A Small-made man, with a carefully cultivated pair of carroty-colored mustaches, whose style of seedy toggery presented a tolerably good imitation of a "Polish militaire," came before the commissioners to establish his legal right to fifteen pence, the price charged for a whole-length likeness of one Mister Robert White, a member of the "black and thirsty" fraternity of coalheavers.
The complainant called himself Signor Johannes Benesontagi, but from all the genuine characteristics of Cockayne which he carried about him, it was quite evident he had Germanized his patronymic of John Benson to suit the present judicious taste of the "pensive public."
Signor Benesontagi, a peripatetic professor of the "fine arts," it appeared was accustomed to visit public-houses for the purpose of caricaturing the countenances of the company, at prices varying from five to fifteen pence. In pursuit of his vocation he stepped into the "Vulcan's Head," where a conclave of coalheavers were accustomed nightly to assemble, with the double view of discussing politics and pots of Barclay's entire. He announced the nature of his profession, and having solicited patronage, he was beckoned into the box where the defendant was sitting, and was offered a shilling for a full-length likeness. This sum the defendant consented to enlarge to fifteen pence, provided the artist would agree to draw him in "full fig:"—red velvet smalls—nankeen gaiters—sky-blue waistcoat—canary wipe—and full-bottomed fantail. The bargain was struck and the picture finished, but when presented to the sitter, he swore "he'd see the man's back open and shet afore he'd pay the wally of a farden piece for sitch a reg'lar 'snob' as he was made to appear in the portrait."
The defendant was hereupon required to state why he refused to abide by the agreement.
"Vy, my lords and gemmen," said Coaly, "my reasons is this here. That 'ere covey comes into the crib vhere I vos a sitting blowing a cloud behind a drop of heavy, and axes me if as how I'd have my picter draw'd. Vell, my lords, being a little 'lumpy,' and thinking sitch a consarn vould please my Sall, I told him as I'd stand a 'bob,' and be my pot to his'n, perwising as he'd shove me on a pair of prime welwet breeches wot I'd got at home to vear a Sundays. He said he vould, and 'at it should be a 'nout-a-nout' job for he'd larnt to draw phisogomony under Sir Peter Laurie."
"It's false!" said the complainant, "the brother artist I named was Sir Thomas Lawrence."
"Vere's the difference?" asked the coalheaver. "So, my lords, this here persecutor goes to vork like a Briton, and claps this here thingamy in my fist, vich ain't not a bit like me, but a blessed deal more likerer a bull with a belly-ache." (Laughter.)
The defendant pulled out a card and handed it to the bench. On inspection it was certainly a monstrous production, but it did present an ugly likeness of the coalheaver. The commissioners were unanimously of opinion it was a good fifteen-penny copy of the defendant's countenance.
"'Taint a bit like me?" said the defendant, angrily. "Vy, lookee here, he's draw'd me vith a bunch of ingans a sticking out of my pocket. I'm werry fond of sitch wegetables, but I never carries none in my pockets."
"A bunch of onions!" replied the incensed artist—"I'll submit it to any gentleman who is a real judge of the 'fine arts,' whether that (pointing to the appendage) can be taken for any thing else than the gentleman's watch-seals."
"Ha! ha! ha!" roared the coalheaver; "my votch-seals! Come, that's a good 'un—I never vore no votch-seals, 'cause I never had none—so the pictur can't be like me."
The commissioners admitted the premises, but denied the conclusion; and being of opinion that the artist had made out his claim, awarded the sum sought, and costs.
The defendant laid down six shillings one by one with the air of a man undergoing the operation of having so many teeth extracted, and taking up his picture, consoled himself by saying, that "pr'aps his foreman, Bill Jones, vould buy it, as he had the luck of vearing a votch on Sundays."
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