
Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
      file which includes the 88 original illustrations. See 59828-h.htm or 59828-h.zip:
      (https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/59828/pg59828-images.html)
      or
      (https://www.gutenberg.org/files/59828/59828-h.zip)


      Images of the original pages are available through
      Internet Archive. See
      https://archive.org/details/stringofpearlsor00ryme


Transcriber's note:

      Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). THE STRING OF PEARLS;

Or,
The Barber of Fleet Street. A Domestic Romance. London:
Published by E. Lloyd, Salisbury Square, Fleet Street. MDCCCL


[Illustration: From A Rare Old Painting By Reading, In The British
Museum.] PREFACE. THE ROMANCE OF THE STRING OF PEARLS having excited in the Literary world
an almost unprecedented interest, it behoves the author to say a few
words to his readers upon the completion of his labours. In answer to the many inquiries that have been, from time to time, made
regarding the fact of whether there ever was such a person as Sweeney
Todd in existence, we can unhesitatingly say, that there certainly was
such a man; and the record of his crimes is still to be found in the
chronicles of criminality of this country. The house in Fleet Street, which was the scene of Todd's crimes, is no
more. A fire, which destroyed some half-dozen buildings on that side of
the way, involved Todd's in destruction; but the secret passage,
although, no doubt, partially blocked up with the re-building of St.
Dunstan's Church, connecting the vaults of that edifice with the cellars
of what was Todd's house in Fleet Street, still remains. From the great patronage which this work has received from the reading
public, the author has to express his deep and earnest thanks; and he
begs to state, that if anything more than another could stimulate him to
renewed exertion to please his numerous patrons, it is their kind and
liberal appreciation of his past labours. _London_, 1850. The String of Pearls;

                         or, The Sailor's Gift. A Romance of Peculiar Interest. "And now, Tobias, listen to me, and treasure up every word I say." "Yes,
sir." "I'll cut your throat from ear to ear, if you repeat one word of
what passes in this shop, or dare to make any supposition, or draw any
conclusion from anything you may see, or hear, or fancy you see or
hear." [Illustration: The Barber's lesson To His Apprentice.] CHAPTER I. THE STRANGE CUSTOMER AT SWEENEY TODD'S. Before Fleet-street had reached its present importance, and when George
the Third was young, and the two figures who used to strike the chimes
at old St. Dunstan's church were in all their glory--being a great
impediment to errand-boys on their progress, and a matter of gaping
curiosity to country people--there stood close to the sacred edifice a
small barber's shop, which was kept by a man of the name of Sweeney
Todd. How it was that he came by the name of Sweeney, as a Christian
appellation, we are at a loss to conceive, but such was his name, as
might be seen in extremely corpulent yellow letters over his shop
window, by any who chose there to look for it. Barbers by that time in Fleet-street had not become fashionable, and no
more dreamt of calling themselves artists than of taking the tower by
storm; moreover they were not, as they are now, constantly slaughtering
fine fat bears, and yet, somehow people had hair on their heads just the
same as they have at present, without the aid of that unctuous
auxiliary. Moreover, Sweeney Todd, in common with those really primitive
sort of times, did not think it at all necessary to have any waxen
effigies of humanity in his window. There was no languishing young lady
looking over the left shoulder in order that a profusion of auburn
tresses might repose upon her lily neck, and great conquerors and great
statesmen were not then, as they are now, held up to public ridicule
with dabs of rouge upon their cheeks, a quantity of gunpowder scattered
in for beard, and some bristles sticking on end for eyebrows. No. Sweeney Todd was a barber of the old school, and he never thought of
glorifying himself on account of any extraneous circumstance. If he had
lived in Henry the Eighth's palace, it would be all the same as Henry
the Eighth's dog-kennel, and he would scarcely have believed human
nature to be so green as to pay an extra sixpence to be shaven and shorn
in any particular locality. A long pole painted white, with a red stripe curling spirally round it,
projected into the street from his doorway, and on one of the pains of
glass in his window, was presented the following couplet:--

    "Easy shaving for a penny,
    As good as you will find any." We do not put these lines forth as a specimen of the poetry of the age;
they may have been the production of some young Templar; but if they
were a little wanting in poetic fire, that was amply made up by the
clear and precise manner in which they set forth what they intended. The barber himself, was a long, low-jointed, ill-put-together sort of
fellow, with an immense mouth, and such huge hands and feet, that he
was, in his way, quite a natural curiosity; and, what was more
wonderful, considering his trade, there never was seen such a head of
hair as Sweeney Todd's. We know not what to compare it to; probably it
came nearest to what one might suppose to be the appearance of a
thick-set hedge, in which a quantity of small wire had got entangled. In
truth, it was a most terrific head of hair; and as Sweeney Todd kept all
his combs in it--some people said his scissors likewise--when he put his
head out of the shop-door to see what sort of weather it was, he might
have been mistaken for an Indian warrior with a very remarkable
head-dress. He had a short disagreeable kind of unmirthful laugh, which came in at
all sorts of odd times when nobody else saw anything to laugh at at all,
and which sometimes made people start again, especially when they were
being shaved, and Sweeney Todd would stop short in that operation to
indulge in one of those cachinatory effusions. It was evident that the
remembrance of some very strange and out-of-the-way joke must
occasionally flit across him, and then he gave his hyena-like laugh, but
it was so short, so sudden, striking upon the ear for a moment, and then
gone, that people have been known to look up to the ceiling, and on the
floor, and all round them, to know from whence it had come, scarcely
supposing it possible that it proceeded from mortal lips. Mr. Todd squinted a little, to add to his charms; and so we think that
by this time the reader may, in his mind's eye, see the individual whom
we wish to present to him.