall not, therefore, be eager to mark what is amiss in Mr. Ashton's connecting narrative, and shall content ourselves with saying that, since he thinks that Frederick the Great was, "as a rule, absolutely indifferent to music," and that Gibbon died "in excruciating pain," it is well, perhaps, that that narrative is no less brief than unpretending. But there can hardly be two opinions about the value and interest of the extracts which he has made from the Times and other news- papers, published between 1788 and the end of the century. These extracts form the bulk of Mr. Ashton's volume, and they are, on the whole, of a kind to leave us no choice but to com- mend it warmly. Occasionally, indeed, but very rarely, we stumble on a paragraph which throws no light upon social life at the end of the eighteenth century or upon anything else,— as when we read, for instance, that "the trial of Captain F. Arthur, of the Yeoman Artillery, commenced on Saturday at Limerick, and terminated on Monday, the 25th, when he was sentenced by the court-martial to be transported for life, and to pay a fine to the King of 25,000." The italics are Mr. Ashton's, and may be taken, we suppose, to mark his sense of the undue severity of the sentence ; but what was the Captain's crime ? There are not many omissions of a similar kind in this volume- As a rule, Mr. Ashton's paragraphs are perfectly intelligible, and the lessons which they teach are such as they who run may read. We have no intention of dwelling on the value of those lessons. They point a moral which has become a common- place ; for, in spite of the manifold troubles and miseries which every one but the blindest of optimists must feel to exist in the present condition of England, it is plain that in many respects our forefathers at the end of the last century were worse off than ourselves. Bat the comfort which may be drawn from that reflection is of a fleeting and rather shadowy description. So, without dwelling on the aforesaid moral, or on the fact that this book is one of no small value for a thoughtful reader, we shall confine our remarks to its lighter aspects. And this is only fair to Mr. Ashton ; for in spite of a claim which he makes in his preface,—a claim which, if it be examined closely, will be found to refute itself,—his collection, when all is said and done, has amusement rather than instruction for its object. Speaking generally, therefore, we should describe Old Times as a very amusing book,—a book to be taken up at odd times and dipped into,—a book, in short, to be used precisely as one would use some old back-volume of Punch. A salient feature in it is the eighty-eight illustrations with which it is adorned. Mr. Ashton, rather naively perhaps, guarantees that these illustrations are faithful reproductions of the originals, because he drew them all himself. So far as our recollection will permit us to do so, and judging from Mr. Ashton's originals as a class, and not from the specimens which he has selected of that class, we should say that his reproductions were a little too smooth. We have, however, no doubt that they are faithful enough for their purpose; and our criticism, whatever its worth may be, exonerates Mr. Ashton from the worst charge that can be brought againstillustrations like his, the charge, namely, that they are caricatures of caricatures. To say that they are of various degrees in merit and interest is really saying nothing at all. To be appreciated they must be inspected ; and as we lay no great stress upon the opinions we have formed concerning them, we shall be chary of expressing those opinions at any length. Speaking, however, again quite generally, we should say that what we may call the "fashion-plates "are too numerous. That men and women of fashion made frightful guys of them- selves when George III. was King is certain. But when have they not? And, after all, these " fashion-plates " teach no other lesson. Like the "scurrilous books" and " Diaries " which Mr. Ashton by no means unjustly sneers at, his illustrations deal only with the costume of the higher classes, and leave the dress of the middle classes untouched. It is also only fair to the men and women of Old Times to remember that when Mr. Ashton asks us to bear in mind that the costumes in his illustrations are "sometimes a little exaggerated," he is speaking much too much within the truth. He must permit us also to add that if the main object of his " costume-plates " was not to amuse his readers, the "difficulty of obtaining con- temporary illustrations for his work" from other sources was by no means so great as to compel him "to draw so freely on the satirical prints of the period." It would be tedious to dwell on the one-sided impressions which many of his other illustra- tions are likely to convey. It is instructive, no doubt, to com- pare his picture of a couple of young officers eating ices with Leech's delineations of the undergraduates of his day,—instruc- tive as bringing out in the liveliest way the advantages of that " realism " which our best caricaturists—if we may call them so any longer—have now for many years adopted. But Mr. Ashton's warning is easier to give than to take, and ought, we think, to have been couched in much stronger terms. One illustration we must select for especial commendation. It is a caricature, but a caricature which does not over-step the "modesty of nature." It represents Edmund Burke throw-

ing down the historical dagger, and is altogether excellent. We feel instinctively that this quiet and unpretending print brings the gesture and mien of the orator before us so graphically, that

even Carlyle's magically graphic pen could have done no more for them. We thoroughly appreciate, as we look at it, why the House was convulsed with laughter, when Sheridan asked, after Burke had made his point,—" You have thrown down the knife, where is the fork ?" And as the Graphic has recently familiar- ised the public with Fox's personal appearance, we may refer

the reader, in support of what we have said about Mr. Ashton's warning, to the grotesquely bearded mask which libels that statesman's face out of recognition in the gambling-scene at p. 174. We have disclaimed all intention of expatiating on the social wrongs and social evils which were rife in England at the end of the last century. They provide food in abundance for a latter.day pessimist to chew the cud over. Yet we do not know that we conld contradict him, if he were to say that while the wrongs, and we may add discomforts, of that era have been largely remedied, the evils are as rampant as ever.

We purpose now to close this notice of a most amusing and interesting book by some extracts from it which will justify, we trust, these complimentary epithets. Here is one, which illus- trates in a way that is nothing short of startling the enormous change which has come over the spirit of English Royalty since 1793 :—

" The very pleasant comedy of Notoriety was yeeterday evening performed before their Majestiqs, the three elder Princesses, and a very brilliant house. Some well-timed songs introduced into the pantomime of Harlequin's Museum, gave the audience an oppor- tunity of testifying their loyalty to the King, and attachment to both her Majesty and her family, who joined heartily in the choruses. We never saw them better entertained."

Here is another, which needs no comment :- —

"Election for Launceston, Cornwall. The numbers were as follows :—Hon. Mr. Rawden and Mr. Brogden, 12; Dalkeith and Garthshore, 11. The contest here was a hard-fought battle between the Duke of Northumberland and the Duke of Buccleugh. Both parties have spent a great deal of money, but the former has carried the day. (Times, Jane 6th, 1796

Here, again, is a prophecy that has been falsified, as few mun- dane prophecies have been,—for it would be easy to match it, of course, from the writings of men with the Revelation of St.

John on the brain :—

"Poor Newmarket is completely done up. The Spring Meeting boasts so few bets in the calendar of gambling, that the chance will not pay post-chaise hire to the black-legs. Thus falls the destructive sport of the Turf—and as that is the case, it would do honour to his Majesty to change the King's Plates into rewards for the improvement of Agriculture. (Times, April, 1794.)"

"Mutability "might be written as a motto over every one of Mr.

Ashton's chapters ; but in one respect the multitude remains unchanged and unchangeable. We refer to its belief in the efficacy of panaceas. The one thing needful then for a puller

of these articles to remember was, that it was a sheer impos-

sibility for him to protest too much. Whether it is the one thing needful for him to remember now, is a question which we may safely leave the reader to answer for himself. The dogs of London were not so troublesome ninety years ago as they are to-day ; yet the Times wrote even then about what Coleridge called these "valuable, nay, estimable philanthropists," that "a tax on dogs would be unobjectionable, as well as expedient, in a twofold degree,—first, in creating a revenue ; and secondly, in lessening the number of them. The harmless, necessary bullock, through no fault of his own, poor fellow, was more dreaded than the dog, as the following terrible paragraph will show :— "On Saturday John Pariour (one of those persons called Bullock Hunters) was tried at the Old Bailey for driving a bullock oat of Smithfield Market., early on the morning of the 23rd May last, and was found guilty—DEATH. It is hoped, therefore, that this prosecu- tion will greatly check, if not wholly put a stop to, that pernicious practioe, by which not only the Property, but the lives of the Public, are so much endangered in and about this metropolis. (Times, June 28th, 1796.)" It is certain now that so far as great writers are concerned, and

works with any claim to be called perennial, the latter half of this century in England will compare very poorly with the first half. It is certain, too, that one great cause of this is that journalism has absorbed so large a portion of the literary abilities that might have been available for more durable—we

do not say for more useful—results. In any case, the literary ability displayed in the Times of to-day—to quote one example out of a very large number of journals—stands to the literary ability or disability displayed in the Times of 1793, and of many subsequent years, in pretty much the same relation as the best

of Scott's novels stand to the worst of the myriads that are now swarming from the press. Proofs of this fact are abundant in Mr. Ashton's work ; and as a specimen of the deplorable style which in those days passed muster in journalism, and as an instance also of a most curious custom that has long since fallen into desuetude, we shall quote the following paragraph. It will be seen that our forefathers interpreted the phrase of restoring an apparently drowned person to life very literally indeed :—

"Previous to the HUMANE SOCIETY'S Procession (at the London Tavern next Thursday) of those who have been restored to life this year, an Introductory Dialogue, written after the manner of Virgil's pathetic and beautiful pastorals by JOHN GEETTON, Esq., will be spoken by two young gentlemen. Rising genius was fully experienced at the last anniversary. What, then, must not be the gratification to the British heart when to the solemn scene of our resuscitated brethren, is supera.dded the efforts of those able advocates in the cause of humanity, and the sublime views of this most excellent Institution ?"

We have nothing further to say of Mr. Ashton's book, except

to repeat our impression that it will be found useful by a thoughtful and pleasant by a thoughtless reader, and to wish it all success.