This is a modern-English version of Real Life In London, Volumes I. and II.: Or, The Rambles and Adventures of Bob Tallyho, Esq., and His Cousin, the Hon. Tom Dashall, Through the Metropolis; Exhibiting a Living Picture of Fashionable Characters, Manners, and Amusements in High and Low Life (1821), originally written by Badcock, John, active 1816-1830, Egan, Pierce.
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REAL LIFE IN LONDON
OR, THE RAMBLES AND ADVENTURES OF BOB TALLYHO, ESQ.,
AND HIS
COUSIN, THE HON. TOM DASHALL,
THROUGH THE METROPOLIS;
EXHIBITING A LIVING PICTURE OF FASHIONABLE CHARACTERS,
MANNERS,
AND AMUSEMENTS IN HIGH AND LOW LIFE By an AMATEUR [Pierce
Egan] “'Tis pleasant through the loop-holes of retreat
To peep
at such a world; to see the stir
Of the great Babel, and not feel
the crowd."
—Cowper
OR, THE RAMBLES AND ADVENTURES OF BOB TALLYHO, ESQ.,
AND HIS COUSIN, THE HON. TOM DASHALL,
THROUGH THE CITY;
DEPICTING A VIBRANT PICTURE OF FASHIONABLE CHARACTERS,
MANNERS,
AND ENTERTAINMENTS IN BOTH HIGH AND LOW SOCIETY By an AMATEUR [Pierce
Egan] “It's nice to peek through the windows of escape
To glance
at such a world; to see the hustle and bustle
Of the great Babel, and not feel
the crowd."
—Cowper
COLOR PLATES
Contents
VOLUME II.
List of Illustrations
VOLUME II.
REAL LIFE IN LONDON
CHAPTER I
[1]"THEY order these things better in London,” replied the Hon. Tom Dashall, to an old weather-beaten sportsman, who would fain have made a convert of our London Sprig of Fashion to the sports and delights of rural life. The party were regaling themselves after the dangers and fatigues of a very hard day's fox-chace; and, while the sparkling glass circulated, each, anxious to impress on the minds of the company the value of the exploits and amusements in which he felt most delight, became more animated and boisterous in his oratory—forgetting that excellent regulation which forms an article in some of the rules and orders of our “Free and Easies” in London, “that no more than three gentlemen shall be allowed to speak at the same time.” The whole party, consisting of fourteen, like a pack in full cry, had, with the kind assistance of the “rosy god,” become at the same moment most animated, not to say vociferous, orators. The young squire, Bob Tally ho, (as he was called) of Belville Hall, who had recently come into possession of this fine and extensive domain, was far from feeling indifferent to the pleasures of a sporting life, and, in the chace, had even acquired the reputation of being a “keen sportsman:” but the regular intercourse which took place between him and his cousin, the Hon. Tom Dashall, of Bond Street notoriety, had in [2]some measure led to an indecision of character, and often when perusing the lively and fascinating descriptions which the latter drew of the passing scenes in the gay metropolis, Bob would break out into an involuntary exclamation of—“Curse me, but after all, this only is Real Life; “—while, for the moment, horses, dogs, and gun, with the whole paraphernalia of sporting, were annihilated. Indeed, to do justice to his elegant and highly-finished friend, these pictures were the production of a master-hand, and might have made a dangerous impression on minds more stoical and determined than that of Bob's. The opera, theatres, fashionable pursuits, characters, objects, &c. all became in succession the subjects of his pen; and if lively description, blended with irresistible humour and sarcastic wit, possessed any power of seduction, these certainly belonged to Bob's honourable friend and relative, as an epistolary correspondent. The following Stanzas were often recited by him with great feeling and animation:—
[1]“They do these things better in London,” replied the Hon. Tom Dashall to an old, weathered sportsman who was trying to convert our London Sprig of Fashion to the joys of rural life. The group was enjoying themselves after a challenging day of fox hunting, and as the sparkling drinks flowed, each person, eager to impress the others with the excitement of the activities he enjoyed most, grew more animated and loud in his speech—forgetting the good rule from some of our London “Free and Easies” that says, “no more than three gentlemen may speak at the same time.” The entire group, made up of fourteen, like a pack on the chase, had, thanks to the help of “the rosy god,” all become quite animated and, shall we say, vociferous orators at once. The young squire, Bob Tally Ho (as he was called) of Belville Hall, who had recently inherited this fine and vast estate, was not indifferent to the pleasures of a sporting life. In fact, during the hunt, he had earned a reputation as a “keen sportsman.” However, his regular interactions with his cousin, the Hon. Tom Dashall, known for his Bond Street fame, had somewhat led to a lack of clarity in his character. Often, while reading the lively and captivating descriptions Tom wrote about the bustling scenes in the vibrant metropolis, Bob would burst out with an involuntary remark—“Curse me, but this is Real Life after all;” at that moment, thoughts of horses, dogs, and firearms, along with the entire sporting setup, would vanish. Indeed, to give credit to his elegant and polished friend, these depictions were crafted with skill and could have made a strong impression on minds even more stoic and resolute than Bob's. The opera, theaters, fashionable pursuits, characters, objects, etc., all became topics of his writing; and if lively descriptions mixed with irresistible humor and sharp wit had any power of allure, these certainly belonged to Bob's honorable friend and relative as a letter-writing companion. The following stanzas were often recited by him with great emotion and energy:—
It was not, however, the mere representations of Bob's friend, with which, (in consequence of the important result,) we commenced our chapter, that produced the powerful effect of fixing the wavering mind of Bob—No, it was the air—the manner—the je ne sais quoi, by which these representations were accompanied: the curled lip of contempt, and the eye, measuring as he spoke, from top to toe, his companions, with the cool elegant sang froid and self-possession displayed in his own person and manner, which became a fiat with Bob, and which effected the object so long courted by his cousin.
It wasn't just what Bob's friend said, which, due to the significant result, we kicked off our chapter with, that had such a strong impact on Bob's uncertain mind—no, it was the vibe—the style—the je ne sais quoi that came with those words: the sneer of contempt and the way he sized up his friends from head to toe as he spoke, with the cool, elegant confidence and self-assuredness he showed, that became a fiat for Bob, achieving what his cousin had been trying to accomplish for so long.
After the manner of Yorick (though, by the bye, no sentimentalist) Bob thus reasoned with himself:—“If an acquaintance with London is to give a man these airs of superiority—this ascendancy—elegance of manners, and command of enjoyments—why, London for me; and if pleasure is the game in view, there will I instantly pursue the sport.”
After the style of Yorick (though, by the way, not a sentimentalist), Bob reasoned with himself: “If knowing London gives a person these superior attitudes—this dominance—refined manners, and the ability to enjoy life—then London is for me; and if pleasure is the goal, that’s where I’ll immediately seek it out.”
[3]The song and toast, in unison with the sparkling glass, followed each other in rapid succession. During which, our elegant London visitor favoured the company with the following effusion, sung in a style equal to (though unaccompanied with the affected airs and self-importance of) a first-rate professor:—
[3]The song and toast, along with the clinking glasses, happened one after the other quickly. During this, our stylish visitor from London treated us to the following performance, sung with a flair similar to (but without the pretentiousness and self-importance of) a top-notch professor:—
These amusements of the table were succeeded by a most stormy and lengthened debate, (to use a parliamentary phrase) during which, Bob's London friend had with daring heroism opposed the whole of the party, in supporting the superiority of Life in London over every pleasure the country could afford. After copious libations to Bacchus, whose influence at length effected what oratory had in vain essayed, and silenced these contending and jarring elements, “grey-eyed Morn” peeped intrusively amid the jovial crew, and Somnus, (with the cart before the horse) stepping softly on tip-toe after his companion, led, if not by, at least accompanied with, the music of the nose, each to his snoring pillow.[4]
These table amusements were followed by a heated and lengthy debate, (to use a parliamentary term) during which Bob's friend from London boldly opposed the entire group, arguing that life in London was far better than any pleasures the countryside could offer. After plenty of drinks to honor Bacchus, whose influence finally did what all the speeches couldn't and quieted the arguing crowd, “grey-eyed Dawn” intrusively peeked in on the festive group, and Somnus, (with the cart before the horse) tiptoeing softly after his partner, led, if not guided, then at least accompanied by the sounds of snoring, each to their own pillow.[4]
——“Glorious resolve!” exclaimed Tom, as soon as his friend had next morning intimated his intention,—“nobly resolved indeed!—“What! shall he whom Nature has formed to shine in the dance and sparkle in the ring—to fascinate the fair—lead and control the fashions—attract the gaze and admiration of the surrounding crowd!—shall he pass a life, or rather a torpid existence, amid country bumpkins and Johnny-raws? Forbid it all ye powers that rule with despotic sway where Life alone is to be found,—forbid it cards—dice—balls—fashion, and ye gay et coteras,—forbid”——“Pon my soul,” interrupted Bob, “you have frightened me to death! I thought you were beginning an Epic,—a thing I abominate of all others. I had rather at any time follow the pack on a foundered horse than read ten lines of Homer; so, my dear fellow, descend for God's sake from the Heroics.”
——“What a bold decision!” Tom exclaimed as soon as his friend expressed his plan the next morning. “It’s truly admirable! What? Could someone who was made to shine on the dance floor and dazzle at parties—to charm the ladies—set the trends—attract the attention and admiration of the crowd!—could he really live, or rather exist in a dull way, among rural simpletons and novices? Let it be forbidden by all the powers that govern where true life can be found—let it be forbidden all those things—cards—dice—balls—fashion, and all those lively gatherings—let it be forbidden”——“Goodness,” Bob interrupted, “you’re scaring me! I thought you were starting an epic poem, which I absolutely despise. I’d rather chase after the hounds on a broken-down horse than read ten lines of Homer; so, my dear friend, for heaven’s sake, please stop with the heroics.”
[5]"However, it shall be so: adieu, my dear little roan filly,—Snow-ball, good by,—my new patent double-barrelled percussion—ah, I give you all up!—Order the tandem, my dear Tom, whenever you please; whisk me up to the fairy scenes you have so often and admirably described; and, above all things, take me as an humble and docile pupil under your august auspices and tuition.” Says Tom, “thou reasonest well.”
[5]"But it has to be this way: farewell, my sweet little roan filly,—Snow-ball, goodbye,—my new patent double-barrel percussion—ah, I give you all up!—Get the tandem ready, my dear Tom, whenever you want; take me to the magical places you've described so well; and most importantly, let me be a humble and eager student under your esteemed guidance and teaching.” Tom replies, “You make a good point.”
The rapidity with which great characters execute their determinations has been often remarked by authors. The dashing tandem, with its beautiful high-bred bits of blood, accompanied by two grooms on horsebaek in splendid liveries, stood at the lodge-gate, and our heroes had only to bid adieu to relatives and friends, and commence their rapid career.
The speed at which remarkable people carry out their decisions has often been noted by writers. The flashy carriage, pulled by beautiful thoroughbreds, with two grooms on horseback in fancy uniforms, waited at the lodge gate, and our heroes just had to say goodbye to their families and friends before starting their quick journey.
Before we start on this long journey of one hundred and eighty miles, with the celerity which is unavoidable in modern travelling, it may be prudent to ascertain that our readers are still in company, and that we all start fairly together; otherwise, there is but little probability of our ever meeting again on the journey;—so now to satisfy queries, remarks, and animadversions.
Before we begin this long journey of one hundred and eighty miles, with the speed that's unavoidable in modern travel, it might be wise to make sure our readers are still with us and that we're all starting off together; otherwise, there’s a low chance we’ll meet again on this trip. So let’s address any questions, comments, and criticisms.
“Why, Sir, I must say it is a new way of introducing a story, and appears to me very irregular.—What! tumble your hero neck and heels into the midst of a drunken fox-hunting party, and then carry him off from his paternal estate, without even noticing his ancestors, relatives, friends, connexions, or prospects—without any description of romantic scenery on the estate—without so much as an allusion to the female who first kindled in his breast the tender passion, or a detail of those incidents with which it is usually connected!—a strange, very strange way indeed this of commencing.”
“Honestly, Sir, I have to say this is a really unusual way to start a story, and it seems quite irregular to me. What? Just throw your hero headfirst into a drunken fox-hunting party, then whisk him away from his family estate without even mentioning his ancestors, relatives, friends, connections, or future prospects—without any description of the romantic scenery on the estate—without even a nod to the woman who first sparked his feelings, or any details of the typical events connected to that! This is a really strange way to kick things off.”
“My dear Sir, I agree with you as to the deviation from customary rules: but allow me to ask,—is not one common object—amusement, all we have in view? Suppose then, by way of illustration, you were desirous of arriving at a given place or object, to which there were several roads, and having traversed one of these till the monotony of the scene had rendered every object upon it dull and wearisome, would you quarrel with the traveller who pointed out another road, merely because it was a new one? Considering the impatience of our young friends, the one to return to scenes in which alone he can [6]live, and the other to realize ideal dreams of happiness, painted in all the glowing tints that a warm imagination and youthful fancy can pourtray, it will be impossible longer to continue the argument. Let me, therefore, entreat you to cut it short—accompany us in our rapid pursuit after Life in London; nor risk for the sake of a little peevish criticism, the cruel reflection, that by a refusal, you would, probably, be in at the death of the Author—by Starvation.”
“My dear Sir, I agree with you about the departure from usual rules: but may I ask—aren’t we all focused on the same goal—entertainment? Imagine, for example, if you wanted to reach a certain place and there were multiple paths to get there. If you traveled one of these paths until the scenery became so monotonous that everything on it seemed boring and tiresome, would you argue with someone who suggested trying a different path just because it was new? Considering the impatience of our young friends—one eager to return to the places where he can truly live, and the other wanting to chase ideal dreams of happiness painted in all the vivid colors that a lively imagination and youthful creativity can conjure—it’s clear that we can’t keep arguing. So, I urge you, let’s cut to the chase and join us in our quick journey toward Life in London; don’t sacrifice it for some petty criticism, risking the awful thought that by refusing, you might end up missing out on the Author’s last moments—by Starvation.”
CHAPTER II
ORDINARY minds, in viewing distant objects, first see the obstacles that intervene, magnify the difficulty of surmounting them, and sit down in despair. The man of genius with his mind's-eye pointed steadfastly, like the needle towards the pole, on the object of his ambition, meets and conquers every difficulty in detail, and the mass dissolves before him as the mountain snow yields, drop by drop, to the progressive but invincible operation of the solar beam. Our honourable friend was well aware that a perfect knowledge of the art of driving, and the character of a “first-rate whip,” were objects worthy his ambition; and that, to hold four-in-hand—turn a corner in style—handle the reins in form—take a fly off the tip of his leader's ear—square the elbows, and keep the wrists pliant, were matters as essential to the formation of a man of fashion as dice or milling: it was a principle he had long laid down and strictly adhered to, that whatever tended to the completion of that character, should be acquired to the very acmé of perfection, without regard to ulterior consequences, or minor pursuits.
Ordinary minds, when looking at distant goals, first focus on the obstacles in the way, exaggerate how hard it will be to overcome them, and give up in despair. The genius, with his focus fixed firmly on his ambitions, faces and conquers each challenge step by step, and the difficulties fade away just like mountain snow slowly melts under the relentless warmth of the sun. Our esteemed friend understood that mastering the art of driving and embodying a “first-rate whip” were worthy goals to strive for; that being able to manage four horses, make stylish turns, handle the reins properly, flick a fly off his leader's ear, keep his elbows squared, and wrists flexible were just as essential to being a fashionable man as dice or milling: it was a principle he had long established and strictly followed, believing that anything contributing to the perfecting of that character should be pursued to the highest level, regardless of future consequences or lesser interests.
In an early stage, therefore, of his fashionable course of studies, the whip became an object of careful solicitude; and after some private tuition, he first exhibited his prowess about twice a week, on the box of a Windsor stage, tipping coachy a crown for the indulgence and improvement it afforded. Few could boast of being more fortunate during a noviciate: two overturns only occurred in the whole course of practice, and except the trifling accident of an old lady being killed, a shoulder or two dislocated, and about half a dozen legs and arms [8]broken, belonging to people who were not at all known in high life, nothing worthy of notice may be said to have happened on these occasions. 'Tis true, some ill-natured remarks appeared in one of the public papers, on the “conduct of coachmen entrusting the reins to young practitioners, and thus endangering the lives of his majesty's subjects;” but these passed off like other philanthropic suggestions of the day, unheeded and forgotten.
In the early part of his trendy studies, the whip became something he paid close attention to; after some private lessons, he first showed off his skills about twice a week on the box of a Windsor stagecoach, tipping the driver a crown for the privilege and practice it provided. Few could say they had better luck during their beginner phase: only two crashes happened throughout his training, and aside from the minor incident of an old lady being killed, a few shoulders dislocated, and about half a dozen arms and legs [8] broken belonging to people who weren’t at all connected to high society, nothing particularly noteworthy occurred during these events. It's true that some mean-spirited comments showed up in one of the public newspapers regarding the “behavior of coachmen who let young trainees handle the reins, thereby risking the lives of the king’s subjects;” but those quickly faded away like other well-meaning suggestions of the time, ignored and forgotten.
The next advance of our hero was an important step. The mail-coach is considered the school; its driver, the great master of the art—the Phidias of the statuary—the Claude of the landscape-painter. To approach him without preparatory instruction and study, would be like an attempt to copy the former without a knowledge of anatomy, or the latter, while ignorant of perspective. The standard of excellence—the model of perfection, all that the highest ambition can attain, is to approach as near as possible the original; to attempt a deviation, would be to bolt out of the course, snap the curb, and run riot. Sensible of the importance of his character, accustomed to hold the reins of arbitrary power; and seated where will is law, the mail-whip carries in his appearance all that may be expected from his elevated situation. Stern and sedate in his manner, and given to taciturnity, he speaks sententiously, or in monosyllables. If he passes on the road even an humble follower of the profession, with four tidy ones in hand, he views him with ineffable contempt, and would consider it an irreparable disgrace to appear conscious of the proximity. Should it be a country gentleman of large property and influence, and he held the reins, and handled the whip with a knowledge of the art, so to “get over the ground,” coachy might, perhaps, notice him “en passant,” by a slight and familiar nod; but it is only the peer, or man of first-rate sporting celebrity, that is honoured with any thing like a familiar mark of approbation and acquaintance; and these, justly appreciating the proud distinction, feel higher gratification by it than any thing the monarch could bestow: it is an inclination of the head, not forward, in the manner of a nod, but towards the off shoulder, accompanied with a certain jerk and elevation from the opposite side. But here neither pen nor pencil can depict; it belongs to him alone whose individual powers can nightly keep the house [9]in a roar, to catch the living manner and present it to the eye.
The next move of our hero was a significant step. The mail coach is seen as the training ground; its driver, the master of the craft—the Phidias of sculpting—the Claude of landscape painting. Approaching him without prior training and practice would be like trying to replicate the former without understanding anatomy or the latter while being clueless about perspective. The standard of excellence—the model of perfection, everything the highest ambition can reach, is to get as close as possible to the original; to stray would be to veer off course, break the rules, and go wild. Aware of the importance of his role and used to wielding absolute power; seated where will is law, the mail driver embodies everything expected from his elevated position. Stern and serious in his demeanor and generally quiet, he speaks succinctly or in one-word responses. If he encounters even an average fellow in the profession, holding four tidy reins, he looks at him with utter disdain and considers it a major embarrassment to acknowledge his presence. If it were a wealthy and influential country gentleman, and he held the reins and handled the whip skillfully to “get moving,” the coachman might acknowledge him casually with a slight nod; but only a peer or someone of top-tier sporting fame gets a more familiar expression of approval and recognition; and they, fully appreciating the proud distinction, feel even more satisfaction from it than anything a monarch could offer: it's a tilt of the head, not forward like a nod, but towards the right shoulder, accompanied by a slight jerk and lift from the opposite side. But here, neither pen nor pencil can capture it; it belongs to him alone whose unique talent can keep the house [9] roaring nightly, to convey the living style and present it visually.
And now, gentle reader, if the epithet means any thing, you cannot but feel disposed to good humour and indulgence: Instead of rattling you off, as was proposed at our last interview, and whirling you at the rate of twelve miles an hour, exhausted with fatigue, and half dead in pursuit of Life, we have proceeded gently along the road, amusing ourselves by the way, rather with drawing than driving. 'Tis high time, however, we made some little progress in our journey: “Come Bob, take the reins—push on—keep moving—touch up the leader into a hand-gallop—give Snarler his head—that's it my tight one, keep out of the ruts—mind your quartering—not a gig, buggy, tandem, or tilbury, have we yet seen on the road—what an infernal place for a human being to inhabit!—curse me if I had not as lief emigrate to the back settlements of America: one might find some novelty and amusement there—I'd have the woods cleared—cut out some turnpike-roads, and, like Palmer, start the first mail”——“Stop, Tom, don't set off yet to the Illinois—here's something ahead, but what the devil it is I cant guess—why it's a barge on wheels, and drove four-in-hand.”—“Ha, ha—barge indeed, Bob, you seem to know as much about coaches as Snarler does of Back-gammon: I suppose you never see any thing in this quarter but the old heavy Bridgewater—why we have half a dozen new launches every week, and as great a variety of names, shape, size, and colour, as there are ships in the navy—we have the heavy coach, light coach, Caterpillar, and Mail—the Balloon, Comet, Fly, Dart, Regulator, Telegraph, Courier, Times, High-flyer, Hope, with as many others as would fill a list as long as my tandem-whip. What you now see is one of the new patent safety-coaches—you can't have an overturn if you're ever so disposed for a spree. The old city cormorants, after a gorge of mock-turtle, turn into them for a journey, and drop off in a [10]nap, with as much confidence of security to their neck and limbs as if they had mounted a rocking-horse, or drop't into an arm-chair.”—“Ah! come, the scene improves, and becomes a little like Life—here's a dasher making up to the Safety—why its—no, impossible—can't be—gad it is tho'—the Dart, by all that's good! and drove by Hell-fire Dick!—there's a fellow would do honour to any box—drove the Cambridge Fly three months—pass'd every thing on the road, and because he overturned in three or four hard matches, the stupid rascals of proprietors moved him off the ground. Joe Spinum, who's at Corpus Christi, matched Dick once for 50, when he carried five inside and thirteen at top, besides heavy luggage, against the other Cambridge—never was a prettier race seen at Newmarket—Dick must have beat hollow, but a d——d fat alderman who was inside, and felt alarmed at the velocity of the vehicle, moved to the other end of the seat: this destroyed the equilibrium—over they went, into a four-feet ditch, and Joe lost his match. However, he had the satisfaction of hearing afterwards, that the old cormorant who occasioned his loss, had nearly burst himself by the concussion.”
And now, dear reader, if that term means anything, you must feel inclined to be in good spirits and forgiving: Instead of rushing you off, as we planned in our last meeting, and speeding along at twelve miles an hour, worn out and half dead in the quest for Life, we've taken a more relaxed approach, enjoying ourselves along the way, more focused on drawing than driving. Still, it’s about time we made a bit of progress on our journey: “Come on, Bob, take the reins—let’s move—keep going—urge the lead horse into a hand-gallop—give Snarler some freedom—that’s it my friend, steer clear of the ruts—watch your balance—not a gig, buggy, tandem, or tilbury have we seen on the road—what a dreadful place for a person to live in!—I’d rather emigrate to the backwoods of America: at least there might be some novelty and fun—I'd have the woods cleared—build some toll roads, and, like Palmer, start the first mail”——“Hold on, Tom, don’t head off to Illinois just yet—there’s something up ahead, but what the heck it is I can’t tell—oh wait, it’s a barge on wheels, being pulled by four horses.”——“Ha, ha—a barge indeed, Bob, you clearly know as much about coaches as Snarler does about Back-gammon: I guess you’ve only ever seen the old heavy Bridgewater—why, we have a new launch every week, and as much variety in names, shapes, sizes, and colors as there are ships in the navy—we’ve got the heavy coach, light coach, Caterpillar, and Mail—the Balloon, Comet, Fly, Dart, Regulator, Telegraph, Courier, Times, High-flyer, Hope, and so many others that you’d need a long list as lengthy as my tandem-whip. What you see now is one of the new patent safety-coaches—you can’t tip over even if you tried to have some fun. The old city folks, after a fill of mock-turtle soup, hop on for a trip, and doze off in a [10]nap, feeling as secure as if they were riding a rocking-horse or sinking into an armchair.”——“Ah! come on, the scene is getting better and feels a bit like Life—here's a fast one approaching the Safety—wait, no way—can't be—oh it is—the Dart, by all that’s good! and driven by Hell-fire Dick!—there’s a guy who would shine in any box—he drove the Cambridge Fly for three months—passed everything on the road, and because he overturned in a few tough races, the silly owners moved him off duty. Joe Spinum, who’s at Corpus Christi, once bet Dick $50 when he carried five inside and thirteen on top, plus heavy luggage, against the other Cambridge—never was a prettier race seen at Newmarket—Dick would have won easily, but a d——d fat alderman, feeling nervous about the speed, shifted to the other end of the seat: this threw everything off balance—over they went, into a four-foot ditch, and Joe lost his match. At least he had the satisfaction of later hearing that the old fellow who caused his loss nearly burst from the impact.”
“See, see!—Dick's got up to, and wants to give the Safety the go by—gad, its a race—go it Dick—now Safety—d——d good cattle both—lay it in to 'em Dick—leaders neck and neck—pretty race by G——! Ah, its of no use Safety—Dick wont stand it—a dead beat—there she goes—all up—over by Jove “——“I can't see for that tree—what do you say Tom, is the race over?”—“Race, ah! and the coach too—knew Dick would beat him—would have betted the long odds the moment I saw it was him.”
“Look, look!—Dick's taken off and wants to leave Safety behind—wow, it's a race—go for it, Dick—now Safety—damn good horses both—give it your all, Dick—leaders are neck and neck—what a pretty race, by God! Ah, it’s no use, Safety—Dick won’t let up—a total loss—there she goes—all done—over by Jove “——“I can’t see past that tree—what do you think, Tom? Is the race over?”—“Race, yeah! And the coach too—I knew Dick would beat him—I would have bet on it the moment I saw it was him.”
The tandem had by this time reached the race-course, and the disaster which Tom had hardly thought worth noticing in his lively description of the sport, sure enough had befallen the new 'patent Safety, which was about mid way between an upright and a side position, supported by the high and very strong quicksett-hedge against which it hath fallen. Our heroes dismounted, left Flip at the leader's head, and with Ned, the other groom, proceeded to offer their services. Whilst engaged in extricating the horses, which had become entangled in their harness, and were kicking and plunging, their attention was arrested by the screams and outrageous vociferations of a very fat, middle-aged woman, who had [11]been jerked from her seat on the box to one not quite so smooth—the top of the hedge, which, with the assistance of an old alder tree, supported the coach. Tom found it impossible to resist the violent impulse to risibility which the ludicrous appearance of the old lady excited, and as no serious injury was sustained, determined to enjoy the fun.
The tandem had by this time reached the racetrack, and the disaster that Tom had hardly thought was worth mentioning in his lively description of the sport had indeed befallen the new 'patent Safety, which was sitting halfway between an upright and a side position, propped up by the tall and very strong quickset hedge it had fallen against. Our heroes jumped down, left Flip at the leader's head, and with Ned, the other groom, moved to offer their help. While they were busy untangling the horses, which had become caught in their harness and were kicking and thrashing, their attention was drawn by the screams and loud yelling of an overweight, middle-aged woman, who had been yanked from her seat on the box to a much less comfortable spot—the top of the hedge, which, with the help of an old alder tree, was holding up the coach. Tom found it impossible to resist the strong urge to laugh at the silly sight of the old lady, and since no serious harm was done, he decided to enjoy the moment.
Approaching her with all the gravity of countenance he was master of—“Madam,” says he, “are we to consider you as one of the Sylvan Deities who preside over these scenes, or connected in any way with the vehicle?”—“Wehicle, indeed, you hunhuman-brutes, instead of assisting a poor distressed female who has been chuck'd from top of that there safety-thing, as they calls it, into such a dangerous pisition, you must be chuckling and grinning, must you? I only wish my husband, Mr. Giblet, was here, he should soon wring your necks, and pluck some of your fine feathers for you, and make you look as foolish as a peacock without his tail.” Mrs. Giblet's ire at length having subsided, she was handed down in safety on terra firma, and our heroes transferred their assistance to the other passengers. The violence of the concussion had burst open the coach-door on one side, and a London Dandy, of the exquisite genus, lay in danger of being pressed to a jelly beneath the weight of an infirm and very stout old farmer, whom they had pick'd up on the road; and it was impossible to get at, so as to afford relief to the sufferers, till the coach was raised in a perpendicular position. The farmer was no sooner on his legs, than clapping his hand with anxious concern into an immense large pocket, he discovered that a bottle of brandy it contained was crack'd, and the contents beginning to escape: “I ax pardon, young gentleman,” says he, seizing a hat that the latter held with great care in his hand, and applying it to catch the liquor—“I ax pardon for making so free, but I see the hat is a little out of order, and can't be much hurt; and its a pity to waste the liquor, such a price as it is now-a-days.”—“Sir, what do you mean, shouldn't have thought of your taking such liberties indeed, but makes good the old saying—impudence and [12]ignorance go together: my hat out of order, hey! I'd have you to know, Sir, that that there hat was bought of Lloyd, in Newgate-street,{1} only last Thursday,-and cost eighteen shillings; and if you look at the book in his vindow on hats, dedicated to the head, you'll find that this here hat is a real exquisite; so much for what you know about hats, my old fellow—I burst my stays all to pieces in saving it from being squeezed out of shape, and now this old brute has made a brandy-bottle of it.”—“Oh! oh! my young Miss in disguise,” replied the farmer, “I thought I smelt a rat when the Captain left the coach, under pretence of walking up the hill—what, I suppose vou are bound for Gretna, both of vou, hev young Lady?”
Approaching her with all the seriousness he could muster—“Madam,” he said, “are we to consider you one of the woodland deities who oversee this area, or are you somehow connected to the vehicle?”—“Vehicle, really, you inhuman brutes, instead of helping a poor distressed woman who has been thrown from that safety device, as they call it, into such a dangerous situation, you’re just chuckling and grinning, aren’t you? I only wish my husband, Mr. Giblet, were here; he’d quickly wring your necks and pluck some of your fine feathers so you’d look as foolish as a peacock without its tail.” Once Mrs. Giblet's anger finally subsided, she was safely brought down to terra firma, and our heroes shifted their help to the other passengers. The force of the impact had burst open the coach door on one side, and a London dandy, of the most refined type, was in danger of being crushed beneath the weight of a frail and very heavy old farmer they had picked up on the road. It was impossible to reach the victims to help them until the coach was raised to an upright position. The farmer was no sooner on his feet than he anxiously reached into a huge pocket and discovered that a bottle of brandy inside was cracked, and the liquid was beginning to leak out: “I beg your pardon, young gentleman,” he said, grabbing a hat that the young man was carefully holding and using it to catch the liquor—“I apologize for being so forward, but I see the hat is a bit damaged and can’t be much hurt; it would be a shame to waste the liquor, with how expensive it is these days.” “Sir, what do you mean? I wouldn’t have thought you’d take such liberties; this just proves the old saying—impudence and [12]ignorance go together: my hat damaged, you say! I want you to know, Sir, that that hat was bought from Lloyd, in Newgate Street,{1} just last Thursday, and cost eighteen shillings; and if you look at the book in his window on hats, dedicated to the head, you’ll find that this hat is a real gem; just shows how little you know about hats, my old fellow—I nearly burst my stays trying to save it from being squashed, and now this old brute has turned it into a brandy catcher.” “Oh! oh! my young lady in disguise,” replied the farmer, “I thought I smelled something fishy when the Captain left the coach under the pretense of walking up the hill—what, I suppose you two are headed for Gretna?”
Every thing appertaining to the coach being now righted, our young friends left the company to adjust their quarrels and pursue their journey at discretion, anxious to reach the next town as expeditiously as possible, where they purposed sleeping for the night. They mounted the tandem, smack went the whip, and in a few minutes the stage-coach and its motley group had disappeared.
Everything related to the coach was now sorted out, so our young friends left the others to resolve their disputes and continue their journey at their own pace, eager to reach the next town quickly, where they planned to spend the night. They got on the tandem, the whip cracked
Having reached their destination, and passed the night comfortably, they next morning determined to kill an hour or two in the town; and were taking a stroll arm in arm, when perceiving by a playbill, that an amateur of fashion from the theatres royal, Drury Lane and Haymarket, was just come in, and would shortly come out,
Having reached their destination and spent a comfortable night, the next morning they decided to kill an hour or two in the town. While strolling arm in arm, they noticed a playbill announcing that an amateur from the fashionable theaters, Drury Lane and Haymarket, had just arrived and would soon take the stage,
[13]in a favourite character, they immediately directed their steps towards a barn, with the hope of witnessing a rehearsal. Chance introduced them to the country manager, and Tom having asked several questions about this candidate, was assured by Mr. Mist:
[13]in a favorite character, they quickly made their way to a barn, hoping to catch a rehearsal. By chance, they met the country manager, and after Tom asked several questions about this candidate, Mr. Mist assured him:
“Oh! he is a gentleman-performer, and very useful to us managers, for he not only finds his own dresses and properties, but 'struts and frets his hour on the stage without any emoluments. His aversion to salary recommended him to the lessee of Drury-lane theatre, though his services had been previously rejected by the sub-committee.”
“Oh! He’s a gentleman performer and really useful to us managers because he not only provides his own costumes and props, but also 'struts and frets his hour on stage' without any pay. His dislike of a salary made him appealing to the owner of Drury Lane Theatre, even though his services had been turned down by the sub-committee before.”
“Can it be that game-cock, the gay Lothario,” said Tom, “who sports an immensity of diamonds?”—
“Could it be that game-cock, the flashy Lothario,” said Tom, “who shows off a ton of diamonds?”—
Of Coates's frolics he of course well knew, Rare pastime for the ragamuffin crew! Who welcome with the crowing of a cock, This hero of the buskin and sock.
Of Coates's antics, he obviously knew well, A rare good time for the ragtag crew! Who greet with the crow of a rooster, This hero of the stage and the sock.
“Oh! no,” rejoined Mr. Mist, “that cock don't crow now: this gentleman, I assure you, has been at a theatrical school; he was instructed by the person who made Master Bettv a young Roscius.”
“Oh! no,” replied Mr. Mist, “that rooster doesn’t crow anymore: this gentleman, I assure you, has been at a drama school; he was taught by the person who trained Master Bettv to be a young star.”
Tom shook his head, as if he doubted the abilities of this instructed actor. To be a performer, he thought as arduous as to be a poet; and if poeta nascitur, non fit—consequently an actor must have natural abilities.
Tom shook his head, as if he didn't believe in the skills of this trained actor. He thought being a performer was just as hard as being a poet; and if poeta nascitur, non fit—then an actor must have natural talent.
“And pray what character did this gentleman enact at Drury-lane Theatre?”
“And what role did this gentleman play at Drury Lane Theatre?”
“Hamlet, Prince of Denmark,” answered Mr. Mist—“Shakespeare is his favourite author.”
“Hamlet, Prince of Denmark,” replied Mr. Mist—“Shakespeare is his favorite author.”
“And what said the critics—'to be, or not to be'—I suppose he repeated the character?”
“And what did the critics say—'to be, or not to be'—I assume he went over the character again?”
“Oh! Sir, it was stated in the play-bill, that he met with great applause, and he was announced for the character again; but, as the Free List was not suspended, and our amateur dreaded some hostility from that quarter, he performed the character by proxy, and repeated it at the Little Theatre in the Haymarket.”
“Oh! Sir, it was mentioned in the program that he received a lot of applause, and he was scheduled to play the role again; but since the Free List was still active, and our amateur was worried about potential backlash from that side, he had someone else perform the role for him and did it again at the Little Theatre in the Haymarket.”
“Then the gentlemen of the Free List,” remarked Bob, “are free and easy?”
“Then the guys on the Free List,” Bob noted, “are just laid-back and casual?”
“Yes—yes—they laugh and cough whenever they please: indeed, they are generally excluded whenever a [14]full house is expected, as ready money is an object to the poor manager of Drury-lane Theatre. The British Press, however, is always excepted.”
“Yes—yes—they laugh and cough whenever they want: in fact, they are usually left out whenever a [14]full house is anticipated, since ready money is important to the struggling manager of Drury Lane Theatre. The British Press, however, is always the exception.”
“The British press!—Oh! you mean the newspapers,” exclaimed Tom—“then I dare say they were very favourable to this Amateur of Fashion?”
“The British press!—Oh! you mean the newspapers,” exclaimed Tom—“then I bet they were very supportive of this Amateur of Fashion?”
“No—not very—indeed; they don't join the manager in his puffs, notwithstanding his marked civility to them: one said he was a methodist preacher, and sermonized the character—another assimilated him to a school-boy saying his lesson—in short, they were very ill-natured—but hush—here he is—walk in, gentlemen, and you shall hear him rehearse some of King Richard”—
“No—not really—actually; they don’t join the manager in his praise, despite his obvious politeness to them: one said he was a Methodist preacher and lectured on his character—another compared him to a schoolboy reciting his lesson—in short, they were quite rude—but quiet now—here he is—come in, gentlemen, and you’ll hear him practice some of King Richard”—
“King Richard!” What ambition! thought Bob to himself—“late a Prince, and now—a king!”
“King Richard!” What ambition! Bob thought to himself—“once a Prince, and now—a king!”
“I assure you,” continued Mr. Mist, “that all his readings are new; but according to my humble observation, his action does not always suit the word—for when he exclaims—' may Hell make crook'd my mind,' he looks up to Heaven”—
“I assure you,” continued Mr. Mist, “that all his readings are new; but based on my humble observation, his actions don’t always match his words—for when he exclaims—'may Hell twist my mind,' he looks up to Heaven—”
“Looks up to Heaven!” exclaimed Tom; “then this London star makes a solecism with his eyes.”
“Looks up to Heaven!” Tom exclaimed. “Then this London star is making a mistake with his eyes.”
Our heroes now went into the barn, and took a private corner, when they remained invisible. Their patience was soon exhausted, and Bob and his honourable cousin were both on the fidgits, when the representative of King Richard exclaimed—
Our heroes then entered the barn and found a quiet spot where they could stay out of sight. They soon grew impatient, and both Bob and his esteemed cousin were restless when the representative of King Richard exclaimed—
“Give me a horse——”
"Give me a horse—"
“—Whip!” added Tom with stunning vociferation, before King Richard could bind up his wounds. The amateur started, and betrayed consummate embarrassment, as if the horsewhip had actually made its entrance. Tom and his companion stole away, and left the astounded monarch with the words—“twas all a dream.”
“—Whip!” Tom shouted loudly, before King Richard could tend to his injuries. The newcomer jumped, clearly embarrassed, as though the horsewhip had really appeared. Tom and his friend slipped away, leaving the shocked king with the thought—“it was all just a dream.”
Having now reached the inn, and finding every thing adjusted for their procedure, our heroes mounted their vehicle, and went in full gallop for Real Life in London.
Having now arrived at the inn and finding everything ready for their journey, our heroes hopped into their vehicle and took off at full speed for Real Life in London.
CHAPTER III
[16]OUR travellers now approached at a rapid rate, the desideratim of their eager hopes and wishes: to one all was novel, wonderful, and fascinating; to the other, it was the welcome return to an old and beloved friend, the separation from whom had but increased the ardour of attachment.—“We, now,” says Dashall, “are approaching Hyde-Park, and being Sunday, a scene will at once burst upon you, far surpassing in reality any thing I have been able to pourtray, notwithstanding the flattering compliments you have so often paid to my talents for description.”
[16]Our travelers were now quickly approaching the fulfillment of their eager hopes and wishes: for one, everything was new, amazing, and captivating; for the other, it was the joyful return to an old and cherished friend, whose absence had only deepened their affection. “We are now,” Dashall says, “getting close to Hyde Park, and since it's Sunday, you will immediately see a scene that far exceeds anything I've been able to describe, despite the generous compliments you've often given me about my descriptive skills.”
They had scarcely entered the Park-gate, when Lady Jane Townley's carriage crossed them, and Tom immediately approached it, to pay his respects to an old acquaintance. Her lady-ship congratulated him on his return to town, lamented the serious loss the beau-monde had sustained by his absence, and smiling archly at his young friend, was happy to find he had not returned empty-handed, but with a recruit, whose appearance promised a valuable accession to their select circle. “You would not have seen me here,” continued her ladyship, “but I vow and protest it is utterly impossible to make a prisoner of one's self, such a day as this, merely because it is Sunday—for my own part, I wish there was no such thing as a Sunday in the whole year—there's no knowing what to do with one's self. When fine, it draws out as many insects as a hot sun and a shower of rain can produce in the middle of June. The vulgar plebeians flock so, that you can scarcely get into your barouche without being hustled by the men-milliners, linen-drapers, and shop-boys, who [17]have been serving you all the previous part of the week; and wet, or dry, there's no bearing it. For my part, I am ennuyée, beyond measure, on that day, and find no little difficulty in getting through it without a fit of the horrors.
They had just entered the Park gate when Lady Jane Townley’s carriage passed by them, and Tom quickly approached it to greet an old acquaintance. She congratulated him on his return to town, expressed her sadness over the significant loss the social scene had experienced during his absence, and with a playful smile at his young friend, was pleased to see he hadn’t come back empty-handed but had brought along someone whose presence promised to be a valuable addition to their exclusive group. “You wouldn’t have seen me here,” she continued, “but I swear it’s completely impossible to lock myself away on a day like this just because it’s Sunday—for my part, I wish there wasn’t such a thing as Sundays all year round—there’s really no saying what to do with oneself. When the weather’s nice, it attracts as many bugs as a hot sun and a rain shower bring out in the middle of June. The common folks swarm in so much that you can hardly get into your carriage without being jostled by the tailors, linen sellers, and shop boys who’ve been serving you all week; and whether it’s wet or dry, it’s unbearable. For me, I get so incredibly bored on that day that I find it quite difficult to get through it without a serious case of the creeps.
“What a legion of counter-coxcombs!” exclaimed she, as we passed Grosvenor-gate. “Upon the plunder of the till, or by overcharging some particular article sold on the previous day, it is easy for these once-a-week beaux to hire a tilbury, and an awkward groom in a pepper and salt, or drab coat, like the incog. of the royal family, to mix with their betters and sport their persons in the drive of fashion: some of the monsters, too, have the impudence of bowing to ladies whom they do not know, merely to give them an air, or pass off their customers for their acquaintance: its very distressing. There!” continued she, “there goes my plumassier, with gilt spurs like a field-officer, and riding as importantly as if he were one of the Lords of the Treasury; or—ah! there, again, is my banker's clerk, so stiff and so laced up, that he might pass for an Egyptian mummy—the self-importance of these puppies is insufferable! What impudence! he has picked up some groom out of place, with a cockade in his hat, by way of imposing on the world for a beau militaire. What will the world come to! I really have not common patience with these creatures. I have long since left off going to the play on a Saturday night, because, independently of my preference for the Opera, these insects from Cornhill or Whitechapel, shut up their shops, cheat their masters, and commence their airs of importance about nine o'clock. Then again you have the same party crowding the Park on a Sunday; but on the following day, return, like school boys, to their work, and you see them with their pen behind their ear, calculating how to make up for their late extravagances, pestering you with lies, and urging you to buy twice as much as you want, then officiously offering their arm at your carriage-door.”
“What a bunch of pretentious fools!” she exclaimed as we passed Grosvenor Gate. “By robbing the cash register or overcharging for some item sold the day before, it’s easy for these once-a-week guys to rent a carriage and get a clumsy groom in a pepper-and-salt or drab coat, like an incog. from the royal family, to mingle with people of higher status and show off in the fashionable drive: some of these clowns even have the nerve to bow to ladies they don’t know, just to seem important or pretend that their customers are acquaintances: it’s just so annoying. Look!” she continued, “there goes my plumassier, with gold spurs like a field officer, riding as if he were one of the Treasury Lords; or—oh! there’s my banker’s clerk, so stiff and so laced up that he could pass for an Egyptian mummy—the self-importance of these guys is unbearable! What audacity! He’s picked up some unemployed groom with a cockade in his hat to fool everyone into thinking he’s a beau militaire. What’s the world coming to? I really can’t stand these people. I stopped going to the theater on Saturday nights a long time ago because, aside from my preference for the Opera, those pests from Cornhill or Whitechapel close their shops, cheat their bosses, and start acting important around nine o'clock. Then they crowd the Park on Sundays, but the next day, they return to their jobs like schoolboys, seen with a pen behind their ear, figuring out how to make up for their recent overspending, pestering you with lies and urging you to buy more than you actually need, then overly eager to offer their arm at your carriage door.”
Capt. Bergamotte at this moment came up to the carriage, perfumed like a milliner, his colour much heightened by some vegetable dye, and resolved neither to “blush unseen,” nor “waste his sweetness on the desert air.” Two false teeth in front, shamed the others a little in their ivory polish, and his breath savoured of myrrh like a heathen sacrifice, or the incense burned in [18]one of their temples. He thrust his horse's head into the carriage, rather abruptly and indecorously, (as one not accustomed to the haut-ton might suppose) but it gave no offence. He smiled affectedly, adjusted his hat, pulled a lock of hair across his forehead, with a view of shewing the whiteness of the latter, and next, that the glossiness of the former must have owed its lustre to at least two hours brushing, arranging, and perfuming; used his quizzing-glass, and took snuff with a flourish. Lady Townley condescended to caress the horse, and to display her lovely white arm ungloved, with which she patted the horse's neck, and drew a hundred admiring eyes.
Capt. Bergamotte arrived at the carriage, smelling like a fancy shop, his cheeks brightened by some kind of dye, determined not to “blush unseen” nor “waste his sweetness on the desert air.” Two false teeth in the front made the others look a bit dull in their ivory shine, and his breath smelled of myrrh like a pagan ritual or the incense burned in [18]one of their temples. He thrust his horse's head into the carriage rather abruptly and rudely (as someone unaccustomed to high society might think), but it didn’t offend anyone. He smiled in a way that seemed overdone, adjusted his hat, and pulled a lock of hair across his forehead to show off its whiteness, aiming to demonstrate that the shine of his hair was the result of at least two hours of brushing, arranging, and perfuming; he used his quizzing-glass and took snuff with a bit of flair. Lady Townley condescended to pet the horse, showing off her beautiful bare white arm as she patted the horse's neck, drawing a hundred admiring gazes.
The exquisite all this time brushed the animal gently with a highly-scented silk handkerchief, after which he displayed a cambric one, and went through a thousand little playful airs and affectations, which Bob thought would have suited a fine lady better than a lieutenant in his Majesty's brigade of guards. Applying the lines of an inimitable satire, (The Age of Frivolity) to the figure before him, he concluded:
The elegant person had been gently brushing the animal with a fragrant silk handkerchief for a while, then he showed off a cotton one and went through countless playful gestures and mannerisms that Bob thought would be more fitting for a lady than for a lieutenant in His Majesty's guard. Using lines from a brilliant satire, (The Age of Frivolity), he concluded:
Although he talked a great deal, the whole amount of his discourse was to inform her Ladyship that (Stilletto) meaning his horse, (who in truth appeared to possess more fire and spirit than his rider could either boast of or command,) had cost him only 700 guineas, and was prime blood; that the horse his groom rode, was nothing but a good one, and had run at the Craven—that he had been prodigiously fortunate that season on the turf—that he was a bold rider, and could not bear himself without a fine high spirited animal—and, that being engaged to dine at [19]three places that day, he was desperately at a loss to know how he should act; but that if her Ladyship dined at any one of the three, he would certainly join that party, and cut the other two.
Although he spoke a lot, all he really did was inform her Ladyship that (Stilletto), meaning his horse (who honestly seemed to have more energy and spirit than he could either brag about or control), had only cost him 700 guineas and was top-blood; that the horse his groom rode was just a decent one, and had raced at the Craven—that he had been incredibly lucky that season on the turf—that he was a daring rider, and couldn’t stand to be without a fine, spirited animal—and that, having been invited to dinner at [19] three places that day, he was really unsure about what to do; but if her Ladyship dined at any one of the three, he would definitely join that party and ignore the other two.
At this moment, a mad-brained ruffian of quality, with a splendid equipage, came driving by with four in hand, and exclaimed as he flew past, in an affected tone,—“All! Tom, my dear fellow,—why where the devil have you hid yourself of late?” The speed of his cattle prevented the possibility of reply. “Although you see him in such excellent trim,” observed Tom to Lady Jane, “though his cattle and equipage are so well appointed, would you suppose, it, he has but just made his appearance from the Bench after white-washing? But he is a noble spirited fellow,” remarked the exquisite, “drives the best horses, and is one of the first whips in town; always gallant and gay, full of life and good humour; and, I am happy to say, he has now a dozen of as fine horses as any in Christendom, bien entendu, kept in my name.” After this explanation of the characters of his friend and his horses, he kissed his hand to her Ladyship, and was out of sight in an instant, “Adieu, adieu, thou dear, delightful sprig of fashion!” said Lady Jane, as he left the side of the carriage.—“Fashion and folly,” said Tom, half whispering, and recalling to his mind the following lines:—
At that moment, a crazy, high-class troublemaker, with a fancy carriage, drove by with four horses and shouted as he sped past, in an exaggerated tone, “Oh! Tom, my dear friend—where the heck have you been hiding lately?” The speed of his horses made it impossible to respond. “Even though he looks so sharp,” Tom said to Lady Jane, “with his horses and carriage so well turned out, would you believe he just got back from the Bench after a little 'cleaning up?' But he’s a noble guy,” the stylish man added, “drives the best horses, and is one of the top whip-smart drivers in town; always charming and cheerful, full of life and good humor; and I’m happy to say he now has a dozen of the finest horses in the world, of course, kept in my name.” After explaining his friend’s character and his horses, he waved goodbye to her Ladyship, and vanished in an instant. “Goodbye, goodbye, you dear, delightful piece of fashion!” Lady Jane called out as he walked away from the carriage. “Fashion and foolishness,” Tom murmured, recalling the following lines:
His moralizing reverie was however interrupted by her Ladyship, who perceiving a group of females decked in the extreme of Parisian fashions, “there,” said she, “there is all that taffeta, feathers, flowers, and lace can do; and yet you see by their loud talking, their being unattended by a servant, and by the bit of straw adhering to the pettycoat of one of them, that they come all the way from Fish Street Hill, or the Borough, in a hackney-coach, and are now trying to play off the airs of women of fashion.”
His moralizing daydream was interrupted by her Ladyship, who noticed a group of women flaunting the latest Parisian styles. “Look,” she said, “that's what all that taffeta, feathers, flowers, and lace can do; yet you can tell by their loud chatter, the fact that they don’t have a servant, and the piece of straw stuck to one of their petticoats, that they came all the way from Fish Street Hill or the Borough in a hired coach, and are now trying to act like fashionable ladies.”
Mrs. Marvellous now drew up close to the party. “My dear Lady Jane,” said she, “1 am positively suffocated with dust, and sickened with vulgarity; but to be sure we [20]have every thing in London here, from the House of Peers to Waterloo House. I must tell you about the trial, and Lady Barbara's mortification, and about poor Mr. R.'s being arrested, and the midnight flight to the Continent of our poor friend W——.”
Mrs. Marvellous now moved in closer to the group. “My dear Lady Jane,” she said, “I’m completely overwhelmed by dust and disgusted by the tackiness; but I suppose we have everything in London right here, from the House of Peers to Waterloo House. I have to tell you about the trial, Lady Barbara’s embarrassment, and poor Mr. R. being arrested, along with our friend W——’s late-night escape to the Continent.”
With this brief, but at the same time comprehensive introduction, she lacerated the reputation of almost all her acquaintance, and excited great attention from the party, which had been joined by several during her truly interesting intelligence. Every other topic in a moment gave way to this delightful amusement, and each with volubility contributed his or her share to the general stock of slander.
With this short but thorough introduction, she damaged the reputation of nearly all her acquaintances and drew significant attention from the group, which had been joined by several people during her genuinely fascinating gossip. Every other topic quickly faded in comparison to this enjoyable entertainment, and everyone eagerly added their bit to the collective gossip.
Scandal is at all times the sauce piquante that currys incident in every situation; and where is the fashionable circle that can sit down to table without made dishes?—Character is the good old-fashioned roast beef of the table, which no one touches but to mangle and destroy.
Scandal is always the sauce piquante that adds spice to every situation; and where is the trendy crowd that can enjoy a meal without controversial topics?—Character is the classic roast beef at the table, which no one approaches without the intent to tear it apart.
Our heroes now took leave, and proceeded through the Park. “Who is that fat, fair, and forty-looking dame, in the landau?” says Bob.—“Your description shews,” rejoined his friend, “you are but a novice in the world of fashion—you are deceived, that lady is as much made up as a wax-doll. She has been such as she now appears to be for these last five and twenty years; her figure as you see, rather en-bon point, is friendly to the ravages of time, and every lineament of age is artfully filled up by an expert fille de chambre, whose time has been employed at the toilette of a celebrated devotee in Paris. She drives through the Park as a matter of course, merely to furnish an opportunity for saying that she has been there: but the more important business of the morning will be transacted [21]at her boudoir, in the King's Road, where every luxury is provided to influence the senses; and where, by daily appointment, she is expected to meet a sturdy gallant. She is a perfect Messalina in her enjoyments; but her rank in society protects her from sustaining any injury by her sentimental wanderings.
Our heroes took their leave and headed through the Park. “Who is that chubby, attractive woman in the landau?” Bob asked. “Your description shows,” his friend replied, “that you’re still new to the fashion scene—you’re mistaken, that lady is as artificial as a wax doll. She’s been looking like this for the last twenty-five years; her figure, as you see, is on the heavier side, which helps hide the effects of aging, and every wrinkle is cleverly filled in by a skilled maid, who has spent time preparing a famous socialite in Paris. She drives through the Park just to say she’s been there: but the real business of her morning happens [21]in her boudoir on King’s Road, where every luxury is there to please the senses; and where, by daily appointment, she meets a rugged lover. She’s like a modern-day Messalina in her pleasures; but her social status keeps her safe from any consequences of her romantic escapades.
“Do you see that tall handsome man on horseback, who has just taken off his hat to her, he is a knight of the ... ribbon; and a well-known flutterer among the ladies, as well as a vast composer of pretty little nothings.”—“Indeed! and pray, cousin, do you see that lady of quality, just driving in at the gate in a superb yellow vis-à-vis,—as you seem to know every body, who is she?”
“Do you see that tall, handsome guy on horseback who just tipped his hat to her? He’s a knight of the ... ribbon and is well-known for charming all the ladies, as well as for coming up with sweet little nothings.” — “Really? And tell me, cousin, do you see that classy lady just pulling up at the gate in that amazing yellow carriage? Since you seem to know everyone, who is she?”
“Ha! ha! ha!” replied Tom, almost bursting with laughter, yet endeavouring to conceal it, “that Lady of Quality, as you are inclined to think her, a very few years since, was nothing more than a pot-girl to a publican in Marj'-le-bone; but an old debauchee (upon the look out for defenceless beauty) admiring the fineness of her form, the brilliancy of her eye, and the symmetry of her features, became the possessor of her person, and took her into keeping, as one of the indispensable appendages of fashionable life, after a month's ablution at Margate, where he gave her masters of every description. Her understanding was ready, and at his death, which happened, luckily for her, before satiety had extinguished appetite, she was left with an annuity of twelve hundred pounds—improved beauty—superficial accomplishments—and an immoderate share of caprice, insolence, and vanity. As a proof of this, I must tell you that at an elegant entertainment lately given by this dashing cyprian, she demolished a desert service of glass and china that cost five hundred guineas, in a fit of passionate ill-humour; and when her paramour intreated her to be more composed, she became indignant—called for her writing-desk in a rage—committed a settlement of four hundred a year, which he had made but a short time previously, to the flames, and asked him, with, a self-important air, whether he dared to suppose that paltry parchment gave him an authority to direct her actions?”
“Ha! ha! ha!” Tom replied, nearly bursting with laughter but trying to hide it. “That high-society lady you think she is, just a few years ago, was nothing more than a barmaid at a pub in Marylebone. But an old party guy, always on the lookout for vulnerable beauty, saw her lovely figure, sparkling eyes, and nice features and ended up taking her in, treating her like an essential part of the high life. After a month-long stay at Margate to refresh her, he got her lessons in everything. She was smart, and when he died—luckily for her, before he got bored of her—she received an annuity of twelve hundred pounds. She improved her looks, picked up some shallow skills, and gained a huge dose of moodiness, arrogance, and vanity. To prove this, I've got to tell you that at a fancy party held recently by this flashy woman, she smashed a dessert set made of glass and china worth five hundred guineas in a fit of angry rage. When her lover asked her to calm down, she got furious, demanded her writing desk in a huff, burned a settlement of four hundred a year he had recently arranged, and asked him with an air of superiority if he really thought that worthless piece of paper gave him the right to control her actions?”
“And what said the lover to this severe remonstrance?”
“And what did the lover say to this harsh criticism?”
“Say,—why he very sensibly made her a low bow, thanked her for her kindness, in releasing him from his bond, and took his leave of her, determined to return no more.”
“Say, he politely made her a low bow, thanked her for her kindness in freeing him from his obligation, and took his leave, resolved not to come back.”
[22]"Turn to the right,” says Tom, “and yonder you will see on horseback, that staunch patriot, and friend of the people, Sir——, of whom you must have heard so much.”
[22]“Turn to the right,” says Tom, “and over there you’ll see on horseback that loyal patriot and friend of the people, Sir——, whom you must have heard so much about.”
“He has just come out of the K——B——, having completed last week the term of imprisonment, to which he was sentenced for a libel on Government, contained in his address to his constituents on the subject of the memorable Manchester Meeting.”
“He has just come out of the K——B——, having completed last week the term of imprisonment he was sentenced to for a libel on the Government in his address to his constituents about the notable Manchester Meeting.”
“Ah! indeed, and is that the red-hot patriot?—well, I must say I have often regretted he should have gone to such extremes in one or two instances, although I ever admired his general character for firmness, manly intrepidity, and disinterested conduct.”
“Ah! really, is that the passionate patriot?—well, I have to say I’ve often wished he hadn’t gone to such extremes in a couple of situations, even though I’ve always admired his overall traits of strength, bravery, and selflessness.”
“You are right, Bob, perfectly right; but you know, 'to err is human, to forgive divine,' and however he may err, he does so from principle. In his private character, as father, husband, friend, and polished gentleman, he has very few equals—no superior.
“You're right, Bob, perfectly right; but you know, 'to err is human, to forgive divine,' and no matter how he might make mistakes, he does it out of principle. In his private life, as a father, husband, friend, and refined gentleman, he has very few equals—none better.”
“He is a branch of one of the most ancient families in the kingdom, and can trace his ancestors without interruption, from the days of William the Conqueror. His political career has been eventful, and perhaps has cost him more, both in pocket and person, than any Member of Parliament now existing. He took his seat in the House of Commons at an early age, and first rendered himself popular by his strenuous opposition to a bill purporting to regulate the publication of newspapers.
“He is a part of one of the oldest families in the kingdom and can trace his lineage uninterrupted back to the time of William the Conqueror. His political career has been full of events and might have cost him more, both financially and personally, than any current Member of Parliament. He took his seat in the House of Commons at a young age and initially gained popularity through his strong opposition to a bill aimed at regulating newspaper publications.”
“The next object of his determined reprehension, was the Cold-Bath-Fields Prison, and the treatment of the unfortunates therein confined. The uniformly bold and energetic language made use of by the honourable Baronet upon that occasion, breathed the true spirit of British liberty. He reprobated the unconstitutional measure of erecting what he termed a Bastile in the very heart of a free country, as one that could neither have its foundation in national policy, nor eventually be productive of private good. He remarked that prisons, at which private punishments, cruel as they were illegal, were exercised, at the mercy of an unprincipled gaoler—cells in which human beings were exposed to the horrors of heart-sickening solitude, and depressed in spirit by their restriction to a scanty and exclusive allowance of bread and water, were not only incompatible with the spirit of the constitution, but were likely to prove injurious to the spirit of the [23]people of this happy country; for as Goldsmith admirably remarks,
“The next target of his firm criticism was Cold-Bath-Fields Prison and the treatment of those unfortunate individuals locked up there. The consistently bold and forceful language used by the honorable Baronet during that time captured the true essence of British liberty. He condemned the unconstitutional act of building what he called a Bastile in the very center of a free nation, arguing that it lacked any foundation in national policy and would ultimately do no good for individuals. He pointed out that prisons, where punishments as cruel as they were illegal were inflicted at the mercy of a ruthless jailer—cells where people faced the horrors of heartbreaking isolation and were depressed by being limited to meager rations of bread and water—were not only at odds with the spirit of the constitution but could also harm the spirit of the [23]people of this great country; as Goldsmith wisely points out,
“And if this be not tyranny” continued the philanthropic orator, “it is impossible to define the term. I promise you here that I will persevere to the last in unmasking this wanton abuse of justice and humanity.” His invincible fortitude in favour of the people, has rendered him a distinguished favourite among them: and though by some he is termed a visionary, an enthusiast, and a tool of party, his adherence to the rights of the subject, and his perseverance to uphold the principles of the constitution, are deserving the admiration of every Englishman; and although his fortune is princely, and has been at his command ever since an early age, he has never had his name registered among the fashionable gamesters at the clubs in St. James's-street, Newmarket, or elsewhere. He labours in the vineyard of utility rather than in the more luxuriant garden of folly; and, according to general conception, may emphatically be called an honest man. “But come,” said Tom, “it is time for us to move homeward—the company are drawing off I see, we must shape our course towards Piccadilly.”
“And if this isn’t tyranny,” continued the caring speaker, “it’s impossible to define what is. I promise you right now that I will keep fighting until the end to expose this reckless abuse of justice and humanity.” His unwavering determination in support of the people has made him a well-liked figure among them: and even though some call him a dreamer, an idealist, and a party pawn, his commitment to the rights of the individual and his determination to uphold the principles of the constitution deserve the admiration of every Englishman. And although he has a princely fortune that has been at his disposal since a young age, he has never had his name listed among the fashionable gamblers at the clubs in St. James's Street, Newmarket, or elsewhere. He works in the field of practicality rather than in the more abundant garden of folly; and, as people usually think, he can truly be called an honest man. “But come,” said Tom, “it’s time for us to head home—the crowd is thinning, and we need to make our way towards Piccadilly.”
They dashed through the Park, not however without being saluted by many of his fashionable friends, who rejoiced to see that the Honourable Tom Dashall was again to be numbered among the votaries of Real Life in London; while the young squire, whose visionary orbs appeared to be in perpetual motion, dazzled with the splendid equipages of the moving panorama, was absorbed in reflections somewhat similar to the following:
They rushed through the park, not without being greeted by many of his stylish friends, who were happy to see that the Honourable Tom Dashall was back among the followers of real life in London; while the young squire, whose eyes seemed to be in constant motion, dazzled by the impressive carriages of the moving scene, was lost in thoughts somewhat similar to the following:
CHAPTER IV
[24]IT was half past five when the Hon. Tom Dashall, and his enraptured cousin, reached the habitation of the former, who had taken care to dispatch a groom, apprizing Mrs. Watson, the house-keeper, of his intention to be at home by half past six to dinner; consequently all was prepared for their reception. The style of elegance in which Tom appeared to move, struck Tallyho at once with delight and astonishment, as they entered the drawing-room; which was superbly and tastefully fitted up, and commanded a cheerful view of Piccadilly. “Welcome, my dear Bob!” said Tom to his cousin, “to all the delights of Town—come, tell me what you think of its first appearance, only remember you commence your studies of Life in London on a dull day; to-morrow you will have more enlivening prospects before you.” “'Why in truth,” replied Bob, “the rapidity of attraction is such, as at present to leave no distinct impressions on my mind; all appears like enchantment, and I am completely bewildered in a labyrinth of wonders, to which there appears to be no end; but under your kind guidance and tuition I may prove myself an apt scholar, in unravelling its intricacies.” By this time they had approached the window.
[24]It was 5:30 when the Hon. Tom Dashall and his excited cousin arrived at Tom's place. He had made sure to send a groom to inform Mrs. Watson, the housekeeper, that he would be home by 6:30 for dinner. So everything was prepared for them. The elegant way in which Tom carried himself amazed and delighted Tallyho as they entered the drawing-room, which was beautifully decorated and had a cheerful view of Piccadilly. “Welcome, my dear Bob!” Tom said to his cousin. “Welcome to all the pleasures of the city—tell me what you think of its first impression, but remember you're starting your adventure in London on a dull day; tomorrow you'll see much more exciting sights.” “Well,” Bob replied, “the speed of everything is so overwhelming that I can't form any clear thoughts; it all feels like magic, and I’m completely lost in a maze of wonders with no end in sight. But with your help and guidance, I might be a good student at figuring it all out.” By this time, they had moved closer to the window.
“Aye, aye,” says Dashall, “we shall not be long, I see, without some object to exercise your mind upon, and dispel the horrors.
“Aye, aye,” says Dashall, “I can see we won’t be without something to keep your mind busy and chase away the fears for long.”
[25]Bob was surprised at this sudden exclamation of his cousin, and from the introduction naturally expected something extraordinary, though he looked around him without discovering his object.
[25]Bob was taken aback by his cousin's sudden shout, and because of the way it was introduced, he expected something remarkable. However, he looked around and couldn’t find what it was about.
“It is Lord C——, who was formerly well known as the celebrated Major H——, the companion of the now most distinguished personage in the British dominions! and who not long since became possessed of his lordly honours. Some particulars of him are worth knowing. He was early introduced into life, and often kept both good and bad company, associating with men and women of every description and of every rank, from the highest to the lowest—from St. James's to St. Giles's, in palaces and night-cellars—from the drawing-room to the dust-cart. He can drink, swear, tell stories, cudgel, box, and smoke with any one; having by his intercourse with society fitted himself for all companies. His education has been more practical than theoretical, though he was brought up at Eton, where, notwithstanding he made considerable progress in his studies, he took such an aversion to Greek that he never would learn it. Previous to his arrival at his present title, he used to be called Honest George, and so unalterable is his nature, that to this hour he likes it, and it fits him better than his title. But he has often been sadly put to his shifts under various circumstances: he was a courtier, but was too honest for that; he tried gaming, but he was too honest for that; he got into prison, and might have wiped off, but he was too honest for that; he got into the coal trade, but he found it a black business, and he was too honest for that. At drawing the long bow, so much perhaps cannot be said—but that you know is habit, not principle; his courage is undoubted, having fought three duels before he was twenty years of age.
“It’s Lord C——, who used to be well known as the famous Major H——, the companion of the now most distinguished figure in the British Empire! He recently gained his noble title. Some details about him are worth knowing. He was introduced to life early on and often hung out with both good and bad company, socializing with men and women of all kinds and ranks, from the highest to the lowest—from St. James's to St. Giles's, in palaces and dive bars—from the drawing room to the trash truck. He can drink, swear, tell stories, fight, box, and smoke with anyone; his interactions with society have prepared him for all kinds of people. His education has been more practical than theoretical, although he was raised at Eton, where he made significant progress in his studies but developed such a dislike for Greek that he refused to learn it. Before he got his current title, he was known as Honest George, and so unchanging is his nature that even now he likes it, and it suits him better than his title. However, he has often faced challenges in various situations: he was a courtier but was too honest for that; he tried gambling, but he was too honest for that; he ended up in prison and could have escaped, but he was too honest for that; he went into the coal trade, but he found it a dirty business, and he was too honest for that. As for exaggerating, perhaps not so much can be said—but that’s a habit, not a principle; his bravery is unquestionable, having fought three duels before he turned twenty.”
Being disappointed in his hope of promotion in the army, he resolved, in spite of the remonstrances of his [26]friends, to quit the guards, and solicited an appointment in one of the Hessian corps, at that time raising for the British service in America, where the war of the revolution was then commencing, and obtained from the Landgrave of Hesse a captain's commission in his corps of Jagers.
Feeling let down by his hope for a promotion in the army, he decided, despite his friends' protests, to leave the guards and sought a position in one of the Hessian corps that were being formed for British service in America, where the Revolutionary War was just starting. He received a captain's commission in the Jägers corps from the Landgrave of Hesse.
Previous to his departure for America, finding he had involved himself in difficulties by a profuse expenditure, too extensive for his income, and an indulgence in the pleasures of the turf to a very great extent, he felt himself under the necessity of mortgaging an estate of about 11,000L. per annum, left him by his aunt, and which proved unequal to the liquidation of his debts. He remained in America till the end of the war, where he distinguished himself for bravery, and suffered much with the yellow fever. On his return, he obtained an introduction to the Prince of Wales, who by that time had lanched into public life, and became one of the jovial characters whom he selected for his associates; and many are the amusing anecdotes related of him. The Prince conferred on him the appointment of equerry, with a salary of 300L. a year; this, however, he lost on the retrenchments that were afterwards made in the household of His Royal Highness. He continued, however, to be one of his constant companions, and while in his favour they were accustomed to practice strange vagaries. The Major was always a wag, ripe and ready for a spree or a lark.
Before he left for America, he realized he had gotten himself into trouble due to his excessive spending, which far exceeded his income, and his considerable indulgence in horse racing. As a result, he had to mortgage an estate worth about £11,000 a year that his aunt had left him, but it wasn’t enough to pay off his debts. He stayed in America until the war ended, where he gained a reputation for his bravery and suffered greatly from yellow fever. Upon his return, he managed to get an introduction to the Prince of Wales, who by then had entered public life and chose him as one of his fun-loving companions, leading to many amusing stories about him. The Prince appointed him as equerry, with a salary of £300 a year; however, he lost that position due to subsequent budget cuts in the Royal Household. Despite this, he remained one of the Prince's close companions, and while in his good books, they were known for their wild antics. The Major was always a jokester, ready for a good time or an adventure.
At one time, when the favourite's finances were rather low, and the mopusses ran taper, it was remarked among the 60 vivants of the party, that the Major had not for some time given them an invitation. This, however, he promised to do, and fixed the day—the Prince having engaged to make one. Upon this occasion he took lodgings in Tottenham-court Road—went to a wine-merchant—promised to introduce him to the royal presence, upon his engaging to find wine for the party, which was readily acceded to; and a dinner of three courses was served up. Three such courses, perhaps, were never before seen; when the company were seated, two large dishes appeared; one was placed at the top of the table, and one at the bottom; all was anxious expectation: [27]the covers being removed, exhibited to view, a baked shoulder of mutton at top, and baked potatoes at the bottom. They all looked around with astonishment, but, knowing the general eccentricity of their host, they readily fell into his humour, and partook of his fare; not doubting but the second course would make ample amends for the first. The wine was good, and the Major apologized for his accommodations, being, as he said, a family sort of man, and the dinner, though somewhat uncommon, was not such an one as is described by Goldsmith:
At one point, when the favorite’s finances were pretty low and the mopusses ran taper, it was noted among the 60 people at the party that the Major hadn’t sent them an invitation in a while. However, he promised to do so and set a date—the Prince agreeing to attend. For this occasion, he rented a place on Tottenham Court Road, visited a wine merchant, and promised to introduce him to royalty if he could provide the wine for the party, which he gladly accepted. A three-course dinner was served. Never before had such a dinner been witnessed; when everyone was seated, two large dishes appeared—one at the top of the table and one at the bottom. There was anxious anticipation: [27]when the covers were lifted, they revealed a baked shoulder of mutton on top and baked potatoes on the bottom. They all looked around in shock, but knowing their host’s usual eccentricity, they quickly went along with his style and enjoyed the meal, certain that the second course would surely be an improvement on the first. The wine was good, and the Major apologized for his accommodations, explaining that he was a family-oriented man, and though the dinner was a bit unusual, it wasn't as bad as what Goldsmith described.
At length the second course appeared; when lo and behold, another baked shoulder of mutton and baked potatoes! Surprise followed surprise—but
At last, the second course arrived; and guess what, another baked shoulder of mutton and baked potatoes! Surprise after surprise—but
The third course consisted of the same fare, clearly proving that he had in his catering studied quantity more than variety; however, they enjoyed the joke, eat as much as they pleased, laughed heartily at the dinner, and after bumpering till a late hour, took their departure: it is said, however, that he introduced the wine-merchant to his Highness, who afterwards profited by his orders.{1}
The third course was made up of the same dishes, clearly showing that he focused more on quantity than variety in his catering; however, they enjoyed the humor, ate as much as they wanted, laughed a lot during dinner, and after toasting until late, they left. It's said that he introduced the wine merchant to his Highness, who later benefitted from his orders.{1}
[28]It is reported that the Prince gave him a commission, under an express promise that when he could not shew it, he was no longer to enjoy his royal favour. This commission was afterwards lost by the improvident possessor, and going to call on the donor one morning, who espying him on his way, he threw up the sash and called out, “Well, George, commission or no commission?” “No commission, by G——, your Highness?” was the reply.
[28]It's said that the Prince gave him a commission with a clear promise that if he couldn't present it, he would no longer have his royal support. This commission was eventually lost by the careless holder, and when he went to visit the Prince one morning, the Prince saw him approaching and called out, “Well, George, commission or no commission?” “No commission, by G——, your Highness?” was the answer.
“Then you cannot enter here,” rejoined the prince, closing the window and the connection at the same time.
“Then you can’t come in here,” the prince replied, closing the window and ending the conversation at the same time.
“His Lordship now resides in the Regent's Park, and may almost nightly be seen at a public-house in the neighbourhood, where he takes his grog and smokes his pipe, amusing the company around him with anecdotes of his former days; we may, perhaps, fall in with him some night in our travels, and you will find him a very amusing and sometimes very sensible sort of fellow, till he gets his grog on board, when he can be as boisterous and blustering as a coal-heaver or a bully. His present fortune is impaired by his former imprudence, but he still mingles with the sporting world, and a short time back had his pocket picked, at a milling match, of a valuable gold repeater. He has favoured the world with several literary productions, among which are Memoirs of his own Life, embellished with a view of the author, suspended from (to use the phrase of a late celebrated auctioneer) a hanging wood; and a very elaborate treatise on the Art of Rat-catching. In the advertisement of the latter work, the author engages it will enable the reader to “clear any house of these noxious vermin, however much infested, excepting only a certain great House in the neighbourhood of St. Stephen's, Westminster."{1}
“His Lordship now lives in Regent's Park, and can often be seen at a nearby pub most nights, where he enjoys his drink and smokes his pipe, entertaining those around him with stories from his past. We might run into him one night during our outings, and you'll find him to be quite entertaining and sometimes surprisingly insightful until he’s had a few drinks, at which point he can become as loud and aggressive as a coal worker or a bully. His current finances have suffered due to his past recklessness, but he still mixes with the sports community, and not long ago, he had his pocket picked at a boxing match, losing a valuable gold watch. He has shared several literary works with the world, including Memoirs of his Life, which features an illustration of the author, hanging from (to quote a famous auctioneer) a 'hanging wood'; and a detailed guide on the Art of Rat-catching. In the ad for the latter work, the author claims it will help the reader “clear any house of these pesky vermin, no matter how infested, except for one prominent House near St. Stephen's in Westminster.”{1}
[29]"Do you,” said Tom, pointing to a person on the other side of the way, “see that young man, walking with a half-smothered air of indifference, affecting to whistle as he walks, and twirling his stick? He is a once-a-week man, or, in other words, a Sunday promenader—Harry Hairbrain was born of a good family, and, at the decease of his father, became possessed of ten thousand pounds, which he sported with more zeal than discretion, so much so, that having been introduced to the gaming table by a pretended friend, and fluctuated between poverty and affluence for four years, he found himself considerably in debt, and was compelled to seek refuge in an obscure lodging, somewhere in the neighbourhood of Kilburn, in order to avoid the traps; for, as he observes, he has been among the Greeks and pigeons, who have completely rook'd him, and now want to crow over him: he has been at hide and seek for the last two months, and, depending on the death of a rich old maiden aunt who has no other heir, he eventually hopes to 'diddle 'em.'”
[29]“Do you,” said Tom, pointing to a person on the other side of the street, “see that young man, walking with a casual air of indifference, pretending to whistle as he strolls and twirling his stick? He is a once-a-week man, or, in other words, a Sunday walker—Harry Hairbrain came from a good family, and when his father passed away, he inherited ten thousand pounds, which he spent with more enthusiasm than judgment. So much so that, after being introduced to gambling by a fake friend and bouncing between being broke and wealthy for four years, he found himself deep in debt and had to take refuge in a cheap place to stay somewhere near Kilburn, to dodge the traps; because, as he says, he has been among the Greeks and pigeons, who have completely conned him, and now want to gloat over him: he has been playing hide and seek for the last two months, and counting on the death of a rich old maiden aunt who has no other heir, he eventually hopes to 'diddle 'em.'”
This narrative of Hairbrain was like Hebrew ta Tallyho, who requested his interesting cousin, as he found himself at falt, to try back, and put him on the right scent.
This story of Hairbrain was like Hebrew ta Tallyho, who asked his intriguing cousin, as he found himself at falt, to try back, and put him on the right scent.
“Ha! ha! ha!” said Tom, “we must find a new London vocabulary, I see, before we shall be able to converse intelligibly; but as you are now solely under my tuition, I will endeavour to throw a little light upon the subject.
“Ha! ha! ha!” said Tom, “we need to come up with a new London vocabulary, I can see, before we can talk properly; but since you’re now completely in my hands, I’ll try to shed some light on the topic.
“Your once-a-week man, or Sunday promenader, is one who confines himself, to avoid confinement, lodging in remote quarters in the vicinity of the Metropolis, within a mile or two of the Bridges, Oxford Street, or Hyde-Park Corner, and is constrained to waste six uncomfortable and useless days in the week, in order to secure the enjoyment of the seventh, when he fearlessly ventures forth, to recruit his ideas—to give a little variety to the sombre picture of life, unmolested, to transact his business, or to call on some old friend, and keep up those relations with the world which would otherwise be completely neglected or broken.
“Your once-a-week guy, or Sunday walker, is someone who limits himself, to dodge feeling trapped, by staying in secluded places near the City, within a mile or two of the Bridges, Oxford Street, or Hyde-Park Corner, and spends six uncomfortable and pointless days of the week just to enjoy the seventh, when he boldly goes out, to refresh his thinking—to add a little variety to the dullness of life, undisturbed, to handle his errands, or to visit an old friend and maintain those connections with the world that would otherwise be totally ignored or lost.”
“Among characters of this description, may frequently be recognised the remnant of fashion, and, perhaps, the impression of nobility not wholly destroyed by adversity and seclusion—the air and manners of a man who has [30]outlived his century, with an assumption of sans souci pourtrayed in his agreeable smile, murmur'd through a low whistle of 'Begone dull care,' or 'No more by sorrow chased, my heart,' or played off by the flourishing of a whip, or the rapping of a boot that has a spur attached to it, which perhaps has not crossed a horse for many months; and occasionally by a judicious glance at another man's carriage, horses, or appointments, which indicates taste, and the former possession of such valuable things. These form a part of the votaries of Real Life in London. This however,” said he (observing his cousin in mute attention) “is but a gloomy part of the scene; vet, perhaps, not altogether uninteresting or unprofitable.”
“Among characters like this, you can often see the remnants of fashion and maybe a hint of nobility that hasn’t completely faded due to hardship and isolation—the vibe and behavior of a man who has [30] outlived his century, with an easygoing attitude shown in his friendly smile, softly humming 'Begone dull care,' or 'No more by sorrow chased, my heart,' or maybe even by the flashy flick of a whip or the tap of a boot with a spur that hasn’t been on a horse in a while; and sometimes with a knowing look at another man's carriage, horses, or gear, showing taste and a past ownership of such valuable things. These are part of the followers of Real Life in London. This, however,” he said (noticing his cousin in silent attention), “is just a bleak part of the picture; yet, perhaps, not entirely uninteresting or unhelpful.”
“I can assure you,” replied Tallyho, “I am delighted with the accurate knowledge you appear to have of society in general, while I regret the situation of the actors in scenes so glowingly described, and am only astonished at the appearance of such persons.”
“I can assure you,” replied Tallyho, “I’m thrilled by your deep understanding of society in general. At the same time, I feel sorry for those involved in the vividly depicted scenes, and I’m just amazed by the presence of such individuals.”
“You must not be astonished at appearances,” rejoined Dashall, “for appearance is every thing in London; and I must particularly warn you not to found your judgment upon it. There is an old adage, which says 'To be poor, and seem poor, is the Devil all over.' Why, if you meet one of these Sunday-men, he will accost you with urbanity and affected cheerfulness, endeavouring to inspire you with an idea that he is one of the happiest of mortals; while, perhaps, the worm of sorrow is secretly gnawing his heart, and preying upon his constitution. Honourable sentiment, struggling with untoward circumstances, is destroying his vitals; not having the courage to pollute his character by a jail-delivery, or to condescend to white-washing, or some low bankrupt trick, to extricate himself from difficulty, in order to stand upright again.
“You shouldn’t be surprised by appearances,” replied Dashall, “because appearance is everything in London; and I must especially warn you not to base your judgment on it. There’s an old saying that goes, 'To be poor, and seem poor, is the Devil all over.' If you happen to meet one of these Sunday-men, he’ll greet you with charm and false cheerfulness, trying to convince you that he’s one of the happiest people alive; while the truth is, he may be secretly suffering, with the weight of sorrow eating away at his heart and health. Noble feelings, struggling against tough situations, are taking a toll on him; he lacks the courage to tarnish his name with a jail escape or stoop to white-washing, or some other low trick to bail himself out, just to be able to stand tall again.”
“A once-a-week man, or Sunday promenader, frequently takes his way through bye streets and short cuts, through courts and alleys, as it were between retirement and a desire to see what is going on in the scenes of his former splendour, to take a sly peep at that world from which he seems to be excluded.”
A once-a-week guy, or Sunday stoller, often makes his way through side streets and shortcuts, navigating through courts and alleys, caught between wanting to retreat and a desire to see what’s happening in the places of his past glory, taking a sneaky look at the world he feels left out of.
“And for all such men,” replied Bob, “expelled from high and from good society, (even though I were compelled to allow by their own imprudence and folly) I [31]should always like to have a spare hundred, to send them in an anonymous cover.”
“And for all those guys,” replied Bob, “kicked out of decent society, (even if I have to admit it’s due to their own stupidity and carelessness) I [31]would always want to have an extra hundred on hand, to send them anonymously.”
“You are right,” rejoined Tom, catching him ardently by the hand, “the sentiment does honour to your head and heart; for to such men, in general, is attached a heart-broken wife, withering by their side in the shade, as the leaves and the blossom cling together at all seasons, in sickness or in health, in affluence or in poverty, until the storm beats too roughly on them, and prematurely destroys the weakest. But I must warn you not to let your liberality get the better of your discretion, for there are active and artful spirits abroad, and even these necessities and miseries are made a handle for deception, to entrap the unwary; and you yet have much to learn—Puff lived two years on sickness and misfortune, by advertisements in the newspapers.”
“You're right,” Tom said, grabbing his hand passionately. “That sentiment reflects well on your intelligence and your compassion; because usually with such men comes a heartbroken wife, wilting beside them in the shadows, just like leaves and blossoms that stick together through all seasons, in good times or bad, in wealth or poverty, until the storm hits too hard and takes away the weakest too soon. But I need to caution you not to let your generosity overshadow your judgment, because there are cunning and manipulative people out there, and even these needs and sufferings can be used as bait to trap the unsuspecting; you still have a lot to learn—Puff survived for two years on sickness and misfortune, thanks to ads in the newspapers.”
“How?” enquired Bob.
"How?" asked Bob.
“You shall have it in his own words,” said Dashall.
“You'll get it in his own words,” said Dashall.
“Astonishing!” cried Bob, “and are such things possible?”
“Amazing!” shouted Bob, “Is that really possible?”
“A month's residence in the metropolis,” said Dashall, “will satisfy your enquiries. One ingenious villain, a short time back, had artifice enough to defraud the public, at different periods of his life, of upwards of one hundred thousand pounds, and actually carried on his fraudulent schemes to the last moment of his existence, for he [32]defrauded Jack Ketch of his fee by hanging himself in his cell after condemnation."{1}
“A month’s stay in the city,” said Dashall, “will answer your questions. One clever con artist, not long ago, managed to swindle the public out of over one hundred thousand pounds at various times in his life and continued his schemes right up until the end of his life, as he [32]cheated Jack Ketch out of his fee by hanging himself in his cell after being sentenced."{1}
Just as a tilbury was passing, “Observe,” said Tom, “the driver of that tilbury is the celebrated Lord Cripplegate with his usual equipage—his blue cloak with a scarlet lining, hanging loosely over the vehicle, gives an air of importance to his appearance, and he is always attended by that boy, who has been denominated his cupid; he is a nobleman by birth, a gentleman by courtesy, and a gamester by profession. He exhausted a large estate upon odd and even, sevens the main, &c. till having lost sight of the main chance, he found it necessary to curtail his establishment and enliven his prospects, by exchanging a first floor for a second, without an opportunity of ascertaining whether or not these alterations were best suited to his high notions or exalted taste; from which in a short time he was induced, either by inclination or necessity, to take a small lodging in an obscure street, and to sport a gig and one horse, instead of a curricle and pair; though in former times he used to drive four in hand, and was acknowledged to be an excellent whip. He still, however, possessed money enough to collect together a large quantity of halfpence, which in his hours of relaxation he managed to turn to good account, by the following stratagem:—He distributed his halfpence on the floor of his little parlour in straight lines, and ascertained how many it would require to cover it; having thus prepared himself, he invited some wealthy spendthrifts (with whom he still had the power of associating) to sup with him, and he welcomed them to his habitation with much cordiality. The glass circulated freely, and each recounted his gaming or amorous adventures till a late hour, when the effects of the bottle becoming visible, he proposed, as a momentary suggestion, to name how many halfpence laid side by side would carpet the floor; and offered to lay a large
Just as a tilbury was passing, "Look," said Tom, "the driver of that tilbury is the famous Lord Cripplegate with his usual setup—his blue cloak with a red lining draped casually over the vehicle gives him an important look, and he's always accompanied by that boy, known as his cupid. He's a nobleman by birth, a gentleman by reputation, and a gambler by trade. He blew through a big fortune on odd and even, sevens the main, etc., until he lost sight of the main chance and found it necessary to downsize his lifestyle and brighten his prospects by trading his first-floor place for a second, without checking if these changes suited his high standards or refined taste. Soon after, either out of desire or necessity, he moved to a small flat on a backstreet and switched from a curricle and two horses to a gig with one horse; even though he used to drive four in hand and was recognized as an excellent whip. Still, he had enough money to gather a pile of halfpence, which he cleverly used during his downtime: he laid out the halfpence on the floor of his small parlor in straight lines and figured out how many it would take to cover the space. Once prepared, he invited some wealthy spenders (whom he could still associate with) to dinner and greeted them warmly at his home. The drinks flowed freely, and everyone shared stories of their gaming or romantic exploits until late in the night. As the effects of the booze kicked in, he jokingly proposed that they guess how many halfpence laid side by side would cover the floor and offered to lay a large...
[33]wager, that he would guess the nearest. Done! done! was echoed round the room. Every one made a deposit of 100L. and every one made a guess equally certain of success; and his lordship declaring he had a large lot of halfpence by him, though, perhaps, not enough, the experiment was to be tried immediately—'twas an excellent hit! The room was cleared, to it they went, the halfpence were arranged rank and file in military order, when it appeared that his lordship had certainly guessed (as well he might) nearest to the number: the consequence was, an immediate alteration of his lordship's residence and appearance: he got one step in the world by it, he gave up his second-hand gig for one warranted new; and a change in his vehicle may pretty generally be considered as the barometer of his pocket.
[33] He bet that he could guess the closest. Done! Done! was echoed around the room. Everyone put down 100L and made their guesses, all equally confident of winning. His lordship announced that he had a big stash of pennies with him, though perhaps not enough, so the experiment was going to happen right away—it was a great idea! The room was cleared, and they got to it; the pennies were lined up in neat rows as if they were soldiers. It turned out that his lordship had indeed guessed (as he very well could) closest to the actual number: as a result, there was an immediate change in his residence and appearance. He moved up in the world because of it; he traded his second-hand carriage for a brand new one, and a change in his ride can usually be seen as a sign of how well he was doing financially.
“Do you mark, he is learing at that pretty girl on the other side of the way? he is fond of the wenches, and has been a true votary of fashion. Perhaps there is not a more perfect model of Real Life in London than might be furnished from the memoirs of his lordship! He is rather a good looking man, as he sits, and prides himself on being a striking likeness of his present majesty; but, unfortunately, has a lameness which impedes him in the ardour of his pursuit of game, although it must be acknowledged he has been a game one in his time. The boy you see with him is reported to be his own son, who is now employed by him as an assistant in all his amorous adventures.”
“Do you see him? He’s staring at that pretty girl across the street. He loves the ladies and is a true follower of fashion. There probably isn’t a better example of real life in London than what you can find in the memoirs of his lordship! He’s actually a good-looking guy as he sits there and takes pride in looking a lot like the current king; however, he unfortunately has a limp that hinders him in his enthusiastic pursuits of romance, although it must be said he was quite the ladies' man in his time. The boy you see with him is said to be his son, who now works as his assistant in all his romantic escapades.”
“His own son!” exclaimed Bob.
"His own son!" Bob exclaimed.
“Aye, and (if so) a merrily begotten one, I'll be bound for it,” continued Tom; “such things will happen, and his lordship has kept a very pretty assortment of servant girls. But the introduction of this youth to public notice was somewhat curious. It is said, that having a large party of bon vivants to dine with him, on sitting down to table, and taking the cover off one of the dishes, a plump and smiling infant appeared. A sweet little Cupid by
“Aye, and if that's the case, it’s a joyfully conceived one, I’m sure of it,” Tom continued. “These things happen, and his lordship has a nice selection of servant girls. But the way this young man came into the public eye is quite interesting. It’s said that while hosting a large dinner party with a bunch of socialites, when he sat down at the table and removed the cover from one of the dishes, out popped a chubby and smiling baby. A cute little Cupid by
——! (exclaimed his lordship) I'll be his father!—I'll
——! (exclaimed his lordship) I'll be his father!—I'll
take care of him!—call Rose, and tell her to look out for a nurse for him. Thus taking upon himself the character of parent and protector as well as parson. Young Cupid was christened in libations of claret, and furnished a fund of amusement for the evening. How young Cupid [34]came there, I believe has not yet been satisfactorily ascertained:
take care of him!—call Rose, and tell her to find a nurse for him. Thus taking on the role of a parent and protector as well as a minister. Young Cupid was celebrated with some claret, providing a source of entertainment for the evening. How young Cupid [34] showed up, I believe has not been clearly understood:
And thus it has proved with Cupid, himself the offspring of an illicit amour, is now constantly engaged in promoting others.
And so it has been with Cupid, who, being the child of a forbidden love, is now always busy helping others find love.
“His lordship had three brothers, Billingsgate! Hellgate! and Newgate! whose names are adorned with a similarity of perfections in the Temple of Fame; but they are consigned to the tomb of the Capulets, and we will not rake up the ashes of the dead."{1}
“His lordship had three brothers, Billingsgate! Hellgate! and Newgate! whose names are celebrated for their similar greatness in the Temple of Fame; but they are laid to rest in the tomb of the Capulets, and we will not disturb the ashes of the dead."{1}
At this moment a loud knocking was heard at the door, and Mr. Sparkle was ushered into the drawing-room, which he entered, as it were, with a hop, step, and jump, and had Tom Dashall by the hand almost before they could turn round to see who it was.
At that moment, there was a loud knock at the door, and Mr. Sparkle was brought into the living room, entering with a hop, skip, and a jump, grabbing Tom Dashall's hand almost before they could turn around to see who it was.
“My dear fellow!” exclaimed Sparkle, almost out of breath, “where have you been to? Time has been standing still since your departure!—there has been a complete void in nature—how do you do?—I beg pardon, (turning to Bob) you will excuse my rapture at meeting my old friend, whom I have lost so long, that I have almost lost myself—egad, I have run myself out of breath—cursed unlucky I was not in the Park this morning to see you first, but I have just heard all about you from Lady Jane, and lost no time in paying my respects—what are you going to do with yourself?”
“My dear friend!” exclaimed Sparkle, nearly out of breath, “where have you been? Time has felt like it’s stood still since you left! There’s been a complete emptiness around—how are you?—I apologize, (turning to Bob) please excuse my excitement at seeing my old friend again. I’ve missed you so much that I’ve almost forgotten myself—oh, I’ve exhausted myself running to find you—what bad luck that I wasn’t in the Park this morning to see you first, but I just heard all about you from Lady Jane and wasted no time coming to greet you—what are you planning to do with yourself?”
[35]At this moment dinner was announced. “Come,” said Tom, “let us refresh a bit, and after dinner I will tell you all about it. We are travellers, you know, and feel a little fatigued. Allons, allons.” And so saying, he led the way to the dinner-room.
[35]At that moment, dinner was announced. “Come on,” Tom said, “let’s recharge a bit, and after dinner, I’ll fill you in on everything. We’re travelers, you know, and we feel a bit tired. Let’s go, let’s go.” With that, he led the way to the dining room.
“Nothing could be more apropos,” said Sparkle, “for although I have two engagements beforehand, and have promised a visit to you know who in the evening, they appear like icicles that must melt before the sun of your re-appearance: so I am your's.” And to it they went. Tom always kept a liberal table, and gave his friends a hearty welcome. But here it will be necessary, while they are regaling themselves, to make our readers a little acquainted with Charles Sparkle, Esq.; for which purpose we must request his patience till the next chapter.
“Nothing could be more perfect,” said Sparkle, “because even though I have two prior commitments and have promised to visit you-know-who in the evening, they seem like icicles that need to melt in the warmth of your return: so I’m all yours.” And off they went. Tom always provided a generous spread and welcomed his friends warmly. But at this point, while they are enjoying themselves, we need to introduce our readers to Charles Sparkle, Esq.; for which reason, we ask for your patience until the next chapter.
CHAPTER V
[36]IT will be seen in the previous chapter, that the formal ceremony of a fashionable introduction, such as—“Mr. Sparkle, my friend Mr. Robert Tallyho, of Belville Hall; Mr. Tallyho, Mr. Charles Sparkle,” was altogether omitted; indeed, the abrupt entrance of the latter rendered it utterly impossible, for although Sparkle was really a well-bred man, he had heard from Lady Jane of Tom's arrival with his young friend from the country. Etiquette between themselves, was at all times completely unnecessary, an air of gaiety and freedom, as the friend of Dashall, was introduction enough to Bob, and consequently this point of good breeding was wholly unnoticed by all the party; but we are not yet sufficiently acquainted with our readers to expect a similar mode of proceeding will be overlooked; we shall therefore lose no time in giving our promised account of Mr. Sparkle, and beg to introduce him accordingly.
[36]As mentioned in the previous chapter, the formal introduction ceremony typically seen, such as—“Mr. Sparkle, this is my friend Mr. Robert Tallyho from Belville Hall; Mr. Tallyho, meet Mr. Charles Sparkle”—was completely skipped; in fact, the sudden entrance of the latter made it impossible. Even though Sparkle was well-mannered, he had heard from Lady Jane about Tom's arrival with his young friend from the country. Etiquette between them was entirely unnecessary; the cheerful and relaxed atmosphere, as Dashall's friend, was introduction enough for Bob, and so this aspect of good manners went unnoticed by everyone in the group. However, we don’t know our readers well enough to assume they would overlook such a lack of formality; therefore, we won’t waste any time in providing our promised introduction of Mr. Sparkle.
Mr. Reader, Mr. Sparkle; Mr. Sparkle, Mr. Reader.
Mr. Reader, Mr. Sparkle; Mr. Sparkle, Mr. Reader.
Hold, Sir, what are you about? You have bewildered yourself with etiquette, and seem to know as little about Life in London as the novice you have already introduced—By the way, that introduction was one of the most extraordinary I ever met with; this may be equally so for ought I know; and I really begin to suspect you are an extraordinary fellow yourself. How can you introduce me, of whom you know nothing?
Hold on, sir, what are you doing? You’ve gotten yourself confused with all these rules, and you seem to know just as little about Life in London as the newcomer you've already introduced. By the way, that introduction was one of the most unusual I've ever seen; this one could be just as strange for all I know; and I’m starting to think you might be quite the character yourself. How can you introduce me when you don’t know anything about me?
Egad, I believe you have me there—“a palpable hit, my Lord,” (or my Lady, for I certainly cannot say which;) I was getting myself into an awkward dilemma, but I hate suspicion—
Egad, I think you’ve got me there—“a clear hit, my Lord,” (or my Lady, since I really can’t say which;) I was putting myself in an uncomfortable situation, but I really dislike suspicion—
[37]Methinks I see a frown, but I meant no offence, and if you throw down my book in a rage, you will perhaps not only remain ignorant of Mr. Sparkle, but, what is more important, of those other numerous fashionable characters in high and low life—of those manners—incidents—amusements—follies—vices, &c. which, combined together, form the true picture of Real Life in the Metropolis.
[37]I think I see a frown, but I didn't mean to offend you, and if you throw my book down in anger, you might not only miss out on Mr. Sparkle, but more importantly, on all those other various stylish characters in both high and low society—those behaviors—events—entertainments—follies—vices, etc. that together create the real picture of life in the city.
Mr. Author, you are a strange rambler.
Mr. Author, you’re a weird wanderer.
Admitted, Sir, or Ma'am, I am a rambler, who, with your permission, would willingly not be impeded in my progress, and under such expectations I shall proceed.
Admitted, Sir, or Ma'am, I am a talker, who, with your permission, would gladly not be held back in my progress, and with that understanding, I will continue.
Charles Sparkle was the son and only child of a Right Hon. Member of Parliament, now no more, whose mother dying soon after his birth, was left destitute of that maternal kindness and solicitude which frequently has so much influence in forming the character of the future man.
Charles Sparkle was the son and only child of a now-deceased Right Hon. Member of Parliament. His mother passed away shortly after his birth, leaving him without the maternal love and care that often plays a significant role in shaping a young man's character.
His father, a man of eccentric turn of mind, being appointed soon afterwards to a diplomatic situation abroad, left the care of his son's education to an elderly friend of his, who held a situation of some importance under the then existing government, with an injunction to conceal from the boy the knowledge of his real parent, and to bring him up as his own child.
His father, an eccentric man, was shortly appointed to a diplomatic position overseas. He entrusted his son's education to an older friend, who held a significant role in the current government, with the instruction to keep the truth about his real father hidden from the boy and to raise him as his own child.
This important trust was executed with tenderness and fidelity; the boy grew in strength, and ripened in intelligence, and being accustomed to consider his protector as his parent, the father, upon returning to England, determined not to undeceive him, until he should arrive at years of discretion; and with this view Mr. Orford was instructed at a proper age to send him to Oxford.
This important trust was handled with care and loyalty; the boy grew stronger and became more intelligent. Since he had always seen his protector as a parent, when the father returned to England, he decided not to reveal the truth until the boy was old enough to understand. With this in mind, Mr. Orford was instructed to send him to Oxford at the right age.
Charles, however had contracted before this period, habits and acquaintances in London, that were completely in opposition to the dictates and inclinations of his supposed father. He became passionately fond of literary amusements, music, and drawing, which served to occupy his morning hours: but his evenings were devoted to the company of vitiated associates, who did [38]not fail to exercise their influence over his youthful passions, and he frequently engaged himself in unlucky and improvident adventures, which involved him in pecuniary difficulties far beyond his stipulated income. These circumstances were no sooner made known to the supposed parent, than they excited his displeasure, and being carried to an unpardonable extent, he was, at the age of eighteen, literally banished the house of his protector, and compelled to take an obscure lodging in the vicinity of London; the rent of which was paid for him, and a scanty allowance of one guinea sent to him regularly every Saturday night. Thus secluded from his old associates, it will not be wondered at that he contrived to form new ones, and having purchased an old harpsicord, turned the musical instruction he had received to occasional account; he also wrote some political pamphlets which were well received. But this solitary and dependent life was wholly unsuited to the gaiety in which he had hitherto moved. It had, however, the effect of drawing forth talent, which perhaps would never, but for this circumstance, have been discovered; for
Charles, however, had developed habits and friendships in London before this time that were completely against the wishes and inclinations of his supposed father. He became deeply interested in literature, music, and drawing, which occupied his mornings. But his evenings were spent with corrupt associates, who didn't hesitate to influence his youthful desires, leading him into reckless and unwise adventures that cost him far more than his limited income allowed. Once these circumstances were revealed to his assumed parent, they sparked his anger, and since they escalated to an intolerable degree, at the age of eighteen, he was effectively kicked out of his protector's home and forced to take a cheap place near London; the rent was paid for him, and a meager allowance of one guinea was sent to him every Saturday night. Isolated from his old friends, it’s no surprise he found new ones, and after buying an old harpsichord, he occasionally put his musical training to use; he also wrote some political pamphlets that received positive feedback. However, this lonely and dependent life was completely unsuitable for the vibrant lifestyle he had been used to. It did, however, help to bring out talents that might not have been discovered otherwise; for
His writings, &c. under the name of Oribrd, were recognised by the real father, as the productions of a promising son: at his instigation, and upon a promise of reform, he was again restored to his former home, and shortly after entered as a gentleman commoner of St. Mary's, Oxford; but not till he had, by some means or other, made the discovery that Orford was not his real name. Congenial spirits are naturally fond of associating, and it was here that he first became acquainted with the Hon. Tom Dashall: they were constant companions and mutual assistants to each other, in all their exercises as well as all their vagaries; so as to cement a friendship and interest in each other's fate, up to the moment of which we are now speaking.
His writings, etc., under the name of Oribrd, were recognized by his real father as the work of a promising son. At his father's encouragement, and with a promise to reform, he was welcomed back home and soon after enrolled as a gentleman commoner at St. Mary's, Oxford; but not until he had somehow discovered that Orford was not his real name. Like-minded people naturally enjoy associating with each other, and it was here that he first met the Hon. Tom Dashall. They became constant companions and helped each other in all their pursuits as well as in their antics, forging a strong friendship and a shared interest in each other’s lives up to this moment.
Orford, however, was at that time more impetuous and less discreet in the pursuit of his pleasures than his honourable friend, and after obtaining the distinction of Bachelor of Arts, was in consequence of his imprudence and [39]irregularities, after frequently hair-breadth escapes, expelled the college. This circumstance, however, appeared of little consequence to him. He hired a gig at Oxford, promising to return in a few days, and came up to London, but had not effrontery enough to venture into the presence of his reputed father. On arrival in town, he put up at an inn in the Borough, where he resided till all the money he had was exhausted, and till, as he emphatically observes, he had actually eaten his horse and chaise.
Orford, on the other hand, was at that time more impulsive and less careful in seeking his pleasures than his respectable friend. After earning his Bachelor of Arts degree, he was eventually expelled from college due to his recklessness and misbehaviors, despite narrowly avoiding trouble multiple times. However, this situation seemed to matter little to him. He rented a carriage in Oxford, promising to be back in a few days, and headed to London, but he didn't have the nerve to face his supposed father. Once he got to the city, he stayed at an inn in the Borough, where he lived until he ran out of money, and as he dramatically puts it, he had actually eaten his horse and carriage.
In the mean time, the people at Oxford found he was expelled; and as he had not returned according to appointment, he was pursued, and eventually found: they had no doubt of obtaining their demand from his friends, and he was arrested at the suit of the lender; which was immediately followed by a retainer from the inn-keeper where he had resided in town. Application was made to Mr. Orford for his liberation, without effect; in consequence of which he became a resident in the rules of the King's Bench, as his friends conceived by this means his habits would be corrected and his future conduct be amended, his real father still keeping in the back ground.
In the meantime, the people at Oxford discovered that he had been expelled; and since he hadn't returned as agreed, he was pursued and eventually found. They were confident that they would be able to get their demand from his friends, and he was arrested at the request of the lender, which was quickly followed by a claim from the innkeeper where he had stayed in town. An application was made to Mr. Orford for his release, but it was unsuccessful; as a result, he became a resident in the rules of the King's Bench, as his friends believed that this would correct his habits and improve his future conduct, while his real father remained in the background.
While in this confinement, he again resorted to the produce of his pen and his talent for musical composition, and his friend Tom, at the first vacation, did not fail to visit him. During this time, in the shape of donation, from Mr. Orford he received occasional supplies more than equal to his necessities, though not to his wishes. While here, he fished out some further clue to the real parent, who visited him in disguise during his confinement as a friend of Mr. Orford: still, however, he had no chance of liberation, till, being one day called on by Mr. Orford, he was informed he was at perfect liberty to leave his present abode, and was directed to go with him immediately; a coach was called, and he heard the direction given to drive to Bedford Square, where they arrived just time enough to learn that the Right Hon. S. S. had breathed his last, after a lingering illness.
While he was in this confinement, he once again turned to writing and his talent for music composition, and his friend Tom didn’t miss the chance to visit him during the first vacation. During this time, he received occasional donations from Mr. Orford that were more than enough to meet his needs, though not his desires. While there, he discovered a new clue about his real parent, who visited him in disguise pretending to be a friend of Mr. Orford. However, he still had no chance of being freed until one day Mr. Orford came to see him and informed him that he was completely free to leave his current place. He was instructed to go with him right away; a coach was called, and he heard the driver told to take them to Bedford Square, where they arrived just in time to learn that the Right Hon. S. S. had passed away after a long illness.
Upon alighting from the coach, and receiving this information, they were ushered into the drawing-room, and presently joined by a clergyman who had been the chaplain of the deceased, who acquainted our adventurer of the death of his parent—that by will he was entitled [40]to 10,000L. per annum, and a handsome estate in Wiltshire. This sudden reverse of fortune to Sparkle—the change from confinement to liberty, from indigence to affluence—awakened sensations more easily to be conceived than described. He wept, (perhaps the first tears of sincerity in his life; ) his heart was subdued by an overwhelming flood of affection for that unknown being, whom he now found had been his constant guardian angel, alternately taking Orford and the reverend Divine by the hand, and hiding his head in the bosom of his reputed father. At length they led him to the room in which were the remains of his lamented parent.
Upon getting off the coach and receiving this news, they were taken into the drawing-room, where they were soon joined by a clergyman who had been the chaplain of the deceased. He informed our adventurer of his parent’s death and that, by will, he was entitled to £10,000 a year and a beautiful estate in Wiltshire. This sudden change in fortune for Sparkle—from confinement to freedom, from poverty to wealth—stirred feelings that were easier to feel than to describe. He cried, perhaps for the first time genuinely; his heart was overwhelmed with affection for that unknown figure, who he now realized had been his constant guardian angel, taking Orford and the reverend Divine by the hand, and hiding his head in the embrace of his supposed father. Finally, they led him to the room where his beloved parent lay.
There are perhaps few circumstances better calculated to impress awe on the youthful mind than the contemplation of those features in death which have been respected and revered while living. Such respect had ever been entertained by Charles Sparkle for the supposed friend of Mr. Orford, from whom he had several times received the most kind and affectionate advice; and his sensations upon discovering that friend to be no other than his own father, may be more easily conceived than described—he was at once exalted and humbled, delighted and afflicted. He threw himself in an agony of feeling by the bed-side, fell on his knees, in which he was joined by the clergyman and Orford, where he remained some time.
There are probably few situations that can create as much awe in a young person's mind as reflecting on the aspects of death that have been honored and cherished in life. Charles Sparkle had always held great respect for Mr. Orford's supposed friend, from whom he had received the most kind and caring advice multiple times; thus, his emotions upon discovering that this friend was actually his own father are easier to imagine than to articulate—he felt both uplifted and brought low, joyful and distressed. He threw himself in a surge of emotion by the bedside, falling to his knees, joined by the clergyman and Orford, where he stayed for some time.
After the first paroxysms of grief had subsided, young Sparkle, who had already felt the strongest impression that could possibly be made on a naturally good heart, gave orders for the funeral of his deceased father, and then proceeded to make other arrangements suitable to the character he was hereafter to sustain through life, went down to Wiltshire, and took possession of his estate, where for a time he secluded himself, and devoted his attention to the perusal of the best authors in the English, French, and Italian language, under the superintendence of the reverend Divine, who had been a resident for many years with his father.
After the initial waves of grief had passed, young Sparkle, who had already experienced the strongest impact on his naturally kind heart, made plans for his father's funeral. He then began to organize other arrangements fitting for the role he would take on in life. He went down to Wiltshire and took over his estate, where he secluded himself for a while, focusing on reading the best works in English, French, and Italian, with guidance from the clergyman who had lived with his father for many years.
But a life in the country could not long have superior charms for a young man who had already seen much to admire, as well as much to avoid, in the metropolis. The combination however of theoretical information he had derived from books, as well as the practical observations he had made during his residence in London, fitted him at once for the gayest and most distinguished circles of [41]metropolitan society. He therefore arranged with Mr. Orford, who had formerly acted as his parent, to continue with him in the capacity of steward, and for the last two years of his life had been almost a constant resident at “Long's Hotel”, in Bond Street, not choosing to have the charge of an establishment in town; and the early friendship and attachment which had been cultivated at Oxford being again renewed, appeared to grow with their growth, and strengthen with their strength.
But a life in the countryside couldn’t have been all that appealing for a young man who had already seen plenty to admire and to avoid in the city. However, the mix of theoretical knowledge he gained from books and the practical experiences he gathered while living in London prepared him perfectly for the most vibrant and elite circles of [41]metropolitan society. So, he made arrangements with Mr. Orford, who had previously acted as a father figure, to stay on as his steward. For the last two years of his life, he was almost always living at “Long's Hotel” on Bond Street, not wanting the responsibility of running a home in the city. The early friendship and bond they had formed at Oxford were rekindled and seemed to grow even stronger.
Sparkle had still a large portion of that vivacity for which he was so remarkable in his younger days. His motives and intentions were at all times good, and if he indulged himself in the pursuits of frolic and fun, it was never at the expence of creating an unpleasant feeling to an honest or honourable mind. His fortune was ample. He had a hand to give, and a heart to forgive; no “malice or hatred were there to be found:” but of these qualifications, and the exercise of them, sufficient traits will be given in the ensuing pages. No man was better up to the rigs of the town; no one better down to the manoeuvres of the flats, and sharps. He had mingled with life in all companies; he was at once an elegant and interesting companion; his views were extensive upon all subjects; his conversation lively, and his manners polished.
Sparkle still had a lot of the energy that made him so notable in his younger days. His motives and intentions were always good, and even when he enjoyed a little fun and mischief, it never came at the expense of making someone honest or honorable feel uncomfortable. He was well-off. He had a generous spirit and a forgiving heart; there was no malice or hatred in him. Enough examples of these traits will be shared in the pages ahead. No one was better at understanding the tricks of the city; no one was more skilled at dealing with the hustlers and con artists. He had interacted with a wide variety of people; he was both an elegant and engaging companion, had broad views on all topics, kept his conversation lively, and had polished manners.
Such, gentle reader, is the brief sketch of Charles Sparkle, the esteemed friend of the Hon. Tom Dashall, and with such recommendations it will not be wondered at if he should become also the friend of Tally-ho; for, although living in the height of fashionable splendour, his mind was at all times in consonance with the lines which precede this chapter; yet none could be more ready to lend a hand in any pleasant party in pursuit of a bit of gig. A mill at Moulsey Hurst—a badger-bait, or bear-bait—a main at the Cock-pit—a smock-race—or a scamper to the Tipping hunt, ultimately claimed his attention; while upon all occasions he was an acute observer of life and character.
So, dear reader, that's a quick overview of Charles Sparkle, the respected friend of the Hon. Tom Dashall, and with such credentials, it’s no surprise that he would also become friends with Tally-ho. Even though he lived amid the height of fashionable luxury, his thoughts were always in tune with the ideas in the lines before this chapter. Yet, no one was more eager to join in any fun gathering for a bit of gig. A mill at Moulsey Hurst—a badger bait, or bear bait—a match at the Cockpit—a smock race—or a race to the Tipping hunt, ultimately caught his interest; and at all times, he was a sharp observer of life and character.
[42]But dinner is over, and we must now accompany our triumvirate to the drawing-room, where we find them seated with bottles, glasses, &c. determined to make a quiet evening after the fatigues of the journey, and with a view to prepare themselves for the more arduous, and to Tally-ho more interesting, pursuits in the new world, for such he almost considered London.
[42]But dinner is over, and we now have to follow our trio to the living room, where we find them sitting with bottles, glasses, etc., ready to enjoy a relaxing evening after the tiring journey, and hoping to get ready for the more challenging—and for Tally-ho, more exciting—activities in the new world, as he almost viewed London.
“Yes,” said Sparkle, addressing himself to Bob, with whom a little previous conversation had almost rendered him familiar, “London is a world within itself; it is, indeed, the only place to see life—it is the “multum in parvo,” as the old song says,
“Yes,” said Sparkle, turning to Bob, with whom a brief conversation had nearly made him feel at ease, “London is a world unto itself; it truly is the only place to experience life—it is the “multum in parvo,” as the old song goes,
it is the acmé of perfection, the “summum bonum” of style—-indeed, there is a certain affectation of style from the highest to the lowest individual.”
it is the peak of perfection, the “summum bonum” of style—-indeed, there is a certain pretentiousness of style from the highest to the lowest individual.”
“You are a merry and stylish fellow,” said Tom; we should have been hipp'd without you, there is a fund of amusement in you at all times.”
“You're a cheerful and fashionable guy,” said Tom; “we would have been lost without you, you've got a great sense of fun all the time.”
“You are a bit of a wag,” replied Sparkle, “but I am up to your gossip, and can serve you out in your own style.”
“You're quite the jokester,” Sparkle replied, “but I'm onto your gossip, and I can match you in your own game.”
“Every body,” says Tallyho, “appears to live in style.”
“Everyone,” says Tallyho, “seems to live it up.”
“Yes,” continued Sparkle, “living in style is one of the most essential requisites for a residence in London; but I'll give you my idea of living in style, which, by many, is literally nothing more than keeping up appearances at other people's expence: for instance, a Duchess conceives it to consist in taking her breakfast at three o'clock in the afternoon—dining at eight—playing at Faro till four the next morning—supping at five, and going to bed at six—and to eat green peas and peaches in January—in making a half-curtsey at the creed, and a whole one to a scoundrel—in giving fifty guineas to an exotic capon for a pit-ticket—and treating the deserved claims of a parental actor with contempt—to lisp for the mere purpose of appearing singular, and to seem completely ignorant of the Mosaic law—to be in the reverse of extremes—to laugh when she could weep, and weep when she could .dance and be merry—to leave her compliment cards with her acquaintance, whom at the same moment she wishes she may never see again—to speak of the community [43]with marked disrespect, and to consider the sacrament a bore!”
“Yes,” continued Sparkle, “living in style is one of the most important requirements for a residence in London; but I’ll share my view of living in style, which for many is literally nothing more than keeping up appearances at other people's expense: for example, a Duchess thinks it means having breakfast at three o'clock in the afternoon—dining at eight—playing Faro until four in the morning—having a late supper at five, and going to bed at six—and eating green peas and peaches in January—making a half-curtsey at the creed, and a full one to a scoundrel—spending fifty guineas on a fancy ticket for a show—and treating the rightful claims of a parent who acts with disdain—talking in a way that seems unique, and pretending to be completely unaware of the Mosaic law—to be in the middle of extremes—to laugh when she could cry, and cry when she could dance and enjoy herself—to leave her compliment cards with her acquaintances, whom at the same moment she hopes to never see again—to speak of the community [43] with blatant disrespect, and to find the sacrament boring!”
“Admirable!” said Tom.
"Awesome!" said Tom.
“Wonderful, indeed!” exclaimed Tallyho.
"Awesome, for sure!" exclaimed Tallyho.
“Aye, aye, London is full of wonders—there is a general and insatiate appetite for the marvellous; but let us proceed: Now we'll take the reverse of the picture. The Duke thinks he does things in style, by paying his debts of honour contracted at the gaming-table, and but very few honourable debts—by being harsh and severe to a private supplicant, while he is publicly a liberal subscriber to a person he never saw—by leaving his vis-a-vis at the door of a well-known courtesan, in order to have the credit of an intrigue—in making use of an optical glass for personal inspection, though he can ascertain the horizon without any—by being or seeming to be, every thing that is in opposition to nature and virtue—in counting the lines in the Red Book, and carefully watching the importation of figurantes from the Continent—in roundly declaring that a man of fashion is a being of a superior order, and ought to be amenable only to himself—in jumbling ethics and physics together, so as to make them destroy each other—in walking arm in arm with a sneering jockey—talking loudly any thing but sense—and in burning long letters without once looking at their contents;... and so much for my Lord Duke.”
“Yeah, yeah, London is full of wonders—there's a widespread and never-ending hunger for the amazing; but let’s move on: Now we'll flip the script. The Duke thinks he’s being classy by settling his gambling debts, which are hardly honorable—being tough and cruel to someone who privately asks for help, while he’s publicly a generous donor to someone he’s never met—dropping his carriage in front of a well-known mistress just to look like he’s having an affair—using binoculars for personal spying, even though he can see the view just fine without them—by being or pretending to be everything that goes against nature and decency—counting the entries in the Red Book and keeping a close eye on the arrival of figurantes from abroad—outright claiming that a fashionable man is of a superior breed and should answer to no one but himself—confusing ethics and science to the point they cancel each other out—strolling arm in arm with a mocking jockey—talking loudly about anything but sense—and burning long letters without even glancing at what they say;... and that’s my Lord Duke for you.”
“Go along Bob!” exclaimed Tom.
"Go for it, Bob!" exclaimed Tom.
Tallyho conceiving himself addressed by this, looked up with an air of surprise and enquiry, which excited the risibility of Dashall and Sparkle, till it was explained to him as a common phrase in London, with which he would soon become more familiar. Sparkle continued.
Tallyho, thinking he was being spoken to, looked up with a surprised and questioning expression, which amused Dashall and Sparkle until it was explained to him that it was a common phrase in London, one he would soon get used to. Sparkle continued.
“The gay young Peerling, who is scarcely entitled to the honours and immunities of manhood, is satisfied he is doing things in style, by raising large sums of money on post-obit bonds, at the very moderate premium of 40 per cent.—in queering the clergyman at his father's table, and leaving the marks of his finger and thumb on the article of matrimony in his aunt's prayer-book—in kicking up a row at the theatre, when he knows he has some roaring bullies at his elbow, though humble and dastardly when alone—in keeping a dashing impure, who publicly squanders away his money, and privately laughs at his follies—in buying a phaeton as high as a two pair of stairs [44]window, and a dozen of spanking bays at Tattersall's, and in dashing through St. James's Street, Pall Mall, Piccadilly, and Hyde Park, thus accompanied and accoutred, amidst the contumelies of the coxcombs and the sighs of the worthy. And these are pictures of high life, of which the originals are to be seen daily.
The young nobleman, who barely qualifies for the rights and privileges of adulthood, thinks he’s living the high life by raising significant amounts of money through post-obit bonds at a pretty reasonable premium of 40 percent—by making a scene with the clergyman at his father's dinner table and marking the marriage section in his aunt's prayer book with his fingerprints—by stirring up trouble at the theater, confident he has some loud friends to back him up, even if he’s timid and cowardly when he’s by himself—by keeping a flamboyant wildman who openly wastes his money and privately mocks his foolishness—by purchasing a luxury carriage that’s as tall as a two-flight staircase [44]window, and a dozen flashy horses at Tattersall's, then cruising through St. James's Street, Pall Mall, Piccadilly, and Hyde Park, all decked out and surrounded by onlookers, amidst the jeers of snobs and the sighs of the respectable. And these are glimpses of high society, with the real-life versions seen every day.
“The haberdasher of Cheapside, whose father, by adherence to the most rigid economy, had amassed a competence, and who transmitted his property, without his prudence, to his darling son, is determined to shew his spirit, by buying a bit of blood, keeping his gig, his girl, and a thatched cottage on the skirts of Epping Forest, or Sydenham Common; but as keeping a girl and a gig would be a nothing unless all the world were up to it, he regularly drives her to all the boxing-matches, the Epping hunt, and all the races at Barnet, Epsom, Egham, and Ascot Heath, where he places himself in one of the most conspicuous situations; and as he knows his racing, &c. must eventually distinguish his name in the Gazette with a whereas! he rejoices in the progress and acceleration of his own ruin, and, placing his arms akimbo, he laughs, sings, swears, swaggers, and vociferates—'What d'ye think o' that now,—is'nt this doing it in stile, eh?'
“The haberdasher of Cheapside, whose father, through strict savings, built up a decent fortune and passed it on to his favorite son without his sense, is determined to show off his style by buying a bit of blood, keeping his carriage, his girlfriend, and a thatched cottage on the edge of Epping Forest or Sydenham Common; but since having a girlfriend and a carriage wouldn't mean much unless everyone else was into it, he regularly takes her to boxing matches, the Epping hunt, and all the races at Barnet, Epsom, Egham, and Ascot Heath, where he positions himself in one of the most noticeable spots; and since he knows that his interest in racing, etc., will ultimately make his name known in the Gazette with a whereas! he takes joy in the progress and speed of his own downfall, and, putting his hands on his hips, he laughs, sings, swears, struts, and shouts—'What do you think of that now— isn’t this doing it in style, huh?'
“Prime of life to go it, where's a place like London? Four in hand to-day, the next you may be undone.”
“Life is at its best when you're out there. Where else can you find a place like London? Today you're on top of the world, but tomorrow you could be back at square one.”
“Well, Sir, the mercer's wife, from Watling Street, thinks living in style is evinced by going once a year to a masquerade at the new Museodeum, or Argyle Rooms; having her daughters taught French, dancing, and music—dancing a minuet at Prewterers' Hall, or Mr. Wilson's{1} annual benefit—in getting a good situation in the green boxes—going to Hampstead or Copenhagen House in a glass coach on a Sunday—having card-parties at home
“Well, Sir, the mercer's wife from Watling Street believes that living in style means going to a masquerade at the new museum or Argyle Rooms once a year, having her daughters learn French, dancing, and music—dancing a minuet at the Pewterers' Hall or Mr. Wilson's annual benefit—securing a good spot in the green boxes—going to Hampstead or Copenhagen House in a glass coach on a Sunday—and hosting card parties at home.”
[45]during Lent, declaring she never drinks any thing else but the most bestest gunpowder tea, that she has a most screwciating cold, and that the country air is always salubrus, and sure to do her good.
[45]during Lent, saying she only drinks the very best gunpowder tea, that she has a really excruciating cold, and that the country air is always healthy, and sure to help her.
“So much for living in style, and good breeding.”
“So much for living in style and being well-bred.”
“By the way, in former times the term good-breeding meant a combination of all that was amiable and excellent; and a well-bred person would shrink from an action or expression that could possibly wound the feelings of another; its foundation was laid in truth, and its supporting pillars were justice and integrity, sensibility and philanthropy; but
“By the way, in the past, the term good-breeding referred to a blend of all that was kind and admirable; a well-bred person would avoid actions or words that could hurt someone else’s feelings; it was based on honesty, and its supporting values were fairness and integrity, compassion and generosity; but
A well-bred person must learn to smile when he is angry, and to laugh even when he is vexed to the very soul.
A well-mannered person should learn to smile when they're angry and to laugh even when they're deeply frustrated.
“It would be the height of mauvaise honte for a wellbred person to blush upon any occasions whatever; no young lady blushes after eleven years of age; to study the expression of the countenance of others, in order to govern your own, is indispensably necessary.
“It would be the height of mauvaise honte for a well-bred person to blush on any occasion; no young lady blushes after the age of eleven; it's absolutely essential to study the expressions of others in order to control your own.”
“In former times, no well-bred person would have uttered a falsehood; but now such ideas are completely exploded, and such conduct would now be termed a bore. My Lord Portly remarks, 'It is a cold day.' 'Yes, my Lord, it is a very cold day,' replies Major Punt. In two minutes after, meeting Lord Lounge, who observes he thinks the weather very warm—'Yes, very warm, my Lord,' is the reply—thus contradicting himself almost in the same breath. It would be perfectly inconsistent in a well-bred man to think, for fear of being absent. When he enters or leaves a drawing-room, he should round his shoulders, drop his head, and imitate a clown or a coachman. This has the effect of the best ruse de guerre—for it serves to astonish the ladies, when they afterwards [46]discover, by the familiarity of his address, and his unrestrained manners, what a well-bred man he is; for he will address every fair one in the room in the most enchanting terms, except her to whom in the same party he had previously paid the most particular attention; and on her he will contrive to turn his back for the whole evening, and if he is a man of fashion, he will thus cause triumph to the other ladies, and save the neglected fair one from envious and slanderous whisperings.”
“In the past, no well-mannered person would have told a lie; but now those ideas are completely outdated, and such behavior would be called a bore. My Lord Portly says, 'It is a cold day.' 'Yes, my Lord, it is a very cold day,' replies Major Punt. Just two minutes later, he runs into Lord Lounge, who says he thinks the weather is quite warm—'Yes, very warm, my Lord,' is the response—thus contradicting himself almost immediately. It would be totally inconsistent for a well-bred man to think differently, for fear of looking out of place. When he enters or leaves a drawing room, he should hunch his shoulders, lower his head, and act like a clown or a coachman. This is the best ruse de guerre—it surprises the ladies when they later realize, through his familiar way of speaking and his relaxed demeanor, just how well-mannered he really is; for he will charm every woman in the room with the most delightful words, except the one he previously gave the most attention to at the same gathering; he will manage to turn his back to her the entire evening, and if he is a fashionable man, he will thus bring triumph to the other ladies and spare the neglected lady from envious and slanderous gossip.”
“An admirable picture of living in style, and good breeding, indeed!” cried Tom. “The game is in view and well worth pursuit; so hark forward! hark forward! my boys.”
“An impressive picture of living in style and good manners, for sure!” cried Tom. “The game is in sight and definitely worth chasing; so let's move forward! Let's go, my boys.”
Sparkle, now recollecting his engagement—with “you know who” as he significantly observed in the last Chapter, withdrew, after promising to take a stroll by way of killing an hour or two with them in the morning; and Tom and his Cousin soon after retired to rest—
Sparkle, now remembering his engagement—with “you know who” as he pointed out in the last Chapter, stepped back after promising to take a walk to kill an hour or two with them in the morning; and Tom and his Cousin soon after went to bed—
CHAPTER VI
[47]THE smiles of a May morning, bedecked with the splendid rays of a rising sun, awakened Tallyho about five o'clock, and being accustomed to rise early in the country, he left the downy couch of soft repose, and sought his way down stairs. Not a sound of any kind was to be heard in the house, but the rattling of the carts and the coaches in the streets, with the deep-toned accompaniment of a dustman's bell, and an occasional ab libitum of “Clothes—clothes sale,” gave Bob an idea that all the world was moving. However he could find nobody up; he walked into the drawing-room, amused himself for some time by looking out of the window, indulging his observations and remarks, without knowing what to make of the moving mass of incongruities which met his eye, and wondering what time the servants of the house would wake: he tried the street-door, but found it locked, bolted, and chained; and if he had known where to have found his friend Tom, he would have aroused him with the View halloo.
[47] The cheerful smiles of a May morning, brightened by the glorious rays of the rising sun, woke Tallyho around five o'clock. Used to getting up early in the countryside, he left his soft, cozy bed and made his way downstairs. Not a single sound was heard inside the house, just the clattering of carts and coaches in the streets, the low chime of a dustman’s bell, and a sporadic shout of “Clothes—clothes sale,” which gave Bob the impression that everyone was out and about. However, he couldn't find anyone awake. He walked into the drawing-room, entertained himself for a while by looking out the window, commenting on the chaos he saw, and wondering when the household staff would wake up. He tried the front door but found it locked, bolted, and chained; and if he had known where to find his friend Tom, he would have roused him with a hearty shout.
“It is strange,” thought he to himself, “all the world seems abroad, and yet not a soul stirring here!” Then checking the current of his reflections, “But this,” said he, “is Life in London. Egad! I must not make a noise, because it will not be good breeding.” In this wray he sauntered about the house for near two hours, till at last espying his portmanteau, which had been left in the passage by the servants the previous evening—“I'll carry this up stairs,” said he, “by way of amusement;” and carelessly shouldering the portmanteau, he was walking [48]deliberately up stairs, when his ears were suddenly attracted by a loud cry of “Murder, murder, thieves, murder!” and the violent ringing of a bell. Alarmed at these extraordinary sounds, which appeared to be near him at a moment when he conceived no soul was stirring, he dropped his portmanteau over the banisters, which fell, (demolishing in its way an elegant Grecian patent lamp with glass shades, drops, &c.) into the passage below with a hideous crash, while the cry of Murder, thieves, murder, was repeated by many voices, and rendered him almost immoveable. In the next moment, the butler, the cook, the groom, and indeed every person in the house, appeared on the stair-case, some almost in a state of nudity, and shrinking from each other's gaze, and all armed with such weapons as chance had thrown in their way, to attack the supposed depredator.
“It’s strange,” he thought to himself, “the whole world seems to be out, and yet there’s not a soul stirring here!” Then shifting his thoughts, he said, “But this is Life in London. Wow! I shouldn’t make a noise, because that wouldn’t be polite.” In this way, he wandered around the house for about two hours, until finally spotting his suitcase, which the servants had left in the hallway the night before—“I’ll take this upstairs,” he said, “just for fun;” and carelessly shouldering the suitcase, he was walking up the stairs when he suddenly heard a loud shout of “Help, help, thieves, help!” and the frantic ringing of a bell. Shocked by these strange sounds that seemed to be right by him at a moment when he thought no one was around, he dropped his suitcase over the banister, which crashed down (destroying an elegant Grecian lamp with glass shades, drops, etc.) into the hallway below with a loud thud, while the cries of “Help, thieves, help!” were echoed by many voices, leaving him almost frozen. In the next moment, the butler, the cook, the stablehand, and everyone else in the house appeared on the staircase, some nearly undressed and avoiding each other’s looks, all armed with whatever they could grab to defend against the supposed intruder.
Among the rest, fortunately for Tallyho, (who stood balancing himself against the banisters in a state of indecision whether he should ascend or descend) Tom Dashall in his night-gown burst out of his room in alarm at the noise, with a brace of pistols, one in his hand in the very act of cocking it, and the other placed in convenient readiness under his left arm. “Why, what the devil is the matter?” vociferated he, and at that moment his eye caught the agitated figure of his Cousin Bob, on the half-landing place below him. At the sound of his well-known voice, the innocent and unsuspecting cause of this confusion and alarm looked up at his friend, as if half afraid and half ashamed of the occurrence, and stammered out, “Where is the thief?—Who is murdered?—I'll swear there is something broke somewhere—tell me which way to go!” Tom looked around him at the group of half-clad nymphs and swains, (who were now huddling together, conceiving their security lay in combination, and finding all eyes were placed with astonishment and wonder on Bob) began to see through what had happened, and burst into an immoderate fit of laughter; which relieved the frightened damsels, but so confounded poor Tallyho, that he scarcely knew whether he was standing on his head or his heels. “Why,” said Tom, addressing himself to his Cousin, “you will get yourself murdered if you go wandering about people's houses at the dead of the night in this manner—are you asleep or awake?—who have you made an assignation with—or [49]where are you going to—what are you up to, Master Bobby, eh?—These tricks won't do here!”
Among the rest, lucky for Tallyho, (who was trying to decide whether to go up or down while leaning against the banisters) Tom Dashall burst out of his room in his nightgown, alarmed by the noise, with two pistols—one in his hand cocked and ready, and the other tucked under his left arm. “What on earth is going on?” he shouted, and at that moment, he spotted his Cousin Bob’s anxious figure on the half-landing below him. When Bob heard Tom’s familiar voice, the innocent cause of the chaos looked up, half afraid and half embarrassed, and stammered, “Where's the thief?—Who’s been killed?—I swear something's broken—tell me where to go!” Tom scanned the group of half-clothed people huddled together, thinking their safety lay in numbers, as all eyes were on Bob in astonishment. He began to piece together what had happened and erupted into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, which eased the frightened women but left poor Tallyho so bewildered that he hardly knew if he was on his head or his feet. “Listen,” Tom said to his Cousin, “you’re going to get yourself killed if you keep wandering around people’s houses in the middle of the night like this—are you asleep or awake?—who have you made plans with—or [49] where are you going—and what are you up to, Master Bobby, huh?—These antics won’t work here!”
Tallyho was unable to reply: he looked down over the banister—he looked up at the risible features of Tom Dashall, who was almost bursting at the ludicrous situation in which he found his friend and his servants. “Come,” said Tom, “there are no thieves—all's right”—to the servants, “you may quiet your minds and go to business. Bob, I'll be down with you presently.” Upon this, the stair-case was cleared in an instant of all but the unfortunate Tallyho; and peace appeared to be restored in the family, but not to Bob's mind, conceiving he had committed a gross violation of good breeding, and shewn but a bad specimen of his aptitude to become a learner of London manners. It must be confessed, it was rather an awkward commencement; however, in a few minutes, recovering himself from the fright, he crawled gently down the stairs, and took a survey of the devastation he had made—cursed the lamp, d——d the portmanteau—then snatching it from the ruin before him, and again placing his luggage on his shoulder, he quietly walked up stairs to his bed-room.
Tallyho couldn’t respond; he looked down over the banister and then up at the comically expressive face of Tom Dashall, who was nearly bursting from the ridiculous situation involving his friend and the servants. “Come on,” said Tom, “there are no thieves—everything’s fine”—to the servants, “you can relax and get back to work. Bob, I’ll be down with you in a minute.” With that, the staircase was cleared in an instant, leaving only the unfortunate Tallyho; peace seemed to be restored in the family, but Bob couldn’t shake the feeling that he had made a huge faux pas and had shown a poor example of his ability to learn London manners. It must be said, it was a pretty awkward start; however, after a few minutes, having recovered from the scare, he cautiously made his way down the stairs to inspect the mess he had caused—cursed the lamp, swore at the portmanteau—then grabbing it from the destruction in front of him, and once again throwing his luggage over his shoulder, he quietly walked back upstairs to his bedroom.
It is much to be lamented in this wonderful age of discovery and continual improvement, that our philosophers have not yet found out a mode of supplying the place of glass (as almost every thing else) with cast-iron. The substitution of gas for oil has long been talked of, as one of national importance, even so much so, that one man, whose ideas were as brilliant as his own experiments, has endeavoured to shew that its produce would in a short time pay off the national debt!{1}
It’s really disappointing in this amazing age of discovery and constant improvement that our philosophers still haven’t figured out how to replace glass (like almost everything else) with cast iron. The idea of using gas instead of oil has been discussed for a long time as something crucial for the nation. So much so that one individual, whose ideas are as bright as his experiments, has tried to demonstrate that its production could, in a short time, pay off the national debt!{1}
“A consummation devoutly to be wished;” and experience has taught the world at large there is nothing impossible, nor is there any one in existence more credulous than honest John Bull. But we are
“A perfect outcome that everyone hopes for;” and experience has shown the world that nothing is impossible, nor is there anyone more gullible than honest John Bull. But we are
[50]digressing from the adventure of the lamp, however it was occasioned, by clearly proving it was not a patent safety-lamp: and that among the luxuries of the Hon. Tom Dashall's habitation, gas had not yet been introduced, will speedily be discovered.
[50]straying from the story about the lamp, no matter how it came about, by clearly showing that it wasn't a patent safety-lamp: and that among the comforts of the Hon. Tom Dashall's home, gas had not yet been installed, will soon be revealed.
Upon arriving in his bed-room, wondering within himself how he should repair the blundering mistake, of which he had so unluckily been the unwilling and unconscious author, he found himself in a new dilemma, as the receptacle of the oil had fallen with the lamp, and plentifully bedewed the portmanteau with its contents, so that he had now transferred the savoury fluid to his coat, waistcoat, cravat, and shirt. What was to be done in such a case? He could not make his appearance in that state; but his mortifications were not yet at an end—
Upon arriving in his bedroom, wondering how he could fix the embarrassing mistake he had accidentally caused, he found himself in a new dilemma, as the container of oil had fallen with the lamp and spilled its contents all over his suitcase, soaking his coat, waistcoat, cravat, and shirt with the oily substance. What should he do in this situation? He couldn't show up looking like that; but his troubles were far from over—
The key of his portmanteau was missing; he rummaged all his pockets in vain—he turned them inside out—it was not here—it was not there; enraged at the multiplicity of disappointments to which he was subjected, he cut open the leathern carriage of his wardrobe with a penknife; undressed, and re-dressed himself; by which time it was half-past eight o'clock. His Cousin Tom, who had hurried down according to promise, had in the mean time been making enquiry after him, and now entered the room, singing,
The key to his suitcase was missing; he searched all his pockets in vain—he turned them inside out—it wasn't here—it wasn't there; frustrated by all the disappointments he was facing, he slashed open the leather covering of his wardrobe with a penknife; undressed, and got dressed again; by that time, it was half-past eight o'clock. His cousin Tom, who had rushed down as promised, had been asking around for him, and now entered the room, singing,
At the sight of Dashall, he recovered himself from his embarrassment, and descended with him to the breakfast-parlour.
At the sight of Dashall, he composed himself and went down to the breakfast room with him.
“Did you send to Robinson's?” enquired Tom of one of the servants, as they entered the room. “Yes, Sir,” was the reply; “and Weston's too?” continued he; being answered in the affirmative, “then let us have breakfast directly.” Then turning to Bob, “Sparkle,” said he, “promised to be with us about eleven, for the purpose of taking a stroll; in the mean time we must dress and make ready.”—“Dress,” said Bob, “Egad! I have dressed and made ready twice already this morning.” He then [51]recounted the adventures above recorded; at which Dashall repeatedly burst into fits of immoderate laughter. Breakfast being over, a person from Mr. Robinson's was announced, and ushered into the room.
“Did you send to Robinson's?” Tom asked one of the servants as they walked into the room. “Yes, Sir,” was the reply. “And Weston's too?” he continued, receiving an affirmative response. “Then let’s have breakfast right away.” Turning to Bob, he said, “Sparkle promised to join us around eleven for a stroll; in the meantime, we need to get dressed and ready.” “Dress?” Bob replied. “I’ve already gotten dressed and ready twice this morning.” He then [51]recapped the adventures previously mentioned, causing Dashall to burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter. After breakfast, someone from Mr. Robinson's was announced and brought into the room.
A more prepossessing appearance had scarcely met Bob's eye—a tall, elegant young man, dressed in black, cut in the extreme of fashion, whose features bespoke intelligence, and whose air and manner were indicative of a something which to him was quite new. He arose upon his entrance, and made a formal bow; which was returned by the youth. “Good morning, gentlemen.”—“Good morning, Mr. R——,” said Tom, mentioning a name celebrated by
A more attractive sight had hardly caught Bob's attention—a tall, stylish young man dressed in all black, extremely fashionable, with features that showed intelligence. His demeanor indicated something that was completely new to Bob. He stood up when he entered and made a formal bow, which the youth returned. “Good morning, gentlemen.” —“Good morning, Mr. R——,” said Tom, mentioning a name well-known by
Pope in the following lines:
Pope in the next lines:
“I am happy to have the honour of seeing you in town again, Sir! The fashionables are mustering very strong, and the prospect of the approaching coronation appears to be very attractive.” During this time he was occupied in opening a leathern case, which contained combs, brushes, &c.; then taking off his coat, he appeared in a jacket with an apron, which, like a fashionable pinafore of the present day, nearly concealed his person, from his chin to his toes. “Yes,” replied Dashall, “the coronation is a subject of deep importance just now in the circles of fashion,” seating himself in his chair, in readiness for the operator,{1} who, Bob now discovered, was no other than the Peruquier.
“I’m glad to have the honor of seeing you in town again, Sir! The stylish crowd is gathering in full force, and the upcoming coronation looks very appealing.” During this time, he was busy opening a leather case that held combs, brushes, etc.; then, taking off his coat, he appeared in a jacket with an apron, which, like a trendy apron of today, almost covered him from chin to toe. “Yes,” replied Dashall, “the coronation is definitely a hot topic right now in fashion circles,” as he sat down in his chair, ready for the stylist, who Bob now realized was none other than the barber.
[53]"And pray,” continued Tom, “what is there new in the haut ton? Has there been any thing of importance to attract attention since my absence? “Nothing very particular,” was the reply—“all very dull and flat. Rumour however, as usual, has not been inactive; two or three trifling faux pas, and—oh!—yes—two duels—one in the literary world: two authors, who, after attacking each other with the quill, chose to decide their quarrel with the pistol, and poor Scot lost his life! But how should authors understand such things? The other has made a great noise in the world—You like the Corinthian cut, I believe, Sir?”
[53]"And tell me,” continued Tom, “what's new in high society? Has anything important happened while I was away? “Nothing particularly exciting,” came the reply—“everything's been pretty dull and uneventful. Although, as usual, the rumor mill has been busy; a couple of minor slip-ups, and—oh!—yes—two duels—one in the literary scene: two authors, who after trading barbs, decided to settle their differences with pistols, and sadly, poor Scot lost his life! But how could authors ever grasp such things? The other has made quite a stir in the world—You prefer the Corinthian style, right, Sir?”
“I believe so too,” said Tom—“but don't you cut the duel so short—who were the parties?”
“I think so too,” said Tom, “but don’t rush the duel—who were the people involved?”
“Oh! aye, why one, Sir, was a celebrated leader of ton, no other than Lord Shampêtre, and the other Mr. Webb, a gentleman well known: it was a sort of family affair. His lordship's gallantry and courage, however, were put to the test, and the result bids fair to increase his popularity. The cause was nothing very extraordinary, but the effect had nearly proved fatal to his Lordship.”
“Oh! Yes, one of them was a famous figure in high society, none other than Lord Shampêtre, and the other was Mr. Webb, a well-known gentleman: it was somewhat of a family matter. However, his lordship's bravery and courage were put to the test, and the outcome looks likely to boost his popularity. The situation wasn’t anything particularly special, but it almost had deadly consequences for his Lordship.”
“What, was he wounded?” enquired Tom.
“What, was he hurt?” asked Tom.
“It was thought so at first,” replied the Peruquier, “but it was afterwards discovered that his Lordship had only fainted at the report of his opponent's pistol.”
“It was thought that way at first,” replied the Peruquier, “but it was later found out that his Lordship had only fainted at the sound of his opponent's pistol.”
“Ha! ha! ha!” said Tom, “then it was a bloodless battle—but I should like to know more of the particulars.”
“Ha! ha! ha!” Tom said, “so it was a bloodless battle—but I’d like to hear more about the details.”
“Hold your head a little more this way, Sir, if you please—that will do, I thank you, Sir;—why, it appears, that in attempting to fulfil an assignation with Mr. Webb's wife, the husband, who had got scent of the appointment, as to place and time, lustily cudgelled the dandy Lord Whiskerphiz, and rescued his own brows from certain other fashionable appendages, for which he had no relish. His Lordship's whiskers were injured, by which circumstance some people might conceive his features and appearance must have been improved, however that was not his opinion; his bones were sore, and his mind (that is to say, as the public supposed) hurt. The subject became a general theme of conversation, a Commoner had thrashed a Lord!—flesh and blood could not bear it—but then such flesh and blood could as little bear the thought of a duel—Lord Polly was made the bearer of a challenge—a meeting took place, and at the first fire his Lordship fell. A fine subject for the caricaturists, and they have not failed to make a good use of it. The fire of his Lordship's features [54]was so completely obscured by his whiskers and mustachios, that it was immediately concluded the shot had proved mortal, till Lord Polly (who had taken refuge for safety behind a neighbouring tree) advancing, drew a bottle from his pocket, which, upon application to his nose, had the desired effect of restoring the half-dead duellist to life and light. The Seconds interfered, and succeeded in bringing the matter to a conclusion, and preventing the expected dissolution of Shampetre, who, report says, has determined not to place himself in such a perilous situation again. The fright caused him a severe illness, from which he has scarcely yet recovered sufficiently to appear in public—I believe that will do, Sir; will you look in the glass—can I make any alteration?”
“Hold your head a bit more this way, Sir, if you don’t mind—that’s it, thank you, Sir;—well, it turns out that while trying to meet with Mr. Webb’s wife, the husband, who had caught wind of the meeting's time and place, beat up the dandy Lord Whiskerphiz and saved himself from some other fashionable accessories he didn’t care for. Lord Whiskerphiz’s whiskers were damaged, which some people might think improved his looks, but he didn’t agree; his bones were sore, and his mind—at least, as the public saw it—was troubled. This became a hot topic of conversation, a Commoner had beaten up a Lord!—people couldn’t handle it—but they couldn't stand the idea of a duel either—Lord Polly was sent to deliver a challenge—a meeting happened, and at the first shot, his Lordship fell. It was great material for caricature artists, who took full advantage of it. The fire in his Lordship's features [54] was so completely hidden by his whiskers and mustache that everyone immediately thought the shot had been fatal, until Lord Polly, who had taken cover behind a nearby tree, came forward and pulled a bottle from his pocket, which, when applied to his nose, brought the half-dead duelist back to life and consciousness. The Seconds stepped in and managed to settle things down, preventing the expected end of Shampetre, who, it’s said, has vowed not to find himself in such a risky situation again. The scare caused him a serious illness, from which he is still recovering enough to appear in public—I think that will do, Sir; will you take a look in the mirror—can I change anything?”
“Perhaps not in your story,” replied Tom; “and as to my head, so as you do not make it like the one you have been speaking of, I rely solely on your taste and judgment.”
“Maybe not in your story,” Tom replied. “As for my head, as long as you don’t make it like the one you’ve been talking about, I trust your taste and judgment completely.”
The Peruquier made his bow—“Sir, your politeness is well known!” then turning to Tallyho, “Will you allow me the honour of officiating for you, Sir?”
The Peruquier bowed and said, “Sir, everyone knows how polite you are!” Then, turning to Tallyho, he asked, “May I have the honor of serving you, Sir?”
“Certainly,” replied Bob, who by this time had seen the alteration made in his Cousin's appearance, as well as been delighted with the account of the duel, at which they all laughed during the narration—and immediately prepared for action, while Dashall continued his enquiries as to the fashionable occurrences during his absence.
“Sure,” replied Bob, who by then had noticed the change in his cousin's appearance and had enjoyed hearing about the duel, which made them all laugh during the story—and they quickly got ready for action, while Dashall kept asking about the trendy events that had happened while he was away.
“There have been some other circumstances, of minor importance,” continued the Peruquier—“it is said that a certain Lord, of high military character, has lost considerable sums of money, and seriously impaired his fortune—Lord —— and a friend are completely ruined at hazard—there was a most excellent mill at Moulsey Hurst on Thursday last, between the Gas-light man, who appears to be a game chicken, and a prime hammerer—he can give and take with any man—and Oliver—Gas beat him hollow, it was all Lombard-street to a china orange. The Masked Festival on the 18th is a subject of considerable attraction, and wigs of every nature, style, and fashion, are in high request for the occasion—The Bob, the Tye, the Natural Scratch, the Full Bottom, the Queue, the Curl, the Clerical, the Narcissus, the Auricula, the Capital, the Corinthian, the Roman, the Spanish, the French, the Dutch—oh! we are full of business just now. Speaking of the art, by the by, reminds me of a circumstance which occurred a very [55]short time back, and which shows such a striking contrast between the low-bred citizens, and the True Blues of the West!—have the kindness to hold your head a little on one side, Sir, if you please—a little more towards the light, if you please—that will do excellently—why you'll look quite another thing!—From the country, I presume?” “You are right,” said Bob, “but I don't want a wig just yet.”
“There have been some other circumstances, of minor importance,” continued the Peruquier—“it’s said that a certain Lord, known for his military status, has lost a significant amount of money and seriously damaged his fortune—Lord —— and a friend are completely broke from gambling—there was an outstanding match at Moulsey Hurst last Thursday, between the Gas-light guy, who seems to be quite the gambler, and a top player—he can go toe-to-toe with anyone—and Oliver—Gas completely outperformed him, it was a total wipeout. The Masked Festival on the 18th is a big draw, and all kinds of wigs are in high demand for the event—the Bob, the Tye, the Natural Scratch, the Full Bottom, the Queue, the Curl, the Clerical, the Narcissus, the Auricula, the Capital, the Corinthian, the Roman, the Spanish, the French, the Dutch—oh! we’re super busy right now. Speaking of the art, that reminds me of something that happened not too long ago, which highlights such a stark contrast between the low-class citizens and the True Blues of the West!—could you please tilt your head a little to one side, Sir, if you don’t mind—a bit more towards the light, if you please—that’s perfect—why, you’ll look totally different!—From the country, I assume?” “You’re right,” said Bob, “but I don’t need a wig just yet.”
“Shall be happy to fit you upon all occasions—masquerade, ball, or supper, Sir: you may perhaps wish to go out, as we say in the West, in coy.—happy to receive your commands at any time, prompt attention and dispatch.”
“Happy to dress you for any occasion—masquerade, ball, or dinner, Sir: you might want to go out, as we say in the West, in style.—happy to take your orders anytime, with quick attention and efficiency.”
“Zounds! you are clipping the wig too close,” said Tom, impatient to hear the story, “and if you go on at this rate, you won't leave us even the tail (tale).”
“Wow! You're cutting the story too short,” said Tom, eager to hear the tale, “and if you keep this up, you won't leave us anything but the tail (tale).”
“Right, Sir, I take—'and thereby hangs a tale.' The observation is in point, verbum sat, as the latinist would say. Well, Sir, as I was saying, a citizen, with a design to outdo his neighbours, called at one of the first shops in London a very short time since, and gave particular orders to have his pericranium fitted with a wig of the true royal cut. The dimensions of his upper story were taken—the order executed to the very letter of the instructions—it fitted like wax—it was nature—nay it soared beyond nature—it was the perfection of art—the very acmé of science! Conception was outdone, and there is no power in language to describe it. He was delighted; his wife was charmed with the idea of a new husband, and he with his new wig; but
“Right, Sir, I see—'and that’s a story for you.' This comment is spot on, verbum sat, as a Latin scholar would put it. Well, Sir, as I was saying, a citizen, eager to impress his neighbors, recently visited one of the top shops in London and specifically requested a wig of the authentic royal style for his pericranium. They took measurements of his head—the order was fulfilled exactly as he specified—it fit like a glove—it looked natural—actually, it was even better than natural—it was the pinnacle of craftsmanship—the absolute height of science! Imagination was surpassed, and there are no words that can truly capture it. He was thrilled; his wife was delighted at the thought of a new husband, and he was happy with his new wig; but...
The account was produced—-would you believe it, he refused to have it—he objected to the price.”
The account was created—can you believe it, he wouldn’t accept it—he had an issue with the price.
“The devil take it!” said Tom, “object to pay for the acme of perfection; this unnaturally natural wig would have fetched any money among the collectors of curiosities.”
“The devil take it!” said Tom, “to complain about paying for the peak of perfection; this unnaturally natural wig would have sold for a fortune among collectors of curiosities.”
“What was the price?” enquired Bob.
“What was the cost?” asked Bob.
“Trifling, Sir, very trifling, to an artist 'of the first water,' as a jeweller would say by his diamonds—only thirty guineas!!!”
“Insignificant, Sir, very insignificant, to an artist 'of the highest quality,' as a jeweler would refer to his diamonds—only thirty guineas!!!”
“Thirty guineas!” exclaimed Bob, starting from his seat, and almost overturning the modernizer of his head.
“Thirty guineas!” Bob exclaimed, jumping up from his seat and nearly knocking over the modernizer on his head.
[56]Then, recollecting Sparkle's account of Living in Style, and Good Breeding, falling gently into his seat again.
[56]Then, remembering Sparkle's story about Living in Style and Good Breeding, he settled back into his seat again.
“Did I hurt you, Sir?” exclaimed the Peruquier.
“Did I hurt you, Sir?” the hairdresser exclaimed.
Dashall bit his lip, and smiled at the surprise of his Cousin, which was now so visibly depicted in his countenance.
Dashall bit his lip and smiled at the surprise on his cousin's face, which was clearly shown in his expression.
“Not at all,” replied Tallyho.
“Not at all,” Tallyho replied.
“In two minutes more, Sir, your head will be a grace to; Bond Street or St. James's; it cuts well, and looks well; and if you will allow me to attend you once a month, it will continue so.”
“In two more minutes, Sir, your haircut will be a great fit for Bond Street or St. James's; it’s sharp and stylish; and if you let me trim it once a month, it will stay looking that way.”
Tom hummed a tune, and looked out of the window; the other two were silent till Bob was released. Tom tip'd the blunt, and the interesting young man made his congé, and departed.
Tom hummed a tune and looked out the window; the other two were quiet until Bob was let go. Tom tipped the blunt, and the interesting young man said his goodbye and left.
“A very interesting and amusing sort of person,” said Bob.
“A really interesting and fun person,” said Bob.
“Yes,” replied Tom, “he is a walking volume of information: he knows something of every thing, and almost of every body. He has been in better circumstances, and seen a great deal of life; his history is somewhat remarkable, and some particulars, not generally known, have excited a considerable portion of interest in his fate among those who are acquainted with them. He is the son, before marriage, of a respectable and worthy tradesman, a celebrated vender of bear's grease,{1} lately deceased, who
“Yes,” replied Tom, “he’s a walking encyclopedia: he knows a bit about everything and almost everyone. He’s been in better situations and has experienced a lot of life; his story is pretty remarkable, and certain details that aren’t widely known have sparked a significant amount of interest in his fate among those who know them. He’s the son, before marriage, of a respected and decent tradesman, a famous seller of bear's grease,{1} who recently passed away, who
[57]resided in the vicinity of Cornhill, and was for many years brought up under his roof as his nephew; in which situation, the elegance of his person, the vivacity of his disposition, and the general information he acquired, became subjects of attraction. His education was respectable for his situation, and his allowance liberal. His father however marrying a young lady of some property, and he, 'gay, light, and airy,' falling into bad hands, found his finances not sufficient to support the company he kept, and by these means involved himself in pecuniary difficulties, which, however, (if report say true) were more than once or twice averted by the indulgent parent. In the course of time, the family was increased by two sons, but he continued the flower of the flock. At length it was intended by his father to retire, in part, from business, and leave its management to this young man, and another who had been many years in his service, and whose successful endeavours in promoting his interest were well deserving his consideration; and the writings for this purpose were actually drawn up. Previous however to their execution, he was dispatched to Edinburgh, to superintend an extensive concern of his father's in that city, where, meeting with an amiable young lady with some expectations, he married without the consent of his parent, a circumstance which drew down upon him the good man's displeasure.
[57]lived near Cornhill and was raised under his uncle's roof as his nephew for many years. In that time, his charming appearance, lively personality, and broad knowledge made him quite appealing. His education was decent for his situation, and he received a generous allowance. However, after his father married a young woman with some wealth and he, feeling carefree and flirtatious, fell in with the wrong crowd, he found his finances weren't enough to keep up with the company he kept. This led him into financial troubles, which, if the rumors are true, were saved more than once by his understanding father. Over time, the family welcomed two more sons, but he remained the favorite. Eventually, his father planned to step back from the business and have this young man and another long-time employee manage it. The documents for this arrangement were actually prepared. However, before they could be signed, he was sent to Edinburgh to oversee a significant venture of his father's there. While there, he met a lovely young woman with some prospects and married her without his father's approval, which caused his father great displeasure.
“Not at all dismayed at this, he almost immediately left his father's shop, and set up business for himself in the same neighbourhood, where he continued for two or three years, living, as it was supposed, upon the produce of his matrimonial connexion. At length, however, it was discovered that he was insolvent, and bankruptcy became the consequence. Here he remained till affairs were arranged, and then returned to London with his wife and two children.
“Not at all discouraged by this, he quickly left his father's shop and started his own business in the same neighborhood, where he continued for two or three years, living, as was thought, off the income from his marriage. Eventually, however, it was discovered that he was bankrupt, and bankruptcy followed. He stayed there until his affairs were sorted out, and then returned to London with his wife and two children.”
“In the mean time, the legitimate family of his father had become useful in the business, and acquainted with his former indiscretions, which, consequently, were not likely to be obliterated from the old gentleman's recollection. Without money and without prospect, he arrived in London, where, for some unliquidated debt, he was arrested and became a resident in the King's Bench, from which he was liberated by the Insolvent Debtor's Act. Emancipated from this, he took small shops, or rather rooms, in various parts of the city, vainly endeavouring to [58]support the character he had formerly maintained. These however proved abortive. Appeals to his father were found fruitless, and he has consequently, after a series of vicissitudes, been compelled to act as a journeyman.
“In the meantime, the legitimate family of his father had become helpful in the business and were aware of his past mistakes, which, as a result, were unlikely to be forgotten by the old man. Arriving in London without money and no future prospects, he was arrested for an unpaid debt and ended up in the King's Bench, from which he was released by the Insolvent Debtor's Act. Freed from this situation, he took small shops, or rather rooms, in different parts of the city, trying unsuccessfully to maintain the reputation he once had. However, these efforts failed. Appeals to his father were useless, and as a result, after a series of ups and downs, he was forced to work as a journeyman.”
In the career of his youth, he distinguished himself as a dashing, high-spirited fellow. He was selected as fuegel man to a regiment of Volunteers, and made himself conspicuous at the celebrated O. P. row, at the opening of Covent Garden Theatre, on which occasion he attracted the notice of the Caricaturists,{1} and was generally known in the circles of High Life, by his attendance on the first families on behalf of his father.
In his early career, he stood out as a bold and lively guy. He was chosen as a fireman for a regiment of Volunteers and gained attention during the famous O. P. row at the opening of Covent Garden Theatre, where he caught the eye of Caricaturists,{1} and became well-known in elite social circles for associating with prominent families on behalf of his father.
But perhaps the most remarkable circumstance took place at his deceased parent's funeral. Being so reduced at that time as to have no power even of providing the necessary apparel to manifest the respect, gratitude, and affection, he had ever entertained for the author of his being; and as a natural son has no legal claims upon his father, so naturally nothing was left for him; he applied by letter to the legitimates for a suit of mourning, and permission to attend the remains of their common father to the last receptacle of mortality, which being peremptorily refused, he raised a subscription, obtained clothing, with a gown and hatband, and, as the melancholy procession was moving to the parish church, which was but a few yards distance, he rushed from his hiding-place, stationed himself immediately in the front of the other attendants upon the occasion, and actually accompanied the corpse as chief mourner, having previously concerted with his own mother to be upon the spot. When the body was deposited in the vault, he took her by the hand, led her down the steps, and gave some directions to the bearers as to the situation of the coffin, while the other mourners, panic-struck at the extraordinary circumstances in which they found themselves, turned about and walked in mournful silence back, ruminating on the past with amazement, and full of conjecture for the future.
But maybe the most astonishing event happened at his deceased parent’s funeral. At that time, he was so downcast that he couldn’t even afford the proper clothes to show the respect, gratitude, and affection he had always felt for the person who gave him life. And since a natural son has no legal claims to his father, he had nothing to fall back on; so he wrote a letter to the legitimate heirs asking for a mourning outfit and permission to attend the funeral of their shared father. When this request was firmly denied, he organized a fundraiser, got clothing, including a gown and hatband, and as the sad procession was heading to the parish church, which was just a short distance away, he burst out of his hiding spot, positioned himself right in front of the other attendees, and actually joined the procession as the chief mourner, after arranging with his mother to be there. When the body was placed in the vault, he took her hand, led her down the steps, and gave some instructions to the bearers about where to position the coffin while the other mourners, stunned by the unusual situation they found themselves in, turned around and walked back in sad silence, reflecting on the past in disbelief and filled with uncertainty about the future.
[59]"It was an extraordinary situation for all parties,” said Bob; “but hold, who have we here?—Egad! there is an elegant carriage drawn up to the door; some Lord, or Nobleman, I'll be bound for it—We can't be seen in this deshabille, I shall make my escape.” And saying this, he was hastening out of the room.
[59]“It was an unusual situation for everyone,” said Bob; “but wait, who do we have here?—Wow! There’s a fancy carriage parked outside; it must be some lord or nobleman, I bet—We can’t be seen looking like this, I need to get out of here.” And with that, he rushed out of the room.
“Ha! ha! ha!” exclaimed Tom, “you need not be so speedy in your flight. This is one of the fashionable requisites of London, with whom you must also become acquainted; there is no such thing as doing without them—dress and address are indispensables. This is no other than one of the decorators.”
“Ha! ha! ha!” Tom shouted, “You don’t need to rush off so quickly. This is one of the trendy must-haves of London that you need to get used to; you can’t go without them—style and presentation are essential. This is just one of the decorators.”
“Decorators!” continued Bob, not exactly comprehending him.
“Decorators!” continued Bob, not really understanding him.
“Monsieur le Tailleur—'Tin Mr. W——, from Cork Street, come to exhibit his Spring patterns, and turn us out with the new cut—so pray remain where you are.”
“Monsieur le Tailleur—'Tin Mr. W——, from Cork Street, is here to showcase his Spring designs and give us the latest style—so please stay where you are.”
“Tailor—decorator,” said Bob—“Egad! the idea is almost as ridiculous as the representation of the taylor riding to Brentford.”
“Tailor—decorator,” said Bob—“Wow! that idea is almost as silly as the image of the tailor riding to Brentford.”
By this time the door was opened, and Mr. W. entered, making his bow with the precision of a dancing-master, and was followed by a servant with pattern-books, the other apparatus of his trade. The first salutations over, large pattern-books were displayed upon the table, exhibiting to view a variety of fancy-coloured cloths, and measures taken accordingly. During which time, Tom, as on the former occasion, continued his enquiries relative to the occurrences in the fashionable world.
By this time, the door was opened, and Mr. W. walked in, bowing with the precision of a dance instructor, followed by a servant carrying pattern books and the other tools of his trade. After the initial greetings, large pattern books were laid out on the table, showing a variety of colorful fabrics, with measurements taken accordingly. Meanwhile, Tom, just like before, kept asking about what's happening in the fashion world.
“Rather tame, Sir, at present: the Queen's unexpected visit to the two theatres was for a time a matter of surprise—the backwardness of Drury Lane managers to produce 'God Save the King,' has been construed into disloyalty to the Sovereign—and a laughable circumstance took place on his going to the same house a few nights back, which has already been made the subject of much merriment, both in conversation and caricature. It appears that Mr. Gloss'em, who is a shining character in the theatrical world, at least among the minors of the metropolis; and whose father was for many years a wax-chandler in the neighbourhood of Soho, holds a situation as clerk of the cheque to the Gentlemen Pensioners of his Majesty's household, as well as that of Major Domo, manager and proprietor of a certain theatre, not half a mile from Waterloo Bridge.
“It's rather calm right now, Sir. The Queen's surprise visit to the two theaters caught everyone off guard for a bit—the reluctance of the Drury Lane managers to play 'God Save the King' has been seen as disloyalty to the Sovereign—and a funny incident happened when he visited the same place a few nights ago, which has already been a topic of much laughter, both in conversation and in caricature. It seems that Mr. Gloss'em, who is a shining character in the theater scene, at least among the lesser-known performers in the city; and whose father was a wax-chandler in the Soho area for many years, holds a position as the clerk of the cheque for the Gentlemen Pensioners of His Majesty's household, as well as being the Major Domo, manager, and owner of a theater not even half a mile from Waterloo Bridge.”
[60]A part of his duty in the former capacity is to attend occasionally upon the person of the King, as one of the appendages of Royalty; in which character he appeared on the night in question. The servants of the attendants who were in waiting for their masters, had a room appropriated to their use. One of these latter gentry, no other than Gloss'em's servant, being anxious to have as near a view of the sacred person of his Majesty as his employer, had placed himself in a good situation at the door, in order to witness his departure, when a Mr. Winpebble, of mismanaging notoriety, and also a ponderous puff, assuming managerial authority, espying him, desired the police-officers and guards in attendance to turn out the lamp-lighter's boy, pointing to Gloss'em's servant. This, it seems, was no sooner said than done, at the point of the bayonet. Some little scuffle ensued—His Majesty and suite departed—Hold up your arm, Sir.”
[60]A part of his role in the previous position is to occasionally attend to the King, acting as one of the Royal entourage; in this capacity, he was present on the night in question. The servants of the attendants waiting for their masters had a designated room for their use. One of these servants, specifically Gloss'em's servant, eager to catch a glimpse of the King's esteemed presence just like his employer, positioned himself at the door to witness his departure. However, a Mr. Winpebble, known for his mismanagement and as a heavy-handed figure, took it upon himself to order the police officers and guards present to remove the lamp-lighter's boy, indicating Gloss'em's servant. Apparently, as soon as this was said, it was executed forcefully. There was a brief scuffle—His Majesty and his entourage left—“Hold up your arm, Sir.”
“But did the matter end there?” enquired Dashall.
“But did it end there?” asked Dashall.
“O dear, no—not exactly.”
“Oh no, not really.”
“Because if it did,” continued Tom, “in my opinion, it began with a wax taper, and ended in the smoke of a farthing rushlight. You have made it appear to be a gas-receiver without supplies.”
“Because if it did,” continued Tom, “in my opinion, it started with a wax candle and ended in the smoke of a cheap rushlight. You’ve made it look like a gas lamp with no fuel.”
“I beg pardon,” said Mr. W.; “the pipes are full, but the gas is not yet turned on.”
“I apologize,” said Mr. W.; “the pipes are full, but the gas isn’t on yet.”
This created a laugh, and Mr. W. proceeded:—
This caused a laugh, and Mr. W. continued:—
“The next day, the servant having informed his Master of the treatment he had received, a gentleman was dispatched from Gloss'em to Winpebble, to demand an apology: which being refused, the former, with a large horsewhip under his arm, accosted the latter, and handsomely belaboured his shoulders with lusty stripes. That, you see, Sir, sets the gas all in a blaze.—That will do, Sir.—Now, Sir, at your service,” addressing himself to Tallyho.
“The next day, the servant told his Master about the way he was treated, and a gentleman was sent from Gloss'em to Winpebble to demand an apology. When that was refused, the former, with a big horsewhip under his arm, approached the latter and gave him a good beating on the shoulders. ‘That, you see, Sir, sets everything ablaze. —That will do, Sir. —Now, Sir, I’m at your service,’ he said to Tallyho.”
“Yes,” said Tom, “the taper's alight again now; and pray what was the consequence?”
“Yeah,” said Tom, “the candle is lit again now; and what happened next?”
“Winpebble called for assistance, which was soon obtained, and away they went to Bow-street. Manager Taper, and Manager Vapour—the one blazing with fire, and the other exhausted with thrashing;—'twas a laughing scene. Manager Strutt, and Manager Butt, were strutting and butting each other. The magistrate heard the case, and recommended peace and quietness between [61]them, by an amicable adjustment. The irritated minds of the now two enraged managers could not be brought to consent to this. Gloss'em declared the piece should be repeated, having been received with the most rapturous applause. Winpebble roundly swore that the piece was ill got up, badly represented, and damn'd to all intents and purposes—that the author had more strength than wit—and though not a friend to injunctions himself, he moved for an injunction against Gloss'em; who was at length something like the renowned John Astley with his imitator Rees:
“Winpebble called for help, which was quickly arranged, and off they went to Bow Street. Manager Taper and Manager Vapour—one all fired up, and the other worn out from the brawl;—it was a hilarious scene. Manager Strutt and Manager Butt were strutting and butting heads with each other. The magistrate listened to the case and suggested they find peace and make amends. However, the angry managers weren’t about to agree to that. Gloss'em insisted the performance should go on again, claiming it had received the most enthusiastic applause. Winpebble firmly stated that the show was poorly executed, badly presented, and utterly lacking in quality—that the author had more strength than wit—and even though he usually wasn’t a fan of injunctions, he moved for one against Gloss'em; who ended up somewhat like the famous John Astley with his imitator Rees:
“This great John Astley, and this little Tommy Rees, Were both bound over to keep the King's Peas.”
“This big John Astley and this little Tommy Rees were both required to respect the King’s Peace.”
Gloss'em was bound to keep the peace, and compelled to find security in the sum of twenty pounds. Thus ended the farce of The Enraged Managers—Drury Lane in a Blaze, or Bow Street bewildered.”
Gloss'em was determined to maintain order and was forced to secure a bond of twenty pounds. This marked the end of the farce of The Enraged Managers—Drury Lane in a Blaze, or Bow Street Bewildered.
“Ha! ha! ha! an animated sort of vehicle for public amusement truly,” said Tom, “and of course produced with new scenery, music, dresses, and decorations; forming a combination of attractions superior to any ever exhibited at any theatre—egad! it would make a most excellent scene in a new pantomime.”
“Ha! ha! ha! What a lively kind of show for public entertainment, really,” said Tom, “and, of course, it comes with fresh scenery, music, costumes, and decorations; creating a mix of attractions better than anything ever shown at any theater—wow! It would make a fantastic scene in a new pantomime.”
“Ha! ha! ha!” said Mr. W. “true, Sir, true; and the duel of Lord Shampetre would have also its due portion of effect; but as his Lordship is a good customer of mine, you must excuse any remarks on that circumstance.”
“Ha! ha! ha!” said Mr. W. “True, sir, true; and Lord Shampetre’s duel would definitely have its own impact; but since he’s a good client of mine, please excuse any comments on that situation.”
“We have already heard of his Lordship's undaunted courage and firmness, as well as the correctness of his aim.”
“We’ve already heard about his Lordship’s fearless courage and determination, as well as his accurate aim.”
“He! he! he!” chuckled W.; “then I fancy your information is not very correct, for it appears his lordship displayed a want of every one of those qualities that you impute to him; however, I venture to hope no unpleasant measures will result from the occurrence, as I made the very pantaloons he wore upon the occasion. It seems he is considerably cut up; but you must know that, previous to the duel, I was consulted upon the best mode of securing his sacred person from the effects of a bullet: I recommended a very high waistband lined with whale-bone, and well padded with horse-hair, to serve as a breast-plate, and calculated at once to produce warmth, and resist [62]penetration. The pantaloons were accordingly made, thickly overlaid with extremely rich and expensive gold lace, and considered to be stiff enough for any thing—aye, even to keep his Lordship erect. But what do you suppose was the effect of all my care? I should not like to make a common talk of it, but so it certainly was: his Lordship had no objection to the whalebone, buckram, &c. outside of him, but was fearful that if his antagonist's fire should be well-directed, his tender body might be additionally hurt by the splinters of the whalebone being carried along with it, and actually proposed to take them off before the dreadful hour of appointment came on. In this however he was fortunately overruled by his Second, who, by the by, was but a goose in the affair, and managed it altogether very badly, except in the instance of being prompt with the smelling-bottle, which certainly was well-timed; and it would have been a hissing hot business, but for the judicious interference of the other Second.”
“He! he! he!” chuckled W.; “then I think your information isn’t very accurate, because it seems his lordship showed a lack of every one of those qualities you attribute to him. However, I hope no unpleasant consequences will come from this, since I made the very pants he wore that day. It seems he is quite upset; but you should know that, before the duel, I was consulted on the best way to protect his precious body from a bullet: I suggested a very high waistband lined with whalebone, well padded with horsehair, to act as a chest plate, both for warmth and to prevent penetration. The pants were made accordingly, heavily decorated with rich and expensive gold lace, and considered stiff enough for anything—even to keep his Lordship upright. But do you know what happened with all my precautions? I wouldn’t want to gossip about it, but it’s true: his Lordship had no issues with the whalebone, buckram, etc. on the outside, but he was worried that if his opponent's shot was accurate, his delicate body might be further injured by the splinters of the whalebone being carried along, and he actually suggested removing them before the dreadful hour of the duel arrived. Luckily, he was overruled by his Second, who, by the way, was quite foolish in the situation and handled it all very poorly, except for being quick with the smelling salts, which was certainly well-timed; and it would have been a terribly hot mess, if not for the sensible intervention of the other Second.”
A loud laugh succeeded this additional piece of information relative to the affair of honour; and Snip having finished his measurement, colours were fixed upon, and he departed, promising to be punctual in the delivery of the new habiliments on the next day.
A loud laugh followed this extra bit of information about the affair of honor; and after Snip completed his measurements, colors were chosen, and he left, promising to deliver the new clothes the next day.
“I am now convinced,” said Bob, “of the great importance and utility of a London tradesman, and the speed of their execution is wonderful!”
“I’m now convinced,” said Bob, “of how important and useful a London tradesman is, and their speed of execution is amazing!”
“Yes,” replied Tom, “it is only to be equalled by the avidity with which they obtain information, and the rapidity with which they circulate it—why, in another half hour your personal appearance, the cut of your country coat, your complexion and character, as far as so short an interview would allow for obtaining it, will be known to all his customers—they are generally quick and acute discerners. But come, we must be making ready for our walk, it is now half-past ten o'clock—Sparkle will be here presently. It is time to be dressing, as I mean to have a complete ramble during the day, take a chop somewhere on the road, and in the evening, my boy, we'll take a peep into the theatre. Lord Byron's tragedy of Marino Faliero is to be performed to-night, and I can, I think, promise you a treat of the highest kind.”
“Yes,” Tom replied, “the eagerness with which they gather information is only matched by how quickly they spread it. In just half an hour, your looks, the style of your country coat, your complexion, and what little they can figure out about your character will be known to all his customers—they're usually sharp and quick to notice things. But come on, we need to get ready for our walk; it's now half-past ten—Sparkle will be here soon. It's time to get dressed because I plan to have a full day out, grab a bite somewhere along the way, and in the evening, my friend, we'll check out the theater. Lord Byron's tragedy, Marino Faliero, is on tonight, and I can promise you it will be an amazing experience.”
Tallyho, who had no idea of dressing again, having already been obliged to dress twice, seemed a little surprised at the proposition, but supposing it to be the [63]custom of London, nodded assent, and proceeded to the dressing-room. As he walked up stairs he could not help casting his visual orbs over the banisters, just to take a bird's eye view of the scene of his morning disasters, of which, to his great astonishment and surprise, not a vestige remained—a new lamp had been procured, which seemed to have arisen like a phoenix from its ashes, and the stone passage and stairs appeared as he termed it, “as white as a cauliflower.” At the sight of all this, he was gratified and delighted, for he expected to find a heap of ruins to reproach him. He skipped, or rather vaulted up the stairs, three or four at a stride, with all the gaiety of a race-horse when first brought to the starting-post. The rapid movements of a Life in London at once astonished and enraptured him; nor did he delay his steps, or his delight, until he had reached the topmost story, when bursting open the door, lie marched boldly into the room. Here again he was at fault; a female shriek assailed his ear, which stopped his course, and looking around him, he could not find from whence the voice proceeded. “Good God!” continued the same voice, “what can be the meaning of this intrusion?—Begone, rash man.” In the mean time, Tom, who was in a room just under the one into which he had unfortunately made so sudden an entrance, appeared at the door.
Tallyho, who had no intention of getting dressed again after already doing so twice, seemed a bit surprised by the suggestion. But assuming it was just the way things were done in London, he nodded in agreement and headed to the dressing room. As he walked up the stairs, he couldn’t help but glance over the banisters to get a bird's eye view of the scene from his earlier mishaps. To his amazement, not a trace of the chaos remained—a new lamp had appeared, as if it had risen like a phoenix from the ashes, and the stone passage and stairs looked, as he put it, “as white as a cauliflower.” Seeing all of this brought him joy and relief, as he had expected to find total destruction to face. He bounced up the stairs, taking three or four steps at a time, filled with the excitement of a racehorse at the starting line. The fast-paced life in London astonished and thrilled him; he didn’t slow down until he reached the top floor. Bursting through the door, he boldly stepped into the room. Once again, he was caught off guard by a female shriek that stopped him in his tracks, and he looked around, confused about where the voice was coming from. “Good God!” the voice exclaimed, “What on earth is this intrusion?—Get out of here, you reckless man.” Meanwhile, Tom, who was in the room just below the one he had entered so suddenly, appeared at the door.
“What the devil is the matter now?” said Tom; when spying his cousin in the centre of the room, without seeming to know whether to return or remain, he could not restrain his laughter. Tallyho looked up, like one in a dream—then down—then casting his eyes around him, he perceived in the corner, peeping out from the bed-curtains in which she had endeavoured to hide her almost naked person, the head of the old Housekeeper. The picture was moving, and at the same time laughable. The confusion of Bob—the fright of the Housekeeper, and the laughter of Tom, were subjects for the pencil of a Hogarth!
“What the heck is going on now?” said Tom; when he spotted his cousin in the middle of the room, not sure whether to leave or stay, he couldn't help but laugh. Tallyho looked up, like someone waking from a dream—then down—then, looking around, he noticed in the corner, poking out from the bed curtains where she had tried to hide her almost bare self, the head of the old Housekeeper. The scene was both moving and hilarious. The confusion on Bob's face, the Housekeeper’s fright, and Tom’s laughter were worthy of a Hogarth painting!
“So,” said Tom, “you are for springing game in all parts of the house, and at all times too. How came you here?”—“Not by my appointment, Sir,” replied the old lady, who still remained rolled up in the curtain. “I never did such a thing in all my born days: I'm an honest woman, and mean to remain so. I never was so ashamed in all my life.”
“So,” said Tom, “you’re planning to sneak around the house and anytime too. How did you end up here?”—“Not by my choice, Sir,” replied the old lady, who was still wrapped up in the curtain. “I’ve never done anything like this in my life: I'm an honest woman, and I intend to stay that way. I've never felt so embarrassed in my life.”
[64]"I believe the house is enchanted,” cried Bob; “d—— me, I never seem to step without being on a barrel of gunpowder, ready to ignite with the touch of my foot. I have made some cursed blunder again, and don't seem to know where I am.”
[64] "I think the house is haunted," Bob exclaimed; "damn it, it feels like I'm always stepping on a barrel of gunpowder, just waiting to explode with a single step. I've messed up again, and I have no idea where I am."
“Come, come,” said Dashall, “that won't do—I'm sure you had some design upon my Housekeeper, who you hear by her own account is a good woman, and won't listen to your advances.”
“Come on,” said Dashall, “that’s not going to work—I’m sure you had some intentions towards my Housekeeper, who, as she says herself, is a good woman and won’t accept your advances.”
By this time the servants had arrived at the door, and were alternately peeping in, wondering to see the two gentlemen in such a situation, and secretly giggling and enjoying the embarrassment of the old woman, whose wig lay on the table, and who was displaying her bald pate and shrivelled features from the bed-curtains, enveloped in fringe and tassels, which only served to render them still more ludicrous.
By this time, the servants had reached the door, peeking in and surprised to see the two gentlemen in such a situation, while secretly laughing and enjoying the old woman's embarrassment, as her wig lay on the table and she revealed her bald head and wrinkled features from behind the bed curtains, which were draped in fringe and tassels, only making her look even more ridiculous.
Bob affected to laugh; said it was very odd—he could not account for it at all—stammered out something like an apology—begg'd pardon—it was—a mistake—he really took it for his own room—he never was so bewildered in his life—was very sorry he should cause so much alarm—but really had no sort of intention whatever.
Bob pretended to laugh and said it was really strange—he couldn’t explain it at all—he stumbled through some kind of apology—asked for forgiveness—it was a mistake—he honestly thought it was his own room—he had never been so confused in his life—he felt terrible for causing so much panic—but he truly had no intention at all.
“Well,” said Dashall, “the best reparation you can now make for your intrusion is a speedy retreat. Time is escaping, so come along;” and taking him by the arm, they walked down the stairs together, and then proceeded to re-fit without further obstruction, in order to be ready for Sparkle, who was expected every minute.
“Well,” said Dashall, “the best way to make up for your intrusion now is to leave quickly. Time is running out, so let’s go;” and taking him by the arm, they walked down the stairs together and then continued to get ready without any more interruptions, so they’d be prepared for Sparkle, who was expected at any moment.
The first day of Bob's residence in London had already been productive of some curious adventures, in which he, unfortunately as he considered, had sustained the principal character—a character not altogether suitable to is inclinations or wishes, though productive of much merriment to his ever gay and sprightly Cousin, who had witnessed the embarrassment of his pupil upon his first entrance into Life with ungovernable laughter. It was to him excellent sport, while it furnished a good subject of speculation and conversation among the servants below, but was not so well relished by the affrighted old house-keeper. Indeed, the abrupt entrance of a man into her bed-chamber had so deranged her ideas, that she was longer than usual in decking her person previous to her [65]re-appearance. The tender frame of the old lady had been subjected to serious agitations at the bare idea of such a visit, and the probable imputations that might in consequence be thrown upon her sacred and unspotted character; nor could she for some time recover her usual serenity.
The first day of Bob's stay in London had already resulted in some interesting adventures, in which he, unfortunately as he thought, had been the main character—a role not really suited to his inclinations or desires, but which brought a lot of laughter to his ever-jovial cousin, who had witnessed his embarrassment upon entering the world for the first time with uncontrollable amusement. It was a great source of entertainment for him, while also providing plenty of topics for speculation and conversation among the servants downstairs, but it wasn’t as appreciated by the startled old housekeeper. In fact, the sudden appearance of a man in her bedroom had completely rattled her, causing her to take longer than normal to get ready before her [65]re-appearance. The poor woman had been deeply unsettled at the mere idea of such a visit and the possible implications for her virtuous and untarnished reputation; she couldn't regain her usual calm for quite some time.
Such was the situation of the parties at the moment we are now describing; but as our Heroes are preparing for an extensive, actual survey of men, manners, and tilings, we shall for the present leave them in peace and quietness, while we proceed to the next chapter.
Such was the situation for everyone at this moment; however, as our heroes get ready for a thorough exploration of people, behaviors, and things, we will leave them in peace and quiet for now while we move on to the next chapter.
CHAPTER VII
[66]TOM, whose wardrobe was extensive, found no difficulty, and lost no time in preparing for the promenade; while, on the other hand, Tallyho was perplexed to know how to tog himself out in a way suitable to make his appearance in the gay world of fashion. Dashall had therefore rapidly equipped himself, when, perceiving it was half-past eleven, he was the more perplexed to account for the absence of Sparkle; for although it was an early hour, yet, upon such an occasion as that of initiating a new recruit, it was very extraordinary that he should not have been prompt. However, he entered Tallyho's room, and found him looking out of the window in a posture of rumination, probably revolving in his mind the events of the morning.
[66]TOM, who had a lot of clothes, didn’t have any trouble getting ready for the outing and wasted no time doing so. In contrast, Tallyho was confused about how to dress appropriately for the fashionable scene. Dashall quickly got himself ready, and when he noticed it was already half-past eleven, he grew even more confused about Sparkle's absence; even though it was early, it was unusual for him not to show up on such an important occasion as welcoming a new member. Nonetheless, he went into Tallyho's room and found him gazing out the window, seemingly lost in thought, likely reflecting on the events of the morning.
“Come,” said Tom, as he entered, “'tis time to be on the move, and if Sparkle don't show in a few minutes, we'll set sail and call in upon him at Long's, in Bond Street. Perhaps he is not well, or something prevents his appearance—we'll make it in our way, and we have a fine day before us.”
“Come on,” said Tom as he walked in, “it’s time to get going, and if Sparkle doesn’t show up in a few minutes, we’ll head out and check on him at Long’s on Bond Street. Maybe he’s not feeling well, or something’s keeping him from coming—we’ll stop by on our way, and we have a beautiful day ahead of us.”
“I am at your service,” replied Bob, who could not help viewing the elegance of his Cousin's appearance: the style of his dress, and the neatness with which his garments fitted him, were all subjects of admiration, and formed so strong a contrast with his own as almost to excite envy. He had however attired himself in a way that befits a fashionable country gentleman: a green coat, white waistcoat, buckskin breeches, and boots, over [67]which a pair of leggings appeared, which extended below the calf of the leg and half up the thigh, surmounted with a Lily Shallow. Such was the costume in which he was destined to show off; and thus equipped, after a few minutes they emerged from the house in Piccadilly on the proposed ramble, and proceeded towards Bond Street.
“I’m at your service,” replied Bob, who couldn't help admiring his cousin's elegance: his stylish outfit and the way his clothes fitted him perfectly were all impressive and contrasted so sharply with Bob's own look that it almost sparked a bit of envy. However, Bob had dressed himself like a trendy country gentleman: a green coat, white waistcoat, buckskin breeches, and boots, over which he wore a pair of leggings that went below the calf and halfway up the thigh, topped off with a Lily Shallow. This was the outfit in which he was meant to stand out; and so, after a few minutes, they stepped out from the house on Piccadilly for their planned outing and headed towards Bond Street.
The first object that took their particular attention was the Burlington Arcade. “Come,” said Tom, “we may as well go this way,” and immediately they passed the man in the gold-laced hat, who guards the entrance to prevent the admission of boys and improper persons. The display of the shops, with the sun shining through the windows above, afforded much for observation, and attracted Bob from side to side—to look, to wonder and admire. But Tom, who was intent upon finding his friend Sparkle, urged the necessity of moving onward with more celerity, lest he should be gone out, and consequently kept drawing his Cousin forward. “Another and a better opportunity will be afforded for explanation than the present, and as speed is the order of the day, I hope you will not prove disorderly; we shall soon reach Long's, and when we have Sparkle with us, we have one of the most intelligent and entertaining fellows in the world. He is a sort of index to every thing, and every body; his knowledge of life and character, together with a facetiousness of whim and manner, which he has in delineating them, are what we call in London—Prime and bang up to the mark. There is scarcely a Lane, Court, Alley, or Street, in the Metropolis, but what he knows, from the remotest corners of Rag-Fair, to the open and elegant Squares of the West, even to Hyde Park Corner. Memory, mirth, and magic, seem at all times to animate his tongue, and, as the Song says,
The first thing that caught their attention was the Burlington Arcade. “Come on,” said Tom, “let’s head this way,” and they quickly walked past the man in the gold-laced hat at the entrance, who was there to stop boys and inappropriate people from coming in. The shop displays, with the sun shining through the windows above, offered plenty to look at and intrigued Bob, who kept moving from side to side to admire everything. But Tom, focused on finding his friend Sparkle, insisted they move along faster, so he wouldn’t miss him. “There will be another, better chance to chat later, and since we have to keep up the pace today, I hope you’ll behave. We’ll reach Long’s soon, and once we have Sparkle with us, we’ll have one of the smartest and most entertaining guys around. He’s like a guide to everything and everyone; his understanding of life and personalities, along with his humorous way of describing them, is what we call in London—Prime and bang up to the mark. There’s hardly a Lane, Court, Alley, or Street in the city that he doesn’t know, from the furthest corners of Rag-Fair to the beautiful Squares of the West, even to Hyde Park Corner. His words always seem full of memory, fun, and charm, just like the Song says,
Indeed, he is the admiration of all who know him; wit, whim, frolic, and fun, are constant companions with him, and I really believe, in a dungeon or a palace, he would always appear the same.”
Indeed, he is admired by everyone who knows him; wit, humor, playfulness, and fun are always by his side, and I truly believe that whether in a dungeon or a palace, he would always seem the same.
By this time they had reached Bond Street, in their way to which, each step they had taken, the streets and avenues of every description appeared to Bob to be crowded to an excess; the mingling cries which were [68]vociferated around them produced in his mind uncommon sensations. The rattling of the carriages, the brilliance of the shops, and the continual hum of the passengers, contributed to heighten the scene.
By this point, they had arrived at Bond Street, and with every step they took towards it, Bob felt that the streets and avenues were packed with people. The mix of shouting that surrounded them created strange feelings in his mind. The clatter of the carriages, the shine of the shops, and the constant buzz of the crowd all added to the atmosphere.
“Bond Street,” said Dashall, “is not one of the most elegant streets in the vicinity of London, but is the resort of the most fashionable people, and from about two o'clock till five, it is all bustle—all life—every species of fashionable vehicle is to be seen dashing along in gay and gallant pride. From two to five are the fashionable shopping-hours, for which purpose the first families resort to this well-known street—others, to shew their equipage, make an assignation, or kill a little time; which is as much a business with some, as is the more careful endeavours of others to seize him in his flight, and make the most of his presence. The throng is already increasing; the variety, richness, and gaiety of the shops in this street, will always be attractive, and make it a popular rendezvous of both sexes. It will shortly be as crowded as Rag Fair, or the Royal Exchange; and the magic splendour has very peculiar properties.
“Bond Street,” Dashall said, “is not the most elegant street near London, but it’s where the fashionable crowd gathers. From around two to five, it’s bustling with life—every kind of trendy vehicle is speeding by in vibrant and proud display. Those hours are prime shopping time, when the top families come to this famous street—others just to show off their vehicles, make plans, or kill a bit of time; which is as much a task for some as the more careful efforts of others to catch him in his busy schedule and make the most of his presence. The crowd is already growing; the variety, richness, and brightness of the shops on this street will always draw people in, making it a favorite meeting spot for both men and women. Soon, it will be as packed as Rag Fair or the Royal Exchange; and the enchanting charm has very unique qualities.
“It makes the tradesman forget—while he is cheating a lovely and smiling Duchess—that in all probability her ladyship is endeavouring to cheat him. It makes the gay and airy, the furbelowed and painted lady of the town, forget that she must pay a visit to her uncle,{1} in order to raise the wind before she can make her appearance at the theatre at half-price. It makes the dashing prisoner forget, that while “he is sporting his figure in the bang-up style of appearance, he is only taking his ride on a day-rule from the King's Bench. It makes the Lord who drives four-in-hand forget his losses of the night before at some of the fashionable gaming-houses. It makes one adventurer forget that the clothes in which he expects to obtain respect and attention, are more than likely to be paid for in Newgate; another for a time forgets that John Doe and Richard Roe have expelled him from his
“It makes the tradesman forget—while he’s conning a lovely and smiling Duchess—that she’s probably trying to con him too. It makes the glamorous, poised, and fashionable lady of the town forget that she needs to visit her uncle,{1} to get some cash before she can show up at the theater at half-price. It makes the stylish prisoner forget that while he’s flaunting his look in a sharp outfit, he’s only on a day pass from the King’s Bench. It makes the Lord who drives four-in-hand forget his losses from the night before at some of the trendy gambling spots. It makes one adventurer forget that the clothes he hopes will earn him respect and attention are probably going to end up being paid for in Newgate; another thinks for a moment that John Doe and Richard Roe have kicked him out of his
[69]lodgings; and a third that all his worldly possessions are not equal to the purchase of a dinner. It is an ignis fatuus—a sort of magic lantern replete with delusive appearances—of momentary duration—an escape to the regions of noise, tumult, vanity, and frivolity, where the realities of Life, the circumstances and the situation of the observer, are not suffered to intrude.
[69]places to stay; and a third that all his worldly belongings aren't even worth a dinner. It's an ignis fatuus—a kind of magic lantern full of misleading images—briefly illuminating an escape to the world of noise, chaos, vanity, and superficiality, where the harsh truths of life, the realities, and the situation of the observer are kept at bay.
“But to be seen in this street at a certain hour, is one of the essentials to the existence of haut-ton—it is the point of attraction for greetings in splendid equipages, from the haughty bend or familiar nod of arrogance, to the humble bow of servility. Here mimicry without money assumes the consequential air of independence: while modest merit creeps along unheeded through the glittering crowd. Here all the senses are tantalized with profusion, and the eye is dazzled with temptation, for no other reason than because it is the constant business of a fashionable life—not to live in, but out of self, to imitate the luxuries of the affluent without a tithe of their income, and to sacrifice morality at the altar of notoriety.”
"But being seen on this street at a certain time is essential for the existence of haut-ton—it draws attention for greetings in fancy carriages, from the arrogant nods to the humble bows of servitude. Here, those pretending to wealth without it carry a false sense of independence, while true talent goes unnoticed in the flashy crowd. All the senses are teased with abundance, and the eyes are dazzled by temptation, simply because that’s what a fashionable life is about—not living for oneself, but mimicking the luxuries of the rich with hardly a fraction of their income, and sacrificing morality for the sake of fame."
“Your description of this celebrated street, of which I have heard so much,” said Tallyho, “is truly lively.”
“Your description of this famous street, that I've heard so much about,” said Tallyho, “is really vibrant.”
“But it is strictly true,” continued Tom.
“But it is definitely true,” continued Tom.
They had now arrived at Long's, and found a barouche and four waiting at the door. Upon entering, the first person they met was Lord Cripplegate, whom they passed, and proceeded to the coffee-room; in one of the boxes of which Tom immediately directed his Cousin's attention to a well-dressed young man, who was reading the newspaper, and sipping his coffee—“Take notice of him,” said Tom.
They had now arrived at Long's and found a carriage and four waiting at the door. Upon entering, the first person they saw was Lord Cripplegate, whom they smiled at and walked past to the coffee room. In one of the booths, Tom quickly pointed out a stylish young man who was reading the newspaper and sipping his coffee. “Check him out,” said Tom.
Bob looked at him for a moment, marked his features, and his dress, which was in the extreme of fashion; while Tom, turning to one of the Waiters, enquired for his friend Sparkle.
Bob looked at him for a moment, noting his features and his outfit, which was very stylish; while Tom, turning to one of the waiters, asked for his friend Sparkle.
“He has not been here since yesterday morning!” said the Waiter.
“He hasn't been here since yesterday morning!” said the Waiter.
“I have been waiting for him these two hours!” exclaimed the young Sprig of Fashion, laying down the newspaper almost at the same moment, “and must wait till he comes—Ah! Mr. Dashall, how d'ye do?—-very glad to see you—left all well in the country, I hope!—Mr. Sparkle was to have met me this morning at eleven precisely, I should judge he is gone into the country.”
“I’ve been waiting for him for two hours!” exclaimed the young Sprig of Fashion, putting down the newspaper almost at the same moment. “And I have to keep waiting till he arrives—Ah! Mr. Dashall, how are you?—so glad to see you—everything okay in the country, I hope!—Mr. Sparkle was supposed to meet me this morning at eleven sharp, so I guess he’s gone to the country.”
“It must have been late last night, then,” said Dashall, [70]"for he left us about half-past ten, and promised also to meet us again this morning at eleven; I can't think what can have become of him—but come,” said he, taking Bob by the arm, “we must keep moving—Good morning—good morning.” And thus saying, walked directly out of the house, turning to the right again towards Piccadilly.
“It must have been late last night, then,” said Dashall, [70] “because he left us around half-past ten and promised to meet us again this morning at eleven; I can't imagine what could have happened to him—but come,” he said, taking Bob by the arm, “we need to keep moving—Good morning—good morning.” With that, he walked straight out of the house, turning right again toward Piccadilly.
“There is a remark made, I think by Goldsmith,” said Tom, “that one half of the world don't know how the other half lives; and the man I spoke to in the coffee-room, whose name I am unacquainted with, though his person is recognized by almost every body, while his true character, residence, and means of subsistence, remain completely in obscurity, from what I have seen of him, I judge is what may be termed a hanger on.”
“There’s a saying, I believe from Goldsmith,” said Tom, “that one half of the world doesn’t know how the other half lives; and the guy I spoke to in the coffee room, whose name I don’t know even though pretty much everyone recognizes him, while his true character, where he lives, and how he supports himself are all totally unclear, from what I’ve seen of him, I think he’s what you could call a hanger on.”
“A hanger on,” said Bob—“what can that mean? I took him for a man of property and high birth—but I saw you take so little notice of him.”
“A hanger-on,” Bob said. “What could that mean? I thought he was a person of wealth and high status, but I noticed you didn’t pay much attention to him.”
“Ah! my good fellow, I have already cautioned you not to be duped by appearances. A hanger on is a sort of sycophant, or toad-eater, and, in the coffee-houses and hotels of London, many such are to be found—men who can spin out a long yarn, tell a tough story, and tip you a rum chant—who invite themselves by a freedom of address bordering on impudence to the tables and the parties of persons they know, by pretending to call in by mere accident, just at the appointed time: by assuming great confidence, great haste, little appetite, and much business; but, at the same time, requiring but little pressure to forego them all for the pleasure of the company present. What he can have to do with Sparkle I am at a loss to conceive; but he is an insinuating and an intriguing sort of fellow, whom I by no means like, so I cut him.”
“Ah! my good friend, I've already warned you not to be fooled by appearances. A hanger on is a kind of sycophant, or toady, and in the coffee shops and hotels of London, many such people can be found—men who can spin out a long yarn, tell a tough story, and give you a rum chant—who invite themselves to the tables and gatherings of people they know with a confidence that borders on rudeness, pretending to drop by by mere chance, just at the right moment: they act like they are in a hurry, have little appetite, and are very busy; but at the same time, they need very little encouragement to set all that aside for the sake of the company. I can't figure out what he has to do with Sparkle; but he's an insincere and manipulative sort of guy whom I don't like at all, so I cut him off.”
Bob did not exactly understand the meaning of the word cut, and therefore begged his Cousin to explain.
Bob didn’t quite understand what the word “cut” meant, so he asked his cousin to explain it.
“The cut,” said Tom, “is a fashionable word for getting rid, by rude or any means, of any person whose company is not agreeable. The art of cutting is reduced to a system in London; and an explanatory treatise has been written on the subject for the edification of the natives.{1} But I am so bewildered to think what can have detained Sparkle, and deprived us of his company, that I scarcely know how to think for a moment on any other subject at present.”
“The cut,” Tom said, “is a trendy way to say you’re getting rid of someone whose company isn’t enjoyable, by rude or any means. The skill of cutting has become a system in London, and there’s even a guide on it to educate the locals.{1} But I’m so confused about what could be keeping Sparkle away and taking him out of our company that I can hardly focus on anything else right now.”
[71]"It is somewhat strange!” cried Bob, “that he was not with you this morning.”
[71]"It's kind of odd!” exclaimed Bob, “that he wasn't with you this morning.”
“There is some mystery in it,” said Tom, “which time alone can unravel; but however, we will not be deprived of our intended ramble.” At this moment they entered Piccadilly, and were crossing the road in their way to St. James's Street, when Dashall nodded to a gentleman passing by on the opposite side, and received a sort of half bow in return. “That,” said Tom, “is a curious fellow, and a devilish clever fellow too—for although he has but one arm, he is a man of science.”
“There’s definitely something mysterious about it,” said Tom, “which only time can figure out; but still, we're not going to miss out on our planned walk.” Just then, they entered Piccadilly and were crossing the street on their way to St. James's Street when Dashall nodded to a guy passing by on the other side, getting a sort of half bow in return. “That,” said Tom, “is an interesting guy, and really sharp too—because even though he’s got just one arm, he’s a man of science.”
“In what way?” enquired Bob.
“How so?” asked Bob.
“He is a pugilist,” said Tom—“one of those courageous gentlemen who can queer the daylights, tap the claret, prevent telling fibs, and pop the noddle into chancery; and a devilish good hand he is, I can assure you, among those who
“He's a fighter,” said Tom—“one of those brave guys who can knock the daylights out of you, get the blood flowing, stop the lies, and put you in your place; and he's really good at it, I can assure you, among those who
“Having but one arm, of course he is unable to figure in the ring—though he attends the mills, and is a constant visitor at the Fives Court exhibitions, and generally appears a la Belcher. He prides himself upon flooring a novice, and hits devilish hard with the glove. I have had some lessons from this amateur of the old English science, and felt the force of his fist; but it is a very customary thing to commence in a friendly way, till the knowing one finds an opportunity which he cannot resist, of shewing the superiority he possesses. So it was with Harry and me, when he put on his glove. I use the singular number, because he has but one hand whereon to place a glove withal. Come, said he, it shall only be a little innocent spar. I also put on a glove, for it would not be fair to attack a one-armed man with two, and no one ought to take the odds in combat. To it we went, and I shewed first blood, for he tapped the claret in no time.
“Having just one arm, he obviously can't compete in the ring—though he goes to the mills, is a regular at the Fives Court events, and usually shows up a la Belcher. He takes pride in knocking out a beginner and hits really hard with the glove. I’ve had a few lessons from this enthusiast of old-school boxing and felt the power of his punch; but it’s pretty common to start off in a friendly way until the experienced one finds an opening he can’t resist to show off his superiority. That was the case with Harry and me when he put on his glove. I say ‘singular’ because he has only one hand to wear a glove on. “Come on,” he said, “it’ll just be a little harmless sparring.” I also put on a glove because it wouldn’t be fair to attack a one-armed man with two, and no one should take advantage in a fight. We started sparring, and I drew first blood, as he was quick to land a hit and spill the claret.
“Neat milling we had, what with clouts on the nob, Home hits in the bread-basket, clicks in the gob, And plumps in the daylights, a prettier treat Between two Johnny Raws 'tis not easy to meet.”
“Great milling we had, with hits on the head, home runs in the stomach, punches in the mouth, and blows to the gut; a nicer experience between two rookies is hard to find.”
[72]"I profited however by Harry's lessons, and after a short time was enabled to return the compliment with interest, by sewing up one of his glimmers.
[72]"I learned a lot from Harry's lessons, and after a little while, I was able to return the favor by stitching up one of his glimmers.
“This is St. James's Street,” continued he, as they turned the corner rather short; in doing which, somewhat animated by the description he had just been giving, Tom's foot caught the toe of a gentleman, who was mincing along the pathway with all the care and precision of a dancing-master, which had the effect of bringing him to the ground in an instant as effectually as a blow from one of the fancy. Tom, who had no intention of giving offence wantonly, apologized for the misfortune, by—“I beg pardon, Sir,” while Bob, who perceived the poor creature was unable to rise again, and apprehending some broken bones, assisted him to regain his erect position. The poor animal, or nondescript, yclept Dandy, however had only been prevented the exercise of its limbs by the stiffness of certain appendages, without which its person could not be complete—the stays, lined with whalebone, were the obstacles to its rising. Being however placed in its natural position, he began in an affected blustering tone of voice to complain that it was d——d odd a gentleman could not walk along the streets without being incommoded by puppies—pulled out his quizzing glass, and surveyed our heroes from head to foot—then taking from his pocket a smelling bottle, which, by application to the nose, appeared to revive him, Tom declared he was sorry for the accident, had no intention, and hoped he was not hurt. This, however, did not appear to satisfy the offended Dandy, who turned upon his heel muttering to himself the necessity there was of preventing drunken fellows from rambling the streets to the annoyance of sober and genteel people in the day-time.
“This is St. James's Street,” he continued, as they turned the corner a bit quickly. In doing so, fueled by the description he had just given, Tom accidentally kicked the toe of a man who was strutting along the sidewalk with all the care and precision of a dance instructor, immediately sending him to the ground as effectively as a punch from a performer. Tom, not wanting to cause any offense, apologized by saying, “I beg your pardon, Sir,” while Bob, noticing the poor guy couldn’t get back up and fearing he might have some broken bones, helped him to his feet. The unfortunate man, or whatever he was called Dandy, had only been unable to move because his stiff clothing was holding him back—his stays, lined with whalebone, were what kept him down. Once he was back on his feet, he began in an exaggerated, haughty voice to complain that it was downright absurd that a gentleman couldn’t walk down the street without being bothered by pups—he pulled out his monocle and looked our heroes up and down—then took out a smelling bottle, which seemed to revive him when he sniffed it. Tom expressed his regret about the incident, insisted he hadn’t meant to, and hoped the man wasn’t hurt. However, this didn’t seem to appease the offended Dandy, who turned on his heel, muttering to himself about the need to keep drunken fools from wandering the streets and bothering respectable, well-mannered people during the day.
Dashall, who overheard the substance of his ejaculation, broke from the arm of Bob, and stepping after him without ceremony, by a sudden wheel placed himself in the front of him, so as to impede his progress a second time; a circumstance which filled Mr. Fribble with additional alarm, and his agitation became visibly' depicted on his countenance.
Dashall, who heard what he shouted, broke away from Bob’s arm and casually stepped after him. With a quick turn, he got in front of him again, blocking his way for a second time. This made Mr. Fribble even more anxious, and his fear was clearly shown on his face.
“What do you mean?” cried Dashall, with indignation, taking the imputation of drunkenness at that early hour in dudgeon. “Who, and what are you, [73]Sir?{1} Explain instantly, or by the honour of a gentleman, I'll chastise this insolence.”
“What do you mean?” shouted Dashall, feeling offended and upset at the accusation of drunkenness so early in the morning. “Who are you, and what right do you have, [73]Sir?{1} Explain yourself right now, or I swear on my honor as a gentleman, I’ll deal with this rudeness.”
[74]"Leave me alone,” exclaimed the almost petrified Dandy.
[74] “Leave me alone,” shouted the nearly frozen Dandy.
“Not till you have given me the satisfaction I have a right to demand,” cried Tom. “I insist upon an explanation and apology—or demand your card—who are you, Sir? That's my address,” instantly handing him a card. “I am not to be played with, nor will I suffer your escape, after the insulting manner in which you have spoken, with impunity.”
“Not until you give me the satisfaction I deserve,” shouted Tom. “I demand an explanation and an apology—or your card—who are you, sir? That's my address,” he said, immediately handing him a card. “I'm not someone to be messed with, and I won't let you get away with the insulting way you've spoken to me.”
Though not prepared for such a rencontre, the Dandy, who now perceived the inflexible temper of Tom's mind—and a crowd of people gathering round him—determined at least to put on as much of the character of a man as possible, and fumbled in his pocket for a card; at length finding one, he slipped it into Tom's hand. “Oh, Sir,” said he, “if that's the case, I'm your man, demmee,—how, when, or where you please, ?pon honor.” Then beckoning to a hackney coach, he hobbled to the door, and was pushed in by coachee, who, immediately mounted the box and flourishing his whip, soon rescued him from his perilous situation, and the jeers of the surrounding multitude.
Though not ready for such an encounter, the Dandy, who now realized the stubborn nature of Tom's mindset—and a crowd of people gathering around him—decided to at least act as much like a man as possible and fumbled in his pocket for a card; finally finding one, he slipped it into Tom's hand. “Oh, Sir,” he said, “if that’s the case, I'm your guy, demmee—how, when, or where you want, I swear.” Then, signaling for a taxi, he hobbled to the door and was pushed inside by the driver, who quickly got on the box and, with a flourish of his whip, soon pulled him away from his dangerous situation and the mockery of the surrounding crowd.
Tom, who in the bustle of the crowd had slipped the card of his antagonist into his pocket, now took Bob's arm, and they pursued their way down St. James's Street, and could not help laughing at the affair: but Tallyho, who had a great aversion to duelling, and was thinking of the consequences, bit his lips, and expressed his sorrow at what had occurred; he ascribed the hasty imputation of drunkenness to the irritating effects of the poor creature's accident, and expressed his hope that his cousin would take no further notice of it. Tom, however, on the other [75]hand, ridiculed Bob's fears—told him it was a point of honour not to suffer an insult in the street from any man—nor would he—besides, the charge of drunkenness from such a thing as that, is not to be borne. “D——n it, man, drunkenness in the early part of the day is a thing I abhor, it is at all times what I would avoid if possible, but at night there may be many apologies for it; nay in some cases even to avoid it is impossible. The pleasures of society are enhanced by it—the joys of love are increased by the circulation of the glass—harmony, conviviality and friendship are produced by it—though I am no advocate for inebriety, and detest the idea of the beast—
Tom, who had slipped his opponent’s card into his pocket amidst the crowd, now linked arms with Bob as they made their way down St. James's Street, unable to stop laughing about the situation. However, Tallyho, who strongly disliked dueling and was considering the consequences, bit his lip and expressed his regret over what happened. He attributed the quick accusation of drunkenness to the unfortunate incident involving the poor guy, and hoped his cousin would let it go. Tom, on the other hand, mocked Bob's worries, insisting it was a matter of honor not to tolerate an insult from anyone in public. He wouldn’t stand for it—besides, being called drunk over something like that was unacceptable. “Damn it, man, I can't stand drunkenness during the day; it’s something I try to avoid whenever I can. But at night, there can be many reasons for it; in some cases, avoiding it is impossible. The joys of socializing are amplified by it—the pleasures of love are enhanced by a few drinks—the feeling of camaraderie and friendship comes from it—though I’m not in favor of drunkenness and hate the idea of losing control.”
“Well,” said Bob, “I cannot help thinking this poor fellow, who has already betrayed his fears, will be inclined to make any apology for his rudeness to-morrow.”
“Well,” said Bob, “I can’t help but think this poor guy, who’s already shown his fears, will be looking to apologize for his rudeness tomorrow.”
“If he does not,” said Tom, “I'll wing him, to a certainty—a jackanapes—a puppy—a man-milliner; perhaps a thing of shreds and patches—he shall not go unpunished, I promise you; so come along, we will just step in here, and I'll dispatch this business at once: I'll write a challenge, and then it will be off my hands.” And so saying, they entered a Coffee-house, where, calling for pen, ink and paper, Tom immediately began his epistle, shrewdly hinting to his Cousin, that he expected he would act as his Second. “It will be a fine opportunity for introducing your name to the gay world—the newspapers will record your name as a man of ton. Let us see now how it will appear:—On —— last, the Honourable Tom Dashall, attended by his Cousin, Robert Tallyho, Esq. of Belleville Hall, met—ah, by the bye, let us see who he is,” here he felt in his pocket for the card.
“If he doesn’t,” said Tom, “I’ll definitely take him down—a jerk—a punk—a wannabe; maybe just a collection of scraps—he won’t get away with this, I promise you; so let’s go in here, and I’ll take care of this right away: I’ll write a challenge, and then it’ll be done. With that, they walked into a coffee shop, where, asking for pen, ink, and paper, Tom immediately started his letter, cleverly suggesting to his cousin that he expected him to be his Second. “It’ll be a great chance to put your name out there—the newspapers will mention you as a man of style. Let’s see how it’ll look:—On —— last, the Honorable Tom Dashall, accompanied by his cousin, Robert Tallyho, Esq. from Belleville Hall, met—oh, by the way, let me check who it is,” he said as he rifled through his pocket for the card.
Bob, however, declared his wish to decline obtaining popularity by being present upon such an occasion, and suggested the idea of his calling upon the offender, and endeavouring to effect an amicable arrangement between them.
Bob, however, expressed his desire to avoid gaining popularity by being at such an event and suggested the idea of visiting the offender to try to work out a friendly agreement between them.
“Hallo!” exclaimed Tom with surprise, as he drew the card from his pocket, and threw it on the table—“Ha, ha, ha,—look at that.”
“Hey!” Tom exclaimed in surprise as he pulled the card from his pocket and tossed it onto the table—“Ha, ha, ha—check this out.”
Tallyho looked at the card without understanding it. “What does it mean?” said he.
Tallyho stared at the card, puzzled. “What does it mean?” he asked.
[76]"Mean,” replied Tom, “why it is a Pawnbroker's duplicate for a Hunting Watch, deposited with his uncle this morning in St. Martin's Lane, for two pounds—laughable enough—well, you may dismiss your fears for the present; but I'll try if I can't find my man by this means—if he is worth finding—at all events we have found a watch.”
[76]“Mean?” replied Tom, “it’s a pawnbroker’s receipt for a hunting watch, which was exchanged with his uncle this morning on St. Martin’s Lane for two pounds—pretty funny, right? Well, you can relax for now; but I’ll see if I can track down my guy this way—if he’s even worth finding—either way, we’ve got ourselves a watch.”
Bob now joined in the laugh, and, having satisfied the Waiter, they sallied forth again.
Bob joined in the laughter and, after settling with the waiter, they headed out once more.
Just as they left the Coffee-house, “Do you see that Gentleman in the blue great coat, arm in arm with another? that is no other than the ——. You would scarcely conceive, by his present appearance, that he has commanded armies, and led them on to victory; and that having retired under the shade of his laurels, he is withering them away, leaf by leaf, by attendance at the hells{1} of the metropolis; his unconquerable spirit still actuating him in his hours of relaxation. It is said that the immense sum awarded to him for his prowess in war, has been so materially reduced by his inordinate passion for play, that although he appears at Court, and is a favourite, the demon Poverty stares him in the face. But this is a vile world, and half one hears is not to be believed. He is certainly extravagant, fond of women, and fond of wine; but all these foibles are overshadowed with so much glory as scarcely to remain perceptible. Here is the Palace,” said Tom, directing his Cousin's attention to the bottom of the street.
Just as they left the coffee shop, “Do you see that guy in the blue coat, linked arm in arm with another? That’s none other than the ——. You’d hardly believe, based on how he looks now, that he has commanded armies and led them to victory; and now, having retired under the cover of his accomplishments, he’s letting them fade away, bit by bit, by hanging out at the hells{1} of the city; his unstoppable spirit still driving him during his downtime. It’s said that the huge amount he was awarded for his military success has been seriously diminished by his excessive gambling, so even though he shows up at Court and is a favorite, the demon of Poverty stares him down. But this world is a terrible place, and half of what you hear shouldn’t be trusted. He’s definitely extravagant, loves women, and enjoys his drinks; but all these flaws are overshadowed by so much glory that they’re hardly noticeable. Here’s the Palace,” said Tom, pointing his cousin's attention to the bottom of the street.
Bob was evidently struck at this piece of information, as he could discover no mark of grandeur in its appearance to entitle it to the dignity of a royal residence.
Bob was clearly taken aback by this piece of information, as he found no sign of splendor in its appearance that would warrant it being called a royal residence.
“It is true,” said Tom, “the outside appearance is not much in its favour; but it is venerable for its antiquity, and for its being till lately the place at which the Kings of this happy Island have held their Courts. On the site of that palace originally stood an hospital, founded before the conquest, for fourteen leprous females, to whom eight brethren were afterwards added, to assist in the performance of divine service.”
“It’s true,” said Tom, “the exterior doesn’t look great; but it’s respected for its age and for being the place where the Kings of this happy Island held their Courts until recently. Originally, there was a hospital on this site, established before the conquest, for fourteen women with leprosy, to which eight brothers were later added to help with the religious services.”
“Very necessary,” said Bob, “and yet scarcely sufficient.”
“Very necessary,” Bob said, “but still barely enough.”
[77]"You seem to quiz this Palace, and are inclined to indulge your wit upon old age. In 1532, it was surrendered to Henry viii. and he erected the present Palace, and enclosed St. James's Park, to serve as a place of amusement and exercise, both to this Palace and Whitehall. But it does not appear to have been the Court of the English Sovereigns, during their residence in town, till the reign of Queen Ann, from which time it has been uniformly used as such.
[77]"You seem to question this Palace and enjoy making jokes about old age. In 1532, it was given up to Henry VIII, who built the current Palace and enclosed St. James's Park for recreation and exercise, serving both this Palace and Whitehall. However, it doesn't seem to have been the official residence of English Sovereigns while in town until the reign of Queen Anne, after which it has consistently been used as such."
“It is built of brick; and that part which contains the state apartments, being only one story high, gives it a regular appearance outside. The State-rooms are commodious and handsome, although there is nothing very superb or grand in the decorations or furniture.
“It is made of brick, and the section that houses the state rooms is just one story tall, which gives it a neat look from the outside. The state rooms are spacious and attractive, even though the decorations and furniture aren't particularly extravagant or impressive.”
“The entrance to these rooms is by a stair-case which opens into the principal court, which you now see. At the top of the stair-case are two rooms; one on the left, called the Queen's, and the other the King's Guard-room, leading to the State-apartments. Immediately beyond the King's Guard-room is the Presence-chamber, which contains a canopy, and is hung with tapestry; and which is now used as a passage to the principal rooms.
“The entrance to these rooms is via a staircase that leads into the main courtyard, which you can see now. At the top of the staircase are two rooms; one on the left, known as the Queen's room, and the other the King's Guard room, which connects to the State apartments. Just beyond the King's Guard room is the Presence chamber, which features a canopy and is decorated with tapestry; it is now used as a passage to the main rooms.”
“There is a suite of five rooms opening into each other successively, fronting the Park. The Presence-chamber opens into the centre room, which is denominated the Privy-chamber, in which is a canopy of flowered-crimson velvet, generally made use of for the King to receive the Quakers.
“There is a suite of five rooms that connect to each other in succession, facing the Park. The Presence-chamber leads into the central room, known as the Privy-chamber, which features a canopy of flowered crimson velvet, usually used for the King to meet with the Quakers.
“On the right are two drawing-rooms, one within the other. At the upper end of the further one, is a throne with a splendid canopy, on which the Kings have been accustomed to receive certain addresses. This is called the Grand Drawing-room, and is used by the King and Queen on certain state occasions, the nearer room being appropriated as a kind of ante-chamber, in which the nobility, &c. are permitted to remain while their Majesties are present in the further room, and is furnished with stools, sofas, &c. for the purpose. There are two levee-rooms on the left of the privy-chamber, on entering from the King's guard-room and presence-chamber, the nearer one serving as an ante-chamber to the other. They were all of them, formerly, meanly furnished, but at the time of the marriage of our present King, they were elegantly fitted up. The walls are now covered with tapestry, very beautiful, and of rich colours—tapestry which, although it [73]was made for Charles II. had never been used, having by some accident lain unnoticed in a chest, till it was discovered a short time before the marriage of the Prince.
“On the right are two drawing rooms, one inside the other. At the upper end of the far room, there's a throne with a beautiful canopy, where the Kings have traditionally received certain addresses. This is known as the Grand Drawing Room, and it’s used by the King and Queen on specific state occasions, while the closer room serves as an ante-chamber where the nobility, etc., can wait while their Majesties are in the further room. It’s furnished with stools, sofas, etc., for that purpose. On the left of the privy chamber, there are two levee rooms when entering from the King's guard room and presence chamber, with the nearer one acting as an ante-chamber to the other. They were all previously simply furnished, but at the time of our current King’s marriage, they were elegantly decorated. The walls are now covered with beautiful, richly colored tapestry—tapestry that, although it was made for Charles II, had never been used, having been accidentally left unnoticed in a chest until it was found shortly before the Prince's marriage.”
“The canopy of the throne was made for the late-Queen's birth-day, the first which happened after the union of Great Britain and Ireland. It is made of crimson velvet, with very broad gold lace, embroidered with crowns set with fine and rich pearls. The shamrock, emblematical of the Irish nation, forms a part of the decorations of the British crown, and is executed with great taste and accuracy.
“The canopy of the throne was created for the late Queen's birthday, the first that occurred after the union of Great Britain and Ireland. It is made of crimson velvet, featuring wide gold lace, embroidered with crowns adorned with fine and rich pearls. The shamrock, symbolizing the Irish nation, is included in the decorations of the British crown and is crafted with great taste and precision.”
“The grand drawing-room contains a large, magnificent chandelier of silver, gilt, but I believe it has not been lighted for some years; and in the grand levee-room is a very noble bed, the furniture of which is of Spitalfields manufacture, in crimson velvet. It was first put up with the tapestry, on the marriage of the present King, then Prince of Wales.
“The grand drawing room features a large, stunning chandelier made of silver and gold, but I think it hasn’t been lit in years; and in the grand levee room, there’s a really impressive bed, with furniture made in Spitalfields, covered in crimson velvet. It was first set up with the tapestry when the current King, who was then Prince of Wales, got married.”
“It is upon the whole an irregular building, chiefly consisting of several courts and alleys, which lead into the Park. This, however, is the age of improvement, and it is said that the Palace will shortly be pulled down, and in the front of St. James's Street a magnificent triumphal arch is to be erected, to commemorate the glorious victories of the late war, and to form a grand entrance to the Park.
“It’s mostly an irregular building, mainly made up of several courtyards and alleys that lead into the Park. However, this is the age of improvement, and people say that the Palace will soon be torn down, and a magnificent triumphal arch will be built in front of St. James's Street to celebrate the glorious victories of the recent war and to create a grand entrance to the Park.”
“The Duke of York, the Duke of Clarence, the King's servants, and many other dignified persons, live in the Stable-yard.”
“The Duke of York, the Duke of Clarence, the King's staff, and many other respected individuals live in the Stable-yard.”
“In the Stable-yard!” said Bob, “dignified persons reside in a Stable-yard, you astonish me!”
“In the Stable-yard!” said Bob, “important people live in a Stable-yard, you surprise me!”
“It is quite true,” said Tom, “and remember it is the Stable-yard of a King.”
"It’s totally true," said Tom, "and keep in mind it’s the Stable-yard of a King."
“I forgot that circumstance,” said Bob, “and that circumstances alter cases. But whose carriage is this driving with so much rapidity?”
“I forgot about that situation,” said Bob, “and that situations change things. But whose carriage is this driving so fast?”
“That is His Highness the Duke of York, most likely going to pay a visit to his royal brother, the King, who resides in a Palace a little further on: which will be in our way, for it is yet too early to see much in the Park: so let us proceed, I am anxious to make some inquiry about my antagonist, and therefore mean to take St. Martin's Lane as we go along.”
“That’s His Highness the Duke of York, probably heading to visit his royal brother, the King, who lives in a palace just a bit further ahead: that will be on our path, as it’s still too early to see much in the park: so let’s move on, I’m eager to find out more about my opponent, and I plan to take St. Martin's Lane as we go.”
With this they pursued their way along Pall Mall. The rapidity of Tom's movements however afforded little opportunity for observation or remark, till they [79]arrived opposite Carlton House, when he called his Cousin's attention to the elegance of the new streets opposite to it.
With that, they continued down Pall Mall. However, Tom's quick movements left little time for observation or conversation until they [79] reached Carlton House, where he pointed out to his cousin how elegant the new streets across from it were.
“That,” said he, “is Waterloo Place, which, as well as the memorable battle after which it is named, has already cost the nation an immense sum of money, and must cost much more before the proposed improvements are completed: it is however, the most elegant street in London. The want of uniformity of the buildings has a striking effect, and gives it the appearance of a number of palaces. In the time of Queen Elizabeth there were no such places as Pall Mall, St. James's-street, Piccadilly, nor any of the streets or fine squares in this part of the town. That building at the farther end is now the British Fire-office, and has a pleasing effect at this distance. The cupola on the left belongs to a chapel, the interior of which for elegant simplicity is unrivalled. To the left of the centre building is a Circus, and a serpentine street, not yet finished, which runs to Swallow Street, and thence directly to Oxford Road, where another circus is forming, and is intended to communicate with Portland Place; by which means a line of street, composed of all new buildings, will be completed. Of this dull looking place (turning to Carlton House) although it is the town-residence of our King, I shall say nothing at present, as I intend devoting a morning, along with you, to its inspection. The exterior has not the most lively appearance, but the interior is magnificent.”—During this conversation they had kept moving gently on.
“That,” he said, “is Waterloo Place, which, like the famous battle it’s named after, has already cost the nation a huge amount of money, and will likely cost a lot more before the planned improvements are done. However, it’s the most elegant street in London. The lack of uniformity in the buildings creates a striking effect, giving it the look of a series of palaces. Back in Queen Elizabeth's time, there were no places like Pall Mall, St. James’s Street, Piccadilly, or any of the streets or beautiful squares in this part of town. That building at the far end is now the British Fire Office, and it looks great from this distance. The dome on the left belongs to a chapel, whose interior is unmatched in its elegant simplicity. To the left of the central building is a circus and a winding street that isn’t finished yet, which leads to Swallow Street and then directly to Oxford Road, where another circus is being constructed, meant to connect with Portland Place; this will create a street lined with all new buildings. As for this dull-looking place (turning to Carlton House), although it’s the King’s town residence, I won’t say anything about it now since I plan to dedicate a morning, with you, to exploring it. The outside isn’t the most exciting, but the inside is stunning.” —During this conversation, they had kept moving gently along.
Bob was charmed with the view down Waterloo Place.
Bob was enchanted by the view down Waterloo Place.
“That,” said his Cousin, pointing to the Arcade at the opposite corner of Pall Mall, “is the Italian Opera-house, which has recently assumed its present superb appearance, and may be ranked among the finest buildings in London. It is devoted to the performance of Italian operas and French ballets, is generally open from December to July, and is attended by the most distinguished and fashionable persons. The improvements in this part are great. That church, which you see in the distance over the tops of the houses, is St. Martin's in the fields.”
“That,” said his cousin, pointing to the arcade at the opposite corner of Pall Mall, “is the Italian Opera House, which has recently taken on its impressive look, and can be considered one of the finest buildings in London. It hosts Italian operas and French ballets, is usually open from December to July, and attracts the most distinguished and fashionable people. The upgrades in this area are significant. That church you see in the distance over the rooftops is St. Martin's in the Fields.”
“In the fields,” inquired Bob; “what then, are we come to the end of the town?”
“In the fields,” asked Bob; “so, have we reached the end of the town?”
[80]"Ha! ha! ha!” cried Tom—“the end—no, no,—I was going to say there is no end to it—no, we have not reached any thing like the centre.”
[80]“Ha! ha! ha!” shouted Tom—“the end—no, no,—I meant to say there’s no end to it—no, we haven’t even come close to the center.”
“Blood an owns, boderation and blarney,” (said an Irishman, at that moment passing them with a hod of mortar on his shoulder, towards the new buildings, and leaving an ornamental patch as he went along on Bob's shoulder) “but I'll be a'ter tipping turnups{l} to any b——dy rogue that's tip to saying—Black's the white of the blue part of Pat Murphy's eye; and for that there matter,” dropping the hod of mortar almost on their toes at the same time, and turning round to Bob—“By the powers! I ax the Jontleman's pardon—tho' he's not the first Jontleman that has carried mortar—where is that big, bully-faced blackguard that I'm looking after?” During this he brushed the mortar off Tallyho's coat with a snap of his fingers, regardless of where or on whom he distributed it.
“Blood and guts, moderation, and nonsense,” said an Irishman walking by with a hod of mortar on his shoulder, heading toward the new buildings, leaving a decorative smear on Bob's shoulder as he passed. “But I'll be after giving a kick to any b——dy rogue who dares to say—Black's the white of the blue part of Pat Murphy's eye; and for that matter,” he dropped the hod of mortar almost on their toes, turned to Bob, and said, “By the powers! I apologize, sir—though he's not the first gentleman who has carried mortar—where's that big, bully-faced jerk I'm looking for?” While saying this, he flicked the mortar off Tallyho's coat with a snap of his fingers, not caring where or on whom he spread it.
The offender, it seemed, had taken flight while Pat was apologizing, and was no where to be found.
The offender, it appeared, had escaped while Pat was apologizing and was nowhere to be found.
“Why what's the matter?” inquired Tom; “you seem in a passion.”
“What's wrong?” Tom asked. “You seem really upset.”
“Och! not in the least bit, your honour! I'm only in a d——d rage. By the mug of my mother—arn't it a great shame that a Jontleman of Ireland can't walk the streets of London without having poratees and butter-milk throw'd in his gums?”—Hitching up the waistband of his breeches—“It won't do at all at all for Pat: its a reflection on my own native land, where—
“Och! not at all, your honor! I'm just really angry. For the love of my mother— isn’t it a huge shame that a gentleman from Ireland can't walk the streets of London without having pork and buttermilk thrown in his face?”—Hitching up the waistband of his pants—“It’s completely unacceptable for Pat: it’s a reflection on my own homeland, where—
These lines sung with an Irish accent, to the tune of “Morgan Rattler,” accompanied with a snapping of his fingers, and concluded with a something in imitation of
These lines were sung with an Irish accent, to the tune of “Morgan Rattler,” accompanied by finger snapping, and finished with a something imitating
[81]an Irish jilt, were altogether so truly characteristic of the nation to which he belonged, as to afford our Heroes considerable amusement. Tom threw him a half-crown, which he picked up with more haste than he had thrown down the mortar in his rage.
[81]an Irish rejection, were so genuinely typical of the nation he belonged to, that they provided our Heroes with a lot of entertainment. Tom tossed him a half-crown, which he grabbed more quickly than he had thrown down the mortar in his anger.
“Long life and good luck to the Jontleman!” said Pat. “Sure enough, I won't be after drinking health and success to your Honour's pretty picture, and the devil pitch into his own cabin the fellow that would be after picking a hole or clapping a dirty patch on the coat of St. Patrick—whiskey for ever, your Honour, huzza—
“Long life and good luck to the gentleman!” said Pat. “Of course, I won't miss toasting health and success to your honor's lovely portrait, and may the devil take his own for anyone who tries to put a hole or a dirty patch on St. Patrick's coat—whiskey forever, your honor, huzzah—”
By this time a crowd was gathering round them, and Tom cautioned Bob in a whisper to beware of his pockets. This piece of advice however came too late, for his blue bird's eye wipe{l} had taken flight.
By this time, a crowd was gathering around them, and Tom whispered to Bob to watch his pockets. This advice, however, came too late, as his blue bird's eye wipe{l} had already disappeared.
“What,” said Bob, “is this done in open day?” “Are you all right and tight elsewhere?” said Tom—“if you are, toddle on and say nothing about it.—Open day!” continued he, “aye, the system of frigging{2}
"What," Bob said, "is this being done in broad daylight?" "Are you okay and doing fine elsewhere?" Tom replied—"if you are, just move on and keep quiet about it.—Broad daylight!" he continued, "yeah, the system of frigging{2}
[82]will be acted on sometimes by the very party you are speaking to—the expertness with which it is done is almost beyond belief.”
[82]will sometimes be influenced by the exact person you are talking to—the skill with which it is done is nearly unbelievable.”
Bob having ascertained that his handkerchief was the extent of his loss, they pursued their way towards Charing Cross.
Bob, realizing that his only loss was his handkerchief, continued on their way to Charing Cross.
“A line of street is intended,” continued Tom, “to be made from the Opera House to terminate with that church; and here is the King's Mews, which is now turned into barracks.”
“A street is planned,” continued Tom, “to run from the Opera House and end at that church; and over here is the King's Mews, which is now converted into barracks.”
“Stop thief! Stop thief!” was at this moment vociferated in their ears by a variety of voices, and turning round, they perceived a well-dressed man at full speed, followed pretty closely by a concourse of people. In a moment the whole neighbourhood appeared to be in alarm. The up-stairs windows were crowded with females—the tradesmen were at their shop-doors—the passengers were huddled together in groups, inquiring of each other—“What is the matter?—who is it?—which is him?—what has he done?” while the pursuers were increasing in numbers as they went. The bustle of the scene was new to Bob—Charing Cross and its vicinity was all in motion.
“Stop thief! Stop thief!” echoed around them from various voices, and when they turned, they saw a well-dressed man running fast, closely followed by a crowd of people. In no time, the entire neighborhood seemed to be in a panic. The upstairs windows were packed with women—the shopkeepers were at their doors—the bystanders were gathered in groups, asking each other—“What’s going on?—who is he?—which one is he?—what has he done?” as the number of pursuers grew. The hustle and bustle of the scene were new to Bob—Charing Cross and its surroundings were all alive with activity.
“Come,” said Tom, “let us see the end of this—they are sure to nab{l} my gentleman before he gets much
“Come,” said Tom, “let's see how this turns out—they're bound to nab{l} my guy before he gets too far.”
[83]farther, so let us brush{1} on.” Then pulling his Cousin by the arm, they moved forward to the scene of action.
[83]further, so let us move{1} on.” Then pulling his cousin by the arm, they proceeded to the action.
As they approached St. Martin's Lane, the gathering of the crowd, which was now immense, indicated to Tom a capture.
As they got closer to St. Martin's Lane, the huge crowd gathered, signaling to Tom that someone was going to be caught.
“Button up,” said he, “and let us see what's the matter.”
“Button up,” he said, “and let’s find out what’s going on.”
“Arrah be easy” cried a voice which they instantly recognized to be no other than Pat Murphy's. “I'll hold you, my dear, till the night after Doomsday, though I can't tell what day of the year that is. Where's the man wid the gould-laced skull-cap? Sure enough I tought I'd be up wi' you, and so now you see I'm down upon you.”
“Arrah, take it easy” shouted a voice that they immediately recognized as Pat Murphy’s. “I’ll hold onto you, my dear, until the night after Doomsday, even though I can't say what day of the year that is. Where’s the guy with the gold-laced skullcap? I really thought I’d be up with you, and now you see I’m here with you.”
At this moment a Street-keeper made way through the crowd, and Tom and Bob keeping close in his rear, came directly up to the principal performers in this interesting scene, and found honest Pat Murphy holding the man by his collar, while he was twisting and writhing to get released from the strong and determined grasp of the athletic Hibernian.
At that moment, a street worker pushed through the crowd, and Tom and Bob, sticking close behind him, came right up to the main performers in this engaging scene, discovering honest Pat Murphy holding the man by his collar as he twisted and squirmed, trying to break free from the firm and resolute grip of the strong Irishman.
Pat no sooner saw our Heroes, than he burst out with a lusty “Arroo! arroo! there's the sweet-looking jontleman that's been robbed by a dirty spalpeen that's not worth the tail of a rotten red-herring. I'll give charge of dis here pick'd bladebone of a dead donkey that walks about in God's own daylight, dirting his fingers wid what don't belong to him at all at all. So sure as the devil's in his own house, and that's London, you've had your pocket pick'd, my darling, and that's news well worth hearing”—addressing himself to Dashall.
Pat barely spotted our Heroes before he exclaimed, “Arroo! arroo! There’s the handsome gentleman who got robbed by a filthy scoundrel who isn't worth the tail of a rotten red herring. I’ll give you a charge for this picked-over bone of a dead donkey that’s traipsing around in broad daylight, getting his hands dirty with what doesn’t belong to him at all. As sure as the devil's in his own house, which is London, you’ve had your pocket picked, my dear, and that’s news worth paying attention to”—he directed this to Dashall.
By this harangue it was pretty clearly understood that Murphy had been in pursuit of the pickpocket, and Tom immediately gave charge.
By this speech, it was pretty clear that Murphy had been chasing the pickpocket, and Tom quickly took charge.
The man, however, continued to declare he was not the right person—“That, so help him G——d, the Irishman had got the wrong bull by the tail—that he was a b——dy snitch{2} and that he would sarve him out{3}—that he wished
The man, however, kept insisting he wasn't the right person—“That, I swear to God, the Irishman has got the wrong bull by the tail—that he was a damn snitch{2} and that he would get back at him{3}—that he wished
[84]he might meet him out of St. Giles's, and he would wake{ 1} him with an Irish howl.”
[84]he might run into him outside St. Giles's, and he would wake{ 1} him with an Irish howl.”
[85]With conversation of this kind, the party were amused up St. Martin's lane, and on the remainder of the road to Bow-street, followed by many persons, some of whom pretended to have seen a part of the proceedings, and promised to give their evidence before the magistrate, who was then sitting.
[85]With this kind of conversation, the group was entertained all the way up St. Martin's Lane and along the rest of the road to Bow Street, followed by many people, some of whom claimed to have witnessed part of the events and promised to provide their testimony to the magistrate, who was currently in session.
On arriving in Bow Street, they entered the Brown Bear,{1} a public-house, much frequented by the officers, and in which is a strong-room for the safe custody of prisoners, where they were shewn into a dark back-parlour, as they termed it, and the officer proceeded to search the man in custody, when lo and behold! the handkerchief was not to be found about him.
On arriving at Bow Street, they walked into the Brown Bear,{1} a pub that's popular with the officers, which has a strong room for securely holding prisoners. They were taken into a dark back room, as they called it, and the officer started to search the man in custody, when suddenly, the handkerchief couldn’t be found on him.
Pat d——d the devil and all his works—swore “by the fiery furnace of Beelzebub, and that's the devil's own bed-chamber, that was the man that nibbled the Jontleman's dive,{2} and must have ding'd away the wipe,{3} or else what should he bolt{4} for?—that he was up to the rum slum,{5}
Pat damn the devil and everything he does—swore “by the fiery furnace of Beelzebub, which is the devil's own bedroom, that was the guy who nibbled the gentleman's dive,{2} and must have ding'd away the wipe,{3} or else why would he bolt{4}?—that he was up to the rum slum,{5}
[86]and down upon the kiddies{1}—and sure enough you're boned,{2} my dear boy.”
[86]and down on the kids{1}—and sure enough you're screwed,{2} my dear boy.”
Some of the officers came in, and appeared to know the prisoner well, as if they had been acquainted with each other upon former official business; but as the lost property was not found upon him, it was the general opinion that nothing could be done, and the accused began to exercise his wit upon Murphy, which roused Pat's blood:
Some of the officers came in and seemed to know the prisoner well, as if they had previously worked together in some official capacity; but since the lost property wasn’t found on him, everyone thought there was nothing that could be done. The accused then started to joke around with Murphy, which stirred up Pat's anger.
“For the least thing, you know, makes an Irishman roar.”
“For the slightest thing, you know, makes an Irishman shout.”
At length, upon charging him with having been caught blue-pigeon flying,{3} Pat gave him the lie in his teeth—swore he'd fight him for all the blunt{4} he had about him, “which to be sure,” said he, “is but a sweet pretty half-a-crown, and be d——d to you—good luck to it! Here goes,” throwing the half-crown upon the floor, which the prisoner attempted to pick up, but was prevented by Pat's stamping his foot upon it, while he was doffing his jacket,{5} exclaiming—
At last, when he was accused of being caught blue-pigeon flying,{3} Pat called him a liar right to his face—swore he’d fight him for all the blunt{4} he had on him, “which, to be honest,” he said, “is just a nice little half-crown, and damn you—good luck with that! Here we go,” throwing the half-crown onto the floor, which the prisoner tried to pick up, but Pat stomped his foot on it while doffing his jacket,{5} shouting—
“Arrah, be after putting your dirty fingers in your pocket, and don't spoil the King's picture by touching it—devil burn me, but I'll mill your mug to muffin dust{6} before I'll give up that beautiful looking bit; so tip us your mauley,{7} and no more blarney.”
“Arrah, stop putting your dirty fingers in your pocket, and don't ruin the King's picture by touching it—I'll smash your face to bits before I give up that beautiful piece; so show me your hand, and no more nonsense.”
[87]During this conversation, the spectators, who were numerous, were employed in endeavouring to pacify the indignant Hibernian, who by this time had buffid it, or, in other words, peeled in prime twig,{1} for a regular turn to.{2} All was noise and confusion, when a new group of persons entered the room—another capture had been made, and another charge given. It was however with some difficulty that honest Pat Murphy was prevailed upon to remain a little quiet, while one of the officers beckoned Dashall out of the room, and gave him to understand that the man in custody, just brought in, was a well-known pal{3} of the one first suspected, though they took not the least notice of each other upon meeting. In the mean time, another officer in the room had been searching the person of the last captured, from whose bosom he drew the identical handkerchief of Bob; and the Irishman recollected seeing him in the crowd opposite the Opera House.
[87]During this conversation, the audience, who were numerous, tried to calm the angry Irishman, who by this time had really lost it, or, in other words, peeled in prime twig,{1} for a major turn to.{2} It was all noise and chaos when a new group of people entered the room—another arrest had been made, and another charge was issued. However, it was somewhat challenging to persuade honest Pat Murphy to stay quiet for a moment while one of the officers signaled Dashall to step out of the room and informed him that the man just brought in was a well-known pal{3} of the first suspect, although they completely ignored each other when they met. Meanwhile, another officer in the room had been searching the person of the latest capture, from whom he pulled out Bob's exact handkerchief, and the Irishman remembered seeing him in the crowd across from the Opera House.
This cleared up the mystery in some degree, though the two culprits affected a total ignorance of each other. The property of the person who had given the last charge was also discovered, and it was deemed absolutely necessary to take them before the Magistrate. But as some new incidents will arise on their introduction to the office, we shall reserve them for the next Chapter.
This cleared up the mystery to some extent, although the two suspects acted completely unaware of each other. The belongings of the person who had issued the last command were also found, and it was considered essential to bring them before the Magistrate. However, since some new developments will occur when they meet with the Magistrate, we’ll save that for the next Chapter.
CHAPTER VIII
[88]ON entering the Public Office, Bow-street, we must leave our readers to guess at the surprise and astonishment with which the Hon. Tom Dashall and his Cousin beheld their lost friend, Charles Sparkle, who it appeared had been kindly accommodated with a lodging gratis in a neighbouring watch-house, not, as it may readily be supposed, exactly suitable to his taste or inclination. Nor was wonder less excited in the mind of Sparkle at this unexpected meeting, as unlooked for as it was fortunate to all parties. There was however no opportunity at the present moment for an explanation, as the worthy Magistrate immediately proceeded to an investigation of the case just brought before him, upon which there was no difficulty in deciding. The charge was made, the handkerchief sworn to, and the men, who [89]were well known as old hands upon the town, committed for trial. The most remarkable feature in the examination being the evidence of Pat Murphy, who by this time had recollected that the man who was taken with the property about his person, was the very identical aggressor who had offended him while the hod of mortar was on his shoulder, before the conversation commenced between himself and Tom opposite the Opera-house.
[88]As we enter the Public Office on Bow Street, we can only imagine the shock and surprise that the Hon. Tom Dashall and his cousin felt upon seeing their long-lost friend, Charles Sparkle. It turned out that he had been given a free place to stay at a nearby watch-house, which, as you can imagine, wasn't exactly to his liking. Sparkle was equally shocked by this unexpected reunion, which turned out to be a lucky break for everyone involved. However, there was no chance for them to catch up at that moment, as the Magistrate quickly moved on to investigate the case at hand, which was straightforward to resolve. The charge was filed, the handkerchief was confirmed, and the men, well-known troublemakers in town, were taken into custody for trial. The most notable moment during the examination came from Pat Murphy, who suddenly remembered that the man caught with the stolen items was the same person who had harassed him while he was carrying a hod of mortar, just before he and Tom started talking outside the Opera House. [89]
“Sure enough, your Honour,” said he, “its a true bill. I'm an Irishman, and I don't care who knows it—I don't fight under false colours, but love the land of potatoes, and honour St. Patrick. That there man with the blue toggery{1} tipp'd me a bit of blarney, what did not suit my stomach. I dropp'd my load, which he took for an order to quit, and so mizzled{2} out of my way, or by the big bull of Ballynafad, I'd have powdered his wig with brick-dust, and bothered his bread-basket with a little human kindness in the shape of an Irishman's fist; and then that there other dirty end of a shelalah, while the Jontleman—long life to your Honour, (bowing to Tom Dashall)—was houlding a bit of conversation with Pat Murphy, grabb'd{3} his pocket-handkerchief, and was after shewing a leg,{4} when a little boy that kept his oglers upon 'em, let me into the secret, and let the cat out of the bag by bawling—Stop thief! He darted off like a cow at the sound of the bagpipes, and I boulted a'ter him like a good'un; so when I came up to him, Down you go, says I, and down he was; and that's all I know about the matter.”
“Sure enough, Your Honor,” he said, “it's a true bill. I'm an Irishman, and I don't care who knows it—I don't fight under false pretenses, but love the land of potatoes and honor St. Patrick. That guy in the blue coat{1} tried to sweet-talk me, which didn’t sit well with me. I dropped my load, which he took as a cue to leave, and so he slipped{2} out of my way, or by the big bull of Ballynafad, I would have knocked his wig off with brick dust and given him a little human kindness in the form of an Irishman’s fist; and then that other nasty end of a shillelagh, while the gentleman—long life to Your Honor, (bowing to Tom Dashall)—was having a little chat with Pat Murphy, grabbed{3} his pocket-handkerchief and was about to make a run for it,{4} when a little boy watching them let me in on the secret by shouting—Stop thief! He took off like a cow at the sound of bagpipes, and I bolted after him like a champ; so when I caught up to him, I said, Down you go, and down he went; and that’s all I know about the matter.”
As the prisoners were being taken out of court, the Hibernian followed them. “Arrah,” said he, “my lads, as I have procured you a lodging for nothing, here's the half-a-crown, what the good-looking Jontleman gave me; it may sarve you in time of need, so take it along with you, perhaps you may want it more than I do; and if you know the pleasure of spending money that is honestly come by, it may teach you a lesson that may keep you out of the clutches of Jock Ketch, and save
As the prisoners were being led out of the courtroom, the Hibernian followed them. “Hey,” he said, “my friends, since I’ve managed to get you a free place to stay, here’s the half-a-crown that the nice gentleman gave me; it might help you in tough times, so take it with you. You might need it more than I do, and if you understand the joy of spending money that you’ve earned honestly, it could teach you a lesson that helps you avoid trouble with Jock Ketch and save you from a bad situation.”
[90]you from dying in a horse's night-cap{1}—there, be off wid you.”
[90]you from dying in a horse's nightcap{1}—there, get lost.
The Hon. Tom Dashall, who had carefully watched the proceedings of Pat, could not help moralizing upon this last act of the Irishman, and the advice which accompanied it. “Here,” said he to himself, “is a genuine display of national character. Here is the heat, the fire, the effervescence, blended with the generosity and open-heartedness, so much boasted of by the sons of Erin, and so much eulogized by travellers who have visited the Emerald Isle.” And slipping a sovereign into his hand, after the execution of a bond to prosecute the offenders, each of them taking an arm of Sparkle, they passed down Bow-street, conversing on the occurrences in which they had been engaged, of which the extraordinary appearance of Sparkle was the most prominent and interesting.
The Hon. Tom Dashall, who had been closely observing Pat’s actions, couldn't help but reflect on this latest move by the Irishman and the advice that came with it. “Look at this,” he thought to himself, “a true representation of national character. Here’s the passion, the energy, the excitement, mixed with the generosity and friendliness that the Irish are so proud of, and that travelers rave about after visiting the Emerald Isle.” After penning a bond to take action against the wrongdoers and slipping a sovereign into his hand, the three of them each took an arm of Sparkle and made their way down Bow Street, chatting about the events they had been involved in, with Sparkle’s unusual appearance being the most striking and intriguing.
“How in the name of wonder came you in such a scrape?” said Tom.
“How on earth did you get into such a mess?” said Tom.
“Innocently enough, I can assure you,” replied Sparkle—“with my usual luck—a bit of gig, a lark, and a turn up.{2}
“Innocently enough, I can assure you,” replied Sparkle, “with my usual luck—a bit of fun, a joke, and a surprise.”
“Coming along Piccadilly last night after leaving you, I was overtaken at the corner of Rupert-street by our old college-companion Harry Hartwell, pursuing his way to the Hummums, where it seems he has taken up his abode. Harry, you remember, never was exactly one of us; he studies too much, and pores everlastingly over musty old volumes of Law Cases, Blackstone's Commentaries, and other black books, to qualify himself for the black art, and as fit and proper person to appear at the Bar. The length of time that had elapsed since our last meeting was sufficient inducement for us to crack a bottle together; [92]so taking his arm, we proceeded to the place of destination, where we sat talking over past times, and indulging our humour till half-past one o'clock, when I sallied forth on my return to Long's, having altogether abandoned my original intention of calling in Golden-square. At the corner of Leicester-square, my ears were assailed with a little of the night music—the rattles were in full chorus, and the Charleys, in prime twig,{1} were mustering from all quarters.
"Last night, after leaving you, I walked down Piccadilly and ran into our old college buddy Harry Hartwell at the corner of Rupert Street. He was on his way to the Hummums, where he seems to have made his home now. You remember Harry; he was never really one of us. He studies way too much and is always buried in dusty old law books, like Law Cases and Blackstone's Commentaries, getting himself ready for the legal profession, so he can be a proper lawyer. Since it had been a while since we last met, we decided to grab a drink together; [92] so I took his arm, and we headed to a bar, where we reminisced about old times and had a good laugh until half-past one. After that, I headed back to Long's and totally abandoned my plan to stop by Golden Square. As I reached the corner of Leicester Square, I was greeted by the sounds of the nightlife—the rattles were in full swing, and the watchmen were gathering from all over."
“The street was all alive, and I made my way through the crowd to the immediate scene of action, which was rendered peculiarly interesting by the discovery of a dainty bit of female beauty shewing fight with half a dozen watchmen, in order to extricate herself from the grasp of these guardians of our peace. She was evidently under the influence of the Bacchanalian god, which invigorated her arm, without imparting discretion to her head, and she laid about her with such dexterity, that the old files{2} were fearful of losing their prey; but the odds were fearfully against her, and never did I feel my indignation more aroused, than when I beheld a sturdy ruffian aim a desperate blow at her head with his rattle, which in all probability, had it taken the intended effect, would have sent her in search of that peace in the other world, of which she was experiencing so little in this. It was not possible for me to stand by, an idle spectator of the destruction of a female who appeared to have no defender, whatever might be the nature of the offence alleged or committed. I therefore warded off the blow with my left arm, and with my right gave him a well-planted blow on the conk,{3} which sent him piping into the kennel. In a moment I was surrounded and charged with a violent assault upon the charley,{4} and interfering with the guardians of the night in the execution of their duty. A complete diversion took place from the original object of their fury, and in the bustle to secure me, the unfortunate girl made her escape, where to, or how, heaven
The street was buzzing with life, and I navigated through the crowd to the center of the action, which was especially captivating due to the sight of a stunning young woman fighting off a handful of watchmen who were trying to keep her under control. She was clearly under the influence of alcohol, which gave her strength but not much sense, and she swung her fists with such skill that the old watchmen were afraid they might lose their catch; however, the odds were heavily against her. I had never felt my anger rise more strongly than when I saw a big thug take a wild swing at her head with his rattle, which, if it had connected, would likely have sent her seeking peace in the afterlife that she was hardly finding in this one. I couldn't just stand by and watch as a woman who seemed to have no defender faced such destruction, regardless of what crime she might have committed. So I blocked the blow with my left arm and delivered a solid punch to the thug's face with my right, sending him tumbling into the gutter. In an instant, I was surrounded and accused of violently attacking the watchman and interfering with those keeping the peace at night. A complete shift occurred from their original target of anger, and in the chaos to capture me, the unfortunate girl managed to escape, though to where or how, only heaven knows.
[93]only knows. Upon finding this, I made no resistance, but marched boldly along with the scouts{1} to St. Martin's watch-house, where we arrived just as a hackney coach drew up to the door.
[93]only knows. After realizing this, I didn’t resist at all and confidently walked with the scouts{1} to St. Martin's watch-house, arriving just as a cab pulled up to the door.
“Take her in, d——n her eyes, she shall stump up the rubbish{2} before I leave her, or give me the address of her flash covey,{3} and so here goes.” By this time we had entered the watch-house, where I perceived the awful representative of justice seated in an arm chair, with a good blazing fire, smoking his pipe in consequential ease. A crowd of Charleys, with broken lanterns, broken heads, and other symptoms of a row, together with several casual spectators, had gained admittance, when Jarvis entered, declaring—By G——he wouldn't be choused by any wh——re or cull in Christendom, and he would make 'em come down pretty handsomely, or he'd know the reason why: “And so please your Worship, Sir”—then turning round, “hallo,” said he, “Sam, what's becom'd of that there voman—eh—vhat, you've been playing booty eh, and let her escape.” The man to whom this was intended to be addressed did not appear to be present, as no reply was made. However, the case was briefly explained.
“Take her in, damn her eyes, she will clean up the mess{2} before I leave her, or give me the address of her flash group,{3} and here we go.” By this time, we had entered the watch-house, where I saw the unpleasant figure of justice sitting in an armchair, with a nice roaring fire, smoking his pipe with a self-satisfied air. A group of constables, with broken lanterns, bruised heads, and all the signs of a fight, along with several random onlookers, had gained entry when Jarvis came in, proclaiming—By God, he wouldn’t be cheated by any whore or fool in Christendom, and he would make them pay up nicely, or he'd know the reason why: “And so please your Worship, Sir”—then turning around, “hey,” he said, “Sam, what happened to that woman—eh—what, you've been messing around and let her get away.” The man he was addressing didn’t seem to be there, as there was no response. However, the situation was briefly explained.
“But, by G——, I von't put any thing in Sam's vay again,” cried Jarvey.{4} For my own part, as I knew nothing of the occurrences adverted to, I was as much in the dark as if I had gone home without interruption. The representations of the Charleys proved decisive against me—in vain I urged the cause of humanity, and the necessity I felt of protecting a defenceless female from the violence of accumulating numbers, and that I had done no more than every man ought to have done upon such an occasion. Old puff and swill, the lord of the night, declared that I must have acted with malice afore-thought—that I was a pal in the concern, and that I had been instrumental in the design of effecting a rescue; and, after a very short deliberation, he concluded that I must be a notorious rascal, and desired me to make up my mind to remain with him for the remainder of the night. Not relishing this, I proposed to send for bail, assuring him of my
“But, damn it, I won’t help Sam again,” shouted Jarvey.{4} As for me, since I had no idea what had happened, I was just as clueless as if I had gone home without any interruptions. The Charleys’ accounts were stacked against me—in vain did I argue for compassion and the necessity of protecting a vulnerable woman from the growing crowd, insisting I had done nothing more than any decent person would have in that situation. Old puff and swill, the king of the night, claimed I must have acted with malicious intent—that I was in on it and had played a part in the plan to rescue her; after a quick discussion, he concluded that I must be a notorious scoundrel and told me to prepare to stay with him for the rest of the night. Not liking this, I suggested calling for bail, assuring him of my
[94]attendance in the morning; but was informed it could not be accepted of, as it was clearly made out against me that I had committed a violent breach of the peace, and nothing at that time could be produced that would prove satisfactory. Under these circumstances, and partly induced by a desire to avoid being troublesome in other quarters, I submitted to a restraint which it appeared I could not very well avoid, and, taking my seat in an arm-chair by the fire-side, I soon fell fast asleep, from which I was only aroused by the occasional entrances and exits of the guardians, until between four and five o'clock, when a sort of general muster of the Charleys took place, and each one depositing his nightly paraphernalia, proceeded to his own habitation. Finding the liberation of others from their duties would not have the effect of emancipating me from my confinement, which was likely to be prolonged to eleven, or perhaps twelve o'clock, I began to feel my situation as a truly uncomfortable one, when I was informed by the watch-house keeper, who resides upon the spot, that he was going to turn in,{1} that there was fire enough to last till his wife turn'd out, which would be about six o'clock, and, as I had the appearance of a gentleman, if there was any thing I wanted, she would endeavour to make herself useful in obtaining it. “But Lord,” said he, “there is no such thing as believing any body now-a-days—there was such sets out, and such manouvering, that nobody knew nothing of nobody.”
[94] I was present in the morning, but I was told that it couldn’t be accepted because it was clear I had committed a serious breach of the peace, and nothing could be provided at that time that would be satisfactory. Given these circumstances, and partly because I wanted to avoid causing trouble elsewhere, I accepted a restriction that seemed unavoidable. Taking a seat in an armchair by the fireplace, I quickly fell asleep, only to be disturbed by the occasional comings and goings of the guards, until around four or five o'clock when a general assembly of the Charleys occurred. Each one dropped off their nightly gear and headed home. Realizing that the release of others from their duties wouldn’t free me from my confinement, which was likely to last until eleven or even twelve o'clock, I started to feel quite uncomfortable. The watch-house keeper, who lived on the premises, informed me that he was going to turn in, but there was enough firewood to last until his wife woke up around six o'clock, and since I looked like a gentleman, if I needed anything, she would try to help. “But Lord,” he said, “it’s hard to trust anyone these days—there are so many plots and schemes that nobody knows anything about anyone.”
“I am obliged to you, my friend,” said I, “for this piece of information, and in order that you may understand something of the person you are speaking to beyond the mere exterior view, here is half-a-crown for your communication.”
“I appreciate your information, my friend,” I said, “and to give you some insight into who you’re talking to beyond just appearances, here’s a half-crown for your message.”
“Why, Sir,” said he, laying on at the same moment a shovel of coals, “this here makes out what I said—Don't you see, said I, that 'are Gentleman is a gentleman every inch of him, says I—as don't want nothing at all no more nor what is right, and if so be as how he's got himself in a bit of a hobble, I knows very well as how he's got the tip{2} in his pocket, and does'nt want for spirit to pull it out—Perhaps you might like some breakfast, sir?”
“Why, Sir,” he said, shoveling in some coal at the same time, “this proves what I said—Don’t you see, I said that gentleman is a gentleman in every way, I said—he doesn’t want anything more than what’s right, and if he’s found himself in a bit of a mess, I know very well he has the money in his pocket, and he’s got the courage to take it out—Maybe you’d like some breakfast, sir?”
[95]"Why yes,” said I—for I began to feel a little inclined that way.
[95] "Of course," I said—starting to feel a bit more open to the idea.
“O my wife, Sir,” said he, “will do all you want, when she rouses herself.”
“O my wife, Sir,” he said, “will do everything you want once she gets motivated.”
“I suppose,” continued I, “you frequently have occasion to accommodate persons in similar situations?”
"I guess," I continued, "you often have to help people in similar situations?"
“Lord bless you! yes, sir, and a strange set of rum customers we have too sometimes—why it was but a few nights ago we had 'em stowed here as thick as three in a bed. We had 'em all upon the hop{1}—you never see'd such fun in all your life, and this here place was as full of curiosities as Pidcock's at Exeter Change, or Bartlemy-fair—Show 'em up here, all alive alive O!”
“God bless you! Yes, sir, and we get a pretty unusual crowd sometimes—just the other night, we had them all packed in here like sardines. We had them all on the hop{1}—you’ve never seen such fun in your life, and this place was as full of oddities as Pidcock's at Exeter Change or Bartholomew Fair—Show them in here, all alive and kicking!”
“Indeed!” said I, feeling a little inquisitive on the subject; “and how did this happen?”
“Really!” I said, feeling a bit curious about it; “how did this happen?”
“Why it was a rummish piece of business altogether. There was a large party of dancing fashionables all met together for a little jig in St. Martin's lane, and a very pretty medley there was of them. The fiddlers wagg'd their elbows, and the lads and lasses their trotters, till about one o'clock, when, just as they were in the midst of a quadrille, in burst the officers, and quickly changed the tune. The appearance of these gentlemen had an instantaneous effect upon all parties present: the cause of their visit was explained, and the whole squad taken into custody, to give an account of themselves, and was brought here in hackney-coaches. The delicate Miss and her assiduous partner, who, a short time before had been all spirits and animation, were now sunk in gloomy reflections upon the awkwardness of their situation; and many of our inhabitants would have fainted when they were informed they would have to appear before the Magistrate in the morning, but for the well-timed introduction of a little drap of the cratur, which an Irish lady ax'd me to fetch for her. But the best of the fun was, that in the group we had a Lord and a Parson! For the dignity of the one, and the honour of the other, they were admitted to bail—Lord have mercy upon us! said the Parson—Amen, said the Lord; and this had the desired effect upon the Constable of the night, for he let them off on the sly, you understand: But my eyes what work there was in the morning! sixteen Jarveys, full of live lumber,
“Why, it was a strange situation altogether. A large group of trendy dancers gathered for a little dance in St. Martin's Lane, and it was quite a lively mix of them. The fiddlers were having a great time, and the guys and gals were dancing away until about one o'clock, when, right in the middle of a quadrille, the officers burst in and changed the whole atmosphere. The moment these gentlemen showed up, it had an immediate impact on everyone present: the reason for their visit was made clear, and the whole group was taken into custody to explain themselves, arriving here in hackney coaches. The delicate young lady and her eager partner, who had just moments ago been full of energy and excitement, were now drowning in gloomy thoughts about their awkward situation; many of our local residents would have fainted upon learning they would have to face the Magistrate in the morning, if it weren't for the timely introduction of a little drop of the cratur, which an Irish lady asked me to fetch for her. But the best part was that among the group, we had a Lord and a Parson! For the dignity of one and the honor of the other, they were allowed to post bail—Lord have mercy upon us! said the Parson—Amen, said the Lord; and this worked just as they intended on the Constable of the night, as he let them off quietly, you know: But goodness, what a scene there was in the morning! Sixteen cabbies, full of live loads,
[96]were taken to Bow-street, in a nice pickle you may be sure, dancing-pumps and silk-stockings, after setting in the watch-house all night, and surrounded by lots of people that hooted and howled, as the procession passed along, in good style. They were safely landed at the Brown Bear, from which they were handed over in groups to be examined by the Magistrate, when the men were discharged upon giving satisfactory accounts, and the women after some questions being put to them. You see all this took place because they were dancing in an unlicensed room. It was altogether a laughable set-out as ever you see'd—the Dandys and the Dandyzettes—the Exquisites—the Shopmen—the Ladies' maid and the Prentice Boys—my Lord and his Reverence—mingled up higgledy-piggledy, pigs in the straw, with Bow-street Officers, Runners and Watchmen—Ladies squalling and fainting, Men swearing and almost fighting. It would have been a pleasure to have kick'd up a row that night, a purpose to get admission—you would have been highly amused, I'll assure you—good morning, Sir.” And thus saying, he turned the lock upon me, and left me to my meditations. In about a couple of hours the old woman made her appearance, and prepared me some coffee; and at eleven o'clock came the Constable of the night, to accompany me before the Magistrate.
[96] were taken to Bow Street in quite a mess, you can bet, in dancing shoes and silk stockings, after spending the whole night in the watch house, surrounded by a crowd that jeered and shouted as the procession went by in style. They were finally brought to the Brown Bear, from where they were sorted into groups to be questioned by the Magistrate. The men were let go after giving satisfactory explanations, while the women were released after a few questions. You see, all this happened because they were dancing in an unlicensed venue. It was a hilariously chaotic scene like you'd never seen—the Dandies and the Dandyzettes—the Exquisites—the Shopkeepers—the Ladies' maids and the Apprentice Boys—my Lord and his Reverend—mixed up in a jumble, like pigs in a straw, with Bow Street Officers, Runners, and Watchmen—Ladies screaming and fainting, Men swearing and nearly fighting. It would have been fun to stir up trouble that night just to get in—you would have had a good laugh, I promise you—good morning, Sir.” And with that, he locked the door behind him, leaving me to my thoughts. About two hours later, the old woman came in and made me some coffee; and at eleven o'clock, the Constable of the night arrived to take me to the Magistrate.
“Aware that the circumstances were rather against me, and that I had no right to interfere in other persons' business or quarrels, I consulted him upon the best mode of making up the matter; for although I had really done no more than becomes a man in protecting a female, I had certainly infringed upon the law, in effecting the escape of a person in custody, and consequently was liable to the penalty or penalties in such cases made and provided. On our arrival at the Brown Bear, I was met by a genteel-looking man, who delivered me a letter, and immediately disappeared. Upon breaking the seal, I found its contents as follows:
“Aware that the situation was pretty against me, and that I had no right to interfere in other people’s business or arguments, I asked him how best to resolve the issue. Although I had only done what any decent guy would do in protecting a woman, I definitely had broken the law by helping someone escape from custody, and therefore I was at risk of facing the penalties associated with such actions. When we arrived at the Brown Bear, a well-dressed man approached me, handed me a letter, and quickly vanished. When I broke the seal, I found the following inside:”
Dear Sir, Although unknown to me, I have learned enough of your character to pronounce you a trump, a prime cock, and nothing but a good one. I am detained by John Doe and Richard Roe with their d——d fieri facias, or I should be with you. However, I trust you will excuse the liberty I take in requesting you will make use of the enclosed for the purpose of shaking yourself out of the [97]hands of the scouts and their pals. We shall have some opportunities of meeting, when I will explain: in the mean time, believe me I am
Dear Sir, Although I don’t know you personally, I’ve heard enough about your character to call you a fantastic person, a great guy, and nothing but a good one. I’m tied up with John Doe and Richard Roe and their annoying fieri facias, or I would be with you. However, I hope you’ll forgive the boldness of my request to use the enclosed document to help you get away from the scouts and their buddies. We’ll have a chance to meet soon, when I can explain everything; in the meantime, please know that I am
Your's truly,
Yours truly,
Tom.
Tom.
“With this advice, so consonant with my own opinion, I immediately complied; and having satisfied the broken-headed Charley, and paid all expences incurred, I was induced to walk into the office merely to give a look around me, when by a lucky chance I saw you enter. And thus you have a full, true, and particular account of the peregrinations of your humble servant.”
“With this advice, which matched my own thoughts, I quickly agreed; and after making sure Charley, who was feeling down, was okay and covering all expenses, I felt prompted to walk into the office just to take a look around. That’s when I saw you come in by chance. So here you have a complete, accurate, and detailed account of the travels of your humble servant.”
Listening with close attention to this narrative of Sparkle's, all other subjects had escaped observation, till they found themselves in the Strand.
Listening closely to Sparkle's story, everything else had slipped their minds until they realized they were in the Strand.
“Whither are we bound?” inquired Sparkle.
“Where are we headed?” asked Sparkle.
“On a voyage of discoveries,” replied Dashall, “and we just wanted you to act as pilot.”
“On a journey of discoveries,” replied Dashall, “and we just wanted you to act as our guide.”
“What place is this?” inquired Bob.
“What place is this?” asked Bob.
“That,” continued Sparkle, “is Somerset-house. It is a fine old building; it stands on the banks of the Thames, raised on piers and arches, and is now appropriated to various public offices, and houses belonging to the various offices of the Government.”
“That,” continued Sparkle, “is Somerset House. It’s a great old building; it sits by the Thames, elevated on piers and arches, and is now used for different public offices and government-related spaces.”
“The terrace, which lies on the river, is very fine, and may be well viewed from Waterloo Bridge. The front in the Strand, you perceive, has a noble aspect, being composed of a rustic basement, supporting a Corinthian order of columns crowned with an attic in the centre, and at the extremities with a balustrade. The south front, which looks into the court, is very elegant in its composition.
“The terrace by the river is quite beautiful and can be easily seen from Waterloo Bridge. The front on the Strand has a grand appearance, featuring a rustic base that supports a row of Corinthian columns topped with an attic in the center and a balustrade at each end. The south front, which faces the courtyard, is very classy in its design.”
“The basement consists of nine large arches; and three in the centre open, forming the principal entrance; and three at each end, filled with windows of the Doric order, are adorned with pilasters, entablatures, and pediments. On the key-stones of the nine arches are carved, in alto relievo, nine colossal masks, representing the Ocean, and the eight main Rivers of England, viz. Thames, Humber, Mersey, Dee, Medway, Tweed, Tyne, and Severn, with appropriate emblems to denote their various characters.
The basement has nine large arches, with three in the center that open up, creating the main entrance. There are three arches at each end, filled with windows in the Doric style, decorated with pilasters, entablatures, and pediments. On the key-stones of the nine arches, nine massive masks are carved in high relief, representing the Ocean and the eight major rivers of England: Thames, Humber, Mersey, Dee, Medway, Tweed, Tyne, and Severn, each with symbols that reflect their unique characteristics.
“Over the basement the Corinthian order consists of ten columns upon pedestals, having their regular entablature. It comprehends two floors, and the attic in the centre of the front extends over three intercolomniations, and is divided into three parts by four colossal statues placed on [98]the columns of the order. It terminates with a group consisting of the arms of the British empire, supported on one side by the Genius of England, and by Fame, sounding the trumpet, on the other. These three open arches in the front form the principal entrance to the whole of the structure, and lead to an elegant vestibule decorated with Doric columns.
“Above the basement, the Corinthian style features ten columns on pedestals, topped with their usual entablature. It includes two floors, and the attic in the center of the front spans three intercolumniations, divided into three sections by four massive statues positioned on the columns. It culminates in a group displaying the arms of the British Empire, supported on one side by the Genius of England and on the other by Fame, who is sounding the trumpet. These three open arches at the front serve as the main entrance to the entire structure, leading into an elegant vestibule adorned with Doric columns.”
“The terrace, which fronts the Thames, is spacious, and commands a beautiful view of part of the river, including Blackfriars, Waterloo, and Westminster Bridges. It is reared on a grand rustic basement, having thirty-two spacious arches. The arcade thus formed is judiciously relieved by projections ornamented with rusticated columns, and the effect of the whole of the terrace from the water is truly grand and noble. There is however, at present, no admission for the public to it; but, in all probability, it will be open to all when the edifice is completed, which would form one of the finest promenades in the world, and prove to be one of the first luxuries of the metropolis.
“The terrace that overlooks the Thames is spacious and offers a beautiful view of parts of the river, including Blackfriars, Waterloo, and Westminster Bridges. It is built on a grand rustic foundation with thirty-two large arches. The arcade created is thoughtfully enhanced by projections decorated with rustic columns, and the overall effect of the terrace from the water is truly impressive and dignified. Currently, however, there is no public access to it; but it will likely be open to everyone once the building is finished, which would make it one of the finest walking areas in the world and a major attraction for the city.”
“That statue in the centre is a representation of our late King, George the Third, with the Thames at his feet, pouring wealth and plenty from a large Cornucopia. It is executed by Bacon, and has his characteristic cast of expression. It is in a most ludicrous situation, being placed behind, and on the brink of a deep area.
“That statue in the center is a depiction of our late King, George the Third, with the Thames at his feet, pouring out wealth and abundance from a large Cornucopia. It's crafted by Bacon and has his signature style. It’s in a really ridiculous spot, being positioned behind and on the edge of a deep drop.”
“In the vestibule are the rooms of the Royal Society, the Society of Antiquarians, and the Royal Academy of Arts, all in a very grand and beautiful style. Over the door of the Royal Academy is a bust of Michael Angelo; and over the door leading to the Royal Society and Society of Antiquarians, you will find the bust of Sir Isaac Newton.
“In the entrance hall are the rooms of the Royal Society, the Society of Antiquarians, and the Royal Academy of Arts, all in a very grand and beautiful style. Above the door of the Royal Academy is a bust of Michael Angelo; and above the door leading to the Royal Society and Society of Antiquarians, you will find the bust of Sir Isaac Newton.
“The Government-offices, to which this building is devoted, are objects of great astonishment to strangers, being at once commodious and elegant, and worthy the wealth of the nation to which they belong. The hall of the Navy office is a fine room with two fronts, one facing the terrace and river, and the other facing the court. On the right is the Stamp-office: it consists of a multitude of apartments: the room in which the stamping is executed is very interesting to the curious. On the left you see the Pay-office of the Navy.
“The government offices in this building are amazing to visitors, being both spacious and stylish, fitting for the wealth of the nation they serve. The main hall of the Navy office is a beautiful room with two sides—one looking out over the terrace and river, and the other facing the courtyard. On the right is the Stamp office, which has many rooms; the stamping room is particularly fascinating for those who are curious. On the left, you can see the Pay office of the Navy.”
“The principal thing to attract notice in this edifice is [99]the solidity and completeness of the workmanship in the masonry, and indeed in every other part.”
“The main thing that stands out in this building is [99]the strength and thoroughness of the craftsmanship in the masonry, and really in every other aspect.”
After taking a rather prolonged view of this elegant edifice, they again sallied forth into the Strand, mingling with all the noise and bustle of a crowded street, where by turns were to be discovered, justling each other, parsons, lawyers, apothecaries, projectors, excisemen, organists, picture-sellers, bear and monkey-leaders, fiddlers and bailiffs. The barber and the chimney-sweeper were however always observed to be careful in avoiding the touch of each other, as if contamination must be the inevitable consequence.
After taking a long look at this elegant building, they stepped back out into the Strand, joining the noise and hustle of a busy street, where you could see a mix of preachers, lawyers, pharmacists, innovators, tax collectors, musicians, art dealers, animal trainers, street performers, and bailiffs. The barber and the chimney sweep, however, always seemed to make a point of avoiding each other, as if contact would inevitably lead to contamination.
“My dear fellow!” exclaimed a tall and well-dressed person, who dragged the Honourable Tom Dashall on one side—“you are the very person I wanted—I'm very glad to see you in town again—but I have not a moment to spare—the blood-hounds are in pursuit—this term will be ended in two days, then comes the long vacation—liberty without hiring a horse—you understand—was devilishly afraid of being nabb'd just now—should have been dished if I had—lend me five shillings—come, make haste.”
“My dear friend!” exclaimed a tall, well-dressed man, pulling the Honourable Tom Dashall aside. “You’re exactly the person I needed to see—I’m really glad you’re back in town. But I don’t have a second to waste—the bloodhounds are chasing me—this term ends in two days, and then it’s the long vacation—freedom without needing to hire a horse—you know what I mean. I was really worried about getting caught just now—would’ve been in big trouble if I had—can you lend me five shillings—hurry up.”
“Five shillings, Diddler, when am I to be paid? you remember—' When I grow rich' was the reply.”
“Five shillings, Diddler, when am I going to get paid? You remember—'When I get rich' was the answer.”
“Know—yes, I know all about it—but no matter, I'm not going to settle accounts just now, so don't detain me, I hate Debtor and Creditor. Fine sport to-morrow, eh—shall be at the Ring—in cog.—take no notice—disguised as a Quaker—Obadiah Lankloaks—d——d large beaver hat, and hide my physog.—Lend me what silver you have, and be quick about it, for I can't stay—thank you, you're a d——a good fellow, Tom, a trump—shall now pop into a hack, and drive into another county—thank ye—good day—by by.”
“Look, I know all about it, but it doesn’t matter right now. I’m not settling anything at the moment, so don’t hold me up—I'm not a fan of Debtor and Creditor. Exciting stuff tomorrow, right? I’ll be at the Ring, incognito—just ignore me. I’ll be dressed as a Quaker—Obadiah Lankloaks—wearing a huge beaver hat to hide my face. Lend me any silver you have, and be quick about it because I can’t stick around—thanks, you’re a really good friend, Tom, a real champ. I’m going to hop into a cab and head to another county—thank you—good day—bye.”
During this harangue, while Tost was counting his silver, the ingenious Mr. Diddler seized all he had, and whipping it speedily into his pocket, in a few minutes was out of his sight.
During this rant, while Tost was counting his coins, the clever Mr. Diddler grabbed everything he had, quickly stuffed it into his pocket, and in a few minutes was gone from his view.
Sparkle observing Dashall looking earnestly after Diddler, approached, and giving him a lusty slap on the shoulder—“Ha! ha! ha!” exclaimed he, “what are you done again?”
Sparkle saw Dashall watching Diddler intently and walked over, giving him a hearty slap on the shoulder. "Ha! ha! ha!" he said, "What have you gotten yourself into this time?"
“I suppose so,” said Dashall; “confound the fellow, he is always borrowing: I never met him in my life but [100]he had some immediate necessity or other to require a loan of a little temporary supply, as he calls it.”
“I guess so,” said Dashall; “damn the guy, he’s always borrowing: I’ve never met him without [100] him having some urgent need or another for a little temporary cash, as he puts it.”
“I wonder,” said Sparkle, “that you are so ready to lend, after such frequent experience—how much does he owe you?”
“I wonder,” said Sparkle, “why you’re so quick to lend, after so many experiences—how much does he owe you?”
“Heaven only knows,” continued Tom, “for I do not keep account against him, I must even trust to his honour—so it is useless to stand here losing our time—Come, let us forward.”
“Heaven only knows,” Tom continued, “because I’m not holding anything against him. I just have to trust his honor—so standing here and wasting our time is pointless—Come on, let’s move ahead.”
“With all my heart,”, said Sparkle, “and with permission I propose a visit to the Bonassus, a peep at St. Paul's, and a chop at Dolly's.”
“Absolutely,” said Sparkle, “and if it's okay, I suggest we visit the Bonassus, take a look at St. Paul's, and grab a bite at Dolly's.”
This proposition being highly approved of, they continued their walk along the Strand, towards Temple Bar, and in a few minutes were attracted by the appearance of men dressed in the garb of the Yeomen of the Guards, who appeared active in the distribution of hand-bills, and surrounded a house on the front of which appeared a long string of high and distinguished names, as patrons and patronesses of the celebrated animal called the Bonassus. Crossing the road in their approach to the door, Tallyho could not help admiring the simple elegance of a shop-front belonging to a grocer, whose name is Peck.
This idea was really well-received, so they continued their walk along the Strand toward Temple Bar. In a few minutes, they noticed some men dressed as Yeomen of the Guards, actively handing out flyers. They surrounded a house that featured a long list of notable names as supporters of the famous creature called the Bonassus. As they crossed the street to get to the door, Tallyho couldn't help but admire the simple elegance of a grocery store owned by someone named Peck.
“Very handsome and tasty, indeed,” replied Sparkle; “that combination of marble and brass has a light and elegant effect: it has no appearance of being laboured at. The inhabitant of the house I believe is a foreigner, I think an Italian; but London boasts of some of the most elegant shops in the world.” And by this time they entered the opposite house.
“Very handsome and delicious, for sure,” replied Sparkle; “that mix of marble and brass creates a light and graceful effect: it doesn't look overly worked on. I believe the owner of the house is a foreigner, probably Italian; but London has some of the most stylish shops in the world.” By that time, they had entered the house across the street.
CHAPTER IX
[101]UPON entering the house, and depositing their shilling each to view this newly discovered animal from the Apalachian mountains of America, and being supplied with immense long bills descriptive of his form and powers—“Come along (said Sparkle,) let us have a look at the most wonderful production of nature—only seventeen months old, five feet ten inches high, and one of the most fashionable fellows in the metropolis.”
[101] When they entered the house and each paid their shilling to see this newly discovered animal from the Appalachian Mountains in America, they were handed long pamphlets describing its features and abilities. “Come on,” said Sparkle, “let’s check out the most amazing creation of nature—only seventeen months old, five feet ten inches tall, and one of the most stylish guys in the city.”
“It should seem so,” said Tallyho, “by the long list of friends and visitors that are detailed in the commencement of the bill of fare.”
“It should seem so,” said Tallyho, “by the long list of friends and visitors that are listed at the beginning of the menu.”
“Perhaps,” said Tom, “there are more Bon asses than one.”
“Maybe,” said Tom, “there’s more than one Bon ass.”
“Very likely (continued Sparkle;) but let me tell you the allusion in this case does not apply, for this animal has nothing of the donkey about him, and makes no noise, as you will infer from the following lines in the Bill:
“Very likely (continued Sparkle;) but let me tell you the reference in this case doesn’t fit, because this animal doesn’t resemble a donkey at all and makes no noise, as you’ll gather from the following lines in the Bill:
[102]At this moment the barking of a dog assailed their ears, and suspended the conversation. Passing onward to the den of the Bonassus, they found a dark-featured gentleman of middling stature, with his hair, whiskers, and ears, so bewhitened with powder as to form a complete contrast with his complexion and a black silk handkerchief which he wore round his neck, holding a large brown-coloured dog by the collar, in order to prevent annoyance to the visitors.
[102]At that moment, the barking of a dog interrupted their conversation. As they continued on to the den of the Bonassus, they encountered a dark-featured man of average height, whose hair, whiskers, and ears were heavily powdered, creating a stark contrast with his skin tone and the black silk handkerchief around his neck. He was holding onto a large brown dog by its collar to keep it from bothering the visitors.
“D——n the dog, (exclaimed he) although he is the best tempered creature in the world, he don't seem to like the appearance of the Bonassus “—and espying Sparkle, “Ha, my dear fellow! how are you?—I have not seen you for a long while.”
“Damn the dog,” he exclaimed, “even though he’s the best-natured creature in the world, he doesn’t seem to like how the Bonassus looks.” And spotting Sparkle, he added, “Hey, my dear friend! How are you? I haven’t seen you in a long time.”
“Why, Sir D—n—ll, I am happy to say I never was better in my life—allow me to introduce you to my two friends, the Hon. Mr. Dashall, and Robert Tallyho—Sir D—n—ll Harlequin.”
“Why, Sir D—n—ll, I’m pleased to say I’ve never been better in my life—let me introduce you to my two friends, the Hon. Mr. Dashall and Robert Tallyho—Sir D—n—ll Harlequin.”
The mutual accompaniments of such an introduction having passed among them, the Knight, who was upon the moment of departure as they entered, expressed his approbation of the animal he had been viewing, and, lugging his puppy by one hand, and his cudgel in the other, wished them a good morning.
The friendly greetings exchanged during this introduction completed, the Knight, who was just about to leave when they arrived, expressed his approval of the animal he had been watching. Holding his puppy in one hand and his walking stick in the other, he wished them a good morning.
“There is an eccentric man of Title,” continued Sparkle.
“There's an eccentric guy named Title,” Sparkle continued.
“I should judge,” said Bob, “there was a considerable portion of eccentricity about him, by his appearance. Is he a Baronet?”
“I would guess,” said Bob, “that there's quite a bit of eccentricity about him, just by the way he looks. Is he a Baronet?”
“A Baronet,” (replied Sparkle) “no, no, he is no other than a Quack Doctor."{1}
“A Baronet,” (replied Sparkle) “no, no, he is nothing more than a Quack Doctor.”{1}
But hush, here is other company, and I will give you an account of him as we go along.”
But shh, there's someone else here, and I'll tell you about him as we continue.
They now attended the Keeper, who explained the age, height, weight, species, size, power, and propensities of the animal, and then departed on their road towards Temple Bar,—on passing through which, they were overtaken again by Sir Francis, in a gig drawn by a dun-coloured horse, with his puppy between his legs, and a servant by his side, and immediately renewed the previous conversation.
They now met with the Keeper, who shared details about the animal's age, height, weight, species, size, power, and tendencies, and then continued on their way towards Temple Bar. As they passed through it, they were once again approached by Sir Francis, driving a gig pulled by a light brown horse, with his puppy sitting between his legs and a servant next to him, and they quickly resumed their earlier conversation.
“There he goes again,” said Sparkle, “and a rare fellow he is too.”
“There he goes again,” said Sparkle, “and he's quite the unique guy too.”
“I should think so,” said Bob; “he must have quacked to some good purpose, to obtain the honour of knighthood.”
“I think so,” said Bob; “he must have quacked for a good reason to earn the honor of knighthood.”
[108]"Not positively that,” continued Sparkle; “for to obtain and to deserve are not synonymous, and, if report say true, there is not much honour attached to his obtaining it.
[108]“Not exactly,” continued Sparkle; “because getting and deserving are not the same thing, and if what I've heard is correct, there's not much honor in how he got it.”
“——In the modesty of fearful duty,
“——In the humility of cautious responsibility,
And, according to my humble conception, he who talks much about himself, or pays others to talk or write about him, is generally most likely to be least deserving of public patronage; for if a man possesses real and evident abilities in any line of profession, the public will not be long in making a discovery of its existence, and the bounty, as is most usually the case, would quickly follow upon the heels of approbation. But many a meritorious man in the Metropolis is pining away his miserable existence, too proud to beg, and too honest to steal, while others, with scarcely more brains than a sparrow, by persevering in a determination to leave no stone unturned to make themselves appear ridiculous, as a first step to popularity; and having once excited attention, even though it is merely to be laughed at by the thinking part of mankind, he finds it no great difficulty to draw the money out of their pockets while their eyes are riveted on a contemplation of his person or conduct. And there are not wanting instances of effrontery that have elevated men of little or no capacity to dignified situations. If report say true, the present Secretary of the Admiralty, who is admirable for his poetry also, was originally a hair-dresser, residing somewhere in Blackfriar's or Westminster-road; but then you must recollect he was a man who knew it was useless to lose a single opportunity; and probably such has been the case with Sir Daniel Harlequin, who, from keeping a small shop in Wapping, making a blaze upon the water about his Life-preserver, marrying a wife with a red face and a full pocket, retired to a small cottage at Mile End, and afterwards establishing a Medical Board, has got himself dubbed a Knight. To be sure he has had a deal of puffing and blowing work to get through in his progress, which probably accounts for his black looks, not a little increased by the quantity of powder he wears. But what have we here?” finding the bustle of the streets considerably increased after passing Temple Bar.
And, in my opinion, someone who talks a lot about themselves, or pays others to talk or write about them, is usually the least deserving of public support. If a person truly has significant talent in any profession, the public will quickly recognize it, and support will generally follow soon after. Yet, many deserving individuals in the city are wasting away their miserable lives, too proud to ask for help and too honest to steal, while others, with barely more intelligence than a sparrow, relentlessly strive to make themselves look foolish as a first step toward popularity. Once they grab attention, even if it’s just to be laughed at by thoughtful people, they find it easy to get money from those who are fixated on their antics. There are plenty of examples of boldness that have catapulted individuals with little to no talent into esteemed positions. If the rumors are true, the current Secretary of the Admiralty, who is also commendable for his poetry, started as a hairdresser living somewhere near Blackfriars or Westminster Road. But remember, he was someone who understood the importance of seizing every opportunity; the same likely goes for Sir Daniel Harlequin, who went from running a small shop in Wapping and making a splash with his Life-preserver, to marrying a woman with a ruddy complexion and a full purse, retiring to a small cottage in Mile End, and later establishing a Medical Board, ending up being called a Knight. Of course, he has done a lot of self-promotion along the way, which probably explains his grim appearance, further accentuated by the amount of powder he uses. But what do we have here?” noticing that the bustle of the streets has increased significantly after passing Temple Bar.
“Some political Bookseller or other, in all probability,” said Tom—“I'll step forward and see.” And in passing through the numerous body of persons that crowded on every side, the whole party was separated. Bob, who had hung a little back while his two friends rushed forward, was lingering near the corner of the Temple: he was beckoned by a man across the way, to whom he immediately went.
“Some political bookseller or something,” said Tom. “I'll go check it out.” As he moved through the crowd of people surrounding them, the whole group got split up. Bob, who had stayed a little behind while his two friends rushed ahead, was hanging around near the corner of the Temple. He was waved over by a man across the street, and he promptly went to him.
“Do you happen to want a piece of fine India silk handkerchiefs, Sir? I have some in my pocket that I can recommend and sell cheap—for money must be had; but only keep it to yourself, because they are smuggled goods, of the best quality and richest pattern.” During this opening speech, he was endeavouring to draw Tallyho under the archway of Bell-yard, when Sparkle espying him, ran across to him, and taking him by the arm—“Come along (said he;) and if you don't take yourself off instantly, I'll put you in custody,” shaking his stick at the other.
“Would you like a fine India silk handkerchief, sir? I have some in my pocket that I can recommend and sell for cheap—because I need the money; but keep it to yourself, as they’re smuggled goods, of the best quality and richest design.” As he said this, he was trying to lure Tallyho under the archway of Bell-yard, when Sparkle spotted him, rushed over, and grabbed his arm—“Come on,” he said; “and if you don’t leave right now, I’ll have to arrest you,” shaking his stick at the other.
All this was like Hebrew to Bob, who, for his part, really conceived the poor fellow, as he termed him, might be in want of money, and compelled to dispose of his article for subsistence.
All this sounded like a foreign language to Bob, who thought that the poor guy, as he called him, might be in need of money and forced to sell his item for survival.
“Ha, ha, ha,” cried Sparkle, “I see you know nothing about them: these are the locusts of the town.” At this moment they were joined by the Hon. Tom Dashall.
“Ha, ha, ha,” laughed Sparkle, “I can see you don’t know anything about them: these are the town’s locusts.” Just then, they were joined by the Hon. Tom Dashall.
“Egad!” continued Sparkle, “I just saved your Cousin from being trepanned, and sent for a soldier.”
“Wow!” continued Sparkle, “I just saved your cousin from being drilled into and called for a soldier.”
Tallyho appeared all amazement.
Tallyho looked completely amazed.
“What,” cried Tom, “in the wars of Venus then, I suppose I know he has a fancy for astronomy, and probably he was desirous of taking a peep into Shire-lane, where he might easily find the Sun, Moon, and Seven Stars.”
“What,” shouted Tom, “in the battles of Venus then, I guess I know he has a thing for astronomy, and he probably wanted to take a look into Shire-lane, where he could easily find the Sun, Moon, and Seven Stars.”
“Ha! ha! ha!” replied Sparkle, “not exactly so; but I rescued him from the hands of a Buffer,{1} who would
“Ha! ha! ha!” replied Sparkle, “not exactly; but I saved him from a Buffer,{1} who would
[110]doubtless have fleeced him in good style, if he could only have induced him to attend to his story.”
[110]they definitely would have taken advantage of him in style if he could have just gotten him to listen to his story.
“The mob you see collected there,” said the Hon. Tom Dashalll, “is attracted by two circumstances—Money's new Coronation Crop, just lanched—and a broken image of a Highlander, at the door of a snuff-shop; each of them truly important and interesting of course, the elevation of one man, and the destruction of another. The poor Scotchman seems dreadfully bruised, and I suppose is now under the Doctor's hands, for he has two or three plasters on his face.”
“The crowd you see gathered there,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “is drawn in by two things—Money's new Coronation Crop, just launched—and a shattered statue of a Highlander, at the entrance of a snuff shop; both are genuinely significant and intriguing, of course, the rise of one person and the downfall of another. The poor Scotsman looks really battered, and I assume he’s currently in the Doctor's care, since he has a couple of bandages on his face.”
“Yes,” continued Sparkle, “he has been out on a spree,{1} had a bit of a turn-up, and been knock'd down.”
“Yes,” continued Sparkle, “he has been out partying, had a bit of a wild time, and got knocked down.”
Upon hearing this conversation, Tallyho could not help inquiring into the particulars.
Upon hearing this conversation, Tallyho couldn’t help but ask for the details.
“Why the facts are simply as follows,” continued
“Here are the facts, plain and simple,” continued
[111]Sparkle—“in London, as you perceive, tradesmen are in the habit of exhibiting signs of the business or profession in which they are engaged. The Pawnbroker decorates his door with three gold balls—the Barber, in some places, (though it is a practice almost out of date) hangs out a long pole—the Gold-beater, an arm with a hammer in the act of striking—the Chemist, a head of Glauber, or Esculapius—the Tobacconist, a roll of tobacco, and of late it has become customary for these venders of pulverised atoms called snuff, to station a wooden figure of a Highlander, in the act of taking a pinch of Hardham's, or High-dried, as a sort of inviting introduction to their counters; and a few nights back, a Scotchman, returning from his enjoyments at a neighbouring tavern, stopped to have a little friendly chat with this gentleman's Highlander, and by some means or other, I suppose, a quarrel ensued, upon which the animated young Scotchman took advantage of his countryman—floored him, broke both his arms, and otherwise did him considerable bodily injury, the effects of which are still visible; and Johnny Bull, who is fond of a little gape-seed, is endeavouring to console him under his sufferings.”
[111]Sparkle—“in London, as you can see, shopkeepers often display signs representing their businesses or professions. The pawnbroker hangs three gold balls on his door, while barbers, although it's becoming rare, used to put up a long pole. Gold-beaters showcase an arm with a hammer striking, chemists display a head of Glauber or Esculapius, and tobacconists often show a roll of tobacco. Recently, it's become common for sellers of snuff to have a wooden figure of a Highlander taking a pinch of Hardham's or High-dried as a welcoming sign to their shops. A few nights ago, a Scotsman, coming back from a nearby pub, stopped for a chat with this shop's Highlander. Somehow, a fight broke out, and the spirited young Scotsman took advantage of his fellow countryman—knocked him down, broke both his arms, and otherwise seriously hurt him, with injuries that are still obvious today; and Johnny Bull, who enjoys a bit of gossip, is trying to comfort him in his pain.”
“Very kind of him, indeed,” replied Bob.
“Very nice of him, for sure,” replied Bob.
“At any rate,” said Tom, “the Tobacconist will have occasion to be grateful to the Highlander{1} for some portion of his popularity.”
“At any rate,” said Tom, “the Tobacconist will have reason to be thankful to the Highlander{1} for some part of his popularity.”
“Come,” said Sparkle, “we are now in one of the principal thoroughfares of the Metropolis, Fleet Street, of which you have already heard much, and is at all times thronged with multitudes of active and industrious persons, in pursuit of their various avocations, like a hive of bees, and keeping up, like them, a ceaseless hum. Nor is it less a scene of Real Life worth viewing, than the more refined haunts of the noble, the rich, and the great, many of whom leave their splendid habitations in the West in the morning, to attend the money-getting, [113]commercial men of the City, and transact their business.—The dashing young spendthrift, to borrow at any interest; and the more prudent, to buy or to sell. The plodding tradesman, the ingenious mechanic, are exhausting their time in endeavours to realize property, perhaps to be left for the benefit of a Son, who as ardently sets about, after his Father's decease, to get rid of it—nay, perhaps, pants for an opportunity of doing this before he can take possession; for the young Citizen, having lived just long enough to conceive himself superior to his father, in violation of filial duty and natural authority, affects an aversion to every thing that is not novel, expensive, and singular. He is a lad of high spirit; he calls the city a poor dull prison, in which he cannot bear to be confined; and though he may not intend to mount his nag, stiffens his cravat, whistles a sonata, to which his whip applied to the boot forms an accompaniment; while his spurs wage war with the flounces of a fashionably-dressed belle, or come occasionally in painful contact with the full-stretched stockings of a gouty old gentleman; by all which he fancies he is keeping” up the dignity and importance of his character. He does not slip the white kid glove from his hand without convincing the spectator that; his hand is the whiter skin; nor twist his fingers for the introduction of a pinch of Maccaba, without displaying to the best advantage his beautifully chased ring and elegantly painted snuff-box lid; nor can the hour of the day be ascertained without discovering his engine-turned repeater, and hearing its fascinating music: then the fanciful chain, the precious stones in golden robes, and last of all, the family pride described in true heraldic taste and naïveté. Of Peter Pindar's opinion, that
“Come,” Sparkle said, “we're now on one of the main streets of the city, Fleet Street, which you’ve heard a lot about. It's always bustling with active and hardworking people, all busy with their various jobs, like a hive of bees, creating a constant buzz. It’s just as much a scene of real life worth watching as the more upscale spots of the wealthy and powerful, many of whom leave their lavish homes in the West each morning to deal with the profit-seeking business folks of the City. They come to do their transactions—whether it’s the flashy young spender seeking to borrow money at any rate, or the more sensible types looking to buy or sell. The dedicated tradesman, the clever mechanic, spend their time trying to build wealth, perhaps to leave it for a son who is just as eager, upon his father’s passing, to get rid of it—maybe even hoping to do so before he inherits it; because the young city dweller, having lived just long enough to think of himself as better than his father, disregards his family duties and authority, showing a preference for everything that’s new, expensive, and unique. He’s a spirited young man; he refers to the city as a boring prison he can't stand being trapped in; and although he might not really plan to ride out, he straightens his cravat and whistles a tune, using his whip on the boot as an accompaniment, while his spurs clash with the frills of a stylishly dressed young lady or sometimes uncomfortably brush against the tightly stretched stockings of a gouty old man; by all of this, he believes he’s maintaining the dignity and importance of his status. He doesn’t remove his white kid glove without making sure onlookers know his hand is the fairest; nor does he twist his fingers to introduce a pinch of snuff without showcasing his beautifully designed ring and elegantly painted snuff box lid; nor can anyone tell the time of day without noticing his intricately designed repeater, accompanied by its captivating sound: then there’s the fancy chain, the precious stones wrapped in gold, and finally, the family pride detailed in true heraldic style and simplicity. As Peter Pindar suggests, that
he thinks it an admirable piece of politeness and true breeding to give correct specimens of the turkey or the goose in the serious scenes of a dramatic representation, or while witnessing her Ladyship's confusion in a crowd of carriages combating for precedence in order to obtain an early appearance at Court. Reading he considers quite a bore, but attends the reading-room, which he enters, not to know what is worth reading and add a little knowledge to his slender stock from the labours and experience of [114]men of letters—no, but to quiz the cognoscenti, and throw the incense over its learned atmosphere from his strongly perfumed cambric handkerchief, which also implies what is most in use for the indulgence of one of the five senses. When he enters a coffee-room, it is not for the purpose of meeting an old friend, and to enjoy with him a little rational conversation over his viands, but to ask for every newspaper, and throw them aside without looking at them—to call the Waiter loudly by his name, and shew his authority—to contradict an unknown speaker who is in debate with others, and declare, upon the honour of a gentleman and the veracity of a scholar, that Pope never understood Greek, nor translated Homer with tolerable justice. He considers it a high privilege to meet a celebrated pugilist at an appointed place, to floor him for a quid,{1} a fall, and a high delight to talk of it afterwards for the edification of his friends—to pick up a Cyprian at mid-day—to stare modest women out of countenance—to bluster at a hackney-coachman—or to upset a waterman in the river, in order to gain the fame of a Leander, and prove himself a Hero.
He thinks it's a great display of politeness and good breeding to showcase accurate representations of a turkey or goose in the serious moments of a play, or while watching Ladyship's embarrassment in a crowd of carriages fighting for priority to make an early appearance at Court. He finds reading pretty dull, but he goes to the reading room not to see what's worth reading and gain a little knowledge from the experiences of writers—no, he goes to mock the knowledgeable crowd and fan the learned atmosphere with his strongly perfumed handkerchief, which also signifies what’s commonly used to indulge one of the five senses. When he enters a coffee room, it’s not to meet an old friend and enjoy some rational conversation over a meal, but to ask for every newspaper and toss them aside without even glancing at them—to call the waiter loudly by name to show his authority—to contradict a stranger debating with others and insist, on the honor of a gentleman and the truth of a scholar, that Pope never understood Greek or translated Homer fairly well. He sees it as a significant privilege to meet a famous fighter at a set place, to knock him down for a quid, a fall, and delight in talking about it later for his friends' amusement—to pick up a woman during the day—to stare modest women down—to act tough with a taxi driver—or to tip a waterman into the river, aiming to earn the reputation of a Leander and prove himself a Hero.
“He rejects all his father's proposed arrangements for his domestic comforts and matrimonial alliance. He wanders in his own capricious fancy, like a fly in summer, over the fields of feminine beauty and loveliness; yet he declares there is so much versatility and instability about the fair sex, that they are unworthy his professions of regard; and, perhaps, in his whole composition, there is nothing deserving of serious notice but his good-nature. Thus you have a short sketch of a young Citizen.”
“He turns down all his father's suggestions for his comfort at home and for a marriage partner. He drifts through his unpredictable whims, like a fly in summer, across the landscape of feminine beauty. Yet he insists that women are so changeable and unstable that they don’t deserve his affections; and, maybe, in his entire character, the only noteworthy quality is his good nature. So, here’s a brief overview of a young Citizen.”
“Upon my word, friend Sparkle, you are an admirable delineator of Society,” said Dashall.
“Honestly, friend Sparkle, you are an amazing observer of society,” said Dashall.
“My drawings are made from nature,” continued Sparkle.
“My drawings are inspired by nature,” continued Sparkle.
“Aye, and very naturally executed too,” replied Tom. Having kept walking on towards St. Paul's, they were by this time near the end of Shoe Lane, at the corner of which sat an elderly woman with a basket of mackerel for sale; and as they approached they saw several persons rush from thence into the main street in evident alarm.
“Yeah, and it was done quite naturally too,” replied Tom. As they continued walking toward St. Paul's, they were now near the end of Shoe Lane, where an elderly woman sat with a basket of mackerel for sale. As they got closer, they noticed several people rushing from that area into the main street, clearly in a panic.
“Come up, d——n your eyes,” said an ill-favoured fellow with an immense cudgel in his fist, driving an ass laden
“Come up, damn your eyes,” said an ugly guy with a huge club in his hand, forcing a donkey loaded
[115]with brick-dust, with which he was belabouring him most unmercifully. The poor beast, with an endeavour to escape if possible the cudgelling which awaited him, made a sudden turn round the post, rubbing his side against it as he went along, and thereby relieving himself of his load, which he safely deposited, with a cloud of brick-dust that almost blinded the old woman and those who were near her, in the basket of fish. Neddy then made the best of his way towards Fleet-market, and an over-drove bullock, which had terrified many persons, issued almost at the same moment from Shoe Lane, and took the direction for Temple-bar. The whistling, the hooting, the hallooing, and the running of the drovers in pursuit—men, women, and children, scampering to get out of the way of the infuriated beast—the noise and rattling of carriages, the lamentations of the poor fish-fag, and the vociferations of the donkey-driver to recover his neddy—together with a combination of undistinguishable sounds from a variety of voices, crying their articles for sale, or announcing their several occupations—formed a contrast of characters, situations, and circumstances, not easily to be described. Here, a poor half-starved and almost frightened-to-death brat of a Chimney-sweeper, in haste to escape, had run against a lady whose garments were as white as snow—there, a Barber had run against a Parson, and falling along with him, had dropped a pot of pomatum from his apron-pocket on the reverend gentleman's eye, and left a mark in perfect unison with the colour of his garments before the disaster, but which were now of a piebald nature, neither black nor white. A barrow of nuts, overturned in one place, afforded fine amusement for the scrambling boys and girls—a Jew old clothes-man swore upon his conscience he had losht the pest pargain vhat he ever had offered to him in all his lifetime, by dem tam'd bears of bull-drivers—a Sailor called him a gallows half-hung ould crimp,{1} d——d his
[115]with brick dust, which he was beating him with mercilessly. The poor animal, trying to escape the beating that awaited him, suddenly turned around the post, rubbing his side against it, and in the process, shook off his load, which he dumped, along with a cloud of brick dust that almost blinded the old woman and those nearby, into the basket of fish. Neddy then hurried his way towards Fleet Market, while an over-excited bullock, which had scared many people, came charging out of Shoe Lane, heading towards Temple Bar. The whistling, the hooting, the shouting, and the drovers running after it—men, women, and children fleeing to avoid the enraged beast—the noise and clatter of carriages, the cries of the poor fish seller, and the donkey driver yelling to get back his donkey—along with a mix of indistinguishable sounds from people shouting their goods for sale or announcing their trades—created a chaotic scene that was hard to describe. Here, a poor, half-starved child, terrified out of his wits, had bumped into a lady dressed in all white—there, a barber collided with a clergyman, and as they fell together, he dropped a pot of pomade from his pocket onto the reverend’s eye, leaving a mark that perfectly matched the color of his clothes before the accident, which were now a splotchy mess, neither fully black nor white. An overturned cart of nuts provided great entertainment for the scrambling boys and girls—a Jewish second-hand clothes vendor swore on his conscience that he lost the best bargain he’d ever been offered in his life because of those damned bull drivers—a sailor called him a gallows half-hung old crimp, d——d his
[116]eyes if he was not glad of it, and, with a sling of his arm, deposited an enormous quid he had in his mouth directly in the chaps of the Israelite, then joined the throng in pursuit; while the Jew, endeavouring to call Stop thief, took more of the second-hand quid than agreed with the delicacy of his stomach, and commenced a vomit, ejaculating with woful lamentations, that he had lost his bag mit all his propertish.
[116]eyes if he was not glad about it, and, with a swing of his arm, spat out a huge wad of chewing tobacco he had in his mouth right into the face of the Israeli, then jumped into the crowd chasing after them; while the Jew, trying to shout "Stop thief," ended up swallowing more of the leftover tobacco than his stomach could handle and started to vomit, lamenting sorrowfully that he had lost his bag along with all his belongings.
The old mackarel-woman, seeing her fish covered with brick-dust, set off in pursuit of the limping donkey-driver, and catching him by the neck, swore he should pay her for the fish, and brought him back to the scene of action; but, in the mean time, the Street-keeper had seized and carried off the basket with all its contents—misfortune upon misfortune!
The old mackerel woman, noticing her fish covered in brick dust, set off to chase the limping donkey driver. She grabbed him by the neck and insisted he pay her for the fish, dragging him back to where it happened. But in the meantime, the street guard had taken the basket with all its contents—one misfortune after another!
“D——n your ass, and you too,” said the Fish-woman, “if you doesn't pay me for my fish, I'll quod{1} you—that there's all vat I ar got to say.”
“Damn your ass, and yours too,” said the Fish-woman, “if you don’t pay me for my fish, I’ll lock you up—that’s all I have to say.”
“Here's a bit of b——dy gammon—don't you see as how I am lost both my ass and his cargo, and if you von't leave
“Here's a bit of bloody nonsense—don’t you see that I've lost both my butt and his cargo, and if you won’t leave
[117]me alone, and give me my bags again, I'll sarve you out—there now, that's all—bl——st me! fair play's a jewel—let go my hair, and don't kick up no rows about it—see vhat a mob you're a making here—can't you sell your mackarel ready sauced, and let me go ater Neddy?”
[117]Just leave me alone and give me my bags back. I'll take care of it—there you go, that's all—damn me! Fair play is a treasure—let go of my hair, and don't start any trouble about it—look at the crowd you're creating here—can't you sell your mackerel already dressed, and let me go after Neddy?
“Vhat, you thinks you are a flat-catching,{1} do you, Limping Billy—but eh, who has run away with my basket offish?”
“Hey, you think you're a flat-catching, do you, Limping Billy—but wait, who stole my basket of fish?”
“Ha, ha, ha,” cried Limping Billy, bursting into a horse-laugh at the additional distress of the old woman, in which he was joined by many of the surrounding spectators; and which so enraged her, that she let go her hold, and bursting through the crowd with an irresistible strength, increased almost to the fury of madness by her additional loss, she ran some paces distance in search of, not only her stock in trade, but her shop, shop-board, and working-tools; while the donkey-driver boisterously vociferated after her—“Here they are six a shilling, live mackarel O.”
“Ha, ha, ha,” laughed Limping Billy, breaking into a loud laugh at the old woman’s added distress, and he was joined by many people around them. This made her so angry that she let go of what she was holding, and with a strength fueled almost by madness from her greater loss, she pushed through the crowd to search for not just her goods, but also her shop, shop sign, and tools. Meanwhile, the donkey-driver loudly shouted after her, “Here they are six for a shilling, live mackerel!”
This taunt of the brick-dust merchant was too much to be borne, and brought her back again with a determination to chastise him, which she did in a summary way, by knocking him backwards into the kennel. Billy was not pleased at this unexpected salute, called her a drunken ——, and endeavoured to get out of her way—“for,” said he, “I know she is a b——dy rum customer when she gets lushy."{2} At this moment, a sturdy youth, about sixteen or seventeen years of age, was seen at a short distance riding the runaway-ass back again. Billy perceiving this, became a little more reconciled to his rough usage—swore he never would strike a voman, so help him G——d, for that he was a man every inch of him; and as for Mother Mapps, he'd be d——nd-if he vouldn't treat her with all the pleasure of life; and now he had got his own ass, he vould go along with her for to find her mackarel. Then shaking a cloud of brick-dust from the dry parts of his apparel, with sundry portions of mud from those parts which had most easily reached the kennel, he took the bridle of his donkey, and bidding her come along, they toddled{3} together to a gin-shop in Shoe Lane.
This insult from the brick-dust merchant was too much to handle, and it made her furious enough to retaliate, which she did quickly by pushing him backward into the gutter. Billy wasn’t happy about this sudden attack, called her a drunken ---, and tried to avoid her—“because,” he said, “I know she's a bloody tough customer when she's had a few drinks." At that moment, a strong kid, around sixteen or seventeen, was seen at a short distance riding the runaway donkey back. When Billy saw this, he felt a bit better about his rough treatment—he swore he would never hit a woman, so help him God, because he was a man through and through; and as for Mother Mapps, he'd be damned if he wouldn't treat her with all the kindness in the world; and now that he had his own donkey, he would go with her to help her find her mackerel. Then, shaking off a cloud of brick dust from the dry parts of his clothes and various bits of mud from the areas that had splashed into the gutter, he grabbed the bridle of his donkey and told her to come along as they strolled together to a bar in Shoe Lane.
[118]Desirous of seeing an end to this bit of gig—“Come along,” said Sparkle, “they'll all be in prime twig presently, and we shall have some fun.
[118]Wanting to wrap up this little gig—“Come on,” said Sparkle, “they'll all be in top form soon, and we’re going to have some fun.
Hark, (said he) there's a fiddle-scraper in the house—here goes;” and immediately they entered.
“Hear that,” he said, “there’s a fiddler in the house—let’s go;” and without delay, they walked in.
They had no occasion to repent of their movements; for in one corner of the tap-room sat Billy Waters, a well-known character about town, a Black Man with a wooden leg was fiddling to a Slaughterman from Fleet-market, in wooden shoes, who, deck'd with all the paraphernalia of his occupation, a greasy jacket and night-cap, an apron besmeared with mud, blood, and grease, nearly an inch thick, and a leathern girdle, from which was suspended a case to hold his knives, and his sleeves tuck'd up as if he had but just left the slaughter-house, was dancing in the centre to the infinite amusement of the company, which consisted of an old woman with periwinkles and crabs for sale in a basket—a porter with his knot upon the table—a dustman with his broad-flapped hat, and his bell by his side—an Irish hodman—and two poor girls, who appeared to be greatly taken with the black fiddler, whose head was decorated with an oil-skinned cock'd hat, and a profusion of many coloured feathers: on the other side of the room sat a young man of shabby-genteel appearance, reading the newspaper with close attention, and purring forth volumes of smoke. Limping Billy and Mother Mapps were immediately known, and room was made for their accommodation, while the fiddler's elbow and the slaughterman's wooden shoes were kept in motion.
They had no reason to regret their movements; in one corner of the bar sat Billy Waters, a well-known figure in town, a Black man with a wooden leg was playing the fiddle for a slaughterman from Fleet Market, who, wearing wooden shoes and dressed in the full gear of his trade—an oily jacket, a nightcap, an apron caked in mud, blood, and grease, nearly an inch deep, and a leather belt with a case for his knives—was dancing in the center, much to the amusement of the crowd. This crowd included an old woman selling periwinkles and crabs from a basket, a porter with his bundle on the table, a dustman with a wide-brimmed hat and his bell beside him, an Irish hodman, and two poor girls who seemed quite taken with the fiddler, whose head was adorned with an oilskin cocked hat and a mix of colorful feathers. On the other side of the room sat a young man with a shabby but decent appearance, reading the newspaper intently and puffing out clouds of smoke. Limping Billy and Mother Mapps were immediately recognized, and space was made for them while the fiddler's elbow and the slaughterman's wooden shoes kept moving.
Max{l} was the order of the day, and the sluicery{2} in good request. Mother Mapps was made easy by being informed the Street-keeper had her valuables in charge, which Limping Billy promised he would redeem. “Bring us a
Max{l} was the order of the day, and the sluicery{2} was in high demand. Mother Mapps was reassured when she was told that the Street-keeper was looking after her valuables, which Limping Billy promised he would recover. “Bring us a
[119]noggin of white tape,{1} and fill me a pipe,” said he—“d——n my eyes, I knowed as how it vou'd be all right enough, I never gets in no rows whatever without getting myself out again—come, ould chap,{2} vet your vistle, and tip it us rum—go it my kiddy, that are's just vat I likes.”
[119] "Get me a drink of white tape," he said. "Damn my eyes, I knew it would be fine. I never get into any trouble without finding my way out again—come on, old man, pour us some rum—let’s go, my friend, that's exactly what I like."
“Vat's the reason I an't to have a pipe?” said Mother Mapps.
“What's the reason I can't have a pipe?” said Mother Mapps.
“Lord bless your heart,” said the Donkey-driver, “if I did'nt forget you, never trust me—here, Landlord, a pipe for this here Lady.”
“Lord bless your heart,” said the Donkey-driver, “if I didn’t forget you, never trust me—here, Landlord, a pipe for this lady.”
“Which way did the bull run?” said the Irishman.
“Which way did the bull go?” asked the Irishman.
“Bl——st me if I know,” replied Limping Billy, “for I was a looking out for my own ass—let's have the Sprig of Shelalah, ould Blackymoor—come, tune up.”
“Blast me if I know,” replied Limping Billy, “because I was looking out for myself—let's have the Sprig of Shelalah, old Blackymoor—come on, tune up.”
The old woman being supplied with a pipe, and the fiddler having rosined his nerves with a glass of blue ruin{3} to it they went, some singing, some whistling, and others drumming with their hands upon the table; while Tom, Bob, and Sparkle, taking a seat at the other side of the room, ordered a glass of brandy and water each, and enjoyed the merriment of the scene before them, perhaps more than those actually engaged in it. Bob was alive to every movement and every character, for it was new, and truly interesting: and kept growing more so, for in a few minutes Limping Billy and Mother Mapps joined the Slaughterman in the dance, when nothing could be more grotesque and amusing. Their pipes in their mouths—clapping of hands and snapping of fingers, formed a curious accompaniment to the squeaking of the fiddle—the broad grin of the Dustman, and the preposterous laugh of the
The old woman lit up a pipe, and the fiddler, after taking a shot of some cheap liquor, joined in. Some people were singing, some whistling, and others were drumming their hands on the table. Meanwhile, Tom, Bob, and Sparkle sat on the other side of the room, ordering a glass of brandy and water each, soaking in the fun of the scene before them, maybe even enjoying it more than those who were actually participating. Bob was fully attentive to every move and every character, as it was all new and genuinely fascinating; and it kept getting more interesting because in a few minutes, Limping Billy and Mother Mapps joined the Slaughterman in the dance, making for a scene that was both ridiculous and entertaining. With pipes in their mouths, the clapping of hands and snapping of fingers created a strange harmony with the squeaky fiddle, the broad smile of the Dustman, and the absurd laugh of the
[120]Irishman at the reelers in the centre, heightened the picture—more gin—more music, and more tobacco, soon ad a visible effect upon the party, and reeling became unavoidable. The young man reading the paper, found it impossible to understand what he was perusing, and having finished his pipe and his pint, made his exit, appearing to have no relish for the entertainment, and perhaps heartily cursing both the cause and the effect. Still, however, the party was not reduced in number, for as one went out another came in.
[120]An Irishman at the center of the reelers added to the atmosphere—more gin, more music, and more tobacco quickly had an obvious effect on the group, and it became impossible to avoid getting tipsy. The young man reading the newspaper found it hard to comprehend what he was looking at, and after finishing his pipe and pint, he left, seeming disinterested in the entertainment and possibly cursing both the cause and the outcome. Still, the group didn't dwindle in size, as one person left while another arrived.
This new customer was a young-looking man, bearing a large board on a high pole, announcing the residence of a Bug-destroyer in the Strand. His appearance was grotesque in the extreme, and could only be equalled by the eccentricities of his manners and conversation. He was dressed in a brown coat, close buttoned, over which he had a red camlet or stuff surtout, apparently the off-cast of some theatrical performer, but with a determination to appear fashionable; for
This new customer was a young-looking man, carrying a large sign on a tall pole that advertised the home of a pest exterminator in the Strand. His look was extremely bizarre, matched only by the quirks of his behavior and speech. He wore a brown coat that was tightly buttoned, over which he had a red camlet or fabric overcoat, seemingly a leftover from some actor, but with the intent to look stylish; for
He wore mustachios, a pair of green spectacles, and his whole figure was surmounted with a fur-cap. Taking a seat directly opposite our party at the same table—“Bring me a pint,” said he; and then deliberately searching his pockets, he produced a short pipe and some tobacco, with which he filled it—“You see,” said he, “I am obliged to smoke according to the Doctor's orders, for an asthma—so I always smokes three pipes a day, that's my allowance; but I can eat more than any man in the room, and can dance, sing, and act—nothing conies amiss to me, all the players takes their characters from me.”
He had a mustache, a pair of green glasses, and was wearing a fur hat. Sitting directly across from us at the same table, he said, “Bring me a pint.” Then, taking his time to search his pockets, he pulled out a short pipe and some tobacco, which he used to fill it. “You see,” he said, “I have to smoke as per the doctor's orders because of my asthma—so I always smoke three pipes a day, that’s my limit; but I can eat more than anyone else in the room, and I can dance, sing, and act—nothing is too much for me, all the performers take their cues from me.”
After this introduction—“You are a clever fellow, I'll be bound for it,” said Dashall.
After this introduction—“You’re a smart guy, I’m sure of it,” said Dashall.
“O yes, I acts Richard the Third sometimes—sometimes Macbeth and Tom Thumb. I have played before Mr. Kean: then I acted Richard the Third—'Give me a horse! '—(starting into the middle of the room)—'no, stop, not so—let me see, let me see, how is it?—ah, this is the way—Give me a horse—Oh! Oh! Oh!—then you know I dies.”—And down he fell on the floor, which created a general roar of laughter; while Billy Waters [121]struck up, “See the conquering Hero conies!” to the inexpressible delight of all around him—their feet and hands all going at the same time.
“Oh yes, I sometimes play Richard the Third—sometimes Macbeth and Tom Thumb. I’ve performed for Mr. Kean: then I acted Richard the Third—'Give me a horse!'—(jumping into the middle of the room)—'no, wait, not like that—let me think, let me think, how does it go?—ah, this is it—Give me a horse—Oh! Oh! Oh!'—then you know I die."—And down he fell on the floor, which got everyone laughing; meanwhile, Billy Waters [121] started singing, “See the conquering Hero comes!” much to the delight of everyone around—everyone’s feet and hands moving all at once.
Mother Mapps dropp'd her pipe, and d——d the weed, it made her sick, she said.
Mother Mapps dropped her pipe and cursed the weed; it made her feel sick, she said.
Limping Billy was also evidently in queer-street.
Limping Billy was clearly in trouble.
“Come,” said Sparkle, “won't you have a drop more?”
“Come on,” said Sparkle, “won't you have another drink?”
“Thank ye, Sir,” was the reply; and Sparkle, intent upon having his gig out, ordered a fresh supply, which soon revived the fallen hero of Bosworth-field, and Richard was himself again.
“Thanks, Sir,” was the reply; and Sparkle, focused on getting his gig out, ordered a new supply, which soon revived the fallen hero of Bosworth Field, and Richard was himself again.
“Now,” said he, “I'll sing you a song,” and immediately commenced as follows:—
“Now,” he said, “I’ll sing you a song,” and he immediately started with:—
This Song, which he declared was all made out of his own head, was sung with grotesque action and ridiculous grimace, intended no doubt in imitation of Mr. Wilkinson in his inimitable performance of this strange piece of whimsicality. The dancing party was knock'd up and were lobbing their lollys,{1} half asleep and half awake, on the table, bowing as it were to the magnanimous influence
This song, which he claimed was entirely made up in his own head, was performed with exaggerated actions and silly faces, likely meant to mimic Mr. Wilkinson in his unique rendition of this quirky piece. The dancing group was roused from their rest and were tossing their lollys,{1} half asleep and half awake, on the table, as if bowing to the generous influence.
[122]of Old Tom.{1} The Dustman and the Irishman laugh'd heartily; and Das hall, Tallyho, and Sparkle, could not resist the impulse to risibility when they contemplated the group before them. The Bug-destroyer munched{2} a candle and sluiced{3} his greasy chops{4} with Jacky{5} almost as fast as they could supply him with it, when Sparkle perceiving the boy was still at the door with the runaway ass,
[122]of Old Tom.{1} The Dustman and the Irishman laughed hard, and Das hall, Tallyho, and Sparkle couldn’t help but burst out laughing as they looked at the scene in front of them. The Bug-destroyer was munching on a candle and slurping his greasy cheeks with Jacky almost as quickly as they could bring it to him, when Sparkle noticed that the boy was still at the door with the runaway donkey,
“Come,” said he, “we'll start 'em off home in high style—here, you Mr. Bugman, can you ride?”
“Come on,” he said, “let's send them home in style—hey, Mr. Bugman, can you ride?”
“Ride, aye to be sure I can, any of Mr. Astley's horses as well as the Champion of England,"{6} was the reply.
“Sure, I can ride any of Mr. Astley's horses just as well as the Champion of England,” was the reply.
“Walk in—walk in, Ladies and Gentlemen, just going to begin—come, Mr. Merryman, all ready—Ladies and Gentlemen, please to observe, this here horse is not that there horse.”
“Come in—come in, ladies and gentlemen, we're just about to start—let’s go, Mr. Merryman, all set—ladies and gentlemen, please note, this horse is not that horse.”
“So we laugh at John Bull a little.”
“So we chuckle at John Bull a bit.”
[123]"Come, then,” continued Sparkle, “another glass—half-a-crown to ride to the bottom of the lane and up Holboru-hill on that donkey at the door, and you shall be our Champion.”
[123]"Come on, then,” continued Sparkle, “another drink—two and a half shillings to ride to the end of the lane and up Holboru Hill on that donkey at the door, and you'll be our Champion.”
“A bargain—a bargain,” said the assumed Hookey Walker, rubbing the tallow from his gills.{1}
“A deal—a deal,” said the pretended Hookey Walker, rubbing the waxy residue from his gills.{1}
“Here goes then,” said Sparkle; then slipping half-a-crown into the boy's hand, desiring him to run as far as the Traveller-office, in Fleet-street, and get him a newspaper, promising to take care of his ass till his return. The lad nibbled the bait, and was off in a pig's whisper{2} Sparkle called to Tom and Bob, and putting them up to his scheme, Hookey was quickly mounted, while Dashall and his Cousin, assisted by the Hibernian and Dust-ho, succeeded in getting Mother Mapps out, who was placed in the front of the Champion, astride, with her face towards him and Limping Billy, who though beat to a stand still,{3} was after some difficulty lifted up behind. Hookey was then supplied with his board, the pole of which he placed on his foot, in the manner of a spear or lance. Then giving the Irishman and the Dustman some silver, to act as Supporters or Esquires, one on each side, they proceeded along Shoe-lane, preceded by Billy Waters flourishing his wooden-leg and feathers, and fiddling as he went—the Irishman roaring out with Stentorian lungs,
“Here we go then,” said Sparkle. He slipped half a crown into the boy’s hand, asking him to dash over to the Traveller office on Fleet Street and grab a newspaper, promising to look after his donkey until he got back. The kid took the bait and was off in a pig's whisper{2}. Sparkle called to Tom and Bob, and after filling them in on his plan, Hookey quickly got on his mount. Meanwhile, Dashall and his cousin, with help from the Irishman and Dust-ho, managed to get Mother Mapps out, placing her in front of the Champion, straddling it with her face towards him and Limping Billy, who, even though he was beat to a standstill{3}, was lifted up behind with some effort. Hookey then got his board, placing the pole on his foot like a spear or lance. After giving the Irishman and the Dustman some coins to act as supporters, one on each side, they set off along Shoe Lane, led by Billy Waters, who was showing off his wooden leg and feathers and fiddling as he went, while the Irishman bellowed with his loud voice.
“Kim ap—be after sitting fast in the front there, old Mapps, or you'll make a mud-lark of yourself.” The Dustman rang his bell; and thus accompanied with an immense assemblage of boys, girls, men, women, and
“Kim ap—you better sit tight up front there, old Mapps, or you'll get yourself all muddy.” The Dustman rang his bell; and he was surrounded by a huge group of boys, girls, men, women, and
[124]children, collected from all the courts and alleys in the neighbourhood, joining in a chorus of shouts that rent the air, poor Balaam continued to bear his load; while our party, after watching them till nearly out of sight, passed down Harp-alley into Fleet-market,” and turning to the right, very soon regained Fleet-Street, laughing heartily at the bull's cookery of mackarel buttered with brick-dust, and very well satisfied with their spree.
[124]Children gathered from all the courts and alleys nearby, shouting loudly and filling the air, while poor Balaam continued to carry his load; our group, after watching them until they were almost out of view, moved down Harp-alley into Fleet-market, and turning right, quickly returned to Fleet-Street, laughing heartily at the ridiculous dish of mackerel buttered with brick dust, and feeling very pleased with their outing.
Engaged in conversation upon this adventure, they found nothing of interest' or amusement to attract their notice till they arrived at the warehouse of the London Genuine Tea Company, except merely remarking the grand appearance of St. Paul's, from that situation.
Engaged in conversation about this adventure, they found nothing interesting or entertaining to catch their attention until they arrived at the warehouse of the London Genuine Tea Company, other than commenting on the impressive view of St. Paul's from that spot.
“Genuine tea” said Bob; “what can that mean—Is tea any thing but tea?”
“Genuine tea,” Bob said, “what does that even mean? Isn’t tea just tea?”
“To be sure it is,” said Sparkle, “or has been—anything but tea,"{l} strongly marking the latter part of the
“To be sure it is,” said Sparkle, “or has been—anything but tea,"{l} strongly marking the latter part of the
[125]sentence as he spoke it: “horse-beans have been converted to coffee, and sloe-leaves have been transformed into tea; hog's lard has been manufactured for butter; an ingenious gentleman wishes to persuade us Periwinkles{1} are young Lobsters; and another has proposed to extract sugar, and some say brandy, out of pea-shells! London is the mart for inventions and discoveries of all kinds, and every one of its inhabitants appears to have studied something of the art of Legerdemain, to catch the eye and deceive the senses.”
[125]sentence as he spoke it: “Horse beans have been turned into coffee, and sloe leaves have been changed into tea; hog lard has been made into butter; an inventive man wants to convince us that Periwinkles{1} are just young lobsters; and someone else has suggested extracting sugar, and some say brandy, from pea shells! London is the hub for inventions and discoveries of all sorts, and it seems like every person living here has learned a bit about the art of sleight of hand to catch attention and trick the senses.”
“Wonderful!” exclaimed Bob.
“Awesome!” exclaimed Bob.
“Not more wonderful than true,” continued Sparkle; “invention is always on the stretch in London. Here we have cast-iron Bridges{2}—a cast-iron Sugar-house—
“Not more wonderful than true,” continued Sparkle; “innovation is always in full swing in London. Here we have cast-iron bridges{2}—a cast-iron sugar house—
[126]coaches running, and barges, packets, and sailing-boats navigated, by Steam{1}—St. Paul's, as you perceive, without its ball—smoke burning itself, and money burning men's consciences.”
[126]coaches moving, and barges, ferries, and sailboats operating, powered by steam{1}—St. Paul's, as you can see, without its dome—smoke rising, and money corrupting people's morals.
“Well done, Sparkle!” cried Tom; “your ideas seem to flow like gas, touch but the valve and off you go; and you are equally diffusive, for you throw a light upon all subjects.”
"Great job, Sparkle!" shouted Tom; "your ideas come out easily, just touch the valve and off you go; and you're really expansive too, because you shed light on everything."
Bob was now suddenly attracted by a full view of himself and his friends at the further end of Everington's{2}
Bob was suddenly drawn to a clear view of himself and his friends at the far end of Everington's{2}
128—shop, and without observing the other persons about him, saw himself surrounded with spectators, unconscious of being in their company. He look'd up—he look'd down—he gazed around him, and all was inconceivable light. Tom's allusion to the gas flashed upon him in a moment—“What—what is this?” said he—“where, in the name of wonder, am I?” A flash of lightning could not have operated more suddenly upon him. “Why,” said Sparkle, “don't you see?
128—shop, and without noticing the other people around him, found himself surrounded by onlookers, oblivious to their presence. He looked up—he looked down—he scanned his surroundings, and everything was blindingly bright. Tom's mention of the gas hit him all at once—“What—what is this?” he said—“where, on earth, am I?” A flash of lightning couldn’t have impacted him more quickly. “Why,” said Sparkle, “don’t you see?
“You are not here, for you are there,”
“You're not here because you're over there,”
pointing to his reflection, in the looking-glass.
pointing to his reflection in the mirror.
“Egad,” said Bob, under evident surprise, and perhaps not without some apprehension they were playing tricks with him—“I wish you would explain—is this a Drawing-room, or is it the Phantasmagoria we have heard so much of in the country?”
“Wow,” said Bob, clearly surprised, and maybe a bit worried that they were messing with him—“I wish you would explain—is this a drawing room, or is it the Phantasmagoria we’ve heard so much about in the country?”
“No, no, it is not the Phantasmagoria, but it forms a part of metropolitan magic, which you shall be better acquainted with before we part. That is no other than a Linen-draper's shop, 'papered,' as an Irishman one day remarked, 'vvid nothing at all at all but looking-glass, my dear '—one of the most superb things of the kind that perhaps ever was seen—But come, I perceive it is getting late, let us proceed directly to Dolly's, take our chop, then a rattler,{1} and hey for the Spell."{2}
“No, no, it’s not the Phantasmagoria, but it’s part of the city’s magic, which you’ll get to know better before we say goodbye. That’s just a linen draper’s shop, ‘papered,’ as an Irishman once put it, ‘with nothing at all but mirrors, my dear’—one of the most amazing places of its kind you could ever see. But come on, I see it’s getting late. Let’s head straight to Dolly’s, grab a bite, then a drink, and onward to the Spell.”
Bob appeared almost to be spell-bound at the moment, and, as they moved onward, could not help casting
Bob seemed almost mesmerized at that moment, and as they continued forward, he couldn't help glancing
“One longing, lingering look behind.”
“One last, lingering look back.”
CHAPTER X
IN a few minutes they entered Dolly's, from whence, after partaking of a cheerful repast and an exhilarating glass of wine, a coach conveyed them to Drury-lane. ',
IN a few minutes they entered Dolly's, from where, after enjoying a cheerful meal and a refreshing glass of wine, a coach took them to Drury-lane.
“Now,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “I shall introduce you to a new scene in Real Life, well worth your close observation. We have already taken a promiscuous ramble from the West towards the East, and it has afforded some amusement; but our stock is abundant, and many objects of curiosity are still in view.”
“Now,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “I'm going to introduce you to a new scene in real life that's definitely worth your attention. We've already taken a random stroll from the West to the East, which has been entertaining; but we have plenty more to explore, and there are still many interesting sights ahead.”
“Yes, yes,” continued Sparkle, “every day produces novelty; for although London itself is always the same, the inhabitants assume various forms, as inclination or necessity may induce or compel. The Charioteer of [130]to-day, dashing along with four in hand, may be an inhabitant of the King's-bench to-morrow, and—but here we are, and Marino Faliero is the order of the night. The character of its author is so well known, as to require no observation; but you will be introduced to a great variety of other characters, both in High and Low Life, of an interesting nature.”
“Yes, yes,” Sparkle continued, “every day brings something new; even though London itself stays the same, the people take on different roles, influenced by their desires or needs. The charioteer today, speeding along with four horses, might find himself in a debtor's prison tomorrow, and—well, here we are, and Marino Faliero is what's on for tonight. The author is so well-known that there's no need to say much about him; but you'll get to meet a wide range of other interesting characters from both high and low society.”
By this time they had alighted, and were entering the House. The rapid succession of carriages arriving with the company, the splendour of the equipages, the general elegance of the dresses, and the blazing of the lamps, alternately became objects of attraction to Bob, whose eyes were kept in constant motion—while “A Bill of the Play for Covent Garden or Drury Lane,” still resounded in their ears.
By this point, they had gotten out and were entering the House. The quick arrival of carriages filled with guests, the stunning carriages, the overall elegance of the outfits, and the bright lights of the lamps all captivated Bob’s attention, with his eyes darting around constantly—while “A Bill of the Play for Covent Garden or Drury Lane,” echoed in their ears.
On arriving at the Box-lobby, Tom, who was well known, was immediately shewn into the centre box with great politeness by the Box-keeper,{1} the second scene of the Tragedy being just over. The appearance of the House was a delicious treat to Bob, whose visual orbs wandered more among the delighted and delightful faces which surrounded him, than to the plot or the progress of the performances before him. It was a scene of splendour of which lie had not the least conception; and Sparkle perceiving the principal objects of attraction, could not resist the impulse to deliver, in a sort of half-whisper, the following lines:—
On arriving at the Box-lobby, Tom, who was quite well-known, was immediately shown into the center box with great courtesy by the Box-keeper,{1} just as the second scene of the Tragedy finished. The sight of the audience was a delightful experience for Bob, whose eyes wandered more among the happy and captivating faces around him than to the plot or the progression of the performance before him. It was a scene of splendor that he couldn’t have imagined; and Sparkle, noticing the main points of interest, couldn't resist the urge to quietly say the following lines:—
[131]Tallyho eagerly listened to his friend's recitation of lines so consonant with his own enraptured feelings; while his Cousin Dashall was holding a conversation in dumb-show with some person at a distance, who was presently recognized by Sparkle to be Mrs. G——den,{1} a well-known frequenter of the House.
[131]Tallyho eagerly listened to his friend's recitation of lines that matched his own intense emotions, while his Cousin Dashall was having a silent conversation with someone far away, who Sparkle soon identified as Mrs. G——den,{1} a well-known visitor at the House.
“Come,” said he, “I see how it is with Tom—you may rely upon it he will not stop long where he is, there is other game in view—he has but little taste for Tragedy fiction, the Realities of Life are the objects of his regard.
“Come,” he said, “I can tell what’s going on with Tom—you can count on it, he won’t stay where he is for long; there are better opportunities ahead—he has little interest in tragic stories; the realities of life capture his attention.”
“Tis a fine Tragedy,” continued he, addressing himself to Tom.
“It’s a great tragedy,” he said, looking at Tom.
“Yes—yes,” replied the other, “I dare say it is, but, upon my soul, I know nothing about it—that is—I have seen it before, and I mean to read it.”
“Yes—yes,” replied the other, “I guess it is, but honestly, I don’t know anything about it—that is—I’ve seen it before, and I plan to read it.”
“Bless my heart!” said a fat lady in a back seat, “what a noise them 'are gentlemen does make—they talk so loud there 'ant no such thing as seeing what is said—I wonder they don't make these here boxes more bigger, for I declare I'm so scrouged I'm all in a—Fanny, did you bring the rumperella for fear it should rain as we goes home?”
“Bless my heart!” said a heavyset woman in the back seat, “what a noise those gentlemen make—they talk so loud that there’s no way to hear what they’re saying—I wonder why they don’t make these boxes bigger, because I swear I'm so cramped I’m all in a—Fanny, did you bring the umbrella in case it rains on our way home?”
“Hush, Mother,” said a plump-faced little girl, who sat along side of her—“don't talk so loud, or otherwise every body will hear you instead of the Performers, and that would be quite preposterous.”
“Hush, Mom,” said a chubby-faced little girl sitting next to her, “don’t talk so loud, or everyone will hear you instead of the performers, and that would be really silly.”
“Don't call me posterous Miss; because you have been to school, and learnt some edification, you thinks you are to do as you please with me.”
“Don't call me posterous Miss; just because you've been to school and learned some edification, you think you can do whatever you want with me.”
[132]This interesting conversation was interrupted by loud vociferations of Bravo, Bravo, from all parts of the House, as the drop-scene fell upon the conclusion of the second act. The clapping of hands, the whistling and noise that ensued for a few minutes, appeared to astonish Tallyho. “I don't much like my seat,” said Dashall. “No,” said Sparkle, “I did not much expect you would remain long—you are a mighty ambitious sort of fellow, and I perceive you have a desire to be exalted.”
[132]This interesting conversation was interrupted by loud shouts of "Bravo, Bravo!" coming from all over the theater as the curtain fell at the end of the second act. The applause, whistling, and noise that followed for a few minutes seemed to surprise Tallyho. “I don't really like my seat,” said Dashall. “No,” replied Sparkle, “I didn't think you would stay long—you're a pretty ambitious guy, and I can see you want to be in the spotlight.”
“I confess the situation, is too confined,” replied Tom—“come, it is excessively warm here, let us take a turn and catch a little air.”
“I admit this place feels too cramped,” replied Tom. “Come on, it's really stuffy in here; let's take a walk and get some fresh air.”
The House was crowded in every part; for the announcement of a new Tragedy from the pen of Lord Byron, particularly under the circumstances of its introduction to the Stage, against the expressed inclination of its Author, the
The House was packed in every section; for the news of a new Tragedy by Lord Byron, especially given the circumstances of its debut on the Stage, against the clear wishes of its Author, the
[133]will of its publisher, and the injunction{1} of the Lord Chancellor, were attractions of no ordinary nature; and
[133]the wishes of its publisher, along with the order{1} from the Lord Chancellor, were not typical attractions; and
[134]the Hon. Tom availed himself of the circumstance to leave the Box, though the truth was, there were other attractions of a more enlivening cast in his view.
[134]the Hon. Tom took the opportunity to leave the Box, but the truth was, there were other, more exciting things catching his interest.
“Come,” said he, “we shall have a better opportunity of seeing the House, and its decorations, by getting nearer to the curtain; besides, Ave shall have a bird's-eye view of the company in all quarters, from the seat of the Gods to the Pit.”
“Come on,” he said, “we’ll get a better look at the House and its decorations by getting closer to the curtain; plus, Ave will have a bird's-eye view of the crowd from the seat of the Gods to the Pit.”
The influx of company, (it being the time of half-price), and the rush and confusion which took place in all parts at this moment, were indescribable. Jumping over boxes and obtaining seats by any means, regardless of politeness or even of decorum—Bucks and Bloods warm from the pleasures of the bottle—dashing Belles and flaming Beaux, squabbling and almost fighting—rendered the amusements before the curtain of a momentary interest, which appeared to obliterate the recollection of what they had previously witnessed. In the mean time, the Gods in the Gallery issued forth an abundant variety of discordant sounds, from their elevated situation. Growling of bears, grunting of hogs, braying of donkeys, gobbling of turkeys, hissing of geese, the catcall, and the loud shrill whistle, were heard in one mingling concatenation of excellent imitation and undistinguished variety: During which, Tom led the way to the upper Boxes, where upon arriving, he was evidently disappointed at not meeting the party who had been seen occupying a seat on the left side of the House, besides having sacrificed a front seat, to be now compelled to take one at the very back part of a side Box, an exchange by no means advantageous for a view of the performance. However, this was compensated in some degree by a more extensive prospect round the House; and his eyes were seen moving in all directions, without seeming to know where to fix, while Sparkle and Bob were attracted by a fight in the Gallery, between a Soldier and a Gentleman's Servant in livery, for some supposed [135]insult offered to the companion of the latter, and which promised serious results from the repeated vociferations of those around them, of “Throw 'em over—throw 'em over;” while the gifts of the Gods were plentifully showered down upon the inhabitants of the lower regions in the shape of orange-peelings, apples, &c. The drawing up of the curtain however seemed to have some little effect upon the audience, and in a moment the Babel of tongues was changed into a pretty general cry of “Down—down in the front—hats off—silence, &c. which at length subsided in every quarter but the Gallery, where still some mutterings and murmurings were at intervals to be heard.
The flood of people, since it was half-price time, and the chaos and confusion happening everywhere in that moment, were unbelievable. People were jumping over boxes and grabbing seats by any means necessary, completely ignoring politeness or even basic decorum—guys and girls, buzzed from drinking, dashing socialites and flashy gentlemen, arguing and nearly fighting—made the entertainment in front of the curtain temporarily interesting enough to erase what they had just seen. Meanwhile, the audience in the Gallery created a cacophony of noises from their high seats. There were growls like bears, grunts like pigs, brays like donkeys, gobbles like turkeys, hisses like geese, catcalls, and loud whistles, all blending together in a chaotic mix of fantastic imitations and random sounds. During this time, Tom led the way to the upper Boxes, where, upon arriving, he was clearly disappointed at not finding the group that had earlier taken a seat on the left side of the theater, besides having given up a front seat only to now be stuck in the back of a side Box, which was not a good spot for viewing the show. However, he made up for it somewhat by having a broader view of the auditorium; his eyes darted around without knowing where to focus, while Sparkle and Bob were drawn to a fight in the Gallery between a soldier and a gentleman’s servant in livery, sparked by some supposed insult aimed at the servant’s companion, which looked like it could lead to serious trouble given the loud shouts of “Throw 'em over—throw 'em over!” from those around them. Meanwhile, various objects like orange peels and apples were raining down from the audience onto the people below. The raising of the curtain, however, seemed to have some effect on the crowd, and in an instant, the cacophony of voices turned into a general chorus of “Down—down in the front—hats off—silence,” etc., which eventually quieted down in every section except the Gallery, where some mumblings and grumblings could still be heard from time to time.
Sparkle could neither see nor hear the performance—Tom was wholly engaged in observing the company, and Bob alternately straining his neck to get a view of the Stage, and then towards the noisy inhabitants of the upper regions. “We dined at the Hummums,” said a finicking little Gentleman just below him—“Bill, and I, and Harry—drank claret like fishes—Harry was half-sprung—fell out with a Parson about chopping logic; you know Harry's father was a butcher, and used to chopping, so it was all prime—the Parson would'n't be convinced, though Harry knock'd down his argument with his knuckles on the table, almost hard enough to split it—it was a bang-up lark—Harry got in a passion, doff'd his toggery, and was going to show fight—so then the Parson sneak'd off—Such a bit of gig.'”
Sparkle could neither see nor hear the performance—Tom was completely focused on watching the crowd, while Bob was repeatedly craning his neck to get a glimpse of the stage and then towards the noisy people in the upper seats. “We had dinner at the Hummums,” said a fussy little gentleman just below him—“Bill, Harry, and I—drank claret like it was water—Harry was half out of control—got into an argument with a priest about logic; you know Harry's dad was a butcher and was all about chopping, so it fit right in—the priest wouldn't be convinced, even though Harry slammed his argument down on the table hard enough to nearly break it—it was a total blast—Harry got so mad, took off his fancy clothes, and was ready to throw down—so then the priest sneaked off—What a laugh.”
“Silence there, behind.”
"Be quiet there, behind."
“So then,” continued the Dandy, “we went to the Billiard-rooms, in Fleet Street, played three games, diddled the Flats, bilk'd the Marker, and bolted—I say, when did you see Dolly?"{1}
“So then,” continued the Dandy, “we went to the billiard rooms on Fleet Street, played three games, outsmarted the regulars, cheated the marker, and made a run for it—I mean, when did you see Dolly?"{1}
[136]"Last night,” replied the other—“she'll be here presently—d——nd fine girl, arn't she?”
[136] "Last night,” replied the other—“she'll be here soon—damn fine girl, right?”
“Very well,” said the first; “a nice plump face, but then she paints so d—n—bly, I hate your painted Dollys, give me natural flesh and blood—Polly H—ward for me.”
“Sure,” said the first; “a nice plump face, but then she paints so damn much, I can’t stand your painted dolls, give me real flesh and blood—Polly H—ward is my type.”
“Gallows Tom{1} will speak to you in plain terms if you trespass there, my boy; you know he has out-general'd the Captain in that quarter, and came off victorious, so——”
“Gallows Tom will talk to you straight if you wander in there, kid; you know he’s outsmarted the Captain in that area and came out on top, so——”
“Come,” said Sparkle, “let us adjourn into the Saloon, for, Heaven knows, it is useless staying here.” And taking their arms, they immediately left the Box.
“Come on,” said Sparkle, “let’s head to the Saloon, because, God knows, it’s pointless to stay here.” And linking their arms, they quickly left the Box.
“The theatre,” continued he, “is a sort of enchanted island, where nothing appears as it really is, nor what it should be. In London, it is a sort of time-killer, or exchange of looks and smiles. It is frequented by persons of all degrees and qualities whatsoever. Here Lords come to laugh and be laughed at—Knights to learn the amorous smirk and a-la-mode grin, the newest fashion in the cut of his garments, the twist of his body, and the adjustment of his phiz.
“The theater,” he continued, “is like an enchanted island, where nothing is what it seems or what it should be. In London, it serves as a way to pass the time, a place for exchanging glances and smiles. It draws people from all walks of life. Here, Lords come to laugh and get laughed at—Knights come to pick up the latest flirty looks and trendy smiles, the newest styles in clothing, the latest body language, and the perfect way to present themselves.”
“This House{2} was built upon a grand and extensive scale, designed and executed under the inspection of Mr. Benj. Wyatt, the architect, whose skill was powerfully and liberally aided by an intelligent and public spirited Committee, of which the late Mr. Whitbread was the Chairman. It is altogether a master-piece of art, and an ornament to the Metropolis. You perceive the interior is truly delightful, and the exterior presents the idea of solidity and security: it affords sitting room for 2810 persons, that is, 1200 in the Boxes, 850 in the Pit, 480
“This House{2} was built on a grand and large scale, designed and executed under the supervision of Mr. Benj. Wyatt, the architect, whose expertise was significantly supported by an intelligent and community-minded Committee, led by the late Mr. Whitbread. It is truly a masterpiece of art and a landmark for the city. The interior is genuinely pleasant, and the exterior conveys a sense of strength and safety: it provides seating for 2810 people, specifically, 1200 in the Boxes, 850 in the Pit, and 480
[137]in the Lower Gallery, and 280 in the Upper Gallery. The talents of the celebrated Mr. Kean (who has recently left us for the shores of the Atlantic) first blazed forth to astonish the world beneath this roof. Old Drury immortalized the name of Garrick, and has also established the fame of Mr. Kean; and the House at the present moment has to boast of a combination of histrionic{1} talent, rich and excellent.”
[137]in the Lower Gallery, and 280 in the Upper Gallery. The talents of the renowned Mr. Kean (who has recently departed for the shores of the Atlantic) first shone brightly to amaze the world beneath this roof. Old Drury immortalized Garrick's name and has also cemented Mr. Kean's reputation; and the House right now can proudly claim a remarkable combination of acting talent, rich and outstanding.
“Come along, come along,” said Tom, interrupting him, “leave these explanations for another opportunity—here is the Saloon. Now for a peep at old particulars. There is no seeing nor hearing the Play—I have no inclination for histories, I am just alive for a bit of gig.”
“Come on, come on,” Tom said, interrupting him, “save these explanations for another time—here's the Saloon. Now let’s check out the old details. There’s no watching or listening to the Play—I’m not in the mood for stories, I just want to have some fun.”
On entering the Saloon, Bob was additionally gratified at viewing the splendour of its decorations. The arched ceiling, the two massy Corinthian columns of vera antique, and the ten corresponding pilasters on each side, struck him as particularly beautiful, and he was for some moments lost in contemplation, while his friends Sparkle and Tom were in immediate request to receive the congratulations of their acquaintance.
On entering the Saloon, Bob was even more pleased to see the grandeur of its decorations. The arched ceiling, the two massive Corinthian columns of vera antique, and the ten matching pilasters on either side impressed him as especially beautiful, and he spent a few moments lost in thought while his friends Sparkle and Tom were busy accepting the congratulations of their acquaintances.
“Where the d——l have you been to?” was the first question addressed to Dashall—“rusticating, I suppose, to the serious loss of all polished society.”
“Where the hell have you been?” was the first question directed at Dashall—“taking a break from the city, I guess, to the serious detriment of all refined company.”
“You are right in the first part of your reply,” said Tom; “but, as I conceive, not exactly so in the inference you draw from it.”
“You're correct in the first part of your response,” said Tom, “but I don’t think your conclusion from it is quite right.”
“Modesty, by Jove! well done Dashall, this travelling appears to improve your manners wonderfully; and I dare say if you had staid away another month, your old friends would not have known you.”
“Wow, Dashall! This traveling seems to really have improved your manners. I bet if you had stayed away for another month, your old friends wouldn’t even recognize you.”
This created a laugh among the party, which roused Bob from his reverie, who, turning round rather hastily, trod with considerable force upon the gouty toe of an old debauchee in spectacles, who, in the height of ecstasy, was at that moment entering into a treaty of amity with a pretty rosy-faced little girl, and chucking her under the
This caused everyone at the party to laugh, waking Bob from his daydream. He turned around quickly and stepped hard on the sore toe of an old drunk man wearing glasses, who was in the middle of joyfully making friends with a cute little girl with rosy cheeks, playfully lifting her chin up.
[138]chin, as a sort of preliminary, to be succeeded by a ratification; for in all probability gratification was out of the question. However this might be, the pain occasioned by the sudden movement of Tallyho, who had not yet learned to trip it lightly along the mutton walk,{1} induced the sufferer to roar out most lustily, a circumstance which immediately attracted the attention of every one in the room, and in a moment they were surrounded by a group of lads and lasses.
[138]chin, as a kind of warm-up, to be followed by an agreement; because, realistically, pleasure was probably not an option. Regardless, the pain caused by Tallyho's sudden movement, who had not yet figured out how to walk gracefully along the mutton walk,{1} made the person cry out loudly, which instantly drew the attention of everyone in the room, and in no time they were surrounded by a crowd of boys and girls.
“Upon my soul, Sir,” stammer'd out Bob, “I beg your pardon, I—I—did not mean—”
“Honestly, Sir,” Bob stammered, “I’m so sorry, I—I—didn’t mean—”
“Oh! oh! oh!” continued the gouty Amoroso. Mother K——p{2} came running like lightning with a glass of water; the frail sisterhood were laughing, nodding, whispering, and winking at each other; while St——ns,{3} who pick'd up the spectacles the unfortunate victim of the gout had dropp'd, swore that fellow in the green coat and white hat ought to be sent to some dancing-school, to learn to step without kicking people's shins.
“Oh! oh! oh!” kept going the gouty Amoroso. Mother K——p{2} rushed in like a flash with a glass of water; the delicate group of women were laughing, nodding, whispering, and winking at each other; while St——ns,{3} who picked up the glasses that the poor gout victim had dropped, insisted that the guy in the green coat and white hat should be sent to a dance class to learn how to move without kicking people’s shins.
Another declared he was a Johnny-raw,{4} just catched, and what could be expected.
Another said he was a complete novice, just caught, and what could you expect?
Tom, who, however, kept himself alive to the passing occurrences, stepping up to Bob, was immediately recognized by all around him, and passing a significant wink, declared it was an accident, and begged to assist the Old Buck to a seat, which being accomplished, he declared he had not had his shoe on for a week, but as he found himself able to walk, he could not resist the temptation of taking a look around him.
Tom, who was still aware of what was happening around him, walked over to Bob and was instantly recognized by everyone nearby. He gave a knowing wink and said it was an accident, then offered to help the Old Buck to a seat. Once that was done, he mentioned that he hadn’t worn his shoe in a week, but since he could walk, he couldn’t resist the urge to check out his surroundings.
Over a bottle of wine the unpleasant impressions made by this unfortunate occurrence appeared to be removed. In the mean time, Tom received a hundred congratulations and salutations; while Sparkle, after a glass or two, was missing.
Over a bottle of wine, the bad feelings from this unfortunate event seemed to fade away. Meanwhile, Tom received a hundred congratulations and greetings, while Sparkle, after a drink or two, went missing.
Dashall informed the friends around him, that his Cousin was a pupil of his, and begged to introduce him
Dashall told his friends that his cousin was one of his students and asked to introduce him.
[139]as a future visitor to this gay scene. This had an instantaneous effect upon the trading fair ones, who began immediately to throw out their lures. One declared he had a sweet pretty brooch; another, that she knew he was a trump by the cut of his jib; a third, that he look'd like a gentleman, for she liked the make of his mug; a fourth, that his hat was a very pretty shaped one, although it was of a radical colour; and while Tom and the ladybird{l} were soothing the pains of the grey-headed wanton, Bob was as busily employed in handing about the contents of the bottle. A second and a third succeeded, and it was not a little astonishing to him that every bottle improved his appearance; for, though not one of his admirers remained long with him, yet the absence of one only brought another, equally attracted by his look and manner: every one declared he was really a gentleman in every respect, and in the course of their short parley, did not fail to slip a card into his hand. By this time he began to grow chatty, and was enabled to rally in turn the observations they made. He swore he lov'd them all round, and once or twice hummed over,
[139]as a future visitor to this lively scene. This had an immediate effect on the fair traders, who quickly started to cast their lines. One claimed to have a lovely little brooch; another said she could tell he was a good catch by the way he carried himself; a third commented that he looked like a gentleman because she liked the way his face was shaped; a fourth noted that his hat had a really nice shape, even though it was a bold color; and while Tom and the lady were comforting the aging flirt, Bob busily passed around the bottle's contents. A second and a third joined in, and he was quite surprised that every drink seemed to make him look better; for, even though none of his admirers stayed long with him, the departure of one only attracted another, equally drawn to his appearance and demeanor: everyone insisted he was truly a gentleman in every way, and during their brief exchanges, they didn’t hesitate to slip a card into his hand. By this point, he started to get chatty and was able to playfully respond to their comments. He claimed to love them all, and a couple of times he hummed a tune,
The play being over, brought a considerable influx of company into the Saloon. The regular covies paired off with their covesses, and the moving panorama of elegance and fashion presented a scene that was truly delightful to Bob.
The play was over, bringing a large crowd into the Saloon. The regular guys paired up with their dates, and the dynamic display of elegance and fashion created a scene that was truly delightful for Bob.
The Ladybird, who had been so attentive to the gouty customer, now wished him a good night, for, said she, “There is my friend,{2} and so I am off.” This seemed only to increase the agony of his already agonized toe, notwithstanding which he presently toddled off, and was seen no more for the evening.
The Ladybird, who had been so attentive to the customer with gout, now wished him a good night, saying, “There is my friend,{2} and I’m off.” This seemed to only make his already painful toe hurt even more, but he eventually shuffled away and was not seen again that evening.
“What's become of Sparkle,” enquired Tom. “Stole away,” was the reply.
“What's happened to Sparkle?” Tom asked. “He took off,” was the response.
“Tipp'd us the double, has he,” said Dashall. “Well, what think you of Drury-lane?”
“Tipped us the double, has he?” said Dashall. “So, what do you think of Drury Lane?”
[140]“'Tis a very delightful tragedy indeed, but performed in the most comical manner I ever witnessed in my life.”
[140]“It's a truly enjoyable tragedy, but it's put on in the funniest way I've ever seen in my life.”
“Pshaw!” said Bob, “very few indeed, except the critics and the plebs, come here to look at the play; they come to see and be seen.”
“Pshh!” said Bob, “really only a handful of people, other than the critics and the general crowd, actually come here to watch the play; they show up to see and be seen.”
“Egad then,” said Bob, “a great many have been gratified to-night, and perhaps I have been highly honoured, for every person that has passed me has complimented me with a stare.”
“Wow then,” said Bob, “so many people have been pleased tonight, and maybe I’ve been really honored, because everyone who walked by has given me a look.”
“Which of course you did not fail to return?”
“Which of course you didn’t forget to return?”
“Certainly not; and upon my soul you have a choice show of fruit here.”
“Definitely not; and honestly, you have quite a display of fruit here.”
“Yes,” continued Tom, “London is a sort of hot-house, where fruit is forced into ripeness by the fostering and liberal sun of Folly, sooner than it would be, if left to its natural growth. Here however, you observe nothing but joyful and animated features, while perhaps the vulture of misery is gnawing at the heart. I could give you histories of several of these unfortunates,{1}
“Yes,” continued Tom, “London is like a greenhouse, where people are pushed to maturity by the encouraging and abundant sunshine of foolishness, much quicker than they would be if left to develop naturally. Here, though, you see nothing but happy and lively faces, while maybe the vulture of misery is eating away at the heart. I could tell you stories about several of these unfortunate people,{1}
(who are exercising all their arts to entrap customers) apparently full of life and vivacity, who perhaps dare not approach [142]their homes without the produce of their successful blandishments. But this is not a place for moralizing—a truce to Old Care and the Blue Devils—Come on, my boy, let us take a turn in the Lobby—
(who are using all their tricks to lure in customers) apparently full of life and energy, who might not dare to go home [142]without the rewards of their smooth talking. But this isn’t the time for preaching—a break from worries and those blues—Come on, my friend, let’s take a stroll in the Lobby—
Upon this they adjourned to the Lobby, where a repetition of similar circumstances took place, with only this difference, that Tally ho having already been seen in the Saloon, and now introduced, leaning upon the arm of his Cousin, the enticing goddesses of pleasure hung around them at every step, every one anxious to be foremost in their assiduities to catch the new-comer's smile; and the odds were almost a cornucopia to a cabbage-net that Bob would be hook'd.
Upon this, they moved to the Lobby, where similar situations unfolded, with one difference: Tally Ho had already been seen in the Saloon and was now introduced, leaning on his cousin’s arm. The alluring goddesses of pleasure surrounded them at every step, each eager to be the first to catch the newcomer’s smile; and the chances were almost like a cornucopia to a cabbage-net that Bob would be hooked.
Tom was still evidently disappointed, and after pacing the Lobby once or twice, and whispering Bob to make his observations the subject of future inquiry, they returned to the Saloon, where Sparkle met them almost out of breath, declaring he had been hunting them in all parts of the House for the last half hour.
Tom was clearly still disappointed, and after walking around the Lobby a couple of times and telling Bob to make a note to ask about it later, they went back to the Saloon, where Sparkle nearly rushed in, saying he had been looking for them all over the House for the last half hour.
Tom laugh'd heartily at this, and complimented Sparkle on the ingenuity with which he managed his affairs. “But I see how it is,” said he, “and I naturally suppose you are engaged.”
Tom laughed heartily at this and praised Sparkle for the cleverness with which he handled his business. “But I get it,” he said, “and I naturally assume you’re busy.”
“'Suspicion ever haunts the guilty mind,' and I perceive clearly that you are only disappointed that you are not engaged—where are all your golden{1} dreams now?”
“'Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind,' and I can clearly see that you’re just disappointed that you’re not involved—where are all your golden{1} dreams now?”
“Pshaw! there is no such thing as speaking to you,” said Tom, rather peevishly, “without feeling a lash like a cart-whip.”
“Ugh! there's no way to talk to you,” said Tom, a bit irritably, “without feeling like I've been hit with a cart whip.”
[143]"Merely in return,” continued Sparkle, “for the genteel, not to say gentle manner, in which you handle the horse-whip.”
[143]"Just as a response,” Sparkle continued, “to the classy, not to mention gentle way, you use the horse-whip.”
“There is something very mulish in all this,” said Bob, interrupting the conversation, “I don't understand it.”
“There’s something really stubborn about all this,” Bob said, cutting into the conversation, “I don’t get it.”
“Nor I neither,” said Tom, leaving the arm of his Cousin, and stepping forward.
“Me neither,” said Tom, letting go of his cousin's arm and stepping forward.
This hasty dismissal of the subject under debate had been occasioned by the appearance of a Lady, whose arm Tom immediately took upon leaving that of his cousin, a circumstance which seemed to restore harmony to all parties. Tallyho and Sparkle soon joined them, and after a few turns for the purpose of seeing, and being seen, it was proposed to adjourn to the Oyster-shop directly opposite the front of the Theatre; and with that view they in a short time departed, but not without an addition of two other ladies, selected from the numerous frequenters of the Saloon, most of whom appeared to be well known both to Tom and Sparkle.
This quick dismissal of the topic being discussed happened when a lady showed up, and Tom immediately took her arm after letting go of his cousin's. This seemed to bring everyone back in sync. Tallyho and Sparkle soon joined them, and after a few laps around to check things out and socialize, they decided to head over to the Oyster shop right across from the Theatre. They left shortly after, but not before adding two more ladies from the many regulars at the Saloon, most of whom seemed to be familiar to both Tom and Sparkle.
The appearance of the outside was very pleasing—the brilliance of the lights—the neat and cleanly style in which its contents were displayed seemed inviting to appetite, and in a very short time a cheerful repast was served up; while the room was progressively filling with company, and Mother P——was kept in constant activity.
The look of the outside was really appealing—the bright lights and the tidy way everything was arranged looked appetizing, and in no time a delightful meal was served; meanwhile, the room was gradually filling up with people, and Mother P—— was kept busy the whole time.
Bob was highly gratified with the company, and the manner in which they were entertained.
Bob was very pleased with the company and how they were entertained.
A vast crowd of dashing young Beaux and elegantly dressed Belles, calling about them for oysters, lobsters, salmon, shrimps, bread and butter, soda-water, ginger-beer, &c. kept up a sort of running accompaniment to the general conversation in which they were engaged; when the mirth and hilarity of the room was for a moment delayed upon the appearance of a dashing Blade, who seemed as he entered to say to himself,
A large group of handsome young guys and stylishly dressed young women excitedly called out for oysters, lobsters, salmon, shrimp, bread and butter, soda, ginger beer, and more, creating a backdrop of lively chatter for the overall conversation they were having. Meanwhile, the fun and excitement in the room briefly paused when a slick guy entered, as if he were saying to himself,
“Plebeians, avaunt! I have altered my plan, Metamorphosed completely, behold a Fine Man! That is, throughout town I am grown quite the rage, The meteor of fashion, the Buck of the age.”
“Commoners, step aside! I’ve changed my approach, completely transformed, look at me—a classy guy! I’ve become quite the talk of the town, the trendsetter, the stylish guy of the time.”
He was dressed in the extreme of fashion, and seemed desirous of imparting the idea of his great importance to all around him: he had a light-coloured great-coat with immense mother o' pearl buttons and double [144]capes, Buff or Petersham breeches, and coat of sky-blue,{1} his hat cocked on one side, and stout ground-ashen stick in his hand. It was plain to be seen that the juice of the grape had been operative upon the upper story, as he reeled to the further end of the room, and, calling the attendant, desired her to bring him a bottle of soda-water, for he was lushy,{2} by G——d; then throwing himself into a box, which he alone occupied, he stretched himself at length on the seat, and seemed as if he would go to sleep.
He was dressed in the height of fashion and clearly wanted everyone around him to recognize his importance: he wore a light-colored coat with huge mother-of-pearl buttons and double capes, buff or Petersham breeches, and a sky-blue coat, with his hat tilted to one side and a sturdy ash stick in his hand. It was obvious that he had been drinking, as he stumbled to the far end of the room and called for the attendant, asking her to bring him a bottle of soda water, because he was feeling tipsy, by God; then he threw himself into a booth, which he occupied alone, stretched out on the seat, and looked like he was about to fall asleep.
“That (said Sparkle) is a distinguished Member of the Tilbury Club, and is denominated a Ruffian, a kind of character that gains ground, as to numbers, over the Exquisite, but he is very different in polish.
“That (said Sparkle) is a notable member of the Tilbury Club, and is called a Ruffian, a type of character that is becoming more popular than the Exquisite in number, but he is quite different in sophistication.
It is also said, that he has business on both sides of the way, got his little hat on, bung'd his eye, been in the sun, got a spur in his head, (this is frequently used by brother Jockeys to each other) got a crumb in his beard, had a little, had enough, got more than he can carry, been among the Philistines, lost his legs, been in a storm, got his night-cap on, got his skin full, had a cup too much, had his cold tea, a red eye, got his dose, a pinch of snuff in his wig, overdone it, taken draps, taking a lunar, sugar in his eye, had his wig oil'd, that he is diddled, dish'd and done up.
It’s also said that he has business on both sides of the road, wearing his little hat, with a black eye, having been in the sun, and a spur in his head (this is often said by fellow jockeys to each other), a crumb in his beard, had a little too much, got more than he can handle, been among the troublemakers, lost his legs, caught in a storm, wearing his nightcap, had his fill, had one drink too many, had his cold tea, a bloodshot eye, got his dose, a pinch of snuff in his wig, overdone it, took some drops, taking a lunar, sugar in his eye, had his wig oiled, and that he is fooled, disheveled and done for.
He clips the King's English, sees double, reels, heels a little, heels and sets, shews his hob-nails, looks as if he couldn't help it, takes an observation, chases geese, loves a drap, and cannot sport a right line, can't walk a chalk.
He speaks the King's English with a twist, sees double, stumbles a bit, shifts his weight, shows off his worn shoes, looks like he can't help it, takes a look around, chases after geese, enjoys a drink, and can't stay on a straight line, can't walk in a straight line.
He is as drunk as a piper, drunk as an owl, drunk as David's sow, drunk as a lord, fuddled as an ape, merry as a grig, happy as a king.
He is as drunk as a piper, drunk as an owl, drunk as David's pig, drunk as a lord, confused as a monkey, cheerful as a cricket, happy as a king.
[145]"In the higher circles, a Ruffian is one of the many mushroom-productions which the sun of prosperity brings to life. Stout in general is his appearance, but Dame Nature has done little for him, and Fortune has spoilt even that little. To resemble his groom and his coachman is his highest ambition. He is a perfect horseman, a perfect whip, but takes care never to be a perfect gentleman. His principal accomplishments are sporting, swaggering, milling, drawing, and greeking.{1} He takes the ribands in his hands, mounts his box, with Missus by his side—“All right, ya hip, my hearties”—drives his empty mail with four prime tits—cuts out a Johnny-raw—shakes his head, and lolls out his tongue at him; and if he don't break his own neck, gets safe home after his morning's drive.
[145]"In high society, a Ruffian is one of the many byproducts that the sun of prosperity creates. Generally, he has a sturdy appearance, but nature hasn't done much for him, and luck has ruined even that little. His greatest ambition is to look like his groom and coachman. He’s a skilled horseman and an excellent whip, but he makes sure never to be a true gentleman. His main skills are showing off, acting tough, boxing, drawing, and hitting on women. He takes the reins in his hands, hops onto his box with Missus by his side—'All right, you guys, my friends'—drives his empty mail carriage with four top-notch horses—ignores a newcomer—gives a head shake and sticks his tongue out at him; and as long as he doesn't crash, he gets home safe after his morning drive."
“He is always accompanied by a brace at least of dogs in his morning visits; and it is not easy to determine on these occasions which is the most troublesome animal of the two, the biped or the quadruped.”
“He is always accompanied by at least a couple of dogs during his morning visits, and it's hard to tell which is the more annoying creature on these occasions, the human or the dog.”
This description caused a laugh among the Ladybirds, who thought it vastly amusing, while it was also listened to with great attention by Tallyho.
This description made the Ladybirds laugh, finding it very funny, while Tallyho listened to it with great attention.
The Hon. Tom Dashall in the mean time was in close conversation with his mott{2} in the corner of the Box, and was getting, as Sparkle observed, “rather nutty{3} in that quarter of the globe.”
The Hon. Tom Dashall was meanwhile deep in conversation with his mother in the corner of the box and was, as Sparkle noted, “getting a bit weird in that part of the world.”
The laugh which concluded Sparkle's account of the Tilbury-club man roused him from his sleep, and also attracted the attention of Tom and his inamorata.
The laugh that ended Sparkle's story about the Tilbury-club guy woke him up and also caught the notice of Tom and his love interest.
“D——n my eyes,” said the fancy cove, as he rubbed open his peepers,{4}” am I awake or asleep?—what a h——ll of a light there is!”
“Damn my eyes,” said the fancy guy, as he rubbed his eyes, “am I awake or asleep?—what a hell of a light there is!”
[146]This was followed immediately by the rattling of an engine with two torches, accompanied by an immense concourse of people following it at full speed past the window.
[146]This was quickly followed by the sound of an engine with two headlights, along with a huge crowd of people rushing past the window.
“It is well lit, by Jove,” said the sleeper awake, “where ever it is;” and with that he tipp'd the slavey{1}1 a tanner,{2} and mizzled.
“It’s well lit, by God,” said the sleeper, now awake, “wherever it is;” and with that, he gave the slavey{1}1 a dime,{2} and slipped away.
The noise and confusion outside of the House completely put a stop to all harmony and comfort within.
The noise and chaos outside the House completely disrupted all peace and comfort inside.
“It must be near us,” said Tom.
“It has to be close by,” said Tom.
“It is Covent Garden Theatre, in my opinion,” said Sparkle.
“It’s Covent Garden Theatre, in my opinion,” said Sparkle.
Bob said nothing, but kept looking about him in a sort
Bob didn't say anything, but kept glancing around in a sort
of wild surprise.
of total surprise.
“However,” said Tom, “wherever it is, we must go and have a peep.”
“However,” Tom said, “wherever it is, we have to go take a look.”
“You are a very gallant fellow, truly,” said one of the bewitchers—“I thought—”
“You're quite the gallant guy, really,” said one of the enchantresses—“I thought—”
“And so did I,” said Tom—“but 'rest the babe—the time it shall come'—never mind, we won't be disappointed; but here, (said he) as I belong to the Tip and Toddle Club, I don't mean to disgrace my calling, by forgetting my duty.” And slipping a something into her hand, her note was immediately changed into,
“And so did I,” said Tom—“but 'rest the babe—the time it shall come'—never mind, we won't be disappointed; but here, (he said) as I belong to the Tip and Toddle Club, I don't intend to disgrace my calling by forgetting my duty.” And slipping something into her hand, her note was immediately changed into,
“Well, I always thought you was a trump, and I likes a man that behaves like a gentleman.”
“Well, I always thought you were a real catch, and I like a man who acts like a gentleman.”
Something of the same kind was going on between the other two, which proved completely satisfactory.
Something similar was happening between the other two, which turned out to be completely satisfying.
“So then, Mr. Author, it seems you have raised a fire to stew the oysters, and leave your Readers to feast upon the blaze.”
“So, Mr. Author, it looks like you’ve started a fire to cook the oysters, leaving your readers to enjoy the flames.”
“Hold for a moment, and be not so testy, and for your satisfaction I can solemnly promise, that if the oysters are stewed, you shall have good and sufficient notice of the moment they are to be on table—But, bless my heart, how the fire rages!—I can neither spare time nor wind to parley a moment longer—Tom and Bob have already started off with the velocity of a race-horse, and if I lose them, I should cut but a poor figure with my Readers afterward.
“Hold on for a second, and don’t be so impatient. To put your mind at ease, I can promise that if the oysters are cooked, you’ll get plenty of notice before they’re served. But, oh my goodness, look how the fire is blazing! I can’t waste any more time chatting—Tom and Bob have already taken off like a racehorse, and if I lose track of them, I won’t look very good to my readers afterward.”
“Pray, Sir, can you tell me where the fire is?” 'Really, Sir, I don't know, but I am told it is somewhere by Whitechapel.'
“Excuse me, sir, can you tell me where the fire is?” 'Honestly, sir, I have no idea, but I’ve heard it’s somewhere near Whitechapel.'
[147]"Could you inform me Madam, whereabouts the fire is?”
[147]"Could you please tell me, ma'am, where the fire is?"
?Westminster Road, Sir, as I am informed.' “Westminster, and Whitechapel—some little difference of opinion I find as usual—however, I have just caught sight of Tom, and he's sure to be on the right scent; so adieu, Mr. Reader, for the present, and have no doubt but I shall soon be able to throw further light on the subject.”
?Westminster Road, Sir, as I’ve been told.' “Westminster and Whitechapel—there seems to be the usual debate—however, I just spotted Tom, and he’s bound to be on the right track; so goodbye for now, Mr. Reader, and I’m sure I’ll be able to shed more light on the matter soon.”
CHAPTER XI
[148]IN a moment all was consternation, confusion, and alarm. The brilliant light that illuminated the surrounding buildings presented a scene of dazzling splendour, mingled with sensations of horror not easily to be described. The rattling of engines, the flashing of torches, and the shouting of thousands, by whom they were followed and surrounded, all combined to give lively interest to the circumstance.
[148]In an instant, everything was chaos, confusion, and panic. The bright lights shining on the nearby buildings created a scene of stunning beauty, mixed with feelings of horror that are hard to put into words. The clattering of engines, the flickering of torches, and the shouts of thousands of onlookers, who were there to witness it all, added an intense level of drama to the situation.
It was quickly ascertained that the dreadful conflagration had taken place at an extensive Timber-yard, within a very short distance of the Theatres, situated as it were nearly in the centre, between Covent Garden and Drury Lane. Men, women, and children, were seen running in all directions; and report, with his ten thousand tongues, here found an opportunity for the exercise of them all; assertion and denial followed each other in rapid succession, while the flames continued to increase. Our party being thus abruptly disturbed in their anticipated enjoyments, bade adieu to their Doxies,{1}
It was quickly determined that the terrible fire had occurred at a large timber yard, very close to the theaters, almost in the center between Covent Garden and Drury Lane. Men, women, and children were seen running in every direction; and the rumors, with their countless versions, had a field day here; claims and counterclaims followed each other in rapid succession while the flames kept growing. Our group, abruptly interrupted in their expected fun, said goodbye to their companions,{1}
[149]and rushed forward to the spot, where they witnessed the devouring ravages of the yet unquenched element, consuming with resistless force all that came in its way.
[149] and rushed forward to the location, where they saw the destructive power of the still uncontained element, consuming everything in its path with unstoppable force.
“Button up,” said Tom, “and let us keep together, for upon these occasions,
“Button up,” Tom said, “and let’s stick together, because on these occasions,
“The Scamps,{1} the Pads,{2} the Divers,{3} are all upon the lay."{4}
“The Scamps,{1} the Pads,{2} the Divers,{3} are all on the prowl."{4}
The Flash Molishers,{5} in the vicinity of Drury Lane, were out in parties, and it was reasonable to suppose, that where there was so much heat, considerable thirst must also prevail; consequently the Sluiceries were all in high request, every one of those in the neighbourhood being able to boast of overflowing Houses, without any imputation upon their veracity. We say nothing of elegant genteel, or enlightened audiences, so frequently introduced in the Bills from other houses in the neighbourhood; even the door-ways were block'd up with the collectors and imparters of information. Prognostications as to how and where it began, how it would end, and the property that would be consumed, were to be met at every corner—Snuffy Tabbies, and Boosy Kids, some giving way to jocularity, and others indulging in lamentations.
The Flash Molishers,{5} near Drury Lane, were out in groups, and it was reasonable to think that with so much heat, there must be a lot of thirst; as a result, the Sluiceries were all in high demand, with every place in the area boasting packed houses, with no questions about their honesty. We won't mention the stylish, classy, or sophisticated audiences that are so often highlighted in the announcements from other nearby venues; even the doorways were crowded with collectors and providers of information. Speculations about how and where it started, how it would end, and what would be lost were found on every corner—Snuffy Tabbies and Boosy Kids, some making jokes, while others were expressing their sorrows.
“Hot, hot, hot, all hot,” said a Black man, as he pushed in and out among the crowd; with “Hoot awa', the de'il tak your soul, mon, don't you think we are all hot eneugh?—gin ye bring more hot here I'll crack your croon—I've been roasting alive for the last half hoor, an' want to be ganging, but I can't get out.”
“It's so hot, so hot, all so hot,” said a Black man as he pushed through the crowd. “Come on, man, don’t you think we’re all hot enough? If you bring more heat here, I swear I’ll lose it—I've been roasting alive for the last half hour and just want to leave, but I can't get out.”
“Hot, hot, hot, all hot, Ladies and Gentlemen,” said the dingy dealer in delicacies, and almost as soon disappeared among the crowd, where he found better opportunities for vending his rarities.
“Hot, hot, hot, all hot, Ladies and Gentlemen,” said the shabby vendor of treats, and almost immediately vanished into the crowd, where he found better chances to sell his unique items.
“Lumps of pudding,” said Tom, jerking Tallyho by the arm, “what do you think of a slice? here's accommodation for you—all hot, ready dress'd, and well done.”
“Lumps of pudding,” said Tom, tugging Tallyho by the arm, “what do you think about having a slice? Here’s an option for you—all hot, nicely prepared, and well cooked.”
“Egad!” said Bob, “I think we shall be well done ourselves presently.”
“Wow!” said Bob, “I think we'll be in trouble ourselves soon.”
“Keep your hands out of my pockets, you lousy beggar,”
“Keep your hands out of my pockets, you worthless beggar,”
[150]said a tall man standing near them, “or b—— me if I don't mill you.”
[150]said a tall man standing near them, “or damn me if I don’t take you down.”
“You mill me, vhy you don't know how to go about it, Mr. Bully Brag, and I doesn't care half a farden for you—you go for to say as how I—”
“You annoy me, why don’t you know how to handle this, Mr. Bully Brag, and I don’t care at all about you—you’re trying to say that I—”
“Take that, then,” said the other, and gave him a floorer; but he was prevented from falling by those around him.
“Here, take that,” said the other, and punched him; but he was kept from falling by the people around him.
The salute was returned in good earnest, and a random sort of fight ensued. The accompaniments of this exhibition were the shrieks of the women, and the shouts of the partisans of each of the Bruisers—the cries of “Go it, little one—stick to it—tip it him—sarve him out—ring, ring—give 'em room—foul, foul—fair, fair,” &c.” At this moment the Firemen, who had been actively engaged in endeavours to subdue the devouring flames, obtained a supply of water: the engines were set to work, and the Foreman directed the pipe so as to throw the water completely into the mob which had collected round them. This had the desired effect of putting an end to the squabble, and dispersing a large portion of the multitude, at least to some distance, so as to leave good and sufficient room for their operations.
The salute was returned with enthusiasm, and a chaotic fight broke out. The scene was filled with the screams of women and the cheers of supporters for each of the fighters—shouts of “Go, little one—keep at it—hit him—get him back—move aside—foul, foul—fair, fair,” etc. At that moment, the firefighters, who had been actively trying to put out the raging flames, finally got a supply of water: the engines started up, and the Foreman aimed the hose to spray the water directly into the crowd surrounding them. This effectively ended the fight and scattered a large part of the crowd, at least far enough away to create enough space for their work.
“The Devil take it,” cried Sparkle, “I am drench'd.”
“Damn it,” Sparkle shouted, “I'm soaked.”
“Ditto repeated,” said Tom.
"Same," Tom said.
“Curse the fellow,” cried Bob, “I am sopp'd.”
“Damn the guy,” shouted Bob, “I’m soaked.”
“Never mind,” continued Tom,
"Don't worry," continued Tom,
“Since we are all in it, there is no laughing allowed.”
“Since we’re all in this together, there’s no laughing allowed.”
In a short time, the water flowed through the street in torrents; the pumping of the engines, and the calls of the Firemen, were all the noises that could be heard, except now and then the arrival of additional assistance.
In no time, the water rushed through the street like a river; the sound of engines pumping and the shouts of the firefighters were the only noises you could hear, except for the occasional arrival of more help.
Bob watched minutely the skill and activity of those robust and hardy men, who were seen in all directions upon the tops of houses, &c. near the calamitous scene, giving information to those below; and he was astonished to see the rapidity with which they effected their object.
Bob closely observed the skill and energy of those strong, tough men who were visible in all directions on the rooftops nearby the disaster site, relaying information to those below. He was amazed at how quickly they accomplished their goals.
Having ascertained as far as they could the extent of the damage, and that no lives were lost, Tom proposed a move, and Sparkle gladly seconded the motion—“for,” said he, “I am so wet, though I cannot complain of being [151]cold, that I think I resemble the fat man who seemed something like two single gentlemen roll'd into one,' and 'who after half a year's baking declared he had been so cursed hot, he was sure he'd caught cold;' so come along.”
After figuring out as much as they could about the damage and confirming that no lives were lost, Tom suggested they move on, and Sparkle eagerly supported the idea—“because,” he said, “I’m so wet, but I can’t complain about being [151]cold, that I feel like that overweight guy who looked like two single men rolled into one, and 'who after being out in the heat for half a year insisted he was so uncomfortably hot that he must have caught a cold;' so let’s get going.”
“Past twelve o'clock,” said a Charley, about three parts sprung, and who appeared to have more light in his head than he could shew from his lantern.
“Past midnight,” said a Charley, quite tipsy, and who seemed to have more brightness in his head than he could show from his lantern.
“Stop thief, stop thief,” was vociferated behind them; and the night music, the rattles, were in immediate use in several quarters—a rush of the crowd almost knock'd Bob off his pins, and he would certainly have fell to the ground, but his nob{l} came with so much force against the bread-basket{2} of the groggy guardian of the night, that he was turn'd keel upwards,{3} and rolled with his lantern, staff, and rattle, into the overflowing kennel; a circumstance which perhaps had really no bad effect, for in all probability it brought the sober senses of the Charley a little more into action than the juice of the juniper had previously allowed. He was dragged from his birth, and his coat, which was of the blanket kind, brought with it a plentiful supply of the moistening fluid, being literally sous'd from head to foot.
“Stop thief, stop thief!” shouted someone behind them, and the night sounds, including rattles, were quickly activated in several places—a rush of the crowd nearly knocked Bob off his feet, and he definitely would have fallen to the ground if his head hadn’t collided with such force against the belly of the drunken night watchman that he flipped over, rolling with his lantern, staff, and rattle into the overflowing gutter. This incident might have actually had a positive effect, as it likely snapped the watchman back to his senses a bit more than the gin had allowed. He was pulled from the ground, and his blanket-like coat came with a generous amount of water, soaking him completely from head to toe.
Bob fished for the darkey{4}—the musical instrument{5}—and the post of honour, alias the supporter of peace;{6} but he was not yet complete, for he had dropped his canister-cap,{7} which was at length found by a flash molisher, and drawn from the pool, full of water, who appeared to know him, and swore he was one of the best fellows on any of the beats round about; and that they had got hold of a Fire-prigger,{8} and bundled{9} him off to St. Giles's watch-house, because he was bolting with a bag of togs.
Bob was looking for the darkey{4}—the musical instrument{5}—and the prestigious position, also known as the supporter of peace;{6} but he wasn’t quite complete, as he had lost his canister-cap,{7} which was eventually found by a quick-moving guy, and retrieved from the pool, filled with water, who seemed to recognize him and claimed he was one of the best guys in the area; and that they had caught a Fire-prigger,{8} and kicked{9} him off to St. Giles's watch-house, because he was running off with a bag of togs.
[152]The feeble old scout shook his dripping wardrobe, d——d the water and the boosy kid that wallof'd him into it, but without appearing to know which was him; till Bob stepped up, and passing some silver into his mawley, told him he hoped he was not hurt. And our party then, moved on in the direction for Russel-street, Covent-garden, when Sparkle again mentioned his wet condition, and particularly recommended a glass of Cogniac by way of preventive from taking cold. “A good motion well made (said Tom;) and here we are just by the Harp, where we can be fitted to a shaving; so come along.”
[152]The feeble old scout shook his soaked clothes, cursed the rain and the drunken kid who pushed him into it, but didn't really seem to know who to blame; until Bob came over, slipped some change into his hand, and told him he hoped he wasn’t hurt. Our group then moved toward Russell Street in Covent Garden, when Sparkle brought up his wet situation again, specifically suggesting a glass of Cognac to prevent catching a cold. “That’s a good idea (said Tom); and here we are right by the Harp, where we can get a shave; so let’s go.”
Having taken this, as Sparkle observed, very necessary precaution, they pursued their way towards Piccadilly, taking their route under the Piazzas of Covent-garden, and thence up James-street into Long-acre, where they were amused by a circumstance of no very uncommon kind in London, but perfectly new to Tallyho. Two Charleys had in close custody a sturdy young man (who was surrounded by several others,) and was taking him to the neighbouring watch-house “What is the matter?” said Tom.
Having taken this very necessary precaution, as Sparkle noted, they made their way towards Piccadilly, going through the Piazzas of Covent Garden, and then up James Street into Long Acre, where they were entertained by a situation that wasn’t unusual in London but was completely new to Tallyho. Two constables had a strong young man in close custody (who was surrounded by several others) and were taking him to the nearby watch house. “What’s going on?” Tom asked.
“Oh, 'tis only a little bit of a dead body-snatcher,” said one of the guardians. “He has been up to the resurrection rig.{1} Here,” continued he, “I've got the bone-basket,”
“Oh, it’s just a little dead body-snatcher,” said one of the guardians. “He’s been into the resurrection gig.{1} Here,” he continued, “I’ve got the bone-basket,”
[153]holding up a bag, “and it was taken off his shoulder as he went along Mercer-street, so he can't say nothing at all.
[153]holding up a bag, “and it was taken off his shoulder while he was walking down Mercer Street, so he can't say anything at all.
“I have brought you a subject—all right.”
“I’ve brought you a topic—sounds good.”
“Come in. What is it, a man or a woman?”
“Come in. Is it a man or a woman?”
“A man.”
"A guy."
“Down with him—that corner. D——n it, I was fast asleep.
“Get him out of here—that corner. Damn it, I was deep asleep.
“Call for the sack in the morning, will you, for I want to get to bed.”
“Could you get the sack in the morning? I want to go to bed.”
“With all my heart.”
"With all my heart."
Then going to a drawer, and bringing the customary fee, “Here, (said he) be quick and be off.” This was exactly what the other wanted; and having secured the rubbish,{1} the door was shut upon him. This, however, was no sooner done, than the Boosy Kid in the sack, feeling a sudden internal turn of the contents of his stomach, which brought with it a heaving, fell, from the upright situation in which he had been placed, on the floor. This so alarmed the young Doctor, that he ran with all speed after the vender, and just coming up to him at the corner of the street.
Then, going to a drawer and getting the usual fee, he said, “Here, be quick and get out.” This was exactly what the other wanted, and after grabbing the junk, the door was shut behind him. However, as soon as that was done, the Boosy Kid in the sack suddenly felt a jolt in his stomach, which made him heave and fall from the upright position he had been in, landing on the floor. This startled the young Doctor so much that he ran after the vendor as fast as he could, and just caught up to him at the corner of the street.
“Why, (said he) you have left me a living man!”
“Why, you’ve left me a living man!”
“Never mind, (replied the other;) kill him when you want him.” And making good use of his heels he quickly disappeared.
"Forget it," replied the other. "Do what you want with him." And with that, he took off quickly, making good use of his legs.
A Comedian of some celebrity, but who is now too old for theatrical service, relates a circumstance which occurred to him upon his first arrival in town:—
A well-known comedian, who is now too old to perform, shares a story from when he first arrived in town:—
Having entered into an engagement to appear upon the boards of one of the London Theatres, he sought the metropolis some short time before the opening of the House; and conceiving it necessary to his profession to study life—real life as it is,—he was accustomed to mingle promiscuously in almost all society. With this view he frequently entered the tap rooms of the lowest public houses, to enjoy his pipe and his pint, keeping the main object always in view—
Having committed to perform at one of the London theaters, he arrived in the city shortly before the venue opened. Believing it essential for his career to study life—real life as it is—he often mixed in various social circles. To achieve this, he frequently visited the beer rooms of the most rundown pubs, enjoying his pipe and pint, all while keeping his main objective in sight—
“To catch the manners living as they rise.”
“To capture the manners as they emerge.”
Calling one evening at one of these houses, not far from Drury Lane, he found some strapping fellows engaged in conversation, interlarded with much flash and low slang; but decently dressed, he mingled in a sort of general dialogue with them on the state of the weather, politics, &c. After sitting some time in their company, and particularly noticing their persons and apparent character—
Calling one evening at one of these houses, not far from Drury Lane, he found some strong guys engaged in conversation, sprinkled with a lot of flashy talk and crude slang; but decently dressed, he joined in a kind of general chat with them about the weather, politics, etc. After sitting with them for a while and particularly noticing their personalities and apparent character—
[156]Bob could not very well understand what was the meaning of this lingo; he was perfectly at a loss to comprehend the terms of deadbody snatching and the resurrection rig. The crowd increased as they went along; and as they did not exactly relish their company, Sparkle led. them across the way, and then proceeded to explain.
[156]Bob couldn't quite understand what this slang meant; he was completely confused by the terms for stealing bodies and the resurrection setup. The crowd grew as they moved along, and since they weren't thrilled about the company, Sparkle took the lead, crossing the street and then started to explain.
“Why,” said Sparkle, “the custom of dead-body snatching has become very common in London, and in many cases appears to be winked at by the Magistrates; for although it is considered a felony in law, it is also acknowledged in some degree to be necessary for the Surgeons, in order to have an opportunity of obtaining practical information. It is however, at the same time, a source of no slight distress to the parents and friends of the parties who are dragg'd from the peaceful security of the tomb. The Resurrection-men are generally well rewarded for their labours by the Surgeons who employ them to procure subjects; they are for the most part fellows who never stick at trifles, but make a decent livelihood by moving off, if they can, not only the bodies, but coffins, shrouds, &c. and are always upon the look-out wherever there is a funeral—nay, there have been instances in which the bodies have been dug from their graves within a few hours after being deposited there.”
“Why,” said Sparkle, “the practice of stealing bodies has become really common in London, and often seems to be overlooked by the magistrates; because even though it's considered a crime legally, it’s also somewhat seen as necessary for surgeons to gain hands-on experience. However, this is a significant source of distress for the parents and friends of those who are taken from their peaceful resting places. The resurrectionists are usually well-paid by the surgeons who hire them to get subjects; they tend to be people who don’t hesitate to take chances, making a decent living by, if they can, taking not just the bodies, but also coffins, shrouds, etc., and they are always on the lookout whenever there's a funeral—actually, there have been cases where bodies were dug up just a few hours after being buried.”
“It is a shameful practice,” said Bob, “and ought not to be tolerated, however; nor can I conceive how, with the apparent vigilance of the Police, it can be carried on.”
“It’s a shameful practice,” said Bob, “and it shouldn’t be tolerated, yet I can’t understand how, with the obvious watchfulness of the Police, it can still go on.”
“Nothing more easy,” said Sparkle, “where the plan is well laid. These fellows, when they hear a passing-bell toll, skulk about the parish from ale-house to ale-house, till [157]they can learn a proper account of what the deceased died of, what condition the body is in, &c. with which account they go to a Resurrection Doctor, who agrees for a price, which is mostly five guineas, for the body of a man, and then bargain with an Undertaker for the shroud, coffin, &c. which, perhaps with a little alteration, may serve to run through the whole family.”
“It's really simple,” said Sparkle, “as long as the plan is solid. These guys, when they hear a funeral bell ring, hide out in the neighborhood, jumping from pub to pub, until [157] they can find out the details about the deceased—what they died from, the condition of the body, and so on. With this information, they go to a Resurrection Doctor, who agrees on a price, usually about five guineas, for a man’s body, and then they negotiate with an undertaker for the shroud, coffin, etc., which, with a few tweaks, could be reused for the entire family.”
“And is it possible,” said Bob, “that there are persons who will enter into such bargains?”
“And is it possible,” said Bob, “that there are people who would make such deals?”
“No doubt of it; nay, there was an instance of a man really selling his own body to a Surgeon, to be appropriated to his own purposes when dead, for a certain weekly sum secured to him while living; but in robbing the church-yards there are always many engaged in the rig—for notice is generally given that the body will be removed in the night, to which the Sexton is made privy, and receives the information with as much ease as he did to have it brought—his price being a guinea for the use of the grubbing irons, adjusting the grave, &c. This system is generally carried on in little country church-yards within a few miles of London. A hackney-coach or a cart is ready to receive the stolen property, and there cannot be a doubt but many of these depredations are attended with success, the parties escaping with their prey undetected—nay, I know of an instance that occurred a short time back, of a young man who was buried at Wesley's Chapel, on which occasion one of the mourners, a little more wary than the rest, could not help observing two or three rough fellows in the ground during the ceremony, which aroused his suspicion that they intended after interment to have the body of his departed friend; this idea became so strongly rooted in his mind, that he imparted his suspicions to the remainder of those who had followed him: himself and another therefore determined if possible to satisfy themselves upon the point, by returning in the dusk of the evening to reconnoitre. They accordingly proceeded to the spot, but the gates being shut, one of them climbed to the top of the wall, where he discovered the very parties, he had before noticed, in the act of wrenching open the coffin. Here they are, said he, hard at it, as I expected. But before he and his friend could get over the wall, the villains effected their escape, leaving behind them a capacious sack and all the implements of their infernal trade. They secured the body, had [158]it conveyed home again, and in a few days re-buried it in a place of greater security.{1}
“No doubt about it; in fact, there was a case of a man actually selling his own body to a surgeon, so it could be used for medical purposes after his death, in exchange for a certain weekly payment while he was still alive. However, when it comes to robbing graveyards, there are always many people involved in the scheme—usually, notice is given that the body will be taken out at night, which the sexton is informed about, and he takes the news as casually as he does when they bring it in—his fee being a guinea for the use of the grubbing irons, for leveling the grave, etc. This operation typically happens in small country graveyards within a few miles of London. A hackney carriage or cart is on standby to transport the stolen goods, and there’s no doubt that many of these thefts are successful, with the thieves escaping with their loot unnoticed. In fact, I know of a recent case where a young man was buried at Wesley's Chapel, and one of the mourners, being a bit more observant than the others, noticed two or three shady characters in the cemetery during the service, raising his suspicions that they intended to steal the body of his deceased friend. This thought became so ingrained in him that he shared his concerns with the others who had come with him: he and another person decided to investigate further by returning in the evening to check things out. They went to the location, but the gates were locked, so one of them climbed to the top of the wall, where he spotted the same men he had seen earlier, in the act of prying open the coffin. ‘Here they are,’ he said, ‘just doing what I suspected.’ But before he and his friend could get over the wall, the thieves managed to escape, leaving behind a large sack and all their tools for the gruesome work. They took the body, had it transported back, and a few days later re-buried it in a safer location.[158]
Bob was surprised at this description of the Resurrection-rig, but was quickly drawn from his contemplation of the depravity of human nature, and what he could not help thinking the dirty employments of life, by a shouting apparently from several voices as they passed the end of St. Martin's Lane: it came from about eight persons, who appeared to be journeymen mechanics, with pipes in their mouths, some of them rather rorytorious,{2} who, as they approached, broke altogether into the following
Bob was taken aback by this description of the Resurrection-rig, but he was quickly pulled out of his thoughts about the depravity of human nature and what he saw as the grim jobs in life by the sound of shouting from several voices as they passed the end of St. Martin's Lane. It came from about eight guys, who seemed to be journeyman mechanics, with pipes in their mouths, some of them quite rorytorious,{2} who, as they got closer, burst into the following
[159]This Song, which was repeated three or four times, was continued till their arrival at Newport-market, where the Songsters divided: our party pursued their way through Coventry-street, and arrived without further adventure or interruption safely at home. Sparkle bade them adieu, and proceeded to Bond-street; and Tom and Bob sought the repose of the pillow.
[159]This song, which they sang three or four times, continued until they reached Newport Market, where the singers split up. Our group continued on through Coventry Street and arrived home safely without any more events or interruptions. Sparkle said goodbye and went to Bond Street, while Tom and Bob headed off to rest.
It is said that “Music hath charms to sooth the savage breast,” and it cannot but be allowed that the Yo heave ho, of our Sailors, or the sound of a fiddle, contribute much to the speed of weighing anchor.
It’s said that “Music has the power to soothe the savage heart,” and it's hard to deny that the Yo heave ho of our sailors, or the sound of a fiddle, really helps to speed up the process of weighing anchor.
It is an indisputable fact that there are few causes which more decidedly form, or at least there are few evidences which more clearly indicate, the true character of a nation, than its Songs and Ballads. It has been observed by the learned Selden, that you may see which way the wind sets by throwing a straw up into the air, when you cannot make the same discovery by tossing up a stone or other weighty substance. Thus it is with Songs and Ballads, respecting the state of public feeling, when productions of a more elaborate nature fail in their elucidations: so much so that it is related of a great Statesman, who was fully convinced of the truth of the observation, that he said, “Give me the making of the national Ballads, and I care not who frames your Laws.” Every day's experience tends to prove the power which the sphere-born Sisters of harmony, voice, and verse, have over the human mind. “I would rather,” says Mr. Sheridan, “have written Glover's song of 'Hosier's Ghost' than the Annals of Tacitus."[160]
It’s an undeniable fact that few things shape, or at least reveal, the true nature of a nation more than its songs and ballads. The scholar Selden noted that you can tell which way the wind is blowing by tossing a straw in the air, unlike trying to figure it out by throwing a stone or another heavy object. The same applies to songs and ballads when it comes to the mood of the public, especially when more complex works fail to make it clear. It’s said that a prominent statesman, who believed in this idea, remarked, “Give me the making of the national ballads, and I don’t care who makes your laws.” Daily experiences demonstrate the influence that the harmonious Sisters of voice and verse have on the human mind. “I would rather,” says Mr. Sheridan, “have written Glover's song of 'Hosier's Ghost' than the Annals of Tacitus.”[160]
CHAPTER XII
A SHORT time after this day's ramble, the Hon. Tom Dash all and his friend Tallyho paid a visit to the celebrated Tattersall's.
A SHORT time after this day's walk, the Hon. Tom Dashall and his friend Tallyho visited the famous Tattersall's.
“This,” said Tom, “is a great scene of action at times, and you will upon some occasions find as much business done here as there is on 'Change; the dealings however are not so fair, though the profits are larger; and if you observe the characters and the visages of the visitants, it will be found it is most frequently attended by Turf-Jews and Greeks.{1} Any man indeed who dabbles in horse-dealing, must, like a gamester, be either a rook or a pigeon; {2} for horse-dealing is a species of gambling, in which as many
“This,” said Tom, “is a great scene of action at times, and sometimes you’ll find as much going on here as there is on Wall Street; the trades, however, aren’t as fair, though the profits are bigger; and if you look at the characters and the faces of the visitors, you’ll see it’s mostly attended by Turf-Jews and Greeks.{1} Anyone who gets involved in horse-dealing must, like a gambler, be either a sucker or an easy target; {2} because horse-dealing is a kind of gambling, in which as many
[161]depredations are committed upon the property of the unwary as in any other, and every one engaged in it thinks it a meritorious act to dupe his chapman. Even noblemen and gentlemen, who in other transactions of life are honest, will make no scruple of cheating you in horse-dealing: nor is this to be wondered at when we consider that the Lord and the Baronet take lessons from their grooms, jockeys, or coachmen, and the nearer approach they can make to the appearance and manners of their tutors, the fitter the pupils for turf-men, or gentlemen dealers; for the school in which they learn is of such a description that dereliction of principle is by no means surprising—fleecing each other is an every-day practice—every one looks upon his fellow as a bite, and young men of fashion learn how to buy and sell, from old whips, jockeys, or rum ostlers, whose practices have put them up to every thing, and by such ruffian preceptors are frequently taught to make three quarters or seventy-five per cent, profit, which is called turning an honest penny. This, though frequently practised at country fairs, &c. by horse-jobbers, &c. is here executed with all the dexterity and art imaginable: for instance, you have a distressed friend whom you know must sell; you commiserate his situation, and very kindly find all manner of faults with his horse, and buy it for half its value—you also know a Green-horn and an extravagant fellow, to whom you sell it for twice its value, and that is the neat thing. Again, if you have a horse you wish to dispose of, the same school will afford you instruction how to make the most of him, that is to say, to conceal his vices and defects, and by proper attention to put him into condition, to alter his whole appearance by hogging, cropping, and docking—by patching up his broken knees—blowing gun-powder in his dim eyes—bishoping, blistering, &c. so as to turn him out in good twig, scarcely to be known by those who have frequently seen and noticed him: besides which, at the time of sale one of these gentry will aid and assist your views by pointing out his recommendations in some such observations as the following:
[161] The same kinds of scams happen to the property of unsuspecting people as anywhere else, and everyone involved thinks it's a good deed to trick their buyer. Even nobles and gentlemen, who are honest in other areas of life, have no qualms about cheating you when it comes to buying and selling horses. This isn't surprising when you consider that lords and baronets take cues from their grooms, jockeys, or coachmen. The more they mimic their teachers' behavior and mannerisms, the better prepared they are to be turf enthusiasts or gentlemen dealers; the environment they learn in promotes the idea that abandoning principles is perfectly acceptable. Swindling one another is a daily norm; everyone sees their peers as easy marks, and young men of privilege learn how to buy and sell from seasoned horse traders, jockeys, or shady stable hands, whose tactics have opened their eyes to everything, and they’re often taught by these crooks how to make three-quarters or seventy-five percent profit, which they call earning an honest penny. This, although commonly done at country fairs and by horse traders, is executed here with incredible skill and craft. For example, if you have a friend in financial trouble who needs to sell, you express sympathy for his situation, point out all the flaws in his horse, and buy it for half of its worth. Then, you know a naive and flashy guy to whom you can resell it for double its value, and that’s a tidy profit. If you want to sell a horse, the same crowd will teach you how to maximize its value, meaning you hide its faults and work to improve its condition, altering its overall look by hogging, cropping, and docking—patching up broken knees—blowing gunpowder in its dull eyes—performing bishoping, blistering, etc., so it appears in great shape, almost unrecognizable to those who have seen it before. Plus, when selling, one of these folks will help you out by highlighting the horse's good points with comments like these:
?There's a horse truly good and well made.
There's a horse that's really good and well-built.
?There's the appearance of a fine woman! broad breast, round hips, and long neck.
There's the look of an attractive woman! broad chest, curvy hips, and long neck.
?There's the countenance, intrepidity, and fire of a lion.
There’s the appearance, fearlessness, and passion of a lion.
?There's the eye, joint, and nostril of an ox.
?There's the eye, joint, and nostril of an ox.
[162]'There's the nose, gentleness, and patience of a lamb.
[162] "There's the gentle touch and patience of a lamb."
?There's the strength, constancy, and foot of a mule.
There's the strength, steadfastness, and durability of a mule.
?There's the hair, head, and leg of a deer.
There's a deer's hair, head, and leg.
?There's the throat, neck, and hearing of a wolf.
?There's the throat, neck, and hearing of a wolf.
?There's the ear, brush, and trot of a fox.
?There's the sound of a fox's ears, brush, and trot.
?There's the memory, sight, and turning of a serpent.
?There's the memory, sight, and movement of a snake.
?There's the running, suppleness, and innocence of the hare.
There's the speed, agility, and innocence of the rabbit.
“And if a horse sold for sound wind, limb, and eyesight, with all the gentleness of a lamb, that a child might ride him with safety, should afterwards break the purchaser's neck, the seller has nothing to do with it, provided he has received the bit,{1} but laughs at the do.{2} Nay, they will sometimes sell a horse, warranted to go as steady as ever a horse went in harness, to a friend, assuring him at the same time that he has not a fault of any kind—that he is good as ever shoved a head through a horse-collar; and if he should afterwards rear up in the gig, and overturn the driver into a ditch, shatter the concern to pieces, spill Ma'am, and kill both her and the child of promise, the conscientious Horse-dealer has nothing to do with all this: How could he help it? he sold the horse for a good horse, and a good horse he was. This is all in the way of fair dealing. Again, if a horse is sold as sound, and he prove broken-winded, lame, or otherwise, not worth one fortieth part of the purchase-money, still it is only a piece of jockeyship—a fair manouvre, affording opportunities of merriment.”
“And if a horse is sold as being in good shape, healthy, and with perfect eyesight, gentle enough for a child to ride safely, yet later ends up causing the purchaser to break their neck, the seller isn’t responsible, as long as he has received the payment,{1} and just laughs at the consequences.{2} In fact, they might sell a horse, guaranteed to be as steady as any horse could be in a carriage, to a friend, claiming that it has no faults whatsoever—that it’s as good as any horse that has ever worn a collar; and if it then rears up in the carriage, throws the driver into a ditch, wrecks everything, injures the lady, and kills both her and her child, the honest Horse-dealer isn’t accountable for any of this: How could he have prevented it? He sold the horse as a good horse, and a good horse he was. This is all part of fair dealings. Moreover, if a horse is sold as sound, but turns out to be broken-winded, lame, or otherwise worth only a fraction of the purchase price, it’s just a clever little trick—a fair maneuver that provides opportunities for amusement.”
“A very laudable sort of company,” said Bob.
“A really commendable kind of group,” said Bob.
“It is rather a mixed one,” replied Tom—“it is indeed a complete mixture of all conditions, ranks, and orders of society. But let us take a peep at some of them. Do you observe that stout fellow yonder, with a stick in his hand? he has been a Daisy-kicker, and, by his arts and contrivances having saved a little money, is now a regular dealer, and may generally be seen here on selling days.”
“It's quite a mixed bag,” replied Tom, “it really is a total blend of all kinds of people and social classes. But let’s take a look at some of them. Do you see that big guy over there, with a stick in his hand? He used to be a Daisy-kicker, and after using his skills and tricks to save a bit of money, he’s now a regular seller, and you can usually spot him here on market days.”
“Daisy-kicker,” said Bob, “I don't comprehend the term.”
“Daisy-kicker,” Bob said, “I don’t understand what that means.”
“Then I will explain,” was the reply. “Daisy-kickers are Ostlers belonging to large inns, who are known to each other by that title, and you may frequently hear them
“Then I will explain,” was the reply. “Daisy-kickers are Ostlers belonging to large inns, who are known to each other by that title, and you may frequently hear them
[163]ask—When did you sell your Daisy-kicker or Grogham?—for these terms are made use of among themselves as cant for a horse. Do you also observe, he is now in close conversation with a person who he expects will become a purchaser.”
[163]ask—When did you sell your Daisy-kicker or Grogham?—because these terms are slang for a horse used among themselves. Also, notice that he’s now deep in conversation with someone he hopes will buy it.
“And who is he?”
“Who is he?”
“He is no other than a common informer, though in high life; keeps his carriage, horses, and servants—lives in the first style—he is shortly to be made a Consul of, and perhaps an Ambassador afterwards. The first is to all intents and purposes a Lord of Trade, and his Excellency nothing more than a titled spy, in the same way as a Bailiff is a follower of the law, and a man out of livery a Knight's companion or a Nobleman's gentleman.”
“He's just a common informant, even if he moves in high society; he maintains his carriage, horses, and servants—lives in the best style—he's about to be made a Consul, and maybe an Ambassador later on. The first essentially serves as a Lord of Trade, and his Excellency is really just a titled spy, just like a Bailiff is a servant of the law, and a man without a uniform is a Knight's companion or a Nobleman's gentleman.”
Their attention was at this moment attracted by the appearance of two persons dressed in the extreme of fashion, who, upon meeting just by them, caught eagerly hold of each other's hand, and they overheard the following—'Why, Bill, how am you, my hearty?—where have you been trotting your galloper?—what is you arter?—how's Harry and Ben?—haven't seen you this blue moon.'{1}
Their attention was suddenly drawn to two people dressed in the height of fashion, who, upon meeting right next to them, eagerly took each other's hand, and they overheard the following—'Hey, Bill, how are you, my friend?—where have you been riding around?—what are you up to?—how's Harry and Ben?—haven't seen you in forever.'{1}
?All tidy,' was the reply; 'Ben is getting better, and is going to sport a new curricle, which is now building for him in Long Acre, as soon as he is recovered.'
"All tidy," was the reply; "Ben is getting better and is going to have a new curricle, which is being built for him in Long Acre, as soon as he recovers."
?Why what the devil's the matter with him, eh?'
"What's the matter with him, huh?"
?Nothing of any consequence, only he got mill'd a night or two ago about his blowen—he had one of his ribs broke, sprained his right wrist, and sports a painted peeper{2} upon the occasion, that's all.'
?Nothing important, just that he got into a fight a night or two ago about his girl—he broke one of his ribs, sprained his right wrist, and has a shiner{2} from it, that's all.'
?Why you know he's no bad cock at the Fancy, and won't put up with any gammon.'
?Why you know he's no bad cock at the Fancy, and won't put up with any nonsense.'
?No, but he was lushy, and so he got queer'd—But I say, have you sold your bay?'
?No, but he was drunk, and so he got weirded out—But I say, have you sold your horse?'
?No, d——n me, I can't get my price.'
?No, damn it, I can't get my price.'
?Why, what is it you axes?'{3}
?Why, what is it you ask?'{3}
?Only a hundred and thirty—got by Agamemnon. Lord, it's no price at all—cheap as dirt—But I say, Bill,
?Only a hundred and thirty—got by Agamemnon. Man, that's no price at all—cheap as dirt—But I say, Bill,
[164]how do you come on with your grey, and the pie-bald poney?'
[164]How are you getting along with your grey horse and the spotted pony?
?All right and regular, my boy; matched the poney for a light curricle, and I swapped{1} the grey for an entire horse—such a rum one—when will you come and take a peep at him?—all bone, fine shape and action, figure beyond compare—I made a rare good chop of it.'
?All good and well, my boy; I paired the pony with a light carriage, and I traded the gray for a whole horse—such a strange one—when will you come and check him out?—all muscle, great shape and movement, looks like nothing else—I got a really good deal on it.
?I'm glad to hear it; I'll make a survey, and take a ride with you the first leisure day; but I'm full of business, no time to spare—I say, are, you a dealer?'
?I'm glad to hear that; I'll conduct a survey and join you for a drive on the first day I have free. However, I'm really busy—no time to waste. By the way, are you a dealer?
?No, no, it won't do, I lost too much at the Derby—besides, I must go and drive my Girl out—Avait, that's the time of day,{2} my boys—so good by—But if you should be able to pick up a brace of clever pointers, a prime spaniel, or a greyhound to match Smut, I'm your man—buy for me, and all's right—price, you know, is out of the question, I must have them if they are to be got, so look out—bid and buy; but mind, nothing but prime will do for me—that's the time of day, you know, d——n me—so good by—I'm off.' And away he went.
?No, no, that won't work, I lost too much at the Derby—besides, I have to take my girl out—That's the time of day,{2} my friends—so goodbye—But if you manage to find a couple of good pointers, a top-notch spaniel, or a greyhound to match Smut, I'm your guy—get them for me, and we're all set—the price doesn’t matter, I need them if they’re available, so keep an eye out—bid and buy; but remember, only the best will do for me—that's the time of day, you know, damn it—so goodbye—I'm off.' And away he went.
“Some great sporting character, I suppose,” said Bob—“plenty of money.”
“Some great sports personality, I guess,” said Bob—“a lot of money.”
“No such thing,” said Tom, drawing him on one side—“you will hardly believe that Bill is nothing more than a Shopman to a Linen-draper, recently discharged for malpractices; and the other has been a Waiter at a Tavern, but is now out of place; and they are both upon the sharp look-out to gammon the flats. The former obtains his present livelihood by gambling—spends the most of his time in playing cards with greenhorns, always to be picked up at low flash houses, at fairs, races, milling-matches, &c. and is also in the holy keeping of the cast-off mistress of a nobleman whose family he was formerly in as a valet-de-chambre. The other pretends to teach sparring in the City, and occasionally has a benefit in the Minories, Duke's Place, and the Fives Court.”
“No way,” said Tom, pulling him aside. “You won't believe it, but Bill is just a shop clerk for a linen dealer, recently let go for messing up; and the other guy used to be a waiter at a tavern, but now he's out of work. They’re both on the hunt to fool the naive. The first one makes a living by gambling—he spends most of his time playing cards with newbies, who are always found in low-end places, at fairs, races, boxing matches, etc., and he's also with the ex-girlfriend of a nobleman whose family he used to work for as a personal valet. The other guy claims to teach boxing in the City and sometimes holds a benefit show in the Minories, Duke's Place, and the Fives Court.”
“They talk it well, however,” said Bob.
“They talk about it well, though,” said Bob.
[165]"Words are but wind, many a proud word comes off a weak stomach,” was the reply; “and you may almost expect not to hear a word of truth in this place, which may be termed The Sporting Repository—it is the grand mart for horses and for other fashionable animals—for expensive asses, and all sorts of sporting-dogs, town-puppies, and second-hand vehicles. Here bets are made for races and fights—matches are made up here—bargains are struck, and engagements entered into, with as much form, regularity, and importance, as the progress of parliamentary proceedings—points of doubt upon all occasions of jockeyship are decided here; and no man of fashion can be received into what is termed polished society, without a knowledge of this place and some of the visitors. The proceedings however are generally so managed, that the ostlers, the jockeys, the grooms, and the dealers, come best off, from a superiority of knowledge and presumed judgment—they have a method of patching up deep matches to diddle the dupes, and to introduce throws over, doubles, double doubles, to ease the heavy pockets of their burdens. The system of puffing is also as much in use here as among the Lottery-office Keepers, the Quack Doctors, or the Auctioneers; and the __Knowing ones, by an understanding amongst each other, sell their cattle almost for what they please, if it so happens they are not immediately in want of the ready,{1} which, by the way, is an article too frequently in request—and here honest poverty is often obliged to sell at any rate, while the rich black-leg takes care only to sell to a good advantage, making a point at the same time not only to make the most of his cattle, but also of his friend or acquaintance.”
[165]"Words are just empty talk; many proud words come from weak stomachs,” was the response; “and you can almost expect not to hear any truth in this place, known as The Sporting Repository—it’s the main hub for horses and other trendy animals—for expensive donkeys, all kinds of sporting dogs, city pups, and used carriages. Here, bets are placed on races and fights—matches are organized—deals are struck, and commitments are made with as much formality, order, and significance as the proceedings of parliament—questions about jockey practices are settled here; and no fashionable person can enter what’s called polite society without knowing this place and some of its regulars. However, the operations are generally managed in such a way that the stable hands, jockeys, grooms, and dealers come out on top, thanks to their superior knowledge and perceived judgment—they have a knack for setting up elaborate schemes to diddle the dupes, and to introduce throws over, doubles, double doubles, to lighten the pockets of their marks. The art of promotion is just as prevalent here as it is among lottery operators, scam doctors, or auctioneers; and the __Knowing ones, through mutual understanding, sell their goods at prices they choose, provided they aren't urgently in need of ready cash,{1} which, by the way, is something that's often in demand—and here, honest poverty often has to sell at any price, while the wealthy swindler makes sure to sell for a good profit, always seeking to get the best deal for both his assets and those of his friends or acquaintances.”
“Liberal and patriotic-minded men!” said Bob; “it is a noble Society, and well worthy of cultivation.”
“Liberal and patriotic-minded individuals!” said Bob; “it’s a great Society, and definitely deserves our attention.”
“It is fashionable Society, at least,” continued Tom, “and deserving of observation, for it is fraught with instruction.”
“It’s fashionable society, at least,” Tom continued, “and it’s worth noticing because it’s full of lessons.”
“I think so, indeed,” was the reply; “but I really begin to suspect that I shall scarcely have confidence to venture out alone, for there does not appear to be any part of your wonderful Metropolis but what is infested with some kind of shark or other.”
“I think so, for sure,” was the reply; “but I’m starting to feel like I won’t have the confidence to go out alone, because it seems like there’s no part of your amazing city that isn’t swarming with some kind of danger or another.”
“It is but too true, and it is therefore the more necessary to make yourself acquainted with them; it is rather a long lesson, but really deserving of being learnt. You
“It is all too true, and that's why it's even more important to get to know them; it's a bit of a lengthy lesson, but it's definitely worth learning. You
[166]perceive what sort of company you are now in, as far as may be judged from their appearances; but they are not to be trusted, for I doubt not but you would form erroneous conclusions from such premises. The company that assembles here is generally composed of a great variety of characters—the Idler, the Swindler, the Dandy, the Exquisite, the full-pursed young Peer, the needy Sharper, the gaudy Pauper, and the aspiring School-boy, anxious to be thought a dealer and a judge of the article before him—looking at a horse with an air of importance and assumed intelligence, bidding with a trembling voice and palpitating heart, lest it should be knock'd down to him. Do you see that dashing fellow nearly opposite to us, in the green frock-coat, top-boots, and spurs?—do you mark how he nourishes his whip, and how familiar he seems to be with the knowing old covey in brown?”
[166]Notice what kind of crowd you’re in right now, based on how they look; but don’t trust them, because you might come to the wrong conclusions from that. The people here are usually a mix of all kinds— the Slacker, the Con Artist, the Fashionista, the Pretentious One, the wealthy young Noble, the desperate Gambler, the flashy Beggar, and the eager School-boy, who wants to seem like an expert on what’s in front of him—looking at a horse with a sense of importance and fake knowledge, bidding nervously, hoping it doesn’t get sold to him. Do you see that striking guy almost directly across from us, in the green coat, tall boots, and spurs?—do you notice how he handles his whip and how chummy he seems with that shady old guy in brown?
“Yes; I suppose he is a dealer.”
“Yes; I guess he is a dealer.”
“You are right, he is a dealer, but it is in man's flesh, not horse flesh: he is a Bum trap{1} in search of some friend
“You're right, he is a dealer, but it's in human flesh, not horse flesh: he is a Bum trap{1} looking for a friend.
[167]or other, with a writ in his pocket. These fellows have some protean qualities about them, and, as occasion requires, assume all shapes for the purpose of taking care of their customers; they are however a sort of necessary evil. The old one in brown is a well-known dealer, a deep old file, and knows every one around him—he is up to the sharps, down upon the flats, and not to be done. But in looking round you may perceive men booted and spurred, who perhaps never crossed a horse, and some with whips in their hands who deserve it on their backs—they hum lively airs, whistle and strut about with their quizzing-glasses in their hands, playing a tattoo upon their boots, and shewing themselves off with as many airs as if they were real actors engaged in the farce, that is to say, the buyers and sellers; when in truth they are nothing but loungers in search of employment, who may perhaps have to count the trees in the Park for a dinner without satisfying the cravings of nature, dining as it is termed with Duke Humphrey—others, perhaps, who have arrived in safety, are almost afraid to venture into the streets again, lest they should encounter those foes to liberty, John Doe and Richard Roe.”
[167] or otherwise, with a legal notice in his pocket. These guys have a lot of different sides to them and, when necessary, take on various roles to look after their clients; they’re a sort of necessary nuisance. The older guy in brown is a well-known trader, a clever old fox, and knows everyone around—he’s aware of the con artists and the unsuspecting, and he can't be fooled. But if you look around, you might see men in boots and spurs who probably have never ridden a horse, and some with whips in their hands who truly deserve them on their backs—they hum catchy tunes, whistle, and strut about with their opera glasses in hand, tapping their boots, making a show of themselves with as much flair as if they were actual actors in a comedy, namely, the buyers and sellers; when in reality, they are just loafers looking for work, who might end up counting the trees in the park for dinner without satisfying their hunger, dining, as it's said, with Duke Humphrey—others, perhaps, who have made it through safely, are almost afraid to step into the streets again, worried they might run into those enemies of freedom, John Doe and Richard Roe.
?If I do, may I be——' The remainder of the sentence was lost, by the speaker removing in conversation with another, when Tom turn'd round.
?If I do, may I be——' The rest of the sentence was cut off when the speaker shifted to chat with someone else, and Tom turned around.
“O,” said Tom, “I thought I knew who it was—that is one of the greatest reprobates in conversation that I ever met with.”
“O,” Tom said, “I thought I knew who it was—that’s one of the worst people I’ve ever talked to.”
“And who is he?”
"Who is he?"
“Why, I'll give you a brief sketch of him,” continued Dashall: “It is said, and I fancy pretty well known, [168]that he has retired upon a small property, how acquired or accumulated I cannot say; but he has married a Bar-maid of very beautiful features and elegant form: having been brought up to the bar, she is not unaccustomed to confinement; but he has made her an absolute prisoner, for he shuts her up as closely as if she were in a monastery—he never dines at home, and she is left in complete solitude. He thinks his game all safe, but she has sometimes escaped the vigilance of her gaoler, and has been seen at places distant from home.{1}
“Let me give you a quick overview of him,” continued Dashall. “It’s said, and I think it’s pretty well known, [168]that he has retired to a small property, how he got or built it up I can’t say; but he married a barmaid who is very beautiful and elegant. Having been raised in the bar, she isn’t used to isolation, but he treats her like a prisoner, locking her up as if she were in a monastery—he never eats dinner at home, leaving her completely alone. He thinks everything is under control, but she has occasionally slipped past her guard and has been spotted far from home.{1}
“Mr. C—— on the opposite side is a Money-procurer or lender, a very accommodating sort of person, who négociâtes meetings and engagements between young borrowers, who care not what they pay for money, and old lenders, who care not who suffers, so they can obtain enormous interest for their loans. He is a venerable looking man, and is known to most of the young Bloods who visit here. His father was a German Cook in a certain kitchen. He set up for a Gentleman at his father's death, and was taken particular notice of by Lord G——, [170]and indeed by all the turf. He lived a gay and fashionable life, soon run out his fortune, and is now pensioned by a female whom he formerly supported. He is an excellent judge of a horse and horse-racing, upon which subjects his advice is frequently given. He is a very useful person among the generality of gentry who frequent this place of public resort. At the same time it ought to be observed, that among the various characters which infest and injure society, perhaps there are few more practised in guilt, fraud, and deceit, than the Money-lenders.
“Mr. C—— on the opposite side is a money lender, a very accommodating person who arranges meetings and deals between young borrowers, who don't care what they pay for money, and old lenders, who don't care who gets hurt as long as they can get huge interest on their loans. He looks quite respectable and is known by most of the young wealthy visitors here. His father was a German cook in a certain kitchen. After his father's death, he started acting like a gentleman and caught the attention of Lord G——, and indeed everyone on the horse racing scene. He lived a flashy and fashionable life, quickly spent his fortune, and is now supported by a woman he used to take care of. He's a great judge of horses and horse racing, and people often seek his advice on those topics. He’s quite useful among the general gentry who frequent this public place. At the same time, it should be noted that among the various types of people that infest and harm society, there are probably few as skilled in guilt, fraud, and deceit as money lenders.”
“They advertise to procure large sums of money to assist those under pecuniary embarrassment. They generally reside in obscure situations, and are to be found by anonymous signatures, such as A. B. I. R. D. V. &c. They chiefly prey upon young men of property, who have lost their money at play, horse-racing, betting, &c. or other expensive amusements, and are obliged to raise more upon any terms until their rents or incomes become payable: or such as have fortunes in prospect, as being heirs apparent to estates, but who require assistance in the mean time.
“They advertise to raise large sums of money to help those in financial trouble. They usually operate in hidden places and are identified by anonymous initials like A. B. I. R. D. V. etc. They mainly target young men with money who have lost it gambling, on horse racing, betting, or other costly activities, and who need to borrow more at any cost until their rents or incomes come due; or those who have potential inheritances, like being heirs to estates, but need financial help in the meantime.”
“These men avail themselves of the credit, or the ultimate responsibility of the giddy and thoughtless young spendthrift in his eager pursuit of criminal pleasures, and under the influence of those allurements, which the various places of fashionable resort hold out; and seldom fail to obtain from them securities and obligations for large sums; upon the credit of which they are enabled, perhaps at usurious interest, to borrow money or discount bills, and thus supply their unfortunate customers upon the most extravagant terms.
“These men take advantage of the credit or the ultimate responsibility of the reckless and careless young spender in his eager chase of criminal pleasures, influenced by the temptations that various trendy spots offer; and they usually manage to get large sums of money in the form of securities and obligations from them; based on that credit, they may borrow money or discount bills at exorbitant interest rates, thus providing their unfortunate customers with funds under the most extravagant conditions.”
“There are others, who having some capital, advance money upon bonds, title-deeds, and other specialties, or tipon the bond of the parties having property in reversion. By these and other devices, large sums of money are most unwarrantably and illegally wrested from the dissipated and the thoughtless; and misery and distress are perhaps entailed upon them as long as they live, or they are driven by the prospect of utter ruin to acts of desperation or the commission of crimes.
“There are people who, having some money, lend it out against bonds, title deeds, and other specific assets, or based on the promise of those who have property that will come to them in the future. Through these and other schemes, large amounts of money are often taken unfairly and illegally from the careless and the reckless; and they may suffer hardship and distress for the rest of their lives, or they may be pushed by the fear of total disaster to desperate actions or criminal behavior."
“It generally happens upon application to the advertising party, that he, like Moses in The School for Scandal, is not really in possession of any money himself, but then he knows where and how to procure it from a very [171]unconscionable dog, who may, perhaps, not be satisfied with the security ottered; yet, if you have Bills at any reasonable date, he could get them discounted. If you should suffer yourself to be trick'd out of any Bills, he will contrive, in some way or other, to negotiate them—not, as he professes, for you, but for himself and his colleagues; and, very likely, after you have been at the additional expense of commencing a suit at law against them, they have disappeared, and are in the King's Bench or the Fleet, waiting there to defraud you of every hope and expectation, by obtaining their liberty through the White-washing Act.
“It usually happens when you approach the advertiser that he, like Moses in The School for Scandal, doesn’t have any money himself, but he knows where and how to get it from a very [171]untrustworthy person who may not be satisfied with the security offered. However, if you have Bills due at a reasonable date, he could help get them discounted. If you let yourself be tricked out of any Bills, he will find a way to negotiate them—not, as he claims, for you, but for himself and his associates; and likely, after you’ve spent the extra cost of starting a lawsuit against them, they will have vanished and be in the King’s Bench or the Fleet, waiting to cheat you out of all hope and expectations by getting their freedom through the White-washing Act.
“These gentry are for the most part Attorneys or Pettifoggers, or closely connected with such; and notwithstanding all legal provisions to preclude them from exacting large sums, either for their agency and introduction, or for the bonds which they draw, yet they contrive to bring themselves home, and escape detection, by some such means as the following:
“These gentry are mostly attorneys or petty crooks, or closely tied to such people; and despite all the legal measures designed to stop them from demanding large amounts, whether for their services and connections or for the contracts they create, they still manage to cover their tracks and avoid getting caught, often through means like the following:
“They pretend that it is necessary to have a deed drawn up to explain the uses of the Annuity-bond, which the grantor of the money, who is some usurious villain, immediately acknowledges and accedes to; for
“They act like it’s essential to have a document created to clarify the purposes of the Annuity bond, which the person providing the money, who is just some greedy scoundrel, quickly accepts and agrees to; for
“The bond that signs the mortgage pays the shot; so that an Act which is fraught with the best purposes for the protection of the honest, but unfortunate, is in this manner subjected to the grossest chicanery of pettifoggers and pretenders, and the vilest evasions of quirking low villains of the law.
“The bond that secures the mortgage covers the cost; so an Act that is meant to protect the honest but unfortunate is, in this way, exploited by the worst tricks of shady lawyers and frauds, as well as the most despicable maneuvers of lowlife legal scoundrels.”
“There is also another species of money-lender, not inaptly termed the Female Banker. These accommodate Barrow-women and others, who sell fruit, vegetables, &c. in the public streets, with five shillings a day (the usual diurnal stock in such cases;) for the use of which for twelve hours they obtain the moderate premium of sixpence when the money is returned in the evening, receiving at this rate about seven pounds ten shillings per year for every five pounds they can so employ. It is however very difficult to convince the borrowers of the correctness of this calculation, and of the serious loss to which they subject themselves by a continuation of the system, since it is evident that this improvident and dissolute class of people have no other idea than that of making the day and the way alike long. Their profits [172](often considerably augmented by dealing in base money as well as the articles which they sell) seldom last over the day; for they never fail to have a luxurious dinner and a hot supper, with a plentiful supply of gin and porter: looking in general no farther than to keep the whole original stock with the sixpence interest, which is paid over to the female Banker in the evening, and a new loan obtained on the following morning to go to market, and to be disposed of in the same way.
“There's also another type of moneylender, aptly called the Female Banker. They provide women selling fruits, vegetables, etc. on the streets with five shillings a day (the usual daily amount in these cases); for which, after twelve hours, they charge a reasonable fee of sixpence when the money is returned in the evening, making about seven pounds ten shillings a year for every five pounds they can use this way. However, it's really tough to persuade the borrowers that this calculation is accurate and that they are seriously harming themselves by sticking to this system, since it's clear that this careless and unrestrained group of people only wants to make the day and the way equally long. Their profits [172](often significantly boosted by dealing in counterfeit money as well as the goods they sell) usually don’t last beyond the day; they always make sure to enjoy a lavish dinner and a hot supper, with plenty of gin and porter: generally looking no further than to return the entire original amount along with the sixpence interest, which is paid to the Female Banker in the evening, and then getting a new loan the next morning to go to market, repeating the same cycle.”
“In contemplating this curious system of banking, or money lending (trifling as it may appear,) it is almost impossible not to be forcibly struck with the immense profits that are derived from it. It is only necessary for one of these sharpers to possess a capital of seventy shillings, or three pounds ten shillings, with fourteen steady and regular customers, in order to realize an income of one hundred guineas per year! So true it is, that one half of the world do not know how the other half live; for there are thousands who cannot have the least conception of the existence of such facts.
“In thinking about this strange banking system, or money lending (as trivial as it may seem), it’s hard not to be struck by the huge profits it generates. All it takes is for one of these hustlers to have a capital of seventy shillings, or three pounds ten shillings, with fourteen consistent customers, to earn an income of one hundred guineas a year! It’s really accurate that one half of the world has no idea how the other half lives; there are countless people who can’t even imagine these realities.”
“Here comes a Buck of the first cut, one who pretends to know every thing and every body, but thinks of nobody but himself, and of that self in reality knows nothing.
“Here comes a Buck of the first cut, someone who acts like they know everything and everyone, but only cares about themselves, and in reality, knows nothing about that self.”
Captain P——is acknowledged by all his acquaintance to be one of the best fellows in the world, and to beat every one at slang, but U——y and A——se. He is the terror of the Charleys, and of the poor unfortunate roofless nightly wanderers in the streets. You perceive his long white hair, and by no means engaging features. Yet he has vanity enough to think himself handsome, and that he is taken notice of on that account; when the attractions he presents are really such as excite wonder and surprise, mingled with disgust; yet he contemplates his figure in the looking-glass with self satisfaction, and asks the frail ones, with a tremulous voice, if, so help them——he is not a good-looking fellow 1 and they, knowing their customer, of course do not fail to reply in the affirmative.
Captain P—— is recognized by everyone he knows as one of the best guys around, and he can out-slang anyone except U——y and A——se. He frightens the Charleys and the poor, unfortunate people wandering the streets at night. You can see his long white hair and not-so-appealing features. Still, he has enough vanity to believe he's handsome and that people notice him for it. The truth is, the way he looks really just inspires a mix of wonder and disgust. Yet, he checks himself out in the mirror with satisfaction and asks the ladies, in a shaky voice, if they don’t think he’s a good-looking guy. They, knowing how to play along, of course, don’t hesitate to agree.
“He is a well known leg, and is no doubt present on this occasion to bet upon the ensuing Epsom races; by the bye his losses have been very considerable in that way. He has also at all times been a dupe to the sex. It is said that Susan B——, a dashing Cyprian, eased his purse of a £500 bill, and whilst he was dancing in pursuit of her, she was dancing to the tune of a Fife; a clear proof she [173]had an ear for music as well as an eye to business. But I believe it was played in a different Key to what he expected; whether it was a minor Key or not I cannot exactly say.
“He's a well-known gambler, and he's definitely here to bet on the upcoming Epsom races; by the way, he's had some pretty significant losses in that area. He's also always been a sucker for women. It's said that Susan B——, a flashy escort, relieved him of a £500 note, and while he was busy chasing after her, she was enjoying herself to the beat of a flute; a clear sign she had a good ear for music as well as a knack for business. But I think it was played in a way he didn't expect; whether it was a minor tune or not, I can't really say.” [173]
“At a ball or assembly he conceives himself quite at home, satisfied that he is the admiration of the whole of the company present; and were he to give an account of himself, it would most likely be in substance nearly as follows:
“At a ball or gathering, he feels completely at ease, convinced that he is the center of admiration for everyone there; and if he were to describe himself, it would probably be in something very much like this:
“When I enter the room, what a whisp'ring is heard; My rivals, astonish'd, scarce utter a word; “How charming! (cry all; ) how enchanting a fellow! How neat are those small-clothes, how killingly yellow. Not for worlds would I honour these plebs with a smile, Tho' bursting with pride and delight all the while; So I turn to my cronies (a much honour'd few,); Crying, “S—z—m, how goes it?—Ah, Duchess, how do? Ton my life, yonder's B—uf, and Br—ke, and A—g—le, S-ff—d, W—tm—1—d, L—n, and old codger C—ri—le.” Now tho', from this style of address, it appears That these folks I have known for at least fifty years, The fact is, my friends, that I scarcely know one, A mere “façon de parler,” the way of the ton. What tho' they dislike it, I answer my ends, Country gentlemen stare, and suppose them my friends.
“When I walk into the room, there’s a whispering going on; My rivals, surprised, can hardly say a thing; 'How charming!' they all exclaim, 'what an enchanting guy! How stylish those pants are, such a vivid yellow.' I wouldn’t smile at these commoners for anything, Even though I’m bursting with pride and happiness all the same; So I turn to my buddies (a select few of them), Saying, 'S—z—m, how’s it going?—Ah, Duchess, how are you? Honestly, look over there, it’s B—uf, and Br—ke, and A—g—le, S-ff—d, W—tm—1—d, L—n, and the old guy C—ri—le.' Now, even though the way I address them suggests That I’ve known these folks for at least fifty years, The truth is, my friends, I hardly know any of them, Just a 'figure of speech,' the way people talk. Even if they don’t like it, I get what I want, Country gents look on and assume they’re my friends."
But my beautiful taste (as indeed you will guess) Is manifest most in my toilet and dress; My neckcloth of course forms my principal care, For by that we criterions of elegance swear, And costs me each morning some hours of flurry, To make it appear to be tied in a hurry. My boot-tops, those unerring marks of a blade, With Champagne are polish'd, and peach marmalade; And a violet coat, closely copied from B—ng, With a cluster of seals, and a large diamond ring; And troisièmes of buckskin, bewitchingly large, Give the finishing stroke to the “parfait ouvrage.”
But my great sense of style (as you can probably guess) is most obvious in my grooming and outfit; My necktie is obviously my main concern, because that's how we judge elegance, and it takes me a few frantic hours every morning to make it look like I tied it in a rush. My boot tops, the sure signs of a stylish guy, are polished with Champagne and peach marmalade; And a violet jacket, closely mimicking B—ng, adorned with a cluster of seals and a large diamond ring; And my buckskin trousers, extravagantly large, give the final touch to the “perfect work.”
During this animated description of the gay personage alluded to, Bob had listened with the most undeviating attention, keeping his eye all the time on this extravagant piece of elegance and fashion, but could not help bursting into an immoderate fit of laughter at its conclusion. In the mean time the crowd of visitors had continued to increase; all appeared to be bustle and confusion; small parties were seen in groups communicating together in different places, and every face appeared to be animated by hopes or fears. Dashall was exchanging familiar [174]nods and winks with those whom lie knew; but as their object was not to buy, they paid but little attention to the sales of the day, rather contenting themselves with a view of the human cattle by which they were surrounded, when they were pleasingly surprised to observe their friend Sparkle enter, booted and spurred.
During this lively description of the flamboyant person mentioned, Bob listened with unwavering focus, keeping his eyes on this extravagant display of elegance and fashion, but he couldn't help bursting into uncontrollable laughter at the end. Meanwhile, the crowd of visitors kept growing; everyone seemed busy and chaotic. Small groups were seen chatting in different areas, and every face was filled with hopes or fears. Dashall was exchanging friendly nods and winks with those he recognized; however, since they weren't there to buy, they barely paid attention to the day's sales, instead enjoying the spectacle of the people around them when they were pleasantly surprised to see their friend Sparkle enter, all dressed up in boots and spurs.
“Just the thing! (said Sparkle,) I had some suspicion of finding you here. Are you buyers? Does your Cousin want a horse, an ass, or a filly?”
“Exactly what I was thinking! (said Sparkle,) I had a feeling I’d find you here. Are you interested in buying? Does your cousin want a horse, a donkey, or a young female horse?”
Tom smiled; “Always upon the ramble, eh, Sparkle. Why ask such questions? You know we are well horsed; but I suppose if the truth was known, you are prad sellers; if so, shew your article, and name your price.”
Tom smiled, “Always out and about, huh, Sparkle? Why ask such questions? You know we have good horses; but I guess if we're being honest, you’re the ones selling ponies; if that’s the case, show us what you’ve got and tell us your price.”
“Apropos,” said Sparkle; “Here is a friend of mine, to whom I must introduce you, so say no more about articles and prices—I have an article in view above all price—excuse me.” And with this he made his way among the tribe of Jockeys, Sharpers, and Blacklegs, and in a minute returned, bringing with him a well-dressed young man, whose manners and appearance indicated the Gentleman, and whose company was considered by Tom and his Cousin as a valuable acquisition.
“Apropos,” said Sparkle; “Here’s a friend of mine I need to introduce you to, so let’s stop talking about items and prices—I have something in mind that’s priceless—excuse me.” With that, he made his way through the crowd of Jockeys, Sharpers, and Blacklegs, and in a minute returned with a well-dressed young man, whose manners and appearance suggested he was a gentleman, and whose company Tom and his cousin considered a valuable addition.
“Mr. Richard Mortimer,” said Sparkle, as he introduced his friend—“the Hon. Mr. Dashall, and Mr. Robert Tallyho.”
“Mr. Richard Mortimer,” said Sparkle, as he introduced his friend—“the Hon. Mr. Dashall, and Mr. Robert Tallyho.”
After the mutual interchanges of politeness which naturally succeeded this introduction—“Come,” said Sparkle, “we are horsed, and our nags waiting—we are for a ride, which way do you bend your course?”
After the polite exchanges that naturally followed this introduction—“Come on,” said Sparkle, “we’re mounted, and our horses are ready—we’re going for a ride, which way are you headed?”
“A lucky meeting,” replied Tom; “for we are upon the same scent; I expect my curricle at Hyde-Park Corner in ten minutes, and have no particular line of destination.”
“A lucky meeting,” replied Tom; “because we’re on the same trail; I expect my carriage at Hyde-Park Corner in ten minutes, and I don't have a specific destination in mind.”
“Good,” said Sparkle; “then we may hope to have your company; and how disposed for the evening?”
“Good,” said Sparkle; “then we can look forward to having you with us; how are you feeling about the evening?”
“Even as chance may direct.”
"Even as fate may guide."
“Good, again—all right—then as you are neither buyers nor sellers, let us employ the remaining ten minutes in looking around us—there is nothing to attract here—Epsom Races are all the talk, and all of business that is doing—come along, let us walk through the Park—let the horses meet us at Kensington Gate, and then for a twist among the briers and brambles.”
“Great, again—all right—since you’re neither buyers nor sellers, let’s spend the next ten minutes looking around—there’s nothing interesting here—everyone’s talking about the Epsom Races, and that’s all the business happening—come on, let’s take a walk through the Park—let the horses meet us at Kensington Gate, and then we’ll wander through the bushes and brambles.”
This was readily agreed to: orders were given to the servants, and the party proceeded towards the Park.[175]
This was quickly agreed upon: instructions were given to the staff, and the group made their way to the Park.[175]
CHAPTER XIII
AS they passed through the gate, Tom observed it was rather too early to expect much company. “Never mind,” said Sparkle, “we are company enough among ourselves; the morning is fine, the curricle not arrived, and we shall find plenty of conversation, if we do not discover interesting character, to diversify our promenade. Travelling spoils conversation, unless you are squeezed like an Egyptian mummy into a stage or a mail-coach; and perhaps in that case you may meet with animals who have voices, without possessing the power of intellect to direct them to any useful or agreeable purpose.”
As they walked through the gate, Tom noticed it was a bit early to expect much company. “No worries,” said Sparkle, “we’re enough company for each other; the morning is lovely, the carriage hasn't arrived yet, and we’ll find plenty to talk about, even if we don’t encounter interesting people to spice up our stroll. Traveling ruins conversation, unless you’re crammed like an Egyptian mummy into a stagecoach or a mail coach; and maybe in that situation, you’ll run into people who can talk but lack the brains to make it meaningful or enjoyable.”
[176]Tallyho, who was at all times delighted with Sparkle's descriptions of society and manners, appeared pleased with the proposition.
[176]Tallyho, who was always thrilled by Sparkle's stories about society and behavior, seemed pleased with the suggestion.
“Your absence from town,” continued Sparkle, addressing himself to Dashall, “has prevented my introduction of Mr. Mortimer before, though you have heard me mention his Sister. They are now inhabitants of our own sphere of action, and I trust we shall all become better known to each other.”
“Your absence from town,” continued Sparkle, speaking to Dashall, “has stopped me from introducing Mr. Mortimer earlier, even though you’ve heard me mention his sister. They now live in our area, and I hope we all get to know each other better.”
This piece of information appeared to be truly acceptable to all parties. Young Mortimer was a good-looking and well made young man; his features were animated and intelligent; his manners polished, though not quite so unrestrained as those which are to be acquired by an acquaintance with metropolitan associations.
This information seemed to be completely agreeable to everyone involved. Young Mortimer was an attractive and well-built young man; his features were lively and intelligent; his manners were refined, though not quite as relaxed as those gained through exposure to city life.
“I am happy,” said he, “to be introduced to any friends of your's, and shall be proud to number them among mine.”
“I’m happy,” he said, “to be introduced to any of your friends, and I’ll be proud to count them among mine.”
“You may,” replied Sparkle, “with great safety place them on your list; though you know I have already made it appear to you that friendship is a term more generally made use of than understood in London—
“You can,” replied Sparkle, “safely add them to your list; even though I’ve already shown you that friendship is a term that’s used more often than understood in London—
“These sentiments are excellently expressed,” said Tom, pinching him by the arm—“and I suppose in perfect consonance with your own?”
“These feelings are really well put,” said Tom, pinching him on the arm—“and I guess they match your own perfectly?”
Sparkle felt 'the rebuke, look'd down, and seem'd confused; but in a moment recovering himself,
Sparkle felt the criticism, looked down, and seemed confused; but after a moment, he regained his composure,
“Not exactly so,” replied he; “but then you know, and I don't mind confessing it among friends, though you are aware it is very unfashionable to acknowledge the existence of any thing of the kind, I am a pupil of nature.”
“Not exactly,” he replied; “but you know, and I don’t mind admitting it among friends, even though it’s very out of style to acknowledge anything like this, I’m a student of nature.”
“You seem to be in a serious humour all at once,” said young Mortimer.
"You suddenly seem to be in a pretty serious mood," said young Mortimer.
[177]"Can't help it,” continued Sparkle—“for,
"Can't help it," continued Sparkle—"for,
“And that usurper, or I should rather say, would be usurper, Fashion, is in no way in alliance with our natures. I remember the old Duchess of Marlborough used to say 'That to love some persons very much, and to see often those we love, is the greatest happiness I can enjoy;' but it appears almost impossible for any person in London to secure such an enjoyment, and I can't help feeling it.”
“And that usurper, or I should say, wannabe usurper, Fashion, has nothing to do with who we really are. I remember the old Duchess of Marlborough used to say, 'Loving certain people deeply and seeing the ones we love often is the greatest happiness I can experience;' but it seems almost impossible for anyone in London to have that kind of happiness, and I can't help but feel that way.”
By the look and manner with which this last sentiment was uttered, Tom plainly discovered there was a something labouring at his heart which prompted it. “Moralizing!” said he. “Ah, Charley, you are a happy fellow. I never yet knew one who could so rapidly change 'from grave to gay, from lively to severe; and for the benefit of our friends, I can't help thinking you could further elucidate the very subject you have so feelingly introduced.”
By the look and way Tom said this last sentiment, he clearly realized that there was something weighing on his heart that inspired it. “Moralizing!” he said. “Ah, Charley, you’re a lucky guy. I’ve never met someone who can so quickly switch 'from serious to cheerful, from playful to stern; and, for the sake of our friends, I can’t help but think you could explain the very topic you’ve so thoughtfully brought up.”
“You are a quiz” said Sparkle; “but there is one thing to be said, I know you, and have no great objection to your hits now and then, provided they are not knock down blows.”
“You're a puzzle,” Sparkle said, “but there's one thing I have to say: I know you, and I don’t mind your little surprises every now and then, as long as they’re not total knockouts.”
“But,” said Mortimer, “what has this to do with friendship and love? I thought you were going to give something like a London definition of the terms.”
“But,” Mortimer said, “what does this have to do with friendship and love? I thought you were going to provide a definition of those terms in a way that’s relevant to London.”
“Why,” said Sparkle, “in London it is equally difficult to get to love any body very much, or often to meet those that we love. There are such numbers of acquaintances, such a constant succession of engagements of one sort or other, such a round of delights, that the town resembles Vauxhall, where the nearest and dearest friends may walk round and round all night without once meeting: for instance, at dinner you should see a person whose manners and conversation are agreeable and pleasing to you; you may wish in vain to become more intimate, for the chance is, that you will not meet so as to converse a second time for many months; for no one can tell when the dice-box of society may turn up the same numbers again. I do not mean to infer that you may not barely see the same features again; it is possible that you may catch a glimpse of them on the opposite side of Pall [178]Mall or Bond-street, or see them near to you at a crowded rout, without a possibility of approaching.
“Why,” said Sparkle, “in London it's just as hard to love anyone too much, or to often meet those we care about. There are so many acquaintances, so many events to attend, such a cycle of social activities, that the city feels like Vauxhall, where even our closest friends can walk around all night and never run into each other: for example, at dinner you might meet someone whose manners and conversation you enjoy; you may wish you could get closer, but the reality is that you probably won’t have a chance to converse again for months. No one can predict when society will roll the dice and land on the same numbers again. I'm not saying you won’t ever see the same faces again; you might catch a glimpse of them from across Pall Mall or Bond Street, or spot them nearby at a crowded party, but there’s no chance to actually approach them.”
“It is from this cause, that those who live in London are so totally indifferent to each other; the waves follow so quick, that every vacancy is immediately filled up, and the want is not perceived. The well-bred civility of modern times, and the example of some 'very popular people,' it is true, have introduced a shaking of hands, a pretended warmth, a dissembled cordiality, into the manners of the cold and warm, alike the dear friend and the acquaintance of yesterday. Consequently we continually hear such conversation as the following:—' Ah, how d'ye do? I'm delighted to see you! How is Mrs. M——?'
“It’s because of this that people in London are so completely indifferent to each other; the waves of social interaction come so quickly that any gap is immediately filled, and the need doesn’t even register. The polite civility of today, along with the influence of some 'very popular people,' has introduced a handshake, a fake warmth, and a show of friendliness into the behavior of both the cold and warm, whether it’s a dear friend or an acquaintance from just yesterday. As a result, we often hear conversations like this:—'Oh, how are you? I’m so glad to see you! How is Mrs. M——?'”
?She's very well, thank you.' 'Has she any increase in family?' 'Any increase! why I've only been married three months. I see you are talking of my former wife: bless you, she has been dead these three years.'—Or, ?Ah, my dear friend, how d'ye do? You have been out of town some time; where have you been? In Norfolk?' 'No, I have been two years in India.'”
"She's doing really well, thank you." "Has her family grown?" "Grown? I've only been married for three months. I see you're talking about my ex-wife; bless her, she's been gone for three years." — "Oh, my dear friend, how are you? You've been out of town for a while; where have you been? In Norfolk?" "No, I've been in India for two years."
This description of a friendly salutation appeared to interest and amuse both Talltho and Mortimer. Tom laughed, shrugg'd up his shoulders, acknowledged the picture was too true, and Sparkle continued.
This description of a friendly greeting seemed to interest and amuse both Talltho and Mortimer. Tom laughed, shrugged his shoulders, acknowledged that the picture was too accurate, and Sparkle went on.
“And thus it is, that, ignorant of one another's interests and occupations, the generality of friendships of London contain nothing more tender than a visiting card: nor are they much better, indeed they are much worse, if you renounce the world, and determine to live only with your relations and nearest connexions; for if you go to see them at one o'clock, they are not stirring; at two, the room is full of different acquaintances, who talk over the occurrences of the last night's ball, and, of course, are paid more attention to than yourself; at three, they are out shopping; at four, they are in this place dashing among the Pinks, from which they do not return till seven, then they are dressing; at eight, they are dining with two dozen friends; at nine and ten the same; at eleven, they are dressing for the ball; and at twelve, when you are retiring to rest, they are gone into society for the evening: so that you are left in solitude; you soon begin again to try the world—and we will endeavour to discover what it produces.
“And so it is that, unaware of each other's interests and activities, most friendships in London consist of nothing more meaningful than a visiting card. They’re not much better, and indeed worse, if you choose to withdraw from society and only spend time with family and close connections; because if you visit them at one o'clock, they aren't up yet; by two, the room is filled with various acquaintances talking about the events of the previous night's party, and of course, they get more attention than you do; by three, they’ve gone shopping; by four, they’re out mingling among the socialites and won’t be back until seven, when they’ll be getting ready; at eight, they’re having dinner with a crowd of friends; the same goes for nine and ten; by eleven, they’re prepping for the ball; and by midnight, when you’re heading to bed, they’re off socializing for the evening. So you’re left alone; soon you start trying to engage with the outside world again—and we’ll see what it has to offer.”
“The first inconvenience of a London Life is the late [179]hour of a fashionable dinner. To pass the day in fasting, and then sit down to a great dinner at eight o'clock, is entirely against the first dictates of common sense and common stomachs. But what is to be done? he who rails against the fashion of the times will be considered a most unfashionable dog, and perhaps I have already said more than sufficient to entitle me to that appellation.”
“The first drawback of living in London is the late [179] hour of a trendy dinner. Fasting all day only to have a big dinner at eight o’clock goes completely against the basic rules of common sense and our stomachs. But what can you do? Anyone who complains about current trends will be seen as incredibly unfashionable, and maybe I've already said enough to earn that title.”
“Don't turn King's Evidence against yourself,” said Tom; “for, if you plead guilty in this happy country, you must be tried by your Peers.”
“Don't use King's Evidence against yourself,” Tom said; “because, if you plead guilty in this great country, you have to be tried by your peers.”
“Nay,” said Mortimer, “while fashion and reason appear to be in such direct opposition to each other, I must confess their merits deserve to be impartially tried; though I cannot, for one moment, doubt but the latter must ultimately prevail with the generality, however her dictates may be disregarded by the votaries of the former.”
“Not at all,” said Mortimer, “even though style and logic seem to be in clear conflict with each other, I have to admit that both deserve a fair assessment; however, I have no doubt that reason will ultimately win out for most people, even if its guidance is often ignored by those who follow fashion.”
“You are a good one at a ramble” said Tom, “and not a bad one in a spree, but I cannot help thinking you are rambling out of your road; you seem to have lost the thread of your subject, and, having been disappointed with love and friendship, you are just going to sit down to dinner.”
“You're great at going off on a tangent,” Tom said, “and not bad when you’re having fun, but I can’t help feeling you’ve lost your way. It seems like you've lost the point of your topic, and after being let down by love and friendship, you’re just about to sit down to dinner.”
“Pardon me,” replied Sparkle, “I was proceeding naturally, and not fashionably, to my subject; but I know you are so great an admirer of the latter, that you care but little about the former.”
“Excuse me,” replied Sparkle, “I was approaching my topic in a straightforward way, not a trendy one; but I know you appreciate the latter so much that you hardly care about the former.”
“Hit for hit,” said Tom; “but go on—you are certainly growing old, Sparkle; at all events, you appear very grave this morning, and if you continue in this humour long, I shall expect you are about taking Orders.”
“Hit for hit,” Tom said. “But go on—you’re definitely getting older, Sparkle; for sure, you seem very serious this morning, and if you keep this up for much longer, I’ll expect you’re thinking about becoming a priest.”
“There is a time for all things, but the time for that has not yet arrived.”
“There’s a time for everything, but that time hasn’t come yet.”
“Well, then, proceed without sermonizing.”
“Well, then, continue without lecturing.”
“I don't like to be interrupted,” replied Sparkle; “and there is yet much to be said on the subject. I find there are many difficulties to encounter in contending with the fashionable customs. Some learned persons have endeavoured to support the practice of late dinners by precedent, and quoted the Roman supper; but it ought to be recollected that those suppers were at three o'clock in the afternoon, and should be a subject of contempt, instead of imitation, in Grosvenor Square. Women, [180]however, are not quite so irrational as men, in London, for they generally sit down to a substantial lunch about three or four; if men would do the same, the meal at eight might be relieved of many of its weighty dishes, and conversation would be a gainer by it; for it must be allowed on all hands, that conversation suffers great interruption from the manner in which fashionable dinners are managed. First, the host and hostess (or her unfortunate coadjutor) are employed during three parts of the dinner in doing the work of servants, helping fish, or carving venison to twenty hungry guests, to the total loss of the host's powers of amusement, and the entire disfigurement of the fair hostess's face. Again, much time is lost by the attention every one is obliged to pay, in order to find out (which, by the way, he cannot do if he is short-sighted) what dishes are at the extreme end of the table; and if a guest is desirous of a glass of wine, he must peep through the Apollos and Cupids of the plateau, in order to find some one to take it with; otherwise he is compelled to wait till some one asks him, which will probably happen in succession; so that after having had no wine for half an hour, he will have to swallow five glasses in five minutes. Convenience teaches, that the best manner of enjoying society at dinner, is to leave every thing to the servants that servants can do; so that no farther trouble may be experienced than to accept the dishes that are presented, and to drink at your own time the wines which are handed round. A fashionable dinner, on the contrary, seems to presume beforehand on the silence, dulness, and insipidity of the guests, and to have provided little interruptions, like the jerks which the Chaplain gives to the Archbishop to prevent his going to sleep during a sermon.”
“I don't like being interrupted,” Sparkle replied. “There’s still a lot to discuss on this topic. I’ve noticed many challenges when it comes to dealing with trendy customs. Some scholars have tried to justify late dinners by referencing the Roman supper, but we should remember that those meals were at three o'clock in the afternoon, which should be ridiculed rather than copied in Grosvenor Square. However, women in London aren’t as unreasonable as men; they usually have a hearty lunch around three or four. If men did the same, the meal at eight could be less heavy, and conversations would benefit from it. It’s universally acknowledged that conversation suffers greatly from how fashionable dinners are organized. First, the host and hostess (or her unfortunate partner) spend most of the dinner acting like waitstaff, serving dishes or carving roast for twenty hungry guests, which severely limits the host's ability to entertain and messes up the hostess's appearance. Furthermore, a lot of time is wasted as everyone struggles to see (which, by the way, is impossible if you’re short-sighted) what dishes are all the way at the end of the table. If a guest wants a glass of wine, they have to peek through the decorative figures to find someone to share it with; otherwise, they have to wait until someone offers, which likely happens in order, so after not having any wine for half an hour, they end up chugging five glasses in five minutes. Common sense suggests that the best way to enjoy company at dinner is to let the staff handle everything they can, so all you have to do is accept what’s served and sip the wines as they come around. A fancy dinner, on the other hand, seems to assume that the guests will be quiet, boring, and bland, and prepares little distractions, much like the nudges the Chaplain gives to the Archbishop to keep him awake during a sermon.”
“Accurate descriptions, as usual,” said Tom, “and highly amusing.”
“Right on point as always,” Tom said, “and really entertaining.”
Tallyho and Mortimer were intent upon hearing the remainder of Sparkle's account, though they occasionally joined in the laugh, and observed that Sparkle seemed to be in a very sentimental mood. As they continued to walk on, he resumed—
Tallyho and Mortimer were eager to hear the rest of Sparkle's story, even though they occasionally laughed along and noted that Sparkle seemed to be in a particularly sentimental mood. As they kept walking, he started again—
“Well then, some time after dinner comes the hour for the ball, or rout; but this is sooner said than done: it often requires as much time to go from St. James's Square to Cleveland Row, as to go from London to Hounslow.
“Well then, some time after dinner comes the time for the ball or party; but this is easier said than done: it often takes just as long to get from St. James's Square to Cleveland Row as it does to get from London to Hounslow.
[181]It would require volumes to describe the disappointment which occurs on arriving in the brilliant mob of a ball-room. Sometimes, as it has been before said, a friend is seen squeezed like yourself, at the other end of the room, without a possibility of your communicating, except by signs; and as the whole arrangement of the society is regulated by mechanical pressure, you may happen to be pushed against those to whom you do not wish to speak, whether bores, slight acquaintances, or determined enemies. Confined by the crowd, stifled by the heat, dazzled by the light, all powers of intellect are obscured; wit loses its point, and sagacity its observation; indeed, the limbs are so crushed, and the tongue so parched, that, except particularly undressed ladies, all are in the case of the traveller, Mr. Clarke, when he says, that in the plains of Syria some might blame him for not making moral reflections on the state of the country; but that he must own that the heat quite deprived him of all power of thought. Hence it is, that the conversation you hear around you is generally nothing more than—“Have you been here long?—Have you been at Mrs. H——'s?—Are you going to Lady D——'s?”—Hence too,
[181]It would take many pages to describe the disappointment that comes when you arrive in the dazzling chaos of a ballroom. As mentioned before, you might spot a friend across the room, trapped just like you, with no way to communicate except through gestures; and since the whole social setup is dictated by sheer crowd pressure, you might find yourself shoved against people you would prefer to avoid, whether they are annoying, mere acquaintances, or outright enemies. Stuck in the crowd, overwhelmed by the heat, and blinded by the lights, all mental faculties fade away; wit loses its edge, and keen observation slips away; in fact, everyone feels so cramped and dehydrated that, aside from particularly revealing outfits, everyone is in the same boat as Mr. Clarke, who remarked that while some might criticize him for not reflecting on the state of Syria while traveling there, he had to admit that the heat completely hindered his ability to think. Because of this, the conversations around you typically consist of nothing more than, “Have you been here long?—Have you been to Mrs. H——'s?—Are you going to Lady D——'s?”—And so,
Madam de Staël said very justly to an Englishman, “Dans vos routes le corps fait plus de frai que l'esprit.” But even if there are persons of a constitution robust enough to talk, they dare not do so, when twenty heads are forced into the compass of one square foot; nay, even if, to your great delight, you see a person to whom you have much to say, and by fair means or foul, elbows and toes, knees and shoulders, have got near him, he often dismisses you with shaking you by the hand, and saying—My dear Mr.—— how do you do? and then continues a conversation with a person whose ear is three inches nearer. At one o'clock, however, the crowd diminishes; and if you are not tired by the five or six hours of playing at company, which you have already had, you may be very comfortable for the rest of the evening. This however is the round of fashionable company. But I begin to be tired even of the description.”
Madam de Staël accurately told an Englishman, “In your gatherings, the body makes more noise than the mind.” But even if there are some people who are strong enough to speak up, they often don't when twenty heads are crammed into a single square foot. Even if, to your great joy, you spot someone you want to talk to, and you manage to get close through elbows, toes, knees, and shoulders, they often just shake your hand and say, “My dear Mr.——, how are you?” before continuing a conversation with someone whose ear is just three inches closer. However, by one o'clock, the crowd begins to thin out, and if you’re not exhausted from the five or six hours of mingling you've already had, you can actually enjoy the rest of the evening. But this is just the routine of fashionable gatherings. Honestly, I’m starting to tire of even describing it.
“A very luminous and comprehensive view of fashionable society however,” said Tom, “sketched by a natural hand in glowing colours, though not exactly in the usual style. I shall not venture to assert whether the subjects are well chosen, but the figures are well grouped, and [182]display considerable ability and lively imagination in the painter, though a little confused.”
“A very bright and detailed picture of fashionable society, though,” said Tom, “drawn by a natural hand in vibrant colors, even if it’s not quite in the typical style. I can’t say for sure if the subjects are well chosen, but the figures are well arranged and [182]show significant talent and lively imagination in the artist, even if it feels a bit messy.”
“It appears to be a study from nature,” said Mortimer.
“It seems to be a natural study,” Mortimer said.
“At least,” continued Sparkle, “it is a study from Real Life, and delineates the London manners; for although I have been a mingler in the gaieties and varieties of a London Life, I have always held the same opinions with respect to the propriety of the manners and customs adopted, and have endeavoured to read as I ran; and it cannot be denied, that, in the eye of fashion, nothing can be more amiable than to deviate, or at least to affect a deviation, from nature, for to speak or act according to her dictates, would be considered vulgar and common-place in the last degree; to hear a story and not express an emotion you do not feel, perfectly rude and unmannerly, and among the ladies particularly. To move and think as the heart feels inclined, are offences against politeness that no person can ever in honour or delicacy forgive.”
“At least,” Sparkle continued, “it’s a study of real life and captures the manners of London. Even though I’ve mingled in the fun and variety of London life, I’ve always held the same views about the appropriateness of the customs we adopt. I’ve tried to adapt as I go along; it’s undeniable that, in the eyes of fashion, nothing seems more charming than to stray from, or at least to pretend to stray from, what’s natural. Speaking or acting according to nature’s guidelines would be seen as completely vulgar and ordinary. To hear a story and not show an emotion you don’t genuinely feel is considered really rude and impolite, especially among ladies. To move and think according to what one’s heart truly feels is a violation of politeness that no one can ever forgive in honor or delicacy.”
“Come, come,” said Tom, “don't you be so hard on the blessings of Life—
“Come on,” said Tom, “don’t be so tough on the blessings of life—
Sparkle affected to laugh, appeared confused, and look'd down for a few moments, and they walk'd on in silence.
Sparkle pretended to laugh, seemed confused, and looked down for a few moments, and they walked on in silence.
“I perceive,” said Tom, “how the matter stands—well, I shall not be a tormentor—but remember I expect an introduction to the fair enslaver. I thought you 'defy'd the mighty conqueror of hearts,' and resolved to be free.”
“I see,” said Tom, “how things are—well, I won’t be a tormentor—but just know that I expect an introduction to the beautiful captor. I thought you 'defied the mighty conqueror of hearts,' and decided to be free.”
“Resolutions, as well as promises, are easily made,” said Sparkle, “but not always so easily accomplished or performed—nor are you always accurate in your conceptions of circumstances; but no matter, your voyages are always made in search of discoveries, and, in spite of your resolutions, [183]you may perchance be entrapp'd. But no more of this; I perceive your raillery is directed to me, and I hope you enjoy it.”
“Making resolutions and promises is easy,” said Sparkle, “but actually following through on them is often much harder—plus, your understanding of the situations isn’t always spot on. But that’s fine; your journeys are always about making discoveries, and despite your good intentions, [183]you might end up caught in a trap. But enough of that; I see that you’re poking fun at me, and I hope you’re having a good time.”
“Faith,” replied Tom, “you know I always enjoy your company, but I don't recollect to have found you in so prosing a humour before—Pray, which way are you directing your coursel?”
“Faith,” replied Tom, “you know I always enjoy hanging out with you, but I don’t remember you being in such a chatty mood before—So, where are you heading?”
During the latter part of this conversation, Bob and young Mortimer were employed in admiring the fine piece of water which presented itself to their notice in the Serpentine River.
During the later part of this conversation, Bob and young Mortimer were busy admiring the beautiful stretch of water that caught their attention in the Serpentine River.
“Merely for a ride,” was the reply; “any way you please, to pass away the time.”
“Just for a ride,” was the response; “however you like, to kill some time.”
“Mighty cavalier, truly,” said Tom; “but come, here we are at Kensington, let us mount, and away.”
“Mighty cavalier, for sure,” said Tom; “but come on, here we are at Kensington, let’s get on and go.”
“Remember, I expect you and Mr. Tallyho to accompany me in the evening to a family-party. I have already stated my intention, and you are both expected.”
“Just a reminder, I expect you and Mr. Tallyho to join me tonight for a family party. I’ve already mentioned this, and both of you are expected.”
“Upon these terms then, I am your man, and I think I may answer for my Cousin.”
“On these terms, I’m in, and I believe I can speak for my cousin.”
By this time they were at the gate, where, finding the curricle and the nags all in readiness, Sparkle and Mortimer were soon horsed, and Tom and Bob seated in the curricle. They proceeded to Richmond, taking surveys of the scenery on the road, and discoursing on the usual topics of such a journey, which being foreign to the professed intention of this work, are omitted. Suffice it to say they returned refreshed from the excursion, and parted with a promise to meet again at nine o'clock, in Grosvenor Square.
By this time they reached the gate, where they found the curricle and the horses all ready. Sparkle and Mortimer quickly got on their horses, and Tom and Bob settled into the curricle. They headed to Richmond, taking in the scenery along the way and chatting about the usual topics for such a trip, which aren’t relevant to the main purpose of this work, so they're left out. It’s enough to say they came back feeling refreshed from the outing and parted with a promise to meet again at nine o'clock in Grosvenor Square.
“Egad!” said Dashall, as they entered the diningroom, “there is something very mysterious in all this. Sparkle has hitherto been the life and soul of society: he seems to be deeply smitten with this young Lady, Miss Mortimer, and promises fairly, by his manner, to prove a deserter from our standard, and to inlist under the banners of Hymen.”
“Wow!” said Dashall as they walked into the dining room, “there’s something really mysterious about all this. Sparkle has always been the life of the party: he seems to be really taken with this young lady, Miss Mortimer, and by the looks of it, he might actually abandon our ways and join the ranks of marriage.”
“Not unlikely,” replied Tallyho, “if what we are told be true—that it is what we must all come to.”
“Not unlikely,” replied Tallyho, “if what we’ve been told is true—that it’s what we all have to face.”
“Be that as it may, it ought not to interfere with our pursuits, Real Life in London, though, to be sure, the Ladies, dear creatures, ought not to be forgotten: they are so nearly and dearly interwoven with our existence, that, without them, Life would be insupportable.”
“That said, it shouldn’t get in the way of what we want to do. Real Life in London, of course, the ladies, those lovely beings, shouldn’t be overlooked: they are so closely and dearly linked to our lives that, without them, life would be unbearable.”
[184]After dinner, they prepared for the evening party, and made their appearance in Grosvenor Squire at the appointed hour. But as this will introduce new characters to the Reader, we shall defer our account of them till the next Chapter.
[184]After dinner, they got ready for the evening party and showed up at Grosvenor Squire at the scheduled time. However, since this will introduce new characters to the Reader, we will hold off on describing them until the next Chapter.
CHAPTER XIV
ARRIVED at Grosvenor Square, they found the party consisted of Colonel B——, his son and daughter, Miss Mortimer, and her brother, Mr. Sparkle, Mr. Merrywell, and Lady Lovelace. The first salutations of introduction being over, there was time to observe the company, among whom, Miss Mortimer appeared to be the principal magnet of attraction. The old Colonel was proud to see the friends of Mr. Sparkle, and had previously given a hearty welcome to Mr. Merrywell, as the friend of his nephew, the young Mortimer. Sparkle now appeared the gayest of the gay, and had been amusing the company with some of his liveliest descriptions of character and manners, that are to be witnessed in the metropolis. While Merrywell, who did not seem to be pleased with the particular attentions he paid to Miss Mortimer, was in close conversation with her brother.
ARRIVED at Grosvenor Square, they found the party consisted of Colonel B——, his son and daughter, Miss Mortimer, her brother, Mr. Sparkle, Mr. Merrywell, and Lady Lovelace. After the initial introductions, there was time to observe the group, among whom Miss Mortimer clearly stood out as the center of attention. The old Colonel was proud to see Mr. Sparkle's friends and had warmly welcomed Mr. Merrywell, who was a friend of his nephew, young Mortimer. Sparkle appeared to be the life of the party, entertaining everyone with his lively descriptions of characters and behaviors seen in the city. Meanwhile, Merrywell, who didn't seem too happy about the specific attention he was giving to Miss Mortimer, was engaged in a deep conversation with her brother.
Tom could not but acknowledge that it was scarcely possible to see Miss Mortimer, without feelings of a nature which he had scarcely experienced before. The elegant neatness of her dress was calculated to display the beauty of her form, and the vivid flashes of a dark eye were so many irresistible attacks upon the heart; a sweet voice, and smiling countenance, appeared to throw a radiance around the room, and illuminate the visages of the whole [186]party, while Lady Lovelace and Maria B—— served as a contrast to heighten that effect which they envied and reproved. While tea was preparing, after which it was proposed to take a rubber at cards, a sort of general conversation took place: the preparations for the Coronation, the new novels of the day, and the amusements of the theatre, were canvassed in turn; and speaking of the writings of Sir Walter Scott, as the presumed author of the celebrated Scotch novels, Lady Lovelace declared she found it impossible to procure the last published from the library, notwithstanding her name has been long on the list, so much was it in request.
Tom couldn't help but notice that it was nearly impossible to see Miss Mortimer without experiencing feelings he had rarely felt before. Her elegantly neat dress showcased her figure beautifully, and the bright flashes from her dark eyes were like irresistible assaults on the heart. A sweet voice and a smiling face seemed to fill the room with light, brightening the faces of everyone present, while Lady Lovelace and Maria B—— provided a contrast that only intensified the effect they envied and criticized. While tea was being prepared, followed by a proposal for a game of cards, a general conversation took place: they discussed the preparations for the Coronation, the latest novels, and theater events in turn. When talking about the works of Sir Walter Scott, whom they believed to be the author of the famous Scottish novels, Lady Lovelace remarked that she found it impossible to get the latest published book from the library, despite her name being on the list for a long time due to its high demand.
Sparkle replied, “That he had purchased the Novel, and would willingly lend it to the Ladies. As for the Libraries,” continued he, “they are good places of accommodation, but it is impossible to please every one, either there or any where else; they are however very amusing at times, and as a proof of it, I strolled the other morning to a Circulating Library, for the express purpose of lounging away an hour in digesting the politics and news of the day; but the curious scenes to which I was witness during this short period, so distracted my attention, that, despite of the grave subjects on which I was meditating, I could not resist lending an attentive ear to all that passed around me. There was something of originality in the countenance of the Master of the Library which struck me forcibly; and the whimsical answers which he made to his numerous subscribers, and the yet more whimsical tone in which they were pronounced, more than once provoked a smile. The first person who attracted my notice was a fine showy looking woman, dressed in the extreme of fashion, with a bloom upon her cheek, which might have emulated that of the rose, with this exception, that it wanted the charm of nature. Putting a list into the hands of the Bookseller, she inquired if he had any of the productions the names of which were there transcribed. Glancing his eye over the paper, he replied (with an archness which not a little disconcerted her, and which probably occasioned her abrupt disappearance, “The Fine Lady, Madam, is seldom or ever at home; but Family Secrets we are always ready to let out.” 'Characters of Eminent Men' growled out a little vulgar consequential Citizen, whose countenance bore the stamp of that insufferable dulness that might almost tempt [187]one to imagine him incapable of comprehending the meaning of the words which he pronounced with an air of so much self-importance; 'Characters of Eminent Men, 195,' repeated the Snarler, in the same tone, 'I much fear if we can boast a quarter of that number, eh! Mr. Margin?' “I fear not, Sir,” replied Margin; “but such as we have are very much at your service.” 'Better be in the service of the nation than in mine, by far,' said the little purse-proud gentleman, shrugging his shoulders very significantly. “Shall I send it for you, Sir?” said Margin, without noticing the last remark. 'By no means, by no means; the volume is not so large, it won't encumber me much; I believe I shall find it small enough to put in my pocket,' pursued the little great man, grinning at the shrewdness of his own observations, and stalking out with as much self-complacency as he had stalked in. I knew the man well, and could not help laughing at the lofty airs he assumed, at the manner in which he affected to decry all his countrymen without mercy, at his unwillingness to acknowledge any talent amongst them, though he himself was a man of that plodding description who neither ever had done, nor ever could do any thing to entitle him to claim distinction of any sort. The young Coxcomb who next entered, was a direct contrast to the last applicant, both in person and manner. Approaching with a fashionable contortion, he stretched out his lady-like hand, and in the most languid and affected tone imaginable, inquired for The Idler. “That, Sir,” said Margin, “is amongst the works we have unhappily lost, but you will be sure to meet with it at any of the fashionable libraries in the neighbourhood of Bond Street or St. James's.” The young Fop had just sense enough to perceive that the shaft was aimed at him, but not enough to relish the joke, or correct the follies which provoked it, and turned abruptly on his heel. He was met at the door by a sentimental boarding-school Miss, who came flying into the shop in defiance of her governess, and inquired, in a very pathetic tone, for The Constant Lover. “That, I am afraid,” said Margin, “is not amongst our collection.” 'Dear me,' lisped the young Lady, with an air of chagrin, 'that's very provoking, I thought that was what every one had.' “Give me leave to assure you, Ma'am, that you are quite mistaken. I fancy you will find that it is not to be met with all over London.”
Sparkle replied, “He bought the novel and would happily lend it to the ladies. As for libraries,” he continued, “they're nice places to hang out, but it's impossible to please everyone, either there or anywhere else; they can also be pretty entertaining at times. To prove it, I strolled to a circulating library the other morning just to kill an hour reading the news and politics of the day. But the interesting scenes I witnessed during that short time distracted me so much that, despite the serious topics I was focusing on, I couldn't help but listen to everything happening around me. The library master's face struck me; there was something original about it, and his quirky responses to the many subscribers, and the even quirkier way he delivered them, made me smile more than once. The first person who caught my attention was a flashy-looking woman dressed in the latest fashion, with a cheek color that could rival a rose, although it lacked the charm of being natural. Handing the bookseller a list, she asked if he had any of the titles written on it. After glancing over the paper, he replied—with a playful tone that visibly flustered her and probably caused her sudden exit—“The Fine Lady, Madam, is rarely at home; but Family Secrets we’re always ready to share.” “Characters of Eminent Men,” grumbled a little pompous citizen, whose expression reflected a kind of dullness that made one think he couldn't even comprehend the meaning behind the words he spoke with such self-importance. “Characters of Eminent Men, 195,” the Snarler repeated in the same tone, “I’m afraid we can’t claim to have even a quarter of that number, can we, Mr. Margin?” “I fear not, Sir,” Margin replied, “but the ones we do have are very much at your service.” “Better to be in the service of the nation than in mine, by far,” said the little arrogant gentleman, shrugging his shoulders in a significant way. “Shall I send it for you, Sir?” Margin asked, ignoring the last comment. “By no means, by no means; the volume isn’t very large, it won’t be a burden; I believe it’s small enough to fit in my pocket,” the little big man continued, grinning at the cleverness of his own observation and strutting out with as much self-satisfaction as he entered. I recognized him well and couldn’t help but laugh at the high airs he put on, the way he pretended to look down on all his fellow countrymen, refusing to acknowledge any talent among them, even though he himself was the type of person who had never done anything worthy of distinction. The young dandy who entered next was a direct contrast to the previous customer, both in appearance and manner. He approached with a fashionable posture, extended his delicate hand, and in the most pretentious and affected tone asked for The Idler. “That, Sir,” Margin said, “is among the works we unfortunately don’t have, but you’ll surely find it at any of the trendy libraries around Bond Street or St. James's.” The young fop was just perceptive enough to realize the comment was directed at him, but not enough to appreciate the joke or correct the foolish behavior that caused it and abruptly turned away. He was met at the door by a sentimental boarding-school girl who dashed into the shop against her governess’s wishes and asked, in a very dramatic tone, for The Constant Lover. “I’m afraid, Ma'am,” Margin replied, “that’s not part of our collection.” “Dear me,” the young lady lisped, looking disappointed, “that’s very annoying; I thought that was something everyone had.” “Please let me assure you, Ma'am, you’re quite mistaken. I think you’ll find that it’s not available everywhere in London.”
[188]An old Gentleman of the old school, whose clothes were decidedly the cut of the last century, and whose stiff and formal manners were precisely of the same date with his habiliments, next came hobbling in. Poring through his spectacles over the catalogue which lay upon the counter, the first thing which caught his eye, was An Essay upon Old Maids. “Tom, Tom,” said the complaisant Librarian, calling to a lad at the other end of the shop, “reach down the Old Maids for the gentleman. They won't appear to advantage, I'm afraid, a little dusty or damaged, with having laid so long upon the shelf,” he added, with a simper, which was not lost upon any one present. A melancholy looking man, in whose countenance meekness and insipidity were alike plainly depicted, now came forward, inquiring, in an under, and what might almost be designated an alarmed tone of voice, for The Impertinent Wife; a female, who hung upon his arm, interrupted him by entreating, or rather insisting in no very gentle tone, 'that he would ask for something better worth having.' Margin, affecting only to hear the former speaker, immediately produced the book in question, and observed, with much naivete, “that the Impertinent Wife was sure to be in the way at all hours,” at the same time not omitting to recommend Discipline as “a better work.” A young man, whom I knew to be one of the greatest fortune hunters about town, with an air of consummate assurance, put out his hand for Disinterested Marriage. “That's a thing quite out of date—never thought of now, Sir,” said Margin, who knew him as well as myself; “Allow me to recommend something of more recent date, something more sought after in the fashionable world, Splendid Misery, Sir, or—“The young man heard no more: spite of his impudence, he was so abashed by the reply, that he made a hasty retreat. The last person whom I thought it worth my while to notice, was a tall, meagre looking man, whom I recollected to have seen pointed out to me as a wit, and a genius of the first order. His wit was, however, of that dangerous sort which caused his company to be rather shunned than courted; and it was very evident, from his appearance, that he had not had the wit to work himself into the good graces of those who might have had it in their power to befriend him. Though he spoke in a very low tone, I soon found that he was inquiring for Plain Sense. On Margin's replying, [189]with much nonchalance, that Plain Sense had of late become very rare, finding himself disappointed in his first application, his next aim was Patronage. “That, Sir, (said the wary bookseller) is so much sought after, that I really cannot promise it to you at present; but if, as I conclude, you merely want something to beguile a leisure hour or two, probably The Discontented Man will answer the purpose very well.”
[188]An old gentleman from a bygone era, dressed in clothes that clearly belonged to the last century and moving with stiff, formal manners that matched his attire, hobbled in next. He peered through his glasses at the catalog on the counter, and the first thing that caught his eye was An Essay upon Old Maids. “Tom, Tom,” said the accommodating librarian, calling to a boy at the far end of the shop, “get the Old Maids for the gentleman. I’m afraid they won’t look their best; they’re a bit dusty and damaged from sitting on the shelf for so long,” he added with a smirk that didn’t go unnoticed. A sad-looking man, whose face expressed both meekness and dullness, stepped forward, asking in a quiet, almost nervous tone for The Impertinent Wife; a woman clinging to his arm interrupted him, pleading, or rather insisting in a rather harsh tone, that he ask for something better. Margin, pretending not to hear the first speaker, quickly retrieved the book and remarked, with great innocence, “The Impertinent Wife is sure to be around at all hours,” while also recommending Discipline as “a better option.” A young man, known to be one of the biggest fortune hunters in town, confidently reached for Disinterested Marriage. “That’s totally outdated—nobody thinks about that anymore, sir,” said Margin, who was just as familiar with him as I was; “Let me suggest something more current, something that’s more in demand in fashionable circles, like Splendid Misery, sir, or—” The young man heard no more; despite his boldness, he was so embarrassed by the comment that he quickly left. The last person I thought was worth noticing was a tall, thin man I remembered being pointed out to me as a wit and a genius of the highest order. However, his wit was the kind that made people avoid rather than seek his company, and it was clear from his appearance that he hadn’t managed to win over those who could have helped him. Although he spoke very softly, I soon realized he was asking for Plain Sense. When Margin casually replied that Plain Sense had become quite rare lately, feeling disappointed with his first request, the man shifted his focus to Patronage. “That, sir,” said the cautious bookseller, “is so in demand that I really can’t guarantee it to you right now; but if, as I assume, you're just looking for something to pass the time for an hour or two, The Discontented Man should work just fine.”
To this description of Sparkle, the whole company listened with attention and delight, frequently interrupting him with bursts of laughter. Tea was handed round, and then cards introduced. Young Mortimer and Merrywell seemed to take but little interest in the play, and evidently discovered their anxiety to be liberated, having some other object in view. Mortimer felt no great portion of pleasure in passing his time with his uncle, the Colonel, nor with his sister, Lady Lovelace, who was a perfect model of London affectation; besides, his friend Mr. Merrywell, who was to him what Tom Dashall and Sparkle had been to Tallyho, had made an engagement to introduce him to some of his dashing acquaintances in the West. Nods and winks were interchanged between them, and could not but be noticed by Tom and Bob, though Sparkle was so intent upon the amusements of the moment, and the company of the lovely Caroline, as to appear immoveable.
To this description of Sparkle, everyone in the company listened with interest and enjoyment, often interrupting him with bursts of laughter. Tea was served, and then cards were brought out. Young Mortimer and Merrywell seemed to care little about the game and were clearly eager to be free, having something else in mind. Mortimer wasn’t really enjoying his time with his uncle, the Colonel, or his sister, Lady Lovelace, who was the epitome of London pretentiousness. Plus, his friend Mr. Merrywell, who was like what Tom Dashall and Sparkle were to Tallyho, had made plans to introduce him to some of his flashy friends in the West. They exchanged knowing nods and winks that Tom and Bob couldn’t help but notice, even though Sparkle was so focused on the fun at hand and the company of the beautiful Caroline that he seemed completely oblivious.
Mr. Merrywell at length stated that he must be compelled to quit the party. Young Mortimer also apologized; for as he and his friend were engaged for an early excursion in the morning, he should take a bed at his habitation, in order to be fully prepared. This was the first step to breaking up the party.
Mr. Merrywell finally said that he had to leave the group. Young Mortimer also apologized, explaining that since he and his friend had an early trip planned for the morning, he would be staying at his place to be fully ready. This was the first move towards breaking up the party.
Merrywell called Sparkle on one side, saying he had something of importance to communicate. It was twelve o'clock, and the gentlemen, after taking a formal leave of the ladies and the Colonel, and a promise on the part of Sparkle to meet them again the next morning at twelve, to escort them to the Exhibition, left the house.
Merrywell called Sparkle over, saying he had something important to share. It was noon, and the men, after saying a polite goodbye to the ladies and the Colonel, and with Sparkle promising to meet them again the next morning at twelve to take them to the Exhibition, left the house.
“I am really happy,” said Merrywell to Sparkle as they passed the door, “to have had the honour of this introduction, and shall have much pleasure in becoming better acquainted with Mr. Sparkle, who, though personally unknown to me, his name and fame are familiar.
“I’m really happy,” said Merrywell to Sparkle as they passed the door, “to have had the honor of this introduction, and I’m looking forward to getting to know Mr. Sparkle better, who, although I don’t know him personally, is a familiar name and has a great reputation.”
[190]Mr. Mortimer and myself are going to take a review of the neighbourhood of St. James's, probably to shake an elbow.”
[190]Mr. Mortimer and I are going to check out the St. James's neighborhood, probably to have a good chat.
“Excellent,” said Tom; “here is a fine opportunity for Mr. Tallyho to take a like survey, and, if agreeable, we will join the party. Though I am by no means a friend to gaming, I conceive it necessary that every person should see the haunts of its votaries, and the arts they make use of, in order to avoid them.”
“Great,” said Tom; “here's a perfect chance for Mr. Tallyho to take a look around, and if he’s up for it, we’ll join the group. Even though I’m not a fan of gambling, I think it’s important for everyone to see where its followers hang out and the tricks they use, so they can steer clear of them.”
“You are right, and therefore let us have a peep at them.” With this they ?walk'd on, listening with attention to the following lines, which were recited by Sparkle:
“You're right, so let's take a look at them.” With that, they walked on, paying close attention to the lines that Sparkle recited:
[191]"True,” said Merry well, as Sparkle concluded, though he did not like the satire upon his own favourite pursuit; “those delineations are correct, and the versification good, as far as it applies to the worst species of the gaminghouse.”
[191]“True,” Merry agreed as Sparkle finished, although he wasn't a fan of the jab at his favorite hobby; “those descriptions are accurate, and the rhyming is good, especially when it comes to the worst kind of gambling house.”
“O,” said Tom, “then pray, Sir, which is the worst?”
“O,” said Tom, “then please, Sir, which one is the worst?”
“Nonsense,” said Sparkle, “there is neither worse nor best; these Hells are all alike. Sharks, Greeks, Gamblers, Knowing Ones, Black-legs, and Levanters, are to be met with at them all, and they meet to bite one another's heads off.”
“Nonsense,” said Sparkle, “there’s no worse or better; all these Hells are the same. Sharks, Greeks, Gamblers, Know-it-alls, Con Artists, and Chancers, can be found in all of them, and they're just out to tear each other apart.”
“An admirable description, truly, of the company you are about to introduce us to, Gentlemen,” said Tallyho.
“That's a really impressive description of the company you’re about to introduce us to, gentlemen,” said Tallyho.
“I don't understand Greeks, Hells, and Black-legs,” said Mortimer, “and should like an explanation.”
“I don’t get Greeks, Hells, and Black-legs,” said Mortimer, “and would like an explanation.”
“With all my heart,” replied Sparkle—“Hell is the general title now given to any well-known gaming-house, and really appears to be well chosen; for all the miseries that can fall to the lot of human nature, are to be found in those receptacles of idleness, duplicity, and villany. Gaming is an estate to which all the world has a pretence, though few espouse it who are willing to secure either their estates or reputations: and these Hells may fairly be considered as so many half-way houses to the Fleet or King's Bench Prisons, or some more desperate end. The love of play is the most incurable of insanities: robbery, suicide, and the extensive ruin of whole families, have been known to proceed from this unfortunate and fatal propensity.
“With all my heart,” replied Sparkle—“Hell is the common name now given to any popular gaming house, and it really seems to fit; for all the miseries that can befall humanity are found in those places of idleness, deceit, and wickedness. Gambling is a pursuit that everyone claims to enjoy, yet few actually engage in it who are willing to protect either their wealth or their reputations: and these Hells can rightly be viewed as many halfway points to the Fleet or King's Bench Prisons, or even more desperate outcomes. The love of gambling is the most incurable of madnesses: theft, suicide, and the complete ruin of entire families have been known to arise from this unfortunate and deadly addiction.
“Greeks, Gamblers, Knowing Ones, and Black-legs, are synonimous terms, applied to the frequenters of the modern Hells, or Gaming-houses, and may be distinguished from the rest of society by the following peculiarities in pursuits and manners.
Greeks, Gamblers, Knowing Ones, and Black-legs are synonymous terms used to describe the regulars of today's casinos or gaming places, and they can be recognized from the rest of society by their specific habits and behaviors.
“The Greeks of the present day, though they may not lay claim to, or boast of all the attributes of the Greeks of antiquity, must certainly be allowed to possess that quality for which the latter were ever so celebrated, namely, cunning and wariness: for although no modern Greek can be said to have any resemblance to Achilles, Ajax, Patroclus, or Nestor, in point of courage, strength, fidelity, or wisdom, he may nevertheless boast of being a close copier of the equally renowned chief of Ithaca. You will find him in most societies, habited like a gentleman; [192]his clothes are of the newest fashion, and his manners of the highest polish, with every appearance of candour and honour; while he subsists by unfair play at dice, cards, and billiards, deceiving and defrauding all those with whom he may engage; disregarding the professions of friendship and intimacy, which are continually falling from his lips.
The Greeks of today, while they might not claim or brag about all the qualities of the ancient Greeks, definitely possess that trait for which the latter were famous, specifically, cunning and caution: even though no modern Greek resembles Achilles, Ajax, Patroclus, or Nestor in terms of bravery, strength, loyalty, or wisdom, he can certainly take pride in being a close imitator of the equally famous leader of Ithaca. You’ll find him in most social settings, dressed like a gentleman; [192]his clothes are in the latest style, and his manners are highly refined, giving every impression of honesty and integrity; yet he makes a living through dishonest tactics at dice, cards, and billiards, tricking and cheating everyone he interacts with; ignoring the claims of friendship and closeness that continually flow from his lips.
“To become a good Greek (which, by the way, is a contradiction) it will be found necessary to follow these instructions:
“To become a good Greek (which, by the way, is a contradiction) it will be found necessary to follow these instructions:
“In the first place, lie should be able to command his temper; he should speak but little, and when he does mingle in conversation, he should most decidedly deprecate play, as a source of the greatest evil that can prey upon society, and elucidate its tendencies by striking examples which are well known to himself, and which are so forcibly impressed upon his recollection, that he is determined never to play deep again, but has no objection to a sociable and friendly game now and then, just to pass the time away a little agreeably. By this means he may readily mark down his man, and the game once in view, he should not appear too eager in the pursuit of it, but take good care, as the proverb says, to give a sprat, in order to catch a herring. This should be done by allowing some temporary success, before he make a final hit.
“In the first place, he should be able to control his temper; he should talk less, and when he does join a conversation, he should definitely discourage gambling, as it is one of the biggest threats to society. He should explain its dangers with clear examples that he knows well and that are so vividly in his memory that he is determined never to gamble seriously again, but has no problem with enjoying a casual and friendly game now and then, just to pass the time in a pleasant way. This way, he can easily figure out his opponent, and once the game is on, he shouldn’t seem too eager to win it. Instead, he should keep in mind the saying about giving a little to get a lot. This means he should allow some temporary wins before making a final move."
“There is perhaps no art which requires so much of continual practice as that of Greekery. It is therefore necessary, that the professor should frequently exercise himself in private with cards and dice, in order that his digits may be trained to a proper degree of agility, upon which the success of his art principally depends. He should also be accustomed to work with some younger man than himself, who, having once been a pigeon, is become a naute, that is enlightened and will not peach—consequently, he serves as an excellent decoy to others.
“There may be no skill that demands as much continuous practice as Greekery. Therefore, it's essential for the professor to regularly practice privately with cards and dice, so his fingers can develop the necessary agility that is key to his success in this art. He should also be used to working with someone younger than himself, who, having once been a novice, has now become experienced and won't give away his secrets—thus, he acts as an excellent lure for others.”
“To ascertain the property of the pigeon he intends to pluck, is another essential requisite; and when this important information is obtained, (which should be before he commences operations) he should affect the utmost liberality as to time, &c. and make a show of extending every honourable facility to his opponent, even by offers of pecuniary assistance; by which means, (if he should be fortunate enough to have it accepted) he may probably, by good management, obtain a legal [193]security from him, and thus be enabled to fasten on his prey whenever he pleases.
“To find out the property of the pigeon he plans to pluck is another important requirement; and once this crucial info is gathered, (which should be done before he starts) he should act with the utmost generosity regarding time, etc., and make a point of giving every honorable opportunity to his opponent, even offering monetary help; by which means, (if he’s lucky enough to have it accepted) he might, through good management, secure a legal [193]guarantee from him, allowing him to go after his target whenever he wants.
“The title of a military man, such as Captain, is very useful to the Greek, as it introduces him well to society, and if he has once held a commission in the army, so much the better. If not, it can be assumed, so that if any unpleasant regimental peculation should be introduced, he may place his hand on the left side of his breast, declare he is astonished and alarmed at the calumnious spirit of the times, shake his head, and interlard his conversation with common-place ejaculations; such as the following—Indeed—No—Why I know Harry very well—he's a bit of a blood—can it be possible—I should not have thought it—bless my heart—exactly so—good God—a devilish good joke tho'—that's very true, says I—so says he, &c. &c.
“The title of a military rank, like Captain, is really helpful for the Greek, as it helps him fit into society. If he has previously held a commission in the army, that's even better. If not, it's assumed that if any unpleasant issues regarding the regiment come up, he can place his hand on the left side of his chest, express his shock and concern at the scandalous nature of the times, shake his head, and fill his conversation with common phrases like these—Indeed—No—Why, I know Harry very well—he's a real character—can it be possible—I wouldn't have thought so—oh my goodness—exactly—goodness gracious—a really good joke though—that's very true, I say—so he says, etc., etc.
“A Greek should be a man of some personal courage, never shrink from a row, nor be afraid to' fight a duel. He should be able to bully, bluster, swagger and swear, as occasion may require; nay, in desperate cases, such us peaching, &c. he should not object even to assassination. He should invite large parties to dine with him frequently, and have a particular sort of wine for particular companies. He should likewise be able to swallow a tolerable quantity of the juice of the grape himself, as well as know how to appear as if he were drinking, when he is merely passing the bottle, and so manage it passing, as to seem drunk at proper times. When good opportunities present themselves for the exercise of his art, and when a hit is really to be made, he should positively refuse to suffer play of any kind in his house, alleging that he has seen enough of it, and cut the concern. This serves to increase the desire for it in others. On any decisive occasion, when a train is known to be well laid, he should appear to be drunk before any one of the party; in which case he should take care beforehand to instruct his decoy to pluck the pigeon, while he, as a supposed observer, is betting with some one in the company, (of course an accomplice) and is also a loser.
“A Greek should be a man of personal courage, never back down from a fight, nor be afraid to duel. He should be able to bully, boast, swagger, and curse as the situation demands; in extreme cases, like snitching, etc., he shouldn’t shy away from even assassination. He should frequently invite large groups to dinner and have specific wines for different gatherings. He should also be able to drink a good amount of wine himself and know how to act like he's drinking when he’s just passing the bottle, managing it in a way that makes him seem drunk at the right times. When good chances come up for him to show off his skills, and when a hit is actually possible, he should definitely refuse to allow any gambling in his house, claiming that he has seen enough of it and cutting it off. This increases others' desire for it. On any crucial occasion, when a trap is well set, he should act drunk in front of the group; in that case, he should make sure to instruct his decoy to pick the pocket while he, as a supposed onlooker, is betting with someone in the group (who is of course an accomplice) and is also losing.”
“Greeks, who know each other, are enabled to convey information by means of private signals, without uttering a word, and consequently without detection. At whist, or other games on the cards, fingers are admirable conveyancers of intelligence, and by dexterous performers [194]are so managed, as to defy the closest scrutiny, so as to have the natural appearance of pliancy, while, among the knowing ones, their movements are actually deciding the fate of a rubber.”
“Greeks who know each other can share information using private signals without saying a word, which allows them to avoid detection. In games like whist or other card games, fingers are excellent at conveying messages, and skilled players [194] can manipulate them in a way that passes close inspection, appearing naturally fluid while their movements actually determine the outcome of a game among the informed players.”
“Egad!” said Mortimer, “you seem to understand the business so well, I wonder you don't open shop.”
“Wow!” said Mortimer, “You seem to know this business so well, I’m surprised you don’t start your own shop.”
“My knowledge,” continued Sparkle, “is but theoretical. I cannot boast of much practical information, for it is long since I shook the lucky castor.”
“My knowledge,” continued Sparkle, “is mostly theoretical. I can’t claim to have much practical experience, since it’s been a while since I took my chances.”
“O, then, you are discontented because you have no luck.”
"O, so you're unhappy because you have no luck."
“Not so,” said Sparkle, “for I never play very deep, so that, win or lose, I can never suffer much; but I am willing to give information to others, and with that view I have detailed the nature of the houses and the general character of their frequenters, according to my own conception of them. The Levanter is a Black-leg, who lives by the broads{l} and the turf,{2} and is accustomed to work as it were by telegraph{3} with his pal; and if you take the broads in hand in their company, you are sure to be work'd, either by glazing, that is, putting you in the front of a looking-glass, by which means your hand is discovered by your antagonist, or by private signals from the pal. On the turf he will pick up some nobleman or gentleman, who he knows is not up to the rig—bet him fifty or a hundred on a horse—pull out his pocket-book—set down the name, and promise to be at the stand when the race is over; but takes care to be seen no more, unless he is the winner, which he easily ascertains by the direction his pal takes immediately on the arrival of the horses. But hold, we must dismiss the present subject of contemplation, for here we are at the very scene of action, and now for ocular demonstration.”
“Not really,” said Sparkle, “because I never gamble too heavily, so whether I win or lose, I don’t lose much; but I’m happy to share information with others. With that in mind, I’ve laid out the nature of the establishments and the general vibe of the people who frequent them, based on my own understanding. The Levanter is a Black-leg, who makes a living through the broads and the turf, and he tends to communicate, as it were, by telegraph with his partner; and if you get involved in the broads with them, you’re definitely going to get hustled, either by being ‘glazed’, which means you’re put in front of a mirror so your opponent can see your hand, or by private signals from the partner. At the races, he’ll latch onto some nobleman or gentleman who he knows isn’t wise to their tricks—bet him fifty or a hundred on a horse—pull out his wallet—write down the name, and promise to meet at the finish line; but he’ll make sure to disappear unless he’s the one winning, which he easily figures out by watching the direction his partner goes as soon as the horses arrive. But wait, we need to move on from this topic, because we’re now right at the scene of action, and it’s time for some visual proof.”
No. 40, now 32, Pall Mall, was the place of destination, a house well known, said, in Koubel's time, to be more à la Française, and of course more of a gambling-house, than any other of the same description in London. The former were good judges of their business, and did things in prime order; but, if report say true, the new Establishment
No. 40, now 32, Pall Mall, was the destination, a house well known, said to be more à la Française, and definitely more of a gambling house than any other like it in London during Koubel's time. The former owners were skilled at their trade and ran things in top form; but, if the rumors are correct, the new establishment
[195]has completely eclipsed their precursors: it is now conducted wholly by aliens—by Frenchmen!!! who are said to have realized 80,000L. within a very short space of time; and that a certain nobleman, whose name is not Dormouse, has serious reason to remember that he has been a visitor.
[195]has completely overshadowed those before it: it’s now run entirely by foreigners—by Frenchmen!!! who reportedly made 80,000L. in a very short time; and that a certain nobleman, whose name isn’t Dormouse, has good reason to remember that he has been a guest.
“Come along,” said Merrywell, “let us see what they are made of; are either of you known? for Cerberus, who keeps the door, is d——d particular, in consequence of some rows they have recently had, and the devil is careful to pick his customers.”
“Come on,” said Merrywell, “let's see what they're made of; do either of you know them? Because Cerberus, who guards the door, is really picky lately due to some trouble they've had, and the devil is careful about who he lets in.”
“To pluck them, you mean,” said Tom; “but perhaps you are in possession of the pass-word—if so, lead on.”
“To pick them, you mean,” said Tom; “but maybe you have the password—if so, lead the way.”
[196]Tallyho had already heard so much about Hells, Gambling-houses, and Subscription-houses, that he was all anxiety for an interior view, and the same feeling animated Mortimer. As they were about to enter, they were not a little surprised to find that houses which are spoken of so publicly, have in general the appearance of private dwellings, with the exception that the hall-door is left ajar during the hours usually devoted to play, like those of trap-cages, to catch the passing pigeons, and to obviate the delay which might be occasioned by the necessity of knocking—a delay which might expose the customers to the glances of an unsuspecting creditor—a confiding father, or a starving wife; and, as Merrywell observed, “It was to be understood that the entrance was well guarded, and that no gentleman could be permitted to risk or lose his money, without an introduction.” A very necessary precaution to obviate the danger of being surprised by the officers of the law; but that rule is too easily to be broken, for any gentleman whom the door-keeper has sufficient reason to think is not an Officer of Justice, finds the avenues to these labyrinths too ready for his admission.
[196]Tallyho had already heard so much about hells, gambling houses, and subscription houses that he was eager for a behind-the-scenes look, and Mortimer felt the same way. As they were about to enter, they were surprised to see that places talked about so openly generally looked like private homes, except for the fact that the front door was left slightly open during play hours, like trap doors meant to catch passing pigeons, to avoid the delay of knocking—which could expose customers to the gaze of an unsuspecting creditor, a trusting father, or a struggling wife. As Merrywell pointed out, “It was understood that the entrance was well guarded and that no gentleman could risk or lose his money without an introduction.” This was a crucial precaution to prevent being caught by the law, but that rule was easily bent; any gentleman whom the doorman had reason to believe wasn't a law officer found the pathways into these labyrinths too accessible for his entry.
On passing the outer-door, they found themselves impeded by a second, and a third, and each door constructed with a small spy-hole, exhibiting the ball of a ruffian's eye, intently gazing on and examining their figures. It is necessary to observe, that if the visitor is known to be a fair pigeon, or an old crow, he is at once admitted by these gentlemen, and politely bowed up stairs; and as Merrywell appeared to be well known, no obstruction was offered, and they proceeded through the last, which was an iron door, and were shewn directly into the room, which presented a scene of dazzling astonishment.
As they passed through the outer door, they were stopped by a second and then a third, each equipped with a small peephole, revealing the watchful eye of a suspicious guard, carefully scrutinizing them. It's important to note that if the visitor is recognized as trustworthy or familiar, they are immediately let in by these men and politely guided upstairs. Since Merrywell seemed to be well-known, there were no obstacles, and they proceeded through the last iron door, entering a room that left them in awe.
On entering, they discovered the votaries of gaming around an oblong table, covered with green cloth, and the priests of the ceremony in the centre, one to deal cards and decide events, and another to assist him in collecting the plunder which should follow such decisions. Being engaged in the play, but little notice was taken of the arrival of the party, except by two or three eagle-eyed gentlemen, who, perceiving there were some New-comes{1}
On entering, they found a group of gamers gathered around a rectangular table, covered with green felt, with the officiants of the game in the center—one dealing cards and making decisions, and the other helping him gather the winnings that would follow those decisions. Since everyone was focused on the game, only a couple of sharp-eyed people noticed the arrival of the group, recognizing that there were some New-comes{1}.
[197]and always keeping business in view, made up to Merrywell, began to be very talkative—was happy to see him—hoped he had been well—and congratulated him on the introduction of his friends—took snuff, and handed the box round with all the appearance of unaffected friendship.
[197]and always keeping business in mind, approached Merrywell, started chatting a lot—was glad to see him—hoped he was doing well—and congratulated him on introducing his friends—took a pinch of snuff and passed the box around with a look of genuine friendship.
“These,” said Tom Dashall to his Cousin, drawing him on one side, “are the Proprietors{1} of this concern;
“These,” said Tom Dashall to his cousin, pulling him aside, “are the owners of this business;
[200]they know their customers, and place themselves here to watch the progress of their gains. Their attentions are always directed to the new-comers. Remorseless, avaricious, and happy—unmarked with the lines of care, which contract and deform the faces of their victims, “They smile and smile, and murder while they smile.” They will explain the fairness of the game, and tell you of the great losses they have sustained; but as this is no place for explanation, we must look on and say nothing.”
[200]They know their customers and position themselves here to observe how their profits grow. Their focus is always on the newcomers. Ruthless, greedy, and content—free from the worries that twist and mar the faces of their victims, “They smile and smile, and kill while they smile.” They will justify how fair the game is and recount the significant losses they’ve faced; but since this isn't the time for explanations, we can only watch and remain silent.
By this time, Merrywell and Mortimer were mingled in the throng at the table. Sparkle was engaged in conversation with an old acquaintance, a profusion of money was flying about, and a large heap or bank was placed in the centre. All was anxiety, and, for a few moments, no sound was heard, but the awful numbers of the eventful dealer; every countenance was hushed in expectation, and every eye was fixed upon the coming card, which should decide the fate of hundreds. It was an awful moment to every one engaged in the play; but the pause was succeeded with a sort of harlequinade movement, to a scene of confusion and uproar scarcely to be conceived.
By this time, Merrywell and Mortimer were mixed in with the crowd at the table. Sparkle was chatting with an old friend, money was flying around everywhere, and a large stack was placed in the center. Everyone was anxious, and for a few moments, there was complete silence except for the tense counting from the dealer; every face was tense with anticipation, and every eye was fixed on the upcoming card, which would decide the fate of many. It was a tense moment for everyone involved in the game, but the stillness was quickly replaced by a chaotic scene that was almost beyond belief.
The appearance at the door of half a dozen persons armed with pistols, rushing past the guardians, and bearing [201]away all before them, had such an instantaneous effect upon the company, that they all arose, as it were, to receive them, and the leader of the party threw himself suddenly upon the pile of Bank-notes in the centre of the table, with intent to seize the whole bank.
The sudden arrival at the door of six people wielding guns, rushing past the guards and taking everything in their path, had an immediate impact on the group. They all stood up, almost as if to welcome them, and the leader of the group lunged at the stack of banknotes in the middle of the table, clearly intending to grab the entire stash.
Confusion and dismay were now visibly depicted on every countenance, for some, actuated by desperation at the prospect of ruin, and others by the urgings of avarice, determined to have a scramble for the notes, which they commenced most furiously, each one securing as much as he could to himself. There was tumbling and tossing, and pulling and shoving, mouths stuffed with hundreds, hundreds of mouths that were supperless, and likely to continue so, unless they could now make sure of something. Bank paper was literally going for nothing. However, the pistols being the most powerful, the armed forces succeeded in seizing the greatest share of the stock, and a negative sort of silence was at length restored. The party was materially decreased; for, seeing they were betrayed, every one, after an endeavour to secure a share of the spoil, deemed it necessary to make good his retreat; and among the rest, our party, who had not interfered with the play, or assisted in the entertainment, soon found themselves in the street.
Confusion and shock were clearly visible on everyone's face. Some, driven by the fear of losing everything, and others by greed, decided to fight over the money, beginning a frantic scramble where each person tried to grab as much as possible. There was chaos—people tumbling, pulling, and shoving, with mouths stuffed with cash, while many others were left hungry and likely to stay that way unless they could grab something now. Banknotes were practically worthless. However, because the armed forces held the most power, they managed to seize the largest share of the money, and a tense silence eventually settled in. The group significantly shrank; realizing they had been betrayed, everyone made an effort to escape after trying to get their cut of the loot. Among them, our group, who had stayed out of the chaos and hadn’t participated in the fray, soon found themselves back on the street.
“Egad,” said Sparkle, “I think we are in luck to escape so easily; we might have been compelled to make our appearance at Bow Street to-morrow, an occurrence I would studiously avoid.”
“Wow,” said Sparkle, “I think we’re lucky to get away so easily; we might have had to show up at Bow Street tomorrow, something I really want to avoid.”
“Well done, old steady,” said Tom; “it is not long, you know, since you was there, after a night's lodging in the neighbourhood.”
“Well done, steady,” said Tom; “it hasn't been long, you know, since you were there, after a night’s stay nearby.”
“That was under very different circumstances,” continued Sparkle; “in defence of a woman I would risk my life at any time, but I would by no means incur the imputation of being a gambler—it is a character I abhor. I have before said I would never venture into those dens again, to herd with swindlers of all descriptions.”
“That was in a completely different situation,” Sparkle continued. “To defend a woman, I would risk my life anytime, but I would never want to be seen as a gambler—it’s a reputation I despise. I’ve said before that I would never step into those places again, mingling with con artists of all kinds.”
“They all seem gay fellows, too,” said Bob.
“They all seem like cheerful guys, too,” said Bob.
“Yes,” replied Sparkle; “but the character and conduct of a young man has ere now been altered in one night: the evil effects produced by initiation to those Hells are incalculable.”
“Yes,” replied Sparkle; “but a young man's character and behavior can change in just one night: the negative effects of being introduced to those Hells are unimaginable.”
“Moralizing at midnight,” said Tom; “an excellent title for a volume sparkling contemplations.”
“Morals at midnight,” said Tom; “a great title for a book of bright reflections.”
[202]"To be written by the Hon. Tom Dashall, or the Merry Devil of Piccadilly,” was the reply.
[202] "To be written by the Hon. Tom Dashall, or the Merry Devil of Piccadilly," was the reply.
“Huzza!” said Merrywell, “if this is the case, our time will not be lost in this excursion. Did you hear that Lord —— has been compelled to put down his establishment in consequence of his losses at play? pray don't forget to mention that in the work.”
“Hooray!” said Merrywell, “if that’s the case, our time won't be wasted on this trip. Did you hear that Lord —— has had to shut down his establishment because of his gambling losses? Please make sure to include that in the work.”
“Tis no new thing,” continued Sparkle, “for Lords of the present day, since I believe there are few of the nobility who are not either Greeks or Pigeons; indeed, the list of visitors to these places contains names of many persons who should set better examples to the humbler classes of the community; for the unfortunate results of this too fatal propensity to parents and society have been severely felt. Among many instances on record, a very interesting one is related of a young Subaltern in a regiment of cavalry, who, by successive losses, was reduced to such a state of distress, as to form the desperate resolution of trying the road. In a moment of agony, he accidentally met with an opportunity which seemed to favour his design, having learned that a certain Baronet, recently returned from India with abundance of wealth, had laid it out on landed estates in England, and that he would on a certain day cross the country with a large sum of money, after collecting his rents.
“It’s not a new thing,” Sparkle continued, “for lords today, since I think there are few nobles who aren’t either Greeks or Pigeons. In fact, the list of visitors to these places includes many people who should set better examples for the lower classes in society; the unfortunate consequences of this harmful tendency on parents and society have been seriously felt. Among many notable examples, a very interesting story is told about a young officer in a cavalry regiment who, due to consecutive losses, fell into such deep distress that he made the desperate decision to try his luck on the road. In a moment of anguish, he unexpectedly came across an opportunity that seemed to favor his plan, having learned that a certain baronet, who had just returned from India with a fortune, had invested it in land in England and that he would, on a specific day, be traveling across the countryside with a large sum of money after collecting his rents.”
“He laid his plan for a meeting on a retired spot, and succeeded in stopping the carriage—' Your money or your life,' said he, presenting his pistol with a trembling hand. The Baronet, perceiving there was a sort of gentlemanly air about him which indicated something more than might be calculated on in the character of a highwayman, presented him with his purse, a watch, and a valuable diamond ring, remarking, he could not help conceiving that he was unaccustomed to the trade, and that it was most desirable he should abandon it for ever. The young Officer, though considerably confused and embarrassed by this observation, was not to be disappointed of his booty, returned this property, and demanded the larger sum, which for safety had been concealed in the bottom of the carriage. The manner however in which this was done, only served to confirm the suspicions of the Baronet, which he could not help expressing, as he acknowledged the accuracy of the Highwayman's information, and produced the property, observing, he was sure that [203]circumstances of no common kind could have impelled him to this flagrant breach of the laws. He asked as a favour, that he would grant him an interview at some future period, pledging his honour that he should have no occasion to repent such a singular mark of confidence.
“He set up a plan to meet in a secluded spot and managed to stop the carriage—'Your money or your life,' he said, nervously pointing his pistol. The Baronet noticed a certain gentlemanly demeanor in him that suggested he was more than just a typical highway robber, so he handed over his purse, a watch, and a valuable diamond ring, commenting that he couldn’t help but feel the young man was inexperienced in this line of work and that it would be best if he quit for good. Although the young officer was quite thrown off and embarrassed by this remark, he wasn’t going to walk away empty-handed, so he returned the items and demanded the larger sum he had hidden at the bottom of the carriage. However, the way he asked only confirmed the Baronet's suspicions, which he openly expressed as he acknowledged the truth in the highwayman’s information and produced his belongings, noting that he was certain that [203] uncommon circumstances must have driven him to this blatant violation of the law. He requested as a favor that they meet again at some point in the future, promising his honor that the young man wouldn’t regret such an unusual gesture of trust.
“The Officer replied that he had, and he felt he could with safety trust both his life and his honour in the veracity of Sir ——, and appointed a meeting at the London Coffee House, Ludgate Hill, only stipulating, that at such meeting both parties were to be unattended. As the day of meeting approached, the Baronet thought seriously of the solicited rencontre, and after enjoining perfect secresy on the part of his friend, Col. ——, entreated him to be his companion. The Colonel laughed at the idea, that any man who had robbed another should so indiscreetly place his life in his hands, had no conception of his keeping his appointment, and solemnly assured the Baronet that he would in no case divulge who or what he was, that he might become acquainted with.
The Officer replied that he had, and he felt he could safely trust both his life and his honor in the honesty of Sir ——. He set up a meeting at the London Coffee House on Ludgate Hill, only asking that neither party be accompanied. As the meeting day approached, the Baronet seriously considered the requested encounter and, after insisting on complete secrecy from his friend, Col. ——, asked him to join him. The Colonel laughed at the idea that someone who had robbed another would so foolishly put his life in his hands, had no belief that the man would keep his appointment, and solemnly assured the Baronet that he would never reveal who he was or what he might learn.
“The Colonel ridiculed his friend's credulity as they entered the house, and were shewn to a private room. The appointed hour was eight in the evening, and, as the clock of St. Paul's struck, a Gentleman inquiring for Sir —— was shewn into the room—wine was ordered, and for an hour a general conversation on the popular topics of the day ensued, when the Gentleman, evidently under deeply impressed feelings of embarrassment and disappointment, in which the Colonel seemed to partake, arose, and politely took his leave.
“The Colonel made fun of his friend's gullibility as they entered the house and were led to a private room. The scheduled time was eight in the evening, and as the clock of St. Paul's struck, a gentleman inquiring for Sir —— was shown into the room—wine was ordered, and for an hour they had a general conversation about the popular topics of the day. Eventually, the gentleman, clearly feeling embarrassed and disappointed, a sentiment the Colonel seemed to share, stood up and politely took his leave.”
“' Well,' said the Baronet, 'what think you of my Highwayman now 1—am I not right?—is he not a gentleman?'
“' Well,' said the Baronet, 'what do you think of my Highwayman now? Am I not correct? Is he not a gentleman?'”
“' And this is the robber, is it, Sir?' said the Colonel—'Be assured he shall swing for it—why, Sir, I know him well, he is a —— in my own regiment.'
“'And this is the robber, right?' said the Colonel—'I guarantee he will hang for this—why, I know him well, he's a —— in my own regiment.'”
“'Hold,' said the Baronet, 'don't be rash, remember the solemn promise you have given, and do not deceive me—I hold you bound to me, and will not permit you to break your engagement—I have better objects in view than the death of a fellow-creature.'
“'Wait,' said the Baronet, 'don’t be hasty. Remember the serious promise you made, and don’t mislead me—I hold you accountable, and I won’t let you break your commitment—I have more important things in mind than the death of another person.'”
“He then requested to be informed of the general tenor of the young man's conduct, which he found to be excellent, and that he was an indefatigable officer—'Indeed,' said the Colonel, 'it would give me the greatest [204]pain to lose him—an incomparably affectionate husband and father. He has but one vice, to which may be attributed his destruction, viz. his inordinate passion for gaming; but I cannot feel justified in screening so flagrant an offender—the law must take its course.'
“He then asked to be updated on the general behavior of the young man, which he found to be excellent, and that he was a tireless officer—'Indeed,' said the Colonel, 'it would hurt me deeply to lose him—an incredibly loving husband and father. He has just one flaw, which may lead to his downfall, namely his excessive passion for gambling; but I can't justify protecting such a blatant offender—the law must take its course.'”
“'Moderate your indignation,' said the worthy Baronet, assuming a more serious tone, 'and remember you must be personalty answerable to me for any disclosure you may think proper to make; and that inasmuch as you injure him, you must injure me. You have already given him so high a character in every respect but one, that I must interest you further in his behalf, and beg you to assist me in my endeavours to reclaim, instead of punishing him.'
“'Calm down your anger,' said the respectable Baronet, adopting a more serious tone, 'and remember that you will be personally responsible to me for any information you choose to share; and since hurting him means hurting me. You’ve already praised him in every way except one, so I must ask for your continued support and request that you help me in my efforts to rehabilitate him instead of punishing him.'”
“The Colonel was surprised; but the Baronet was inflexible. In vain he urged that the magnitude of the crime utterly precluded such a proceeding.
“The Colonel was surprised; but the Baronet was resolute. He insisted that the seriousness of the crime completely ruled out such an action.”
“' It must be done,' said the Baronet, 'it shall be done. Leave all the consequences to me; he has now left us in extreme, though suppressed agitation—There is no time to lose—fly to save him.'
“'It has to be done,' said the Baronet, 'it will be done. Leave all the consequences to me; he's left us in intense, though controlled, agitation—There's no time to waste—hurry to save him.'”
“The Colonel expressed his readiness to try the experiment.
“The Colonel expressed his willingness to try the experiment.
“' Then,' said the Baronet, 'follow him immediately, assure him of my forgiveness, and that if he will pledge his word to forsake this dangerous vice, what he has already obtained he may hold as a gift, and I will add whatever may be necessary to extricate him from any temporary embarrassment.'
“'Then,' said the Baronet, 'follow him right away, let him know I forgive him, and if he promises to give up this risky habit, he can keep what he has already gotten as a gift, and I’ll add whatever he needs to get out of any temporary trouble.'”
“It was an important embassy—life or death was to be decided by it. The Colonel took his departure, certain of finding him at home taking leave of his family, and, reaching his habitation a short time after his arrival, witnessed a scene of misery which, although he had partly anticipated, he could not have conceived. He found him, surrounded by his wife and children, in an agony of desperation and despair.
“It was a crucial embassy—life or death depended on it. The Colonel left, confident he would find him at home saying goodbye to his family. When he arrived shortly after, he witnessed a scene of misery that, although he had somewhat anticipated, he couldn't have imagined. He found him, surrounded by his wife and children, in a state of utter desperation and despair."
“When he entered the apartment, the poor culprit, convinced by the presence of his Colonel that all was lost, fell on his knees, and supplicated if possible that his fame, not his life, might be spared for the sake of his afflicted but innocent and injured family. Language has no power to describe the surprise and consternation with which, after a severe lecture, he received the joyful intelligence of [205]which his Colonel was the bearer. He returned with his Commanding Officer to —— Square, where he was received by the Baronet as a repentant friend; and has lived to repair his error, and become deservedly distinguished as an ornament to society, civil and religious as well as military.”
“When he walked into the apartment, the unfortunate man, convinced by the presence of his Colonel that everything was lost, fell to his knees and pleaded to spare his reputation, not his life, for the sake of his suffering but innocent and wronged family. There are no words to express the shock and dismay he felt when, after a stern lecture, he heard the happy news that his Colonel brought. He returned with his Commanding Officer to —— Square, where the Baronet welcomed him as a remorseful friend; he has since worked to correct his mistake and has become a respected member of both civil and religious society, as well as the military.”
“That must be truly gratifying to the worthy Baronet,{1}' said Tom.
"That must be really satisfying for the esteemed Baronet,{1}" said Tom.
“No doubt of it,” continued Sparkle, “it must be a source of continued pleasure to find his labours have had so beneficial a result, having in all probability saved a whole family from destruction. Surely it may be said, that
“No doubt about it,” continued Sparkle, “it must be a source of ongoing pleasure to see that his efforts have had such a positive outcome, likely saving an entire family from disaster. Surely it can be said that
—“Yet the Greek, like the swindler{l} and the horse jockey,
—“Yet the Greek, like the con artist and the jockey,
[206]prides himself on his success, boasts of his being down as a nail, and—”
[206]takes pride in his success, brags about being as tough as nails, and—”
“Down as a nail!” said Bob, “I don't remember hearing that expression before.”
“Down as a nail!” Bob said, “I don’t remember hearing that phrase before.”
“Down as a hammer, or Down as a nail” continued Sparkle, “are cant or slang terms made use of among gamblers, and are synonimous with being up; and it must be confessed that there are many ups and downs amongst them. These flash words are well understood by many a young Greek, who perhaps knows nothing of the Greek Testament, although the use of them has proved in some cases beyond the comprehension of a Judge. Hence the necessity of knowing Life; for if a man gets familiarized with low life, he will necessarily be up, and consequently stand a great chance of being a rising genius. How proper it must be to know how to get a rise upon a fellow, or, in other words, to get him in a line!
“Down as a hammer, or Down as a nail” continued Sparkle, “are slang terms used among gamblers, meaning to be in a good position; and it's true that there are many ups and downs among them. These flashy phrases are well understood by many young people, who might not have any knowledge of the Greek Testament, even though sometimes their use has baffled judges. That's why it's important to understand life; if a person gets used to living in low circumstances, they will likely rise and stand a good chance of becoming a success. It’s essential to know how to take advantage of someone, or, in other words, to get them lined up!”
“A learned Judge once, examining a queer covy, a flash customer, or a rum fellow, asked him his reason for suspecting the prisoner at the bar of stealing a watch, (which among the lads is scientifically termed nimming a toiler, or [207]nabbing a clicker,) replied as follows:—'Why, your honour, only because you see as how I was up to him.'—'How do you mean, what is being up to him? '—' Why, bless your heart, I was down upon him, and had him bang.' But still perceiving the learned Gentleman's want of nous, he endeavoured to explain by saying, That he was up to his gossip,—that he stagged him, for he was not to be done—that he knew the trick, and was up the moment the chap came into the Cock and Hen Club, where he was tucking in his grub and bub.—Had the learned Judge been up himself, much time and trouble might have been saved; and indeed the importance of being down as a nail, to a man of fashion, is almost incalculable; for this reason it is, that men of high spirit think it no derogation from their dignity or rank, to be well acquainted with all the slang of the coachman and stable-boy, all the glossary of the Fancy, and all the mysterious language of the scamps, the pads, the divers, and all upon the lay, which, by an attentive and apt scholar, may easily be procured at a Gaming-house.
A knowledgeable judge once, while looking into a strange group, a flashy character, or a peculiar guy, asked him why he suspected the prisoner at the bar of stealing a watch (which among the guys is scientifically referred to as nabbing a toiler or [207] grabbing a clicker). He replied: “Well, your honor, just because I was on to him.” “What do you mean, being on to him?” “Well, bless your heart, I was onto him, and I had him figured out.” But still noticing the judge's lack of understanding, he tried to clarify by saying that he was onto his gossip—that he caught him, because he was no fool—that he knew the trick, and was aware as soon as the guy walked into the Cock and Hen Club, where he was digging into his food and drink. If the learned judge had been more aware himself, a lot of time and trouble could have been saved; and indeed, the importance of being sharp as a tack for someone of high status is nearly immeasurable. For this reason, people of good character think it’s no shame to be well-informed about all the slang used by coaches and stable workers, all the terminology in betting circles, and all the secret language of the hustlers, thieves, divers, and those on the take, which can easily be learned by a keen and observant student at a gaming house.
“Of Hells in general, it may fairly be asserted, that they are infernally productive; no other line of business can be compared to these money mills, since they are all thriving concerns, the proprietors of which keep their country houses, extensive establishments, dashing equipages; and
“Of Hells in general, it may fairly be asserted, that they are infernally productive; no other line of business can be compared to these money mills, since they are all thriving concerns, the proprietors of which keep their country houses, extensive establishments, dashing equipages; and
“It certainly is a pity that men do not keep constantly in their recollection, that no calculation of chances can avail them, and that between the après, the limitation of stakes, and other manouvres, the table must eventually be an immense winner.
“It’s definitely a shame that men don’t always remember that no probability calculation can help them, and that with the aftereffects, the limits on bets, and other maneuvers, the table is bound to end up being a huge winner.”
“For Greeks stick at nothing to gain their own ends, And they sacrifice all their acquaintance and friends;
“For Greeks will stop at nothing to achieve their goals, and they sacrifice all their acquaintances and friends;
Put his faith in a Greek, which he knows to his cost; Join'd a bank, as he thought, when the sly Greeking elf Of a friend soon contriv'd for to break it himself. You credulous pigeons! I would have you beware, Of falling yourselves in a similar snare.”
Put his trust in a Greek, which he learned the hard way; Joined a bank, thinking it was a good idea, when the sneaky Greek friend quickly found a way to ruin it himself. You gullible people! I want you to be careful not to fall into the same trap.
“We ought to consider ourselves greatly obliged,” said Merry well, “for the accurate description of characters [208]you have given. But have you heard the report that is now in circulation, that a certain Marquis of high military celebrity, and whose property is, or was, very considerable, has lost almost his last shilling?”
“We should feel really grateful,” said Merry well, “for the detailed description of characters [208]you’ve provided. But have you heard the rumor going around that a certain Marquis, who is quite famous for his military skills and whose wealth is, or was, quite substantial, has lost nearly all his money?”
“I,” said Sparkle, “am seldom surprised at such rumours, particularly of persons who are known to be players, for they are rich and poor in rapid succession; but if there be any truth in the report, there is a fine example of perseverance before him—for Lord ——, after a long run of ill-luck, being refused the loan of an additional rouleau,{1} on account of his score being rather long, left the company in dudgeon, and determining on revenge, actually opened another Hell in opposition to the one he had left, and by that means recovered all his money.”
“I,” said Sparkle, “am rarely surprised by such rumors, especially about people known to be gamblers, since they go from riches to rags in no time. But if there’s any truth to the rumor, it’s a great example of perseverance—because Lord ——, after a long streak of bad luck, was refused a loan of an extra rouleau,{1} since he owed quite a lot. He left the gathering in a huff, determined to get back at them, and actually opened another gambling house to compete with the one he had just left, which allowed him to win back all his money.”
“That was well done,” rejoined Tallyho.
“That was well done,” Tallyho replied.
“It was rather too much of a trading concern for a Lord,” said Tom.
“It felt more like a business deal for a Lord,” said Tom.
“Not for a gambling Lord,” replied Merry well; “for there is in fact nothing beneath a Greek, in the way of play: besides, it was a trying situation, and required some desperate attempt—they care not who they associate with, so they do but bring grist to the mill.”
“Not for a gambling Lord,” Merry replied confidently; “because when it comes to gambling, nothing beats a Greek. Besides, it was a tough situation that called for some drastic measures—they don't care who they hang out with, as long as they contribute to the cause.”
“The confusion of persons and characters at a Gaming-house,” said Sparkle, “are almost incredible, all ranks and descriptions are mingled together.
“The mix-up of people and characters at a gaming house,” said Sparkle, “is almost unbelievable; all kinds and types are mixed together."
“What confusion of titles and persons we see Amongst Gamesters, who spring out of every degree, From the prince to the pauper; all panting for play, Their fortune, their time, and their life pass away; Just as mingled are Pigeons, for 'tis no rebuke For a Greek to pluck all, from a Groom to a Duke.”
“What a mix of titles and people we see among gamblers, who come from every walk of life, from princes to the poor; all eager to play, wasting their money, time, and lives. Just like a bunch of pigeons, it's no shame for a Greek to win it all, from a stablehand to a duke.”
“It is too true,” said Dashall, “and equally as certain, that there are continually new comers ready and willing to be duped, or at least ready to risk their property, notwithstanding the warnings they have from their more experienced friends.”
“It’s too true,” said Dashall, “and just as certain that there are always newcomers eager and willing to be fooled, or at least willing to risk their belongings, despite the warnings they get from their more experienced friends.”
“And is there no possibility of obtaining fair play?” inquired Bob, “or redress for being pigeon'd, as you term it?”
“And is there no chance of getting a fair deal?” Bob asked, “or any way to get compensation for being sidelined, as you call it?”
[209]"None,” said Sparkle; “for if men will play at bowls, they must expect rubbers; and the system of confederacy is carried on every where, though perhaps with most success in those professed Gambling-houses, which young men of property ought carefully to avoid.”
[209]"None,” said Sparkle; “because if people choose to play games, they should be ready for setbacks; and the practice of collusion is everywhere, though it seems to thrive the most in those well-known gambling venues that young, wealthy individuals should definitely steer clear of.”
By this time they had reached the end of St. James's Street; it was therefore proposed by Sparkle that they should separate, particularly as it was growing late, or rather early in the morning; and, as they had been in some degree baffled in their attempt to take a minute survey of the proceedings in Pall Mall, they had no decided object in view. Accordingly they parted, Tom and Bob pursuing their way along Piccadilly, while Sparkle, Merrywell, and Mortimer, proceeded down Bond Street.
By this time, they had reached the end of St. James's Street. So, Sparkle suggested that they should split up, especially since it was getting late, or rather early in the morning. Since they had been somewhat unsuccessful in their attempt to get a thorough look at what was happening in Pall Mall, they had no clear plan. So they went their separate ways, with Tom and Bob heading along Piccadilly, while Sparkle, Merrywell, and Mortimer continued down Bond Street.
“I am by no means satisfied,” said Tom, “with this evening's ramble, nor exactly pleased to find our friend Sparkle is getting so sentimental.”
“I’m definitely not satisfied,” Tom said, “with this evening’s walk, nor am I particularly happy to see our friend Sparkle getting all sentimental.”
“He is, at least,” said Tallyho, “very communicative and instructive—I should feel less embarrassment at a future visit to one of those places, though, I can assure you, I should carefully avoid the chance of becoming a pigeon; but to know these things is certainly useful.”
“He is, at least,” said Tallyho, “very open and informative—I would feel less awkward during a future visit to one of those places, though I can promise you, I would definitely avoid the risk of becoming a pigeon; but knowing these things is definitely helpful.”
“We must lay our plans better for the future,” said Tom—“example is better than precept; and, as for Sparkle, I strongly suspect he is studying a part in All for Love, or the World well lost. That kind of study is too laborious for me, I can't bear to be fettered; or if it be true that it is what we must all come to, my time is not yet arrived. Though I confess Miss Mortimer has many attractions not to be overlooked by an attentive observer; at the same time I perceive this Mr. Merrywell is equally assiduous to obtain the young lady's favours.”
“We need to plan better for the future,” said Tom. “Actions speak louder than words; and as for Sparkle, I really think he’s trying out for a role in All for Love, or the World Well Lost. That kind of studying is too much work for me; I can’t stand being tied down. If it’s true that we all have to go through that someday, my time hasn’t come yet. Though I have to admit Miss Mortimer has a lot of charm that an observant person wouldn’t miss; at the same time, I notice that Mr. Merrywell is also working hard to win the young lady's attention.”
By this time they had arrived at home, where, after partaking of refreshment, they retired to rest.[210]
By this time, they had gotten home, where, after having a snack, they went to bed.[210]
CHAPTER XV
“WELL,” said Tom, “it must be confessed that a Newspaper is a most convenient and agreeable companion to the breakfast-table,” laying down the Times as he spoke: “it is a sort of literary hotch-potch, calculated to afford amusement suited to all tastes, rank-, and degrees; it contains
“WELL,” said Tom, “I have to admit that a newspaper is a really convenient and pleasant companion at the breakfast table,” putting down the Times as he spoke: “it’s like a mixed bag of writing, designed to provide entertainment for all kinds of tastes, social classes, and levels; it contains
“Then, I presume,” said Bob, “you have been gratified and interested in the perusal?”
“Then, I assume,” said Bob, “you found it enjoyable and interesting to read?”
“It is impossible to look down the columns of a newspaper,” replied Tom, “without finding subjects to impart light; and of all the journals of the present day, the Times appears to me the best in point of information and conduct; but I spoke of newspapers generally, there is such a mixture of the utile et dulce, that the Merchant and the Mechanic, the Peer, the Poet, the Prelate, and the Peasant, are all deeply concerned in its contents. In truth, a newspaper is so true a mark of the caprice of Englishmen, that it may justly be styled their coat of [211]arms. The Turkish Koran is not near so sacred to a rigid Mahometan—a parish-dinner to an Overseer—a turtle-feast to an Alderman, or an election to a Freeholder, as a Gazette or Newspaper to an Englishman: by it the motions of the world are watched, and in some degree governed—the arts and sciences protected and promoted—the virtuous supported and stimulated—the vicious reproved and corrected—and all informed.”
“It’s impossible to read the columns of a newspaper,” replied Tom, “without finding topics that spark interest; and of all the publications today, the Times seems to me the best in terms of information and integrity; but I was speaking about newspapers in general, as there’s such a mix of the utile et dulce that the Merchant and the Mechanic, the Peer, the Poet, the Prelate, and the Peasant are all deeply invested in its content. In truth, a newspaper is such a true reflection of the whims of the English that it could rightly be called their coat of [211]arms. The Turkish Koran is nowhere near as sacred to a devout Muslim—a parish dinner to an Overseer—a turtle feast to an Alderman, or an election to a Freeholder, as a Gazette or Newspaper is to an Englishman: through it, the movements of the world are observed, and, to some extent, controlled—the arts and sciences are safeguarded and encouraged—the virtuous are supported and inspired—the vicious are rebuked and corrected—and everyone is informed.”
“Consequently,” said Bob, “a good Newspaper is really a valuable article.”
“Therefore,” said Bob, “a good newspaper is truly a valuable resource.”
“Doubtless,” continued Tom; “and John Bull—mistake me not, I don't mean the paper which bears that title—I mean the population of England, enjoy a Newspaper, and there are some who could not relish their breakfasts without one; it is a sort of general sauce to every thing, and to the quid nunc is indispensable—for if one informs him of a naval armament, he will not fail to toast the Admirals all round in pint bumpers to each, wishes them success, gets drunk with excessive loyalty, and goes with his head full of seventy-fours, sixty-fours, frigates, transports, fire-ships, &c. In its diversified pages, persons of every rank, denomination, and pursuit, may be informed—the Philosopher, the Politician, the Citizen, the Handicraftsman, and the Gossip, are regaled by the novelty of its contents, the minuteness of its details, and the refreshing arrivals of transactions which occupy the attention of human beings at the greatest or nearest distances from us—
“Of course,” Tom continued. “And John Bull—don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean the newspaper with that name—I’m talking about the people of England, who love reading the news, and some couldn’t enjoy their breakfast without it; it’s like a universal seasoning for everything, and for the gossip enthusiast, it’s a must-have—because if you mention a naval fleet, he’ll definitely raise a toast to each Admiral in big pints, wishing them all success, getting tipsy from his overwhelming loyalty, and filling his head with thoughts of battleships, frigates, transports, fire ships, and so on. In its varied pages, people of all walks of life—philosophers, politicians, citizens, tradespeople, and gossipers—are entertained by the novelty of its stories, the details it provides, and the latest news that grabs the attention of people near and far—
It may with propriety be compared to the planetary system: the light which it diffuses round the mental hemisphere, operates according as it is seen, felt, understood, or enjoyed: for instance, the Miser is gladdened by an account of the rise of the stocks—the Mariner is rejoiced, at the safety of his vessel after a thunder-storm—the Manufacturer, to hear of the revival of foreign markets—the Merchant, that his cargo is safely arrived—the Member, that his election is secured—the Father, that his son is walling to return home—the Poet, that [212]his production has been favourably received by the public—the Physician, that a difficult cure is transmitting his fame to posterity—the Actor, that his talents are duly appreciated—the Agriculturist, that grain fetches a good price—the upright man, that his character is defended—the poor man, that beer, meat, bread, and vegetables, are so within his reach that he can assure himself of being able to obtain a good Sunday's dinner.
It can properly be compared to the solar system: the light it spreads around the mind works based on how it's seen, felt, understood, or enjoyed. For example, the Miser is happy to hear about the stock market rising—the Mariner is relieved when his ship is safe after a thunderstorm—the Manufacturer is pleased to learn about the revival of foreign markets—the Merchant is glad that his cargo has arrived safely—the Member is satisfied that his election is secured—the Father is joyful that his son is willing to come home—the Poet is thrilled that his work has been well received by the public—the Physician is gratified that a challenging cure is enhancing his reputation for future generations—the Actor is proud that his talents are recognized—the Farmer is happy that grain is selling for a good price—the honest person is relieved that his character is defended—and the poor person is glad that beer, meat, bread, and vegetables are affordable enough for him to ensure a good Sunday dinner.
“Tho' they differ in narrie, all alike, just the same, Morning Chronicle, Times, Advertiser, British Press, Morning Post, of News—what a host We read every day, and grow wiser; The Examiner, Whig—all alive to the gig, While each one his favourite chooses; Star, Traveller, and Sun, to keep up the fun, And tell all the world what the news is.”
“Though they differ in name, they’re all the same: Morning Chronicle, Times, Advertiser, British Press, Morning Post—what a bunch! We read every day and get smarter; The Examiner, Whig—all in on the buzz, while everyone picks their favorite. Star, Traveller, and Sun keep the fun going and let everyone know what the news is.”
“Well done,” said Bob, “you seem to have them all at your tongue's end, and their general contents in your head; but, for my part, I am struck with surprise to know how it is they find interesting matter enough at all times to fill their columns.”
"Well done," Bob said, "you seem to have everything at your fingertips and the general content in your head; but, I have to say, I'm amazed at how they always find enough interesting stuff to fill their columns."
“Nothing more easy,” continued Dashall, “especially for a newspaper whose contents are not sanctioned by authority; in which case they are so much the more the receptacle of invention—thence—We hear—it is said—a correspondent remarks—whereas, &c—all which serve to please, surprise, and inform. We hear, can alter a man's face as the weather would a barometer—It is said, can distort another like a fit of the spasm—If, can make some cry—while Suppose, can make others laugh—but a Whereas operates like an electric shock; and though it often runs the extremity of the kingdom in unison with the rest, they altogether form a very agreeable mixture, occasionally interspersed, as opportunity offers, with long extracts from the last published novel, and an account of the prevailing fashions. But domestic occurrences form a very essential part of this folio: thus, a marriage hurts an old maid and mortifies a young one, while it consoles many a poor dejected husband, who is secretly pleased to find another fallen into his case—a death, if of a wife, makes husbands envy the widower, while, perhaps, some one of the women who censure his alleged want of [213]decent sorrow, marry him within a month after—in fact, every person is put in motion by a Newspaper.
“Nothing is easier,” continued Dashall, “especially for a newspaper without official approval; in which case they become even more a collection of imagination—hence—We hear—it is said—a correspondent notes—whereas, &c—all of which aim to entertain, surprise, and inform. We hear can change a man's expression like the weather changes a barometer—It is said can twist another's face like a spasm—If can make some weep—while Suppose can cause others to laugh—but a Whereas hits like an electric jolt; and though it often syncs with the rest of the kingdom, they all create a very pleasant mix, occasionally interspersed, when the chance arises, with long excerpts from the latest published novel and an overview of the current trends. However, personal events are a crucial part of this collection: thus, a marriage upsets an old maid and embarrasses a young one, while it comforts many a poor, downcast husband, who secretly feels relieved to see another in his predicament—a death, if it’s a wife, makes husbands envy the widower, while some of those women who criticize his supposed lack of [213]proper grief may marry him within a month—in reality, everyone is affected by a Newspaper.
“It is a bill of fare, containing all the luxuries as well as necessaries, of life. Politics, for instance, are the roast beef of the times; essays, the plum pudding; and poetry the fritters, confections, custards, and all the et cotera of the table, usually denominated trifles. Yet the four winds are not liable to more mutability than the vehicles of these entertainments; for instance, on Monday, it is whispered—on Tuesday, it is rumoured—on Wednesday, it is conjectured—on Thursday, it is probable—on Friday, it is positively asserted—and, on Saturday, it is premature. But notwithstanding this, some how or other, all are eventually pleased; for, as the affections of all are divided among wit, anecdote, poetry, prices of stocks, the arrival of ships, &c. a Newspaper is a repository where every one has his hobby-horse; without it, coffee-houses, &c. would be depopulated, and the country squire, the curate, the exciseman, and the barber, and many others, would lose those golden opportunities of appearing so very wise as they do.
“It’s a menu that includes all the luxuries and necessities of life. Politics, for example, are the roast beef of the day; essays are the plum pudding; and poetry is the fritters, sweets, custards, and everything else that is usually considered trifles. Yet the four winds are no more changeable than the sources of this entertainment; for instance, on Monday, it’s whispered—on Tuesday, it’s rumored—on Wednesday, it’s speculated—on Thursday, it’s likely—on Friday, it’s definitely stated—and on Saturday, it’s premature. But despite all this, somehow everyone ends up satisfied; because as everyone's interests are split among wit, anecdotes, poetry, stock prices, ship arrivals, etc., a newspaper becomes a place where everyone has their own obsession; without it, coffee houses would empty out, and the country squire, the curate, the tax collector, the barber, and many others would miss those golden chances to appear so very wise as they do.”
A Newspaper may also be compared to the Seasons. Its information varies on the roll of Time, and much of it passes away as a Winter, giving many a bitter pang of the death of a relative or hopeful lover; it is as a Spring, for, in the time of war and civil commotion, its luminary, the editor, like the morning sun, leads Hope forward to milder days and happier prospects—the smiles of peace; it is the heart's Summer calendar, giving news of marriages and births for heirs and patrons; it is the Autumn of joy, giving accounts of plenty, and guarding the avaricious against the snares of self-love, and offering arguments in favour of humanity. It is more; a Newspaper is one of the most faithful lessons that can be represented to our reflections, for, while it is the interpreter [214]of the general economy of nature, it is a most kind and able instructress to improve ourselves.
A newspaper can also be compared to the seasons. Its information changes with the passage of time, and much of it fades away like winter, causing many to feel a painful loss of a loved one or a hopeful partner; it is like spring, for during times of war and civil unrest, its guiding force, the editor, like the morning sun, leads us toward milder days and brighter futures—the happiness of peace; it represents the summer of the heart, sharing news of weddings and births for families and supporters; it is the autumn of joy, providing stories of abundance and warning the greedy against the traps of selfishness, while promoting arguments in favor of compassion. More than that, a newspaper is one of the most reliable lessons we can reflect on, as it interprets the broader workings of nature and serves as a kind and capable guide for self-improvement.
What are our lives but as the ephemeral appearance of an advertisement? Our actions but as the actions of a popular contest? Our hopes, fears, exultations, but as the cross readings of diurnal events? And although grief is felt at the perusal of accidents, offences, and crimes, which are necessarily and judiciously given, there is in every good Newspaper an impartial record, an abstract of the times, a vast fund of useful knowledge; and, finally, no person has reason, after perusing it, to rise without being thankful that so useful a medium is offered to his understanding; at least, this is my opinion.”
What are our lives but the fleeting impression of an ad? Our actions just like the moves in a popularity contest? Our hopes, fears, and joys, merely the mixed signals of daily life? And even though we feel sadness when reading about accidents, crimes, and wrongdoings, which are given fairly and wisely, every good newspaper has an unbiased record, a summary of the times, a large source of helpful information; and, in the end, no one has any reason, after reading it, not to feel grateful for such a valuable resource to inform their understanding; at least, that's how I see it.
“And now you have favoured me with this opinion,” rejoined Tallyho, “will you be kind enough to inform me to what fortunate circumstance I am indebted for it?”
“And now that you’ve shared this opinion with me,” Tallyho replied, “could you please let me know what fortunate circumstance I have to thank for it?”
“The question comes very apropos,” continued Tom—“for I had nearly forgotten that circumstance, so that you may perhaps be inclined to compare my head to a newspaper, constantly varying from subject to subject; but no matter, a novelty has just struck my eye, which I think will afford us much gratification: it is the announcement of an exhibition of engravings by living artists, under the immediate patronage of his Majesty, recently opened in Soho Square, through the public spirited exertions of Mr. Cooke, a celebrated engraver—And now I think of it, Mortimer and his Sister intend visiting Somerset House—egad! we will make a morning of it in reviewing the Arts—what say you?”
“The question is quite timely,” Tom continued, “since I almost forgot about that situation, so you might be tempted to compare my mind to a newspaper, always shifting from one topic to another; but anyway, something has just caught my attention that I think will be very enjoyable for us: there’s an announcement for an exhibition of engravings by contemporary artists, officially supported by His Majesty, which just opened in Soho Square, thanks to the efforts of Mr. Cooke, a well-known engraver—And now that I think about it, Mortimer and his sister plan to visit Somerset House—let’s make it a morning of exploring the Arts—what do you say?”
“With all my heart,” returned Bob.
“With all my heart,” Bob replied.
“Be it so, then,” said Tom—“So-ho, my boy—perhaps we may meet the love-sick youth, poor Sparkle; he has certainly received the wound of the blind urchin—I believe we must pity him—but come, let us prepare, we will lounge away an hour in walking down Bond Street—peep at the wags and the wag-tails, and take Soho Square in our way to Somerset House. I feel myself just in the humour for a bit of gig, and 1 promise you we will make a night of it.”
“Alright then,” said Tom—“Hey there, my boy—maybe we’ll run into the lovesick guy, poor Sparkle; he’s definitely been hit by Cupid—I think we should feel sorry for him—but come on, let’s get ready, we’ll spend some time strolling down Bond Street—check out the fun folks and the hangers-on, and stop by Soho Square on our way to Somerset House. I’m in the mood for a bit of fun, and I promise you we’ll make a night of it.”
The preliminaries of their route being thus arranged, in half an hour they were on their road down Bond Street, marking and remarking upon circumstances and subjects as they arose.
The details of their route being set, they were on their way down Bond Street in half an hour, commenting on circumstances and topics as they came up.
“Who is that Lady?” said Bob, seeing Tom bow as a dashing carriage passed them.
“Who is that lady?” Bob asked, noticing Tom bow as an elegant carriage went by them.
“That is a Lady Townley, according to the generally
“That is a Lady Townley, according to the generally
received term.”
received term.
“A lady of title, as I suspected,” said Bob.
“A titled lady, just as I thought,” said Bob.
“Yes, yes,” replied Tom Dashall, “a distinguished personage, I can assure you—one of the most dashing demireps of the present day, basking at this moment in the plenitude of her good fortune. She is however deserving of a better fate: well educated and brought up, she was early initiated into the mysteries and miseries of high life. You seem to wonder at the title I have given her.”
“Yes, yes,” replied Tom Dashall, “a prominent figure, I can assure you—one of the most impressive socialites of our time, enjoying the peak of her good fortune right now. However, she deserves a better destiny: well-educated and raised well, she was introduced early to the secrets and struggles of high society. You seem curious about the title I’ve given her.”
“I am astonished again, I confess,” replied Bob; “but it appears there is no end to wonders in London—nor can I guess how you so accurately know them.”
“I’m amazed again, I admit,” replied Bob; “but it seems there’s no limit to the wonders in London—nor can I figure out how you know them so precisely.”
“Along residence in London affords opportunities for
“Living in London offers opportunities for
discovery.
discovery.
“As the French very justly say, that Il n'y a que le premier pas qui coûte, and just as, with all the sapience of medicine, there is but a degree betwixt the Doctor and the Student, so, after the first step, there is but a degree betwixt the Demirep and the gazetted Cyprian, who is known by head-mark to every insipid Amateur and Fancier in the town.
“As the French wisely say, Il n'y a que le premier pas qui coûte, and just like with all the knowledge of medicine, there is only a small step between the Doctor and the Student, after that first step, there’s just a slight distinction between the Demirep and the recognized Prostitute, who is recognized by every boring Amateur and Fancier in the town.”
“The number of these frail ones is so great, that, if I were to attempt to go through the shades and gradations, the distinctions and titles, from the promiscuous Duchess to the interested Marchande de mode, and from her down to the Wood Nymphs of the English Opera, there would be such a longo ordine génies, that although it is a very interesting subject, well worthy of investigation, it would occupy a considerable portion of time; however, I will give you a slight sketch of some well known and very topping articles. Mrs. B——m, commonly called B——g, Mrs. P——n, and Mrs. H——d, of various life. “The modern Pyrrha, B——g, has a train as long as an eastern monarch, but it is a train of lovers. The Honourable B—— C——n, that famous gentleman miller, had the honour at one time (like Cromwell,) of being the Protector of the Republic. The infamous Greek, bully, informer and reprobate W——ce, was her accomplice and paramour at another. Lord V——l boasted her favours at a third period; and she wished to look upon him in a fatherly [216]light; but it would not do. Mr. C. T. S. the nephew of a great naval character, is supposed to have a greater or prior claim there; but the piebald harlequin is owned not by “Light horse, but by heavy.”
“The number of these fragile individuals is so high that if I tried to go through the various shades and distinctions, from the promiscuous Duchess to the opportunistic fashion seller, and from her down to the Wood Nymphs of the English Opera, it would create such a long list of characters that, although it’s a very interesting topic worth exploring, it would take a significant amount of time. However, I'll provide a brief overview of some well-known and prominent figures. Mrs. B——m, commonly known as B——g, Mrs. P——n, and Mrs. H——d, each with their varied lives. “The modern Pyrrha, B——g, has a train as long as that of an Eastern monarch, but it’s a train of lovers. The Honourable B—— C——n, that famous gentleman miller, once had the honor (like Cromwell) of being the Protector of the Republic. The notorious Greek, bully, informer, and outcast W——ce was her accomplice and lover at another time. Lord V——l enjoyed her favors at yet another point; she tried to see him in a paternal light, but it just didn’t work out. Mr. C. T. S., the nephew of a notable naval figure, is thought to have a stronger or prior claim in that regard; but the patchwork harlequin is owned not by 'Light horse, but by heavy.'”
“Mr. P——y, however, was so struck with the increased
“Mr. P——y, however, was so struck by the increased
attractions of this Cyprian, that he offered to be her protector during a confinement which may be alarming to many, but interesting to a few. This was being doubly diligent, and accordingly as it was two to one in his favour, no wonder he succeeded in his suit. The difficulties which Madame laboured under were sufficient to decide her in this youth's favour; and the preference, upon such an occasion, must have been highly flattering to him. On the score of difficulties, Cyprians are quite in fashion; for executions and arrests are very usual in their mansions, and the last comer has the exquisite felicity of relieving them.
attractions of this young man, that he offered to be her protector during a time that might scare many, but intrigues a few. This was being extra careful, and since it was two to one in his favor, it's no surprise he succeeded in his pursuit. The challenges that Madame faced were enough to sway her toward this young man; and the preference, in such circumstances, must have been very flattering to him. Regarding difficulties, people like him are quite trendy; because arrests and dramatic situations are pretty common in their lives, and the new arrivals have the unique pleasure of rescuing them.
“Although this dashing Lady was the daughter of a bathing woman at Brighton, she was not enabled to keep her head above water.
“Although this charming Lady was the daughter of a bath attendant in Brighton, she wasn’t able to stay afloat.”
“I must not forget Poll P——n, whose select friends have such cause to be proud of lier election. This Diana is not descended from a member of the Rump Parliament, nor from a bum bailiff; but was the daughter of a bumboat woman at Plymouth. She has, however, since that period, commenced business for herself; and that in such a respectable and extensive line, that she counts exactly seven thousand customers! all regularly booked. What a delectable amusement to keep such a register! Neanmoins, or nean plus, if you like. It is reported that the noble Y—— was so delighted with her at the Venetian fête given by Messrs. W—ll—ms and D—h—r—ty, that he gave the Virgin Unmasked several very valuable presents, item, a shawl value one hundred guineas, &c. and was honoured by being put on this Prime Minister of the Court of Love's list—number Seven thousand and one! What a fortunate man!
“I must not forget Poll P——n, whose select friends have plenty of reasons to be proud of her election. This Diana isn’t descended from a member of the Rump Parliament or from a shady bailiff; she is the daughter of a bumboat woman from Plymouth. However, since then, she has started her own business, and in such a respectable and extensive field that she has exactly seven thousand customers! all regularly logged. What a delightful pastime to keep such a record! Neanmoins, or nean plus, if you prefer. It’s said that the noble Y—— was so impressed with her at the Venetian fête hosted by Messrs. W—ll—ms and D—h—r—ty that he gave the Virgin Unmasked several very valuable gifts, including a shawl worth one hundred guineas, etc., and was honored by being placed on this Prime Minister of the Court of Love's list—number Seven thousand and one! What a lucky man!
“Mrs. H——d is lineally descended, not from William the Conqueror, but from W——s the coachman. She lived, for a considerable time, in a mews, and it was thought that it was his love for the Muses which attached C—— L—— so closely to her. She was seduced at a most indelicately juvenile age by a Major M——l, who protected her but a short time, and then deserted her. Then [217]she became what the Cyprians term Lady Townly, till Mr. H——d, a youth with considerable West India property in expectation, married her.
“Mrs. H——d is directly descended, not from William the Conqueror, but from W——s the coachman. She lived for quite some time in a mews, and it was believed that it was his affection for the Muses that linked C—— L—— so closely to her. She was seduced at a very inappropriate young age by a Major M——l, who supported her for only a brief time before abandoning her. Then [217] she became what the Cyprians refer to as Lady Townly, until Mr. H——d, a young man with significant West India property in prospect, married her.
“On this happy occasion, her hymeneal flame burned with so much warmth and purity, that she shared it with a linen-draper, and the circumstance became almost immediately known to the husband! This was a happy presage of future connubial felicity! The very day before this domestic exposure, and the happy vigil of Mr. H——d's happier “jour des noces,” the darling of the Muses or Mewses, Mr. L—— procured Lady H——d's private box for her at one of the theatres, whither she and Mrs. CI——y, the mistress of an officer of that name, repaired in the carriage of the Mews lover, which has become completely “the Demirep or Cyprian's Diligence,” and these patterns for the fair sex had poured out such plentiful libations to Bacchus, that her ladyship's box exhibited the effects of their devotions! What a regale for the Princess of Madagascar!
“On this joyful occasion, her wedding excitement burned with so much warmth and purity that she shared it with a linen merchant, and this fact became known to her husband almost immediately! This was a promising sign of future marital happiness! Just the day before this domestic revelation, and the happy vigil of Mr. H——d's even happier “wedding day,” the beloved of the Muses, Mr. L—— secured Lady H——d's private box for her at one of the theaters, where she and Mrs. CI——y, the partner of an officer of that name, went in the carriage of the Mews lover, which has become completely “the Demirep or Cyprian's Diligence.” These role models for women had offered such abundant libations to Bacchus that her ladyship's box showed the effects of their celebrations! What a treat for the Princess of Madagascar!
“The guardians, or trustees, of Mr. H——d now withheld his property, and Madame assisted him into the King's Bench, during which time she kept terms with Mr. L—— at Oxford. On her return, she got acquainted with a Capt. Cr——ks, whom she contrived soon afterwards to lodge, in the next room to her husband, in the Bench; but to whom she kindly gave the preference in her visits.
“The guardians, or trustees, of Mr. H——d were now withholding his property, and Madame helped him into the King's Bench, during which time she maintained contact with Mr. L—— at Oxford. Upon her return, she met a Capt. Cr——ks, whom she arranged to have stay in the next room to her husband in the Bench; however, she graciously prioritized her visits to him.”
“Whether C—— L——, W—lk—s the linen-draper, or Capt. C——k, be the most favoured swain, or swine, I venture not to say; but the former has devoted his time, his chariot, and his female acquaintances' boxes in public to her. As a pledge of his love, she helped herself to a loose picture of great value belonging to him, which very nearly fell into the hands of John Doe or Richard Roe, on her husband's account, afterwards. The palm should, however, certainly be given to Mr. L——, as he courted her classically, moralized to her sentimentally, sung psalms and prayed with her fervently, and, on all occasions, treated her like a lady.”
“Whether C—— L——, W—lk—s the linen merchant, or Capt. C——k is the more favored suitor, I won’t say; but the former has dedicated his time, his car, and his female friends' gifts in public to her. As a token of his love, she took a valuable painting of his without asking, which almost ended up in the hands of John Doe or Richard Roe because of her husband later. However, the credit should definitely go to Mr. L——, as he pursued her in a classic way, shared sentimental thoughts with her, sang hymns, and prayed with her earnestly, always treating her like a lady.”
“Ha,” said a fashionably dressed young man, who approached towards Dashall, “Ha, my dear fellow, how goes it with you? Haven't seen you this month; d——d unlucky circumstance—wanted you very much indeed—glorious sport—all jolly and bang up.” [218]"Glad to hear it,” said Tom,—“sorry you should have experienced any wants on my account.”
“Ha,” said a stylishly dressed young man, walking over to Dashall, “Hey, my friend, how's it going? Haven't seen you all month; really unfortunate—missed you a lot—amazing times—all fun and fancy.” [218] “Glad to hear it,” replied Tom, “sorry you felt any inconvenience because of me.”
“Which way are you going? Come along, I'll tell you of such a spree—regular, and nothing but—You must know, a few days ago, sauntering down Bond-street, I overtook Sir G. W. 'Ha! my gay fellow,' said he, 'I thought you were at Bibury; you're the very man I want. My brother Jack has lost a rump and dozen to a young one, and we want to make up a select party, a set of real hardheaded fellows, to share the feast. I have already recruited Sir M. M., the buck Parson, Lord Lavender, and Tom Shuffleton. Then there's yourself, I hope, my brother and I, the young one, and A——'s deputy, the reprobate Curate, whom we will have to make fun of. We dine at half-past seven, at Long's, and there will be some sport, I assure you.'
“Which way are you headed? Come on, I have to tell you about an exciting outing—nothing but good times. You know, a few days ago, while strolling down Bond Street, I ran into Sir G. W. 'Hey, my lively friend,' he said, 'I thought you were at Bibury; you're exactly the person I need. My brother Jack lost a bet to a young guy, and we want to put together a small group of solid friends to enjoy the feast. I've already got Sir M. M., the fashionable Parson, Lord Lavender, and Tom Shuffleton on board. Then there's you, I hope, my brother and I, the young guy, and A——'s deputy, that troublesome Curate, who we can poke fun at. We're having dinner at half-past seven at Long's, and I promise you there will be some good times.'”
“I accepted the invitation, and met the company before mentioned. A rump and dozen is always a nominal thing. There was no rump, except Lavender's, which projects like a female's from the bottom of a tight-laced pair of stays; and as for the dozen, I believe we drank nearer three dozen of different expensive wines, which were tasted one after the other with a quickness of succession, which at last left no taste, but a taste for more drink, and for all sorts of wickedness.
"I accepted the invitation and met the group mentioned earlier. A 'rump and dozen' is usually just a formality. There was no actual rump, except Lavender's, which sticks out like a woman's from the bottom of a tightly laced corset; and as for the dozen, I think we actually consumed closer to three dozen different expensive wines, which we tasted one after the other so quickly that in the end, we were left with no flavor, just a craving for more drinks and all kinds of mischief."
“This tasting plan is a very successful trick of tavern keepers, which enables them to carry off half bottles of wine, to swell the reckoning most amazingly, and so to bewilder people as to the qualities of the wine, that any thing, provided it be strong and not acid, will go down at the heel of the evening. It is also a grand manouvre; to intoxicate a Johnny Raw, and to astonish his weak mind with admiration for the founder of the feast. Therefore, the old trick of 'I have got some particularly high-flavoured Burgundy, which Lord Lavender very much approved t'other day;' and, 'Might I, Sir, ask your opinion of a new importation of Sillery?' or, 'My Lord, 1 have bought all the Nabob's East India Madeira,' &c. was successfully practised.
“This tasting strategy is a clever move by tavern owners that allows them to sell half bottles of wine, dramatically increase the bill, and confuse customers about the wine's quality, so that by the end of the night, they'll drink anything as long as it’s strong and not sour. It’s also a great tactic to get a naive person drunk and bewilder them with admiration for the host of the evening. So, the old trick of 'I have some particularly flavorful Burgundy that Lord Lavender highly praised the other day,' and, 'May I, Sir, ask for your thoughts on a new shipment of Sillery?' or, 'My Lord, I’ve acquired all the Nabob's East India Madeira,' etc., was effectively used.”
“Through the first course we were stag-hunting, to a man, and killed the stag just as the second course came on the table. This course was occupied by a great number of long shots of Sir M. M., and by Lavender offering to back himself and the buck Parson against any other two [219]men in England, as to the number of head of game which they would bag from sun-rise to sun-set upon the moors. A foot race, and a dispute as to the odds betted on the second October Meeting, occupied the third course. The desert was enlivened by a list of ladies of all descriptions, whose characters were cut up full as ably as the haunch of venison was carved; and here boasting of success in love was as general as the custom is base. One man of fashion goes by the name of Kiss and tell.
“During the first course, we were all out hunting stags and managed to catch one just as the second course was served. This course featured a lot of long shots from Sir M. M., and Lavender was eager to wager on himself and the buck Parson against any other two [219]men in England, regarding how many game they could hunt from sunrise to sunset on the moors. The third course included a foot race and a debate about the odds placed on the second October Meeting. For dessert, the atmosphere was lively with a list of ladies from all walks of life, whose reputations were sliced apart as expertly as the haunch of venison was carved; and here, bragging about romantic conquests was as common as it was distasteful. One fashionable man is known by the nickname Kiss and Tell."
“After an hour of hard drinking, as though it had been for a wager, a number of very manly, nice little innocent and instructive amusements were resorted to. We had a most excellent maggot race for a hundred; and then a handycap for a future poney race. We had pitching a guinea into a decanter, at which the young one lost considerably. We had a raffle for a gold snuff box, a challenge of fifty against Lord Lavender's Dusseldorf Pipe, and five hundred betted upon the number of shot to be put into a Joe Manton Rifle. We played at te-to-tum; and the young one leaped over a handkerchief six feet high for a wager: he performed extremely well at first, but at last Lavender, who betted against him, kept plying him so with wine, and daring him to an inch higher and higher, until at last the young one broke his nose, and lost five hundred guineas by his boyish diversion.
“After an hour of heavy drinking, as if it were a bet, we turned to some very manly, fun little games that were quite entertaining. We had a fantastic maggot race for a hundred; then a handicap for a future pony race. We tried pitching a guinea into a decanter, which the young one lost a lot on. There was a raffle for a gold snuff box, a wager of fifty against Lord Lavender's Dusseldorf Pipe, and five hundred bet on the number of shots to fit into a Joe Manton Rifle. We played at te-to-tum; and the young one jumped over a handkerchief six feet high for a bet: he did really well at first, but eventually Lavender, who bet against him, kept urging him on with more wine and daring him to go an inch higher and higher, until finally the young one broke his nose and lost five hundred guineas due to his childish antics.
Now we had a fulminating letter introduced as a hoax upon Shuffleton; next, devils and broiled bones; then some blasphemous songs from the Curate, who afterwards fell asleep, and thus furnished an opportunity for having his face blacked. We then got in a band of itinerant musicians; put crackers in their pockets; cut off one fellow's tail; and had a milling match betwixt the baronet in the chair and the stoutest of them, who, having had spirits of wine poured over his head, refused to let the candle be put to it!
Now we had a crazy letter that was set up as a prank on Shuffleton; next came devils and grilled bones; then some blasphemous songs from the Curate, who later fell asleep, giving us a chance to blacken his face. We then brought in a group of traveling musicians; stuffed firecrackers in their pockets; cut off one guy's tail; and had a brawl between the baronet in the chair and the strongest among them, who, after having spirits of wine poured over his head, refused to let anyone light it!
Peace being restored, a regular supper appeared; and then a regular set-to at play, where I perceived divers signals thrown out, such as rubbing of foreheads and chins, taking two pinches of snuff and other private telegraphic communications, the result of which was, the young one, just of age, being greeked to a very great amount.
Peace restored, a normal dinner was served; and then a usual round of games began, where I noticed various signals exchanged, like rubbing foreheads and chins, taking two pinches of snuff, and other private signals, which resulted in the young one, just of age, being greatly impressed.
We now sallied forth, like a pack in full cry, with all the loud expression of mirth and riot, and proceeded to [220]old 77, which, being shut up, we swore like troopers, and broke the parlour windows in a rage. We next cut the traces of a hackney coach, and led the horses into a mews, ?where we tied them up; coachee being asleep inside the whole time. We then proceeded to old Ham-a-dry-ed, the bacon man's, called out Fire, and got the old man down to the door in his shirt, when Lavender ran away with his night-cap, and threw it into the water in St. James's Square, whilst the Baronet put it in right and left at his sconce, and told him to hide his d——d ugly masard. This induced him to come out and call the Watch, during which time the buck Parson got into his house, and was very snug with the cook wench until the next evening, when old fusty mug went out upon business.
We now rushed out like a wild bunch, filled with loud laughter and chaos, and headed to [220]old 77, which was locked up. Frustrated, we swore and smashed the parlor windows in anger. Next, we cut the traces of a cab and led the horses into a stable, tying them up while the driver slept inside the whole time. Then we went to old Ham-a-dry-ed, the bacon guy, shouted "Fire," and got the old man to come to the door in his shirt. While this happened, Lavender stole his nightcap and threw it into the water in St. James's Square, as the Baronet kept hitting him on the head and told him to hide his d——d ugly mug. This made him come out and call for the Watch, during which the fancy Parson snuck into his house and got cozy with the cook until the next evening when old fusty mug went out on an errand.
After giving a view holloa! we ran off, with the Charleys in full cry after us, when Sir G. W., who had purposely provided himself with a long cord, gave me one end, and ran to the opposite side of Jermyn Street with the other in his hand, holding it about two feet from the pavement. The old Scouts came up in droves, and we had 'em down in a moment, for every mother's son of the guardians were caught in the trap, and rolled over each other slap into the kennel. Never was such a prime bit of gig! They lay stunn'd with the fall—broken lanterns, staves, rattles, Welsh wigs, night-caps and old hats, were scattered about in abundance, while grunting, growling, and swearing was heard in all directions. One old buck got his jaw-bone broken; another staved in two of his crazy timbers, that is to say, broke a couple of ribs; a third bled from the nose like a pig; a fourth squinted admirably from a pair of painted peepers; their numbers however increasing, we divided our forces and marched in opposite directions; one party sallied along Bond Street, nailed up a snoosy Charley in his box, and bolted with his lantern: the others were not so fortunate, for A——'s deputy cushion thumper, the young one, and the Baronet's brother, got safely lodged in St. James's Watch-house.
After giving a loud shout, we took off, with the constables chasing after us. Sir G. W., who had intentionally brought a long cord, handed me one end and ran to the other side of Jermyn Street, holding it about two feet above the ground. The old officers came at us in droves, and we took them down quickly, as every one of the guardians got caught in the trap, tumbling into the gutter. It was such a great bit of fun! They lay there dazed from the fall—broken lanterns, sticks, rattles, wigs, nightcaps, and old hats were scattered everywhere, while grunting, growling, and swearing could be heard all around. One old guy got his jaw broken; another broke a couple of ribs; a third was bleeding from the nose; and a fourth had a comical squint from his painted eyes. With their numbers growing, we split up and headed in different directions; one group went down Bond Street, trapped a snooty constable in his box, and dashed off with his lantern. The others weren’t as lucky, as A——'s young assistant and the Baronet's brother ended up safely caught in St. James's Watch-house.
“Broad daylight now glar'd upon us—Lavender retired comfortably upon Madame la Comtesse in the Bench; Sir M. M. was found chanting Cannons with some Wood nymphs not an hundred and fifty miles off from Leicester Square; I had the President to carry home on my shoulders, bundled to bed, and there I lay sick for four and twenty hours, when a little inspiring Coniac brought [221]me to my senses again, and now I am ready and ripe for another spree. Stap my vitals if there isn't Lavender—my dear fellow, adieu—remember me to Charley Sparkle when you see him—by, by.” And with this he sprung across the road, leaving Bob and his Cousin to comment at leisure upon his folly.
“Bright daylight was shining down on us—Lavender was comfortably settled on Madame la Comtesse in the bench; Sir M. M. was found singing Cannons with some wood nymphs not too far from Leicester Square; I had to carry the President home on my shoulders, bundled up and put to bed, and there I lay sick for twenty-four hours, until a bit of inspiring Cognac brought [221]me back to my senses, and now I'm ready for another adventure. I swear, there’s Lavender—my dear friend, goodbye—say hi to Charley Sparkle for me when you see him—bye, bye.” And with that, he jumped across the road, leaving Bob and his Cousin to comment at their leisure on his foolishness.
They were however soon aroused from their reflections by perceiving a Groom in livery advancing rapidly towards them, followed by a curricle, moving at the rate of full nine miles per hour.
They were quickly brought out of their thoughts when they saw a groom in uniform approaching them quickly, followed by a carriage going at a speed of about nine miles per hour.
“Who have we here?” said Bob.
“Who do we have here?” said Bob.
“A character well known,” said Tom; “that is Lady L——, a dashing female whip of the first order—mark how she manages her tits—take a peep at her costume and learn while you look.”
“A character well known,” said Tom; “that is Lady L——, a bold woman of the highest caliber—notice how she carries herself—check out her outfit and learn while you admire.”
“More than one steed must Delia's empire feel Who sits triumphant o'er the flying wheel; And as she guides it through th' admiring throng, With what an air she smacks the silken thong!”
“More than one horse must feel Delia's power Who sits victorious over the spinning wheel; And as she steers it through the admiring crowd, With what confidence she cracks the silky whip!”
The Lady had a small round riding-hat, of black beaver, and sat in the true attitude of a coachman—wrists pliant, elbows square, she handled her whip in a scientific manner; and had not Tom declared her sex, Bob would hardly have discovered it from her outward appearance. She was approaching them at a brisk trot, greeting her numerous acquaintance as she passed with familiar nods, at each giving her horses an additional touch, and pursing up her lips to accelerate their speed; indeed, she was so intent upon the management of her reins, and her eyes so fixed upon her cattle, that there was no time for more than a sort of sidelong glance of recognition; and every additional smack of the whip seem'd to say, “Here I come—that's your sort.” Her whole manner indeed was very similar to what may be witnessed in Stage-coachmen, Hackneymen, and fashionable Ruffians, who appear to think that all merit consists in copying them when they tip a brother whip the go-by, or almost graze the wheel of a Johnny-raw, and turn round with a grin of self-approbation, as much as to say—“What d'ye think of that now, eh f—there's a touch for you—lord, what a flat you must be!”
The Lady wore a small, round black beaver riding hat and sat in the classic coachman position—relaxed wrists, elbows out—handling her whip like a pro. If Tom hadn’t revealed her gender, Bob probably wouldn’t have figured it out just from how she looked. She rode toward them at a brisk trot, greeting her many acquaintances with friendly nods as she passed, giving her horses an extra tap and pursing her lips to get them to go faster. In fact, she was so focused on managing her reins and so intent on her horses that there was only time for a quick sidelong glance of acknowledgment; each crack of the whip seemed to say, “Here I come—that’s how it’s done.” Her entire demeanor was quite similar to that of stagecoach drivers, cab drivers, and trendy roughnecks, who seem to believe that real skill comes from showing off when they cut off another driver or nearly brush against a newbie, turning around with a smirk that says, “What do you think of that, huh? There’s a move for you—man, you must be such a loser!”
Bob gazed with wonder and astonishment as she passed.
Bob stared in amazement as she walked by.
“How?” said he, “do the ladies of London frequently take the whip?—”
“How?” he said, “do the ladies of London often take control?”
[222]”—Hand of their husbands as well as their horses,” replied Tom—“often enough, be assured.”
[222]”—The hand of their husbands as well as their horses,” replied Tom—“you can be sure of that.”
“But how, in the name of wonder, do they learn to drive in this style?”
"But how, in the name of wonder, do they learn to drive like this?"
“Easily enough; inclination and determination will accomplish their objects. Why, among the softer sex, we have female Anatomists—female Students in Natural History—Sculptors, and Mechanics of all descriptions—Shoe-makers and Match-makers—and why not Charioteers?”
“It's pretty simple; interest and persistence will achieve their goals. Look, among women, we have female anatomists—female students in natural history—sculptors, and all kinds of mechanics—shoe makers and matchmakers—and why not charioteers?”
“Nay, I am not asking why; but as it appears rather out of the common way, I confess my ignorance has excited my curiosity on a subject which seems somewhat out of nature.”
“Nah, I’m not asking why; but since it seems pretty unusual, I admit my lack of knowledge has piqued my interest in a topic that seems a bit unnatural.”
“I have before told you, Nature has nothing to do with Real Life in London.”
“I’ve already told you, Nature has nothing to do with real life in London.”
“And yet,” continued Bob, “we are told, and I cannot help confessing the truth of the assertion, with respect to the ladies, that
“And yet,” continued Bob, “we are told, and I can’t help admitting the truth of the statement, about the women, that
“Pshaw,” said Dashall, “that was according to the Old school; such doctrines are completely exploded now-a-days, for Fashion is at variance with Nature in all her walks; hence, driving is considered one of the accomplishments necessary to be acquired by the female sex in high life, by which an estimate of character may be formed: for instance—if a lady take the reins of her husband, her brother, or a lover, it is strongly indicative of assuming the mastery; but should she have no courage or muscular strength, and pays no attention to the art of governing and guiding her cattle, it is plain that she will become no driver, no whip, and may daily run the risk of breaking the necks of herself and friends. If however she should excel in this study, she immediately becomes masculine and severe, and she punishes, when occasion requires, every animal within the reach of her lash—acquires an ungraceful attitude and manner—heats her complexion by over exertion—sacrifices her softness to accomplish her intentions—runs a risk of having hard hands, and perhaps a hard heart: at all events she gains unfeminine habits, and [223]such as are found very difficult to get rid of, and prides herself on being the go, the gaze, the gape, the stare of all who see her.”
“Ugh,” said Dashall, “that was from the old school; those ideas are completely outdated now, because fashion clashes with nature in every aspect. Driving is seen as one of the skills that women in high society must learn, as it helps form an impression of their character. For example, if a woman takes control of her husband’s, brother's, or lover’s reins, it strongly suggests she’s trying to take charge. But if she lacks the courage or physical strength and doesn’t pay attention to mastering the art of driving her horses, it’s obvious she’ll never be a good driver, and she might risk injuring herself and her friends. On the other hand, if she excels at it, she quickly becomes tough and stern, punishing any animal within reach of her whip when necessary. She adopts an awkward posture and demeanor, her complexion suffers from overexertion, she sacrifices her femininity to achieve her goals, risks developing rough hands, and perhaps even a hard heart. In any case, she adopts unfeminine habits that are very hard to shake off and takes pride in being the center of attention, the one everyone stares at.”
“A very admirable, and no doubt equally happy state,” quoth Bob, half interrupting him.
“A really admirable and probably just as happy state,” Bob said, cutting him off.
“If she learn the art of driving from the family coachman, it cannot be doubted but such tuition is more than likely to give her additional grace, and to teach her all that is polite; and then the pleasure of such company whilst superintending her studies, must tend to improve her mind; the freedom of these teachers of coachmanship, and the language peculiar to themselves, at first perhaps not altogether agreeable, is gradually worn away by the pride of becoming an accomplished whip—to know how to turn a corner in style—tickle Snarler in the ear—cut up the yelper—take out a fly's eye in bang-up twig.”
“If she learns how to drive from the family coachman, it’s pretty clear that this training is likely to give her more grace and teach her everything that’s polite. Plus, the enjoyment of having such company while she studies should help expand her mind. The casualness of these driving teachers, along with their unique language, might not be totally pleasant at first, but it will eventually fade as she takes pride in becoming a skilled driver—knowing how to turn a corner with style—give Snarler a little tickle in the ear—outmaneuver the yelper—take out a fly's eye with a perfect flick.”
“Excellent! indeed,” cried Bob, charmed with Dashall's irony, and willing to provoke it farther; “and pray, when this art of driving is thoroughly learned, what does it tend to but a waste of time, a masculine enjoyment, and a loss of feminine character—of that sweet, soft and overpowering submission to and reliance on the other sex, which, whilst it demands our protection and assistance, arouses our dearest sympathies—our best interests—attaches, enraptures, and subdues us?”
“Great! Really,” exclaimed Bob, amused by Dashall's sarcasm and eager to push it further. “And I ask, once this skill of driving is fully mastered, what does it lead to but wasting time, a manly thrill, and a loss of feminine qualities—of that sweet, gentle, and all-consuming dependence on and trust in the other gender, which, while it requires our protection and help, stirs our deepest feelings—our greatest concerns—binds, captivates, and conquers us?”
“Nonsense,” continued Tom, “you might ask such questions for a month—who cares about these submissions and reliances—protections and sympathies—they are not known, at least it is very unfashionable to acknowledge their existence. Why I have known ladies so infatuated and affected by an inordinate love of charioteering, that it has completely altered them, not only as to dress, but manners and feeling, till at length they have become more at home in the stable than the drawing-room; and some, that are so different when dressed for dinner, that the driving habiliments appear like complete masquerade disguises. Indeed, any thing that is natural is considered quite out of nature; and this affectation is not wholly confined to the higher circles, for in the City even the men and the women seem to have changed places.
“Nonsense,” Tom continued, “you could ask those questions for a month—who cares about these submissions and dependencies—protections and sympathies—they're not acknowledged, at least it's pretty outdated to admit they exist. I've seen women so obsessed with chariot racing that it completely changed them, not just in their clothes but in their manners and feelings, until they felt more comfortable in the stable than in the drawing room; and some look so different when dressed for dinner that their driving outfits seem like full-on disguises. In fact, anything natural is seen as completely unnatural; and this pretense isn't just limited to the upper class, because in the City, the men and women seem to have swapped roles.”
“It is a strange sort of infatuation, this fashion,” said Bob, “and it is much to be regretted it should operate so much to the injury of the fair—”
“It’s a weird kind of obsession, this trend,” said Bob, “and it’s really unfortunate that it harms the women so much—”
“Do you see that young man on the opposite side of the way,"inquired Dashall,(stopping him short) “in nankin breeches and jockey-boots?”
“Do you see that young man across the street,” Dashall asked, interrupting him, “in nankin pants and riding boots?”
“I do,” replied Tallyho; “and pray who is he?”
“I do,” replied Tallyho; “and who is he?”
“The son of a wealthy Baronet who, with an eye to the main chance in early life, engaged in some mercantile speculations, which proving productive concerns, have elevated him to his present dignity, beyond which it is said he cannot go on account of his having once kept a shop. This son is one of what may be termed the Ciphers of society, a sort of useful article, like an 0 in arithmetic, to denominate numbers; one of those characters, if character it may be termed, of which this Metropolis and its vicinity would furnish us with regiments. Indeed, the
“The son of a wealthy Baronet who, looking to make a profit early in life, got involved in some business ventures that turned out to be successful, has risen to his current status, beyond which it’s said he can’t go due to having once run a shop. This son is one of what might be called the Ciphers of society, a sort of useful placeholder, like a zero in math, to denote values; one of those figures, if we can call it a figure, that this Metropolis and its surroundings could provide us with legions. In fact, the
1 It is related that a young lady of haut ton in Paris was observed to have a tall fellow always following her wherever she went. Her grandmother one day asked her what occasion there was for that man to be always following her; to which she replied—“I must blow my nose, must not I, when I want?” This great genius was actually employed to carry her pocket-handkerchief. [225]general run of Fashionables are little better than Ciphers,—very necessary at times in the House of Commons, to suit the purposes and forward the intentions of the Ministers, by which they obtain titles to which they are not entitled, and transmit to posterity a race of ennobled boobies. What company, what society does not abound with Ciphers, and oftentimes in such plenty that they are even serviceable to make the society considerable? What could we do to express on paper five hundred without the two ciphers, or being compelled to write eleven letters to explain what is equally well done in three figures? These Ciphers are useful at general meetings upon public questions, though, if they were all collected together in point of intellectual value, they would amount to nought. They are equally important as counters at a card-table, they tell for more than they are worth. Among the City Companies there are many of them to be found: and the Army is not deficient, though great care is generally taken to send the most conspicuous Ciphers on foreign service. Public offices under Government swarm with them; and how many round O's or ciphers may be found among the gentlemen of the long robe, who, as Hudibras observes,
1 It’s said that a young lady of high society in Paris had a tall guy constantly following her around. One day, her grandmother asked her why that man was always trailing her, to which she replied, “I need to blow my nose, don’t I, when I have to?” This clever fellow was actually hired to carry her pocket handkerchief. [225] The general crowd of fashionable people are little better than zeros—often necessary in the House of Commons to serve the needs and goals of the Ministers, by which they gain titles they don’t deserve, and pass down a lineage of honored fools. What company or society doesn’t overflow with these zeros, and often in such abundance that they help make the society seem significant? How could we express five hundred on paper without the two zeros, or be forced to write eleven letters to convey what can be just as easily done in three figures? These zeros are helpful at large meetings on public matters, though if you gathered them all together in terms of intellectual worth, they'd add up to nothing. They are just as valuable as chips at a card table—they count for more than they are truly worth. Many can be found among the City Companies, and the Army isn’t short on them, although much care is usually taken to send the most prominent zeros on foreign duty. Public offices under the Government are crawling with them; and how many round O's or zeros are found among the legal professionals, who, as Hudibras notes,
In the twelve Judges it must be allowed there is no cipher, because they have two figures to support them; but take these two figures away, and the whole wit of mankind may be defied to patch up or recruit the number without having recourse to the race of Ciphers.
In the twelve Judges, it's clear there’s no cipher because they have two figures backing them up; but if you remove these two figures, the entire intellect of humanity would struggle to make up or restore the number without resorting to the realm of Ciphers.
“I have known a Cipher make a profound Statesman and a Secretary—nay, an Ambassador; but then it must be confess'd it has been by the timely and prudent application of proper supporters; and it is certain, that Ciphers have more than once shewn themselves significant in high posts and stations, and in more reigns than one. Bounteous nature indulges mankind in a boundless variety of characters as well as features, and has given Ciphers to make up numbers, and very often by such additions renders the few much more significant and conspicuous. The Church has its Ciphers—for a mitre looks as well on a round 0 as on any letter in the alphabet, [226]and the expense to the nation is equally the same; consequently, John Bull has no right to complain.
“I’ve seen a Cipher turn into a respected Statesman, a Secretary—indeed, even an Ambassador; but it must be acknowledged that this has happened through the timely and careful use of the right supporters. It’s clear that Ciphers have proven to be significant in high positions more than once and across different reigns. Generous nature allows humanity a limitless variety of characters as well as appearances, providing Ciphers to create numbers, and often through such additions, elevates the few to be far more meaningful and noticeable. The Church has its Ciphers—after all, a mitre looks just as good on a round 0 as on any letter of the alphabet, [226]and the cost to the nation is the same; therefore, John Bull has no reason to complain."
Thus far, although it must be allowed that ciphers are of use, it is not every cipher that is truly useful. There are Ciphers of indolence, to which some mistaken men give the title of men of fine parts—there are Ciphers of Self-interest, to which others more wrongfully give the name of Patriots—there are Bacchanalian Ciphers, who will not leave the bottle to save the nation, but will continue to guzzle till no one figure in Arithmetic is sufficient to support them—then there are Ciphers of Venus, who will abandon all state affairs to follow a Cyprian, even at the risk of injuring a deserving wife—Military Ciphers, who forsake the pursuit of glory, and distrustful of their own merit or courage, affirm their distrust by a sedulous attendance at the levees of men of power. In short, every man, in my humble opinion, is no other than a Cipher who does not apply his talents to the care of his morals and the benefit of his country.”
So far, while it's true that ciphers can be useful, not every cipher is genuinely helpful. There are ciphers of laziness, which some misguided people call men of fine character—there are ciphers of self-interest, which others wrongly label patriots—there are party-loving ciphers who won’t put down the bottle to help the nation, drinking until no amount of arithmetic can support them—then there are ciphers obsessed with love, who will ignore all state matters to pursue a lover, even if it means hurting a loyal spouse—military ciphers who abandon the quest for glory, doubting their own worth or bravery, show their uncertainty by regularly attending the gatherings of powerful men. In short, every man, in my humble opinion, is nothing but a cipher who fails to apply his skills to his morals and the welfare of his country.
“You have been ciphering for some time,” said Boh, “and I suppose you have now finished your sum.”
“You've been working on that for a while,” said Boh, “and I guess you've finished your calculations now.”
“I confess,” continued Tom, “it has been a puzzling one—for, to make something out of nothing is impossible.”
“I admit,” Tom went on, “it’s been a puzzling situation—because creating something from nothing is impossible.”
“Not in all cases,” said Bob.
“Not in every case,” said Bob.
“How so?—why you have proved it by your own shewing, that these nothings are to be made something of.”
“How so?—you’ve shown yourself that these nothing things can actually be changed into something.”
[227]"I perceive,” replied Tom, “that your acquaintance with Sparkle is not thrown away upon you; and it argues well, for if you are so ready a pupil at imbibing his lessons, you will soon become a proficient in London manners and conversation; but a Cipher is like a round robin,{1} it has neither beginning nor end: its centre is vacancy, its circle ambiguity, and it stands for nothing, unless in certain connections.”
[227]“I see,” Tom replied, “that you’ve really picked up on Sparkle’s teachings; that’s a good sign. If you’re such a quick learner with him, you’ll soon master London’s ways and conversations. But a Cipher is like a round robin,{1} it has no beginning or end: its center is empty, its circle is unclear, and it means nothing unless it’s in specific contexts.”
They were now proceeding gently along Oxford Street, in pursuit of their way to Soho Square, and met with little worthy of note or remark until they arrived near the end of Newman Street, where a number of workmen were digging up the earth for the purpose of making new-drains. The pathway was railed from the road by scaffolding poles strongly driven into the ground, and securely tied together to prevent interruption from the passengers.—Tom was remarking upon the hardihood and utility of the labourers at the moment when a fountain of water was issuing from a broken pipe, which arose as high as a two pair of stairs window, a circumstance which quickly drew a number of spectators around, and, among the rest, Tom and his Cousin could not resist an inclination to spend a few minutes in viewing the proceedings.
They were now walking leisurely along Oxford Street, heading towards Soho Square, and encountered little of interest until they reached the end of Newman Street, where some workers were digging up the ground to install new drains. The path was blocked off from the road by scaffolding poles firmly planted in the ground and securely tied together to keep pedestrians from interrupting. Tom was commenting on the bravery and usefulness of the laborers when suddenly, a jet of water shot up from a broken pipe, reaching as high as a second-floor window. This quickly attracted a crowd of onlookers, and Tom and his cousin couldn’t help but want to spend a few minutes watching what was happening.
The Irish jontlemen, who made two or three ineffectual attempts to stop the breach, alternately got soused by the increased violence of the water, and at every attempt were saluted by the loud laughter of the surrounding multitude.
The Irish gentlemen, who made a couple of useless attempts to stop the breach, alternately got drunk from the rising force of the water, and with each attempt were met with the loud laughter of the crowd around them.
To feelings naturally warm and irritable, these vociferations of amusement and delight at their defeat, served but to exasperate and enrage; and the Irishmen in strong terms expressed their indignation at the merriment which their abortive attempts appeared to excite: at length, one of the Paddies having cut a piece of wood, as he conceived, sufficient to stop the effusion of water, with some degree of adroitness thrust his arm into the foaming fluid, and for a moment appeared to have arrested its progress.
To feelings that were naturally warm and irritated, the loud expressions of amusement and joy at their defeat only served to frustrate and anger them. The Irishmen expressed their outrage in strong terms at the laughter that their failed attempts seemed to provoke. Finally, one of the Paddies managed to cut a piece of wood that he thought was big enough to stop the flow of water. With a bit of skill, he thrust his arm into the rushing water and for a moment seemed to have halted its flow.
“Blood-an-owns! Murphy,” cried he, “scoop away the water, and be after handing over the mallet this way.” In a moment the spades of his comrades were seen in
“Blood-an-owns! Murphy,” he shouted, “shovel the water out of the way, and pass me the mallet.” In a moment, the shovels of his friends were seen in
[228]action to accomplish his instructions, while one, who was not in a humour to hear the taunts of the crowd, very politely scoop'd the water with his hands among the spectators, which created a general desire to avoid his liberal and plentiful besprinklings, and at the same time considerable confusion among men, women, and children, who, in effecting their escape, were seen tumbling and rolling over each other in all directions.
[228]action to follow his orders, while one person, who wasn’t in the mood to deal with the crowd’s teasing, politely scooped water with his hands among the spectators. This led to a widespread wish to dodge his generous splashes, causing quite a bit of chaos among men, women, and children, who, in their attempt to get away, were seen tumbling and rolling over each other in every direction.
“Be off wid you all, and be d——d to you,” said the Hibernian; while those who were fortunate enough to escape the cooling fluid he was so indifferently dispensing, laughed heartily at their less favoured companions.
“Get lost, all of you, and go to hell,” said the Irishman; while those who managed to avoid the cold liquid he was carelessly splashing around laughed loudly at their less fortunate friends.
Bob was for moving onward.
Bob was for moving forward.
“Hold,” said Dash all, “it is two to one but you will see some fun here.”
“Wait,” Dash said to everyone, “it’s two to one, but you’re about to see some fun here.”
He had scarcely said the word, when a brawny Porter in a fustian jacket, with his knot slung across his shoulder, manifested dislike to the manner in which the Irish jontleman was pursuing his amusement.
He had barely said the word when a muscular porter in a worn jacket, with his knot thrown over his shoulder, showed his dislike for the way the Irish gentleman was enjoying himself.
“D——n your Irish eyes,” said he, “don't throw your water here, or I'll lend you my bunch of fives.” {l}
“Damn your Irish eyes,” he said, “don’t splash your water here, or I’ll give you my bunch of fives.” {l}
“Be after being off, there,” replied Pat; and, without hesitation, continued his employment.
“Be after being off, there,” replied Pat; and, without hesitation, continued his job.
The Porter was resolute, and upon receiving an additional salute, jumped over the railings, and re-saluted poor Pat with a muzzier,{2} which drew his claret in a moment. The Irishman endeavoured to rally, while the crowd cheered the Porter and hooted the Labourer. This was the signal for hostilities. The man who had plugg'd up the broken pipe let go his hold, and the fountain was playing away as briskly as ever—all was confusion, and the neighbourhood in alarm. The workmen, with spades and pick-axes, gathered round their comrade, and there was reason to apprehend serious mischief would occur; one of them hit the Porter with his spade, and several others were prepared to follow his example; while a second, who seem'd a little more blood-thirsty than the rest, raised his pickaxe in a menacing attitude; upon perceiving which, Dashall jump'd over the rail and
The Porter was determined, and after getting another salute, he jumped over the railing and gave poor Pat a knock that made him bleed instantly. The Irishman tried to recover, while the crowd cheered for the Porter and booed the Labourer. This was the signal for trouble. The guy who had blocked the broken pipe let go, and the fountain was spraying as vigorously as ever—chaos erupted, and the neighborhood was in a panic. The workers, armed with shovels and pickaxes, gathered around their comrade, and it looked like serious trouble was about to happen; one of them hit the Porter with his shovel, and several others seemed ready to do the same; while another, looking even more aggressive than the rest, raised his pickaxe in a threatening way; noticing this, Dashall jumped over the railing and
[229]arrested his arm, or, if the blow had been struck, murder must have ensued. In the mean time, several other persons, following Tom's example, had disarmed the remainder. A fellow-labourer, who had been engaged at a short distance, from the immediate scene of action, attacked the man who had raised the pickaxe, between whom a pugilistic encounter took place, the former swearing, 'By Jasus, they were a set of cowardly rascals, and deserved quilting.'{1} The water was flowing copiously—shovels, pickaxes, barrows, lanterns and other implements were strewed around them—the crowd increased—Tom left the combatants (when he conceived no real danger of unfair advantage being taken was to be apprehended) to enjoy their rolling in the mud; while the Porter, who had escaped the vengeance of his opponents, was explaining to those around him, and expostulating with the first aggressor, upon the impropriety of his conduct. The shouts of the multitude at the courageous proceedings of the Porter, and the hootings at the shameful and cowardly manner of defence pursued by the Labourers, roused the blood of the Irishmen, and one again seized a spade to attack a Coal-heaver who espoused the cause of the Porter—a disposition was again manifested to cut down any one who dared to entertain opinions opposite to their own—immediately a shower of mud and stones was directed towards him—the spade was taken away, and the Irishmen armed themselves in a similar way with the largest stones they could find suitable for throwing. In this state of things, the houses and the windows in the neighbourhood were threatened with serious damage. The crowd retreated hallooing, shouting, hissing, and groaning; and in this part of the affray Bob got himself well bespattered with mud. Tom again interfered, and after a few minutes, persuaded the multitude to desist, and the Irishmen to drop their weapons. The Porter made his escape, and the men resumed their work; but, upon Dashall's return to the
[229]stopped his arm, or if the blow had landed, it would have turned into murder. Meanwhile, several other people, following Tom's lead, had disarmed the others. A fellow worker, who had been a little ways off from the main action, charged at the guy who had raised the pickaxe, leading to a fistfight, with the former swearing, 'By Jasus, they were a bunch of cowardly rascals and deserved quilting.'{1} Water was flowing everywhere—shovels, pickaxes, carts, lanterns, and other tools were scattered around them—the crowd was growing—Tom left the fighters (once he figured there was no real risk of unfair play) to roll around in the mud; while the Porter, who had escaped his attackers, was explaining to those around him and arguing with the first aggressor about how inappropriate his behavior was. The cheers from the crowd for the Porter’s brave actions and the boos at the disgraceful and cowardly way the Laborers were defending themselves fired up the Irishmen again, and one grabbed a spade to confront a Coal-heaver who was backing the Porter—there was once again a willingness to take down anyone who dared to have different opinions—immediately a shower of mud and stones was thrown at him—the spade was snatched away, and the Irishmen armed themselves similarly with the biggest rocks they could find for throwing. In this chaotic situation, the nearby houses and windows were at risk of serious damage. The crowd retreated, yelling, shouting, booing, and groaning; and during this part of the scuffle, Bob got himself covered in mud. Tom stepped in again, and after a few minutes, managed to convince the crowd to stop, and the Irishmen to drop their weapons. The Porter got away, and the men went back to work; but when Dashall returned to the
[230]spot where he had left Tallyho, the latter was not to be found; he was however quickly relieved from suspense.
[230]When he got to the spot where he had left Tallyho, the dog was nowhere to be seen; however, he was soon relieved from his worry.
“Sir,” said a stout man, “the neighbourhood is greatly indebted to your exertions in suppressing a riot from which much mischief was to be apprehended—your friend is close at hand, if you will step this way, you will find him—he is getting his coat brushed at my house, and has sustained no injury.”
“Sir,” said a heavyset man, “the neighborhood owes you a lot for your efforts in stopping the riot that could have caused a lot of trouble—your friend is nearby; if you come this way, you’ll find him—he's getting his coat brushed at my place and hasn't been hurt.”
“It is a lucky circumstance for him,” said Tom: “and I think myself fortunate upon the same account, for I assure you I was very apprehensive of some serious mischief resulting from the disturbance."[231]
“It’s a lucky situation for him,” said Tom. “And I consider myself fortunate for the same reason because I was really worried that some serious trouble would come from the chaos.”[231]
CHAPTER XVI
AS they entered the house, a few doors up Newman Street, Tallyho met them, having divested himself of the mud which had been thrown upon his garments by the indiscriminating hand of an enraged multitude; and after politely thanking the gentleman for his friendly accommodation, they were about to proceed to the place of their original destination; when Dashall, perceiving an elegantly dressed lady on the opposite side of the way, felt, instinctively as it were, for the usual appendage of a modern fashionable, the quizzing-glass; in the performance of this he was subjected to a double disappointment, for his rencontre with the Hibernians had shivered the fragile ornament to atoms in his pocket, and before he could draw forth the useless fragments, the more important object of his attention was beyond the power of his visual orbs.
As they walked into the house a few doors down on Newman Street, Tallyho met them after shaking off the mud that had splattered on his clothes from an angry crowd. After politely thanking the gentleman for his kind help, they were about to continue on to their original destination when Dashall, noticing an elegantly dressed lady across the street, instinctively reached for the typical accessory of a modern fashionable person, the quizzing-glass. In doing so, he faced a double disappointment: his encounter with the Irishmen had shattered the delicate ornament into pieces in his pocket, and by the time he could pull out the useless fragments, the lady he was looking at was already out of sight.
“It might have been worse,” said he, as he survey'd the broken bauble: “it is a loss which can easily be repaired, and if in losing that, I have prevented more serious mischief, there is at least some consolation. Apropos, here is the very place for supplying the defect without loss of time. Dixon,” {1} continued he, looking at
“It could have been worse,” he said, looking at the broken trinket. “It’s a loss that can easily be fixed, and if by losing this I’ve prevented something more serious from happening, there’s at least some comfort in that. Speaking of which, this is the perfect place to fix it without wasting any time. Dixon,” {1} he continued, looking at
[232]the name over the door—“aye, I remember to have seen his advertisements in the papers, and have no doubt I may be suited here to a shaving”
[232]the name over the door—“yeah, I remember seeing his ads in the papers, and I have no doubt I might be able to get a shave here”
Upon saying this, they entered the house, and found the improver of spectacles and eye-glasses surrounded with the articles of his trade, who, in a moment, recognized Tom as the chief instrument in quelling the tumult, and added his acknowledgments to what had already been offered for his successful exertions, assuring him at the same time, that as he considered sight to be one of the most invaluable blessings “bestowed on mankind, he had for many years devoted the whole of his time and attention to the improvement of glasses—put into his hand a short treatise on the subject, and on the important assistance which may be afforded by a judicious selection of spectacles to naturally imperfect or overstrained eyes. Bob, in the mean time, was amusing himself with reading bills, pamphlets, and newspapers, which lay upon the counter.
Upon saying this, they entered the house and found the maker of spectacles and eyeglasses surrounded by his trade items. He quickly recognized Tom as the key person responsible for calming the chaos and expressed his gratitude for Tom's successful efforts. He assured Tom that since he viewed sight as one of the most precious gifts given to humanity, he had dedicated many years to improving glasses. He handed Tom a brief pamphlet on the subject, discussing how a careful choice of spectacles can greatly help those with naturally imperfect or strained eyes. Meanwhile, Bob entertained himself by reading the bills, pamphlets, and newspapers that were spread out on the counter.
Dashall listened with attention to his dissertation on sight, spectacles, focusses, lens, reflection, refraction, &c.; but, as he was not defective in the particular organs alluded to, felt but little interested on the subject; selected what he really wanted, or rather what etiquette required, when, to their great gratification, in came Sparkle. After the first salutations were over, the latter purchased an opera-glass; then, in company with Tom and Bob, proceeded to Oxford Street, and upon learning their destination, determined also to take a peep at the Exhibition.
Dashall listened carefully to the lecture on sight, glasses, lenses, reflection, refraction, etc.; but since he didn't have any issues with the specific organs being discussed, he wasn't very interested in the topic. He picked out what he actually needed, or rather what was polite to do, when, to their delight, Sparkle arrived. After the initial greetings, Sparkle bought an opera glass; then, along with Tom and Bob, they headed to Oxford Street, and upon finding out where they were going, he decided to check out the Exhibition too.
“Come along,” said Tom, catching hold of his arm, and directing him towards Soho Square. But Sparkle recollecting that he had appointed to meet Miss Mortimer, her Brother, and Merry well, to accompany them to Somerset House, and finding time had escaped with more [233]rapidity than he expected, wished them a good morning, hoped they should meet again in the course of the day, and departed.
“Come on,” said Tom, grabbing his arm and directing him towards Soho Square. But Sparkle remembered that he had plans to meet Miss Mortimer, her brother, and Merry to go with them to Somerset House, and realizing time had flown by faster than he anticipated, he wished them a good morning, hoped they would run into each other later that day, and left.
“You see,” said Tom, “Sparkle is fully engaged in the business of love; Miss Mortimer claims all his attention for the present.”
“You see,” said Tom, “Sparkle is completely into the whole love thing; Miss Mortimer has all his attention right now.”
“You appear to be very envious of his enjoyments,” replied Bob.
“You seem really jealous of his enjoyment,” Bob replied.
“Not so, indeed,” continued Tom; “I am only regretting that other pursuits have estranged him from our company.”
“Not at all,” Tom continued; “I just wish that other interests hadn’t pulled him away from us.”
On entering the Exhibition at Soho, Tom, whose well-known taste for science and art, and particularly for the productions of the pencil and graver, had already rendered him conspicuous among those who knew him, made the following remarks: “I am really glad,” said he, “to find that the eminent engravers of our country have at length adopted a method of bringing at one view before the public, a delineation of the progress made by our artists in a branch so essentially connected with the performance and durability of the Fine Arts. An Exhibition of this kind is well calculated to dispel the vulgar error, that engraving is a servile art in the scale of works of the mind, and mostly consigned to the copyist. An Establishment of this kind has long been wanted, and is deserving of extensive patronage.”
Upon entering the Exhibition in Soho, Tom, who was already known for his appreciation of science and art, especially in areas like drawing and engraving, stood out among his peers. He remarked, “I’m really glad to see that the leading engravers of our country have finally adopted a way to showcase the progress our artists have made in a field so tied to the execution and longevity of the Fine Arts. An Exhibition like this can effectively dispel the common misconception that engraving is a lowly art in the hierarchy of intellectual works and mostly relegated to mere copyists. A venue like this has been needed for a long time and deserves strong support.”
Having secured Catalogues, they proceeded immediately to the gratifying scene.{1} The disposition and arrangement
Having obtained the Catalogues, they immediately went to the satisfying scene.{1} The setup and arrangement
[234]of the plates, and the company dispersed in various parts of the rooms, were the first objects of attention, and the whole appearance was truly pleasing. At one end was to be seen an old Connoisseur examining a most beautiful engraving from an excellent drawing by Clennell{1}—-another contemplating the brilliance of Goodall in his beautiful print of the Fountains of Neptune in the Gardens of Versailles. Dash all, who generally took care to see all before him, animate and inanimate, was occasionally
[234]of the plates, and the group broke apart in different parts of the rooms, which immediately grabbed attention, and the whole scene was really enjoyable. At one end, an old art expert was looking closely at a stunning engraving based on an excellent drawing by Clennell; another was admiring the vividness of Goodall in his beautiful print of the Fountains of Neptune in the Gardens of Versailles. Dash, who typically made it a point to observe everything around him, both living and non-living, was occasionally
[235]casting glimpses at the pictures and the sprightly females by which they were surrounded, and drawing his Cousin to such subjects as appeared to be most deserving of attention; among which, the fine effect produced by Mr. W. B. Cooke stood high in his estimation, particularly in his View of Edinburgh from Calton Hill, and Brightling Observatory in Rose Hill—Le Keux, in his Monument, also partook of his encomiums—T. Woolroth's Portraits, particularly that of the Duchess of Kent, claimed attention, and was deservedly admired, as well as a smaller one of Mr. Shalis by the same artist; indeed, the whole appeared to be selected, combined and arranged under the direction of a master, and calculated at once to surprise and delight. After enjoying an hour's lounge in this agreeable company,
[235]glancing at the pictures and the lively women around him, and guiding his cousin to the subjects that seemed most interesting; among them, the impressive work by Mr. W. B. Cooke caught his eye, especially his View of Edinburgh from Calton Hill, and Brightling Observatory in Rose Hill—Le Keux's piece in his Monument also earned his praise—T. Woolroth's Portraits, especially the one of the Duchess of Kent, drew attention and was rightly admired, along with a smaller portrait of Mr. Shalis by the same artist; in fact, everything seemed to be chosen, arranged, and curated by an expert, designed to both surprise and delight. After spending an hour enjoying this pleasant company,
“Come,” said Dashall, “we will repair to Somerset House, and amuse ourselves with colours.
“Come on,” said Dashall, “let’s head to Somerset House and have some fun with colors.”
“Halloo!” said a smart looking young man behind them—“what am you arter?—where is you going to?”
“Hello!” said a well-dressed young man behind them—“what are you up to?—where are you headed?”
Upon turning round, Dashall discovered it to be the exquisite Mr. Mincingait, who, having just caught a glimpse of him, and not knowing what to do with himself, hung as it were upon the company of Tom and his friend, by way of killing a little time; and was displaying his person and apparel to the greatest advantage as he pick'd his way along the pavement, alternately picking his teeth and twirling his watch-chain. Passing the end of Greek Street, some conversation having taken place upon the dashing Society in which he had spent the previous evening, Tom indulged himself in the following description of How to Cut a Dash.
Upon turning around, Dashall saw that it was the fabulous Mr. Mincingait, who, after catching a glimpse of him and not knowing what to do with himself, lingered near Tom and his friend to pass the time. He was showing off his looks and outfit to the best advantage as he navigated the sidewalk, alternating between picking his teeth and twirling his watch chain. As they passed the end of Greek Street, after some talk about the flashy social scene he had enjoyed the night before, Tom began to share his take on How to Cut a Dash.
“Dashing society,” said he, “is almost every where to be found in London: it is indeed of so much importance among the generality of town residents, that a sacrifice of every thing that is dear and valuable is frequently made to appearance.”
“Trendy society,” he said, “can be found almost everywhere in London: it is so important to most city dwellers that they often sacrifice everything dear and valuable for the sake of appearances.”
“You are a quiz,” said Mincingait; “but I don't mind you, so go your length.”
“You're a puzzle,” said Mincingait; “but I don't mind you, so go ahead.”
“Very well,” continued Tom; “then by way of instruction to my friend, I will give my ideas upon the subject, and if perchance you should find any resemblance to yourself in the picture I am about to draw, don't let all the world know it. If you have an inclination to cut a dash, situation and circumstances in life have nothing to [236]do with it; a good bold face and a stock of assurance, are the most essential requisites. With these, you must in the first place fall upon some method to trick a tailor (provided you have not certain qualms that will prevent you) by getting into his debt, for much depends upon exteriors. There is no crime in this, for you pay him if you are able—and good clothes are very necessary for a dash; having them cut after the newest fashion, is also very essential. Sally forth, if on a sunday morning in quest of a companion with whom you have the night previous (at a tavern or confectioner's) engaged to meet at the corner. After having passed the usual compliments of the morning with him, place yourself in a fashionable attitude, your thumbs thrust in your pantaloon's pockets—the right foot thrown carelessly across the left, resting on the toe, exhibits your line turned ancle, or new boot, and is certainly a very modest attitude—your cravat finically adjusted, and tied sufficiently tight to produce a fine full-blooming countenance: corsets and bag pantaloons are indispensably necessary to accoutre you for the stand. When in this trim, dilate upon the events of the times—know but very little of domestic affairs—expatiate and criticise upon the imperfections or charms of the passing multitude—tell a fine story to some acquaintance who knows but little about you, and, by this means, borrow as much money as will furnish you with a very small bamboo, or very large cudgel; extremes are very indispensable for a good dash.
“Alright,” Tom continued. “To give my friend some guidance, I'll share my thoughts on the topic, and if you happen to see yourself in the picture I'm about to paint, keep it to yourself. If you want to impress, your situation and circumstances don’t matter; having a bold demeanor and a good dose of confidence are the key essentials. With those, you should first come up with a way to trick a tailor (unless you have some moral reservations that will hold you back) by getting into his debt, since a lot relies on appearances. There’s no wrongdoing in this; you’ll pay him if you can—and good clothes are crucial for making an impression; having them tailored to the latest style is also essential. Head out, say on a Sunday morning, looking for a friend you promised to meet the night before (at a bar or café) at the corner. After exchanging the usual morning greetings, strike a fashionable pose, with your thumbs in your pants pockets—your right foot casually crossing over your left, resting on your toe, showing off your stylish ankle or new boots, which is definitely a laid-back pose—your tie perfectly adjusted, tight enough to create a nice, rosy complexion: fitted clothing and loose pants are absolutely necessary to complete your look. When you’re dressed like this, talk about current events—know very little about local matters—fancy your comments on the flaws or attractiveness of those walking by—tell an impressive story to someone who doesn’t know much about you, and in this way, borrow enough money to get yourself a small bamboo stick or a large club; extremes are essential for a good impression.”
“It is extremely unbecoming for a gentleman of fashion to pay any regard to that old superstitious ceremony of what is commonly called 'going to church'—or, at most, of attending more than half a day in the week. To attend public worship more than one hour in seven days must be very fatiguing to a person of genteel habits—besides it would be countenancing an old established custom. In former times, a serious and devout attention to divine service was not thought improper; but should a gentleman of modern manners attend public worship, to discover, according to the law of the polite, what new face of fashion appears, I need not mention the absurdity of decent behaviour.
“It’s very out of place for a fashionable gentleman to pay any attention to that old superstitious ritual known as 'going to church'—or, at most, spending more than half a day each week on it. Going to public worship for more than one hour in seven days must be quite exhausting for someone with refined habits—plus it would be supporting an outdated tradition. In the past, showing serious and sincere attention to religious services wasn’t considered inappropriate; however, if a modern gentleman were to attend public worship just to see, according to the rules of politeness, what new trend is appearing, I shouldn’t have to point out the ridiculousness of behaving properly.”
?What go to meeting, say?—why this the vulgar do, Yes, and it is a custom old as Homer too! Sure, then, we folks of fashion must with this dispense, Or differ in some way from folks of common sense.'
?What goes on in a meeting, you ask?—well, this is what the common people do. Yes, it’s a tradition as old as Homer! So, we fashionable people must break away from this or somehow be different from those with common sense.
[237]"Melodious, indeed, are the voices of ladies and gentlemen whispering across the pews, politely inquiring after each other's health—the hour at which they got home from their Saturday evening's party—what gallants attended them; and what lasses they saw safe home. How engaging the polite posture of looking on the person next you, or in sound sleep, instead of sacred music, playing loud bass through the nose! But to have proceeded methodically in enumerating the improvements in manners, I ought, first, to have mentioned some of the important advantages of staying from church until the service is half finished. Should you attend at the usual hour of commencing service, you might be supposed guilty of rising in the morning as early as nine or ten o'clock, and by that means be thought shockingly ungenteel—and if seated quietly in the pew, you might possibly remain unnoticed; but, by thundering along the aisle in the midst of prayer or sermon, you are pretty sure to command the attention of the audience, and obtain the honour of being thought by some, to have been engaged in some genteel affair the night before! Besides, it is well known that it is only the vulgar that attend church in proper time.
[237]"The voices of ladies and gentlemen chatting across the pews are quite pleasant, as they politely ask about each other's health, when they got home from Saturday night's party, which charming fellows they were with, and which ladies they escorted home. How delightful it is to see someone looking at the person next to them, or dozing off instead of enjoying the sacred music, snoring loudly! However, to properly list the improvements in manners, I should start by mentioning the benefits of arriving late to church, when the service is already halfway through. If you were to arrive at the usual start time, you might be thought to have risen as early as nine or ten o'clock, and that could make you seem shockingly uncouth—and if you quietly settle into your pew, you might go unnoticed; but by striding down the aisle during a prayer or sermon, you’re guaranteed to draw the audience’s attention and earn the respect of some who may think you were involved in some fashionable affair the night before! Additionally, it’s well understood that only the common folk show up to church on time."
“When you parade the streets, take off your hat to every gentleman's carriage that passes; you may do the same to any pretty woman—for if she is well bred, (you being smartly dressed) she will return the compliment before she be able to recollect whether your's be a face she has seen somewhere or not; those who see it, will call you a dashing fellow. When a beggar stops you, put your hand in your pocket, and tell him you are very sorry you have no change; this, you know, will be strictly true, and speaking truth is always a commendable quality;—or, if it suits you better, bid him go to the churchwarden—this you may easily do in a dashing way. Never think of following any business or profession,—such conduct is unworthy of a dasher. In the evening, never walk straight along the foot-way, but go in a zigzag direction—this will make some people believe you have been dashing down your bottle of wine after dinner. No dasher goes home sober.
“When you’re out walking, tip your hat to every gentleman’s carriage that passes by; you can do the same for any pretty woman—if she’s well-bred and you’re nicely dressed, she’ll return the gesture before she even remembers if she’s seen your face before or not; those who notice you will call you a dashing fellow. When a beggar approaches you, put your hand in your pocket and say you’re really sorry you don’t have any change; this will be completely true, and honesty is always a good quality;—or, if you prefer, tell him to go to the churchwarden—this can be done in a dashing manner. Never consider pursuing any job or profession—such behavior is beneath a dasher. In the evening, don’t walk straight along the sidewalk, but move in a zigzag; this will lead some people to believe you’ve been downing a bottle of wine after dinner. No dasher goes home sober.”
“On making your appearance in the ball-room, put your hat under your arm: you will find an advantage in this, as it will make a stir in the room to make way for you and your hat, and apprize them of your entrance.
“Upon entering the ballroom, hold your hat under your arm: you'll find this is beneficial, as it will create a buzz in the room, clearing a path for you and your hat, and alert them to your arrival.
[238]After one or two turns around the room, if the sets are all made up, make a stand before one of the mirrors, to adjust your cravat, hair, &c. Be sure to have your hair brushed all over the forehead, which will give you a very ferocious appearance. If you catch a strange damsel's eyes fixed upon you, take it for granted that you are a fascinating fellow, and cut a prodigious dash. As soon as the first set have finished.dancing, fix your thumbs as before-mentioned, and make a dash through the gaping crowd in pursuit of a partner; if you are likely to be disappointed in obtaining one with whom you are acquainted, select the smallest child in the room; by that means, you will attract the attention of the ladies, and secure to you the hand of a charming Miss for the next dance. When on the floor with one of those dashing belles, commence a tête-a-tête with her, and pay no attention whatever to the figure or steps, but walk as deliberately as the music will admit (not dropping your little chit chat) through the dance, which is considered, undoubtedly, very graceful, and less like a mechanic or dancing-master. The dance finished, march into the bar, and call for a glass of blue-ruin, white-tape, or stark-naked, which is a very fashionable liquor among the ?ton,' and if called on to pay for it, tell the landlord you have left your purse in one of your blues at home; and that you will recollect it at the next ball—this, you know, can be done in a genteel way, and you will be 'all the go.' Return into the room, and either tread upon some gentleman's toes, or give him a slight touch with your elbow: which, if he be inclined to resent, tell him, 'pon lionour,' you did not observe him, or, if inclined to suffer it with impunity—' Get out of the way, fellow, d——n you.'
[238]After making a couple of laps around the room, if the sets are all ready, find a spot in front of one of the mirrors to adjust your tie, hair, etc. Make sure to style your hair all over your forehead; it will give you a fierce look. If you notice a stranger lady staring at you, assume you must be quite charming and make a big impression. As soon as the first set finishes dancing, position your thumbs as mentioned earlier, and confidently push through the crowd to find a partner. If you think you might not find someone you know, choose the smallest child in the room; this will draw the ladies’ attention and guarantee you the hand of a lovely girl for the next dance. When on the dance floor with one of those attractive young ladies, start a casual conversation with her and ignore the dance steps, just stroll along with the music (while keeping up your chat) through the dance. This is considered very graceful and less like a stiff baller or dance instructor. Once the dance ends, head to the bar and order a glass of blue ruin, white tape, or stark naked, which are trendy drinks among the elite, and if asked to pay for it, tell the bartender you forgot your wallet in your other jacket and that you’ll remember to get it at the next event—this can be handled in a classy way and will make you stand out. Go back into the room and either step on some guy's toes or lightly bump him with your elbow: if he seems annoyed, tell him, 'on my honor,' that you didn’t see him, or if he’s willing to let it slide—'Get out of the way, buddy, damn you.'
On your way home, after escorting your fair inamorata to her peaceful abode, make a few calls for the purpose of taking a little more stimulus with some particular friends, and then return home for the night to 'steep your senses in forgetfulness.'”
On your way home, after taking your lovely girlfriend back to her place, make a few calls to grab a drink with some friends, and then head home for the night to "drown your worries in forgetfulness."
“A very amusing and useful account, truly,” said Bob, as his Cousin closed his chapter of instructions How to Cut a Dash.
“A really entertaining and helpful guide, for sure,” said Bob, as his Cousin finished his chapter of instructions on How to Cut a Dash.
“It is, at least, a just and true delineation of living character.”
“It is, at least, a fair and accurate description of real character.”
“Not without a good portion of caricature,” said Mincingait. “You are downright scurrilous, and ought not to be tolerated in civilized society. Sink me, if you [239]are not quite a bore, and not fit company for a Gentleman. so I shall wish you a good morning.”
“Not without a fair bit of exaggeration,” said Mincingait. “You’re downright rude and shouldn’t be accepted in civilized society. Honestly, if you [239]aren’t just a total bore, you’re definitely not good company for a gentleman. So I’ll wish you a good morning.”
Tom and Bob laughed heartily at this declaration of the Dashing Blade, and, wishing him a pleasant walk and a safe return, they separated.
Tom and Bob laughed loudly at what the Dashing Blade said, and after wishing him a nice walk and a safe return, they parted ways.
By this time they had arrived at Somerset House: it was near three o'clock, and the Rooms exhibited a brilliant crowd of rank and fashion, which considerably enhanced the value of its other decorations.
By this time, they had reached Somerset House: it was almost three o'clock, and the Rooms displayed a dazzling crowd of high society and style, which significantly added to the appeal of its other decorations.
“I have already,” said Dashall, “given you a general description of this building, and shall therefore confine my present observations wholly to the establishment of the Royal Academy for the encouragement of the Fine Arts, for the cultivation of which London is now much and deservedly distinguished; and to the progressive improvement in which we are indebted to that Exhibition we have already witnessed. This Academy was opened by Royal Charter in 1768; and it consists of forty members, called Royal Academicians, twenty Associates, and six Associate Engravers. The first President was the justly celebrated Sir Joshua Reynolds; the second, the highly respected Benjamin West; and the present, is Sir Thomas Lawrence.
“I have already,” said Dashall, “given you a general description of this building, so I will focus my current remarks entirely on the Royal Academy, which promotes the Fine Arts and is now highly recognized in London for its contributions. We owe much of the ongoing improvement to the Exhibition we’ve seen. This Academy was established by Royal Charter in 1768 and includes forty members known as Royal Academicians, twenty Associates, and six Associate Engravers. The first President was the renowned Sir Joshua Reynolds, the second was the esteemed Benjamin West, and the current President is Sir Thomas Lawrence.”
“The Academy possesses a fine collection of casts and models, from antique statues, &c. a School of colouring, from pictures of the best masters. Lectures are delivered by the stated Professors in their various branches, to the Students during the winter season; prize medals are given annually for the best academy figures and drawings of buildings; and gold medals for historical composition in painting, sculpture, and designs in Architecture, once in two years; which latter are presented to the successful Artists in full assembly, accompanied with a discourse from the President, calculated to stimulate perseverance and exertion. Students have at all times, (except during the regular vacations,) an opportunity of studying nature from well chosen models, and of drawing from the antique casts.
“The Academy has a great collection of casts and models, including antique statues and a school of color inspired by works from the best masters. Professors deliver lectures in their respective fields to students during the winter season; annual prize medals are awarded for the best academy figures and architectural drawings, and gold medals for historical compositions in painting, sculpture, and architectural designs are awarded every two years. These are presented to the successful artists in a full assembly, along with a speech from the President aimed at encouraging perseverance and effort. Students always have the opportunity to study nature from carefully selected models and draw from the antique casts, except during regular vacation periods.”
“This Exhibition is generally opened on the first of May. The number of works of art, consisting of paintings, sculptures, models, proof engravings and drawings, generally exhibited, are upwards of one thousand; and are usually visited by all the gaiety and fashion of the Metropolis, between the hours of two and five o'clock in [240]the day. The rooms are elegant and spacious; and I consider it at all times a place where a shilling may be well spent, and an hour or two well enjoyed.
“This Exhibition usually opens on May 1st. There are typically over a thousand works of art on display, including paintings, sculptures, models, proof engravings, and drawings. It's usually filled with all the style and excitement of the City between 2 and 5 o'clock in the afternoon. The rooms are stylish and spacious, and I believe it's always a great place to spend a shilling and enjoy an hour or two."
On entering the rooms, Bob was bewildered with delight; the elegance of the company, the number and excellence of the paintings, were attractions so numerous and splendid, as to leave him no opportunity of decidedly fixing his attention. He was surrounded by all that could enchant the eye and enrapture the imagination. Moving groups of interesting females were parading the rooms with dashing partners at their elbows, pointing out the most beautiful paintings from the catalogues, giving the names of the artists, or describing the subjects. Seated on one of the benches was to be seen the tired Dandy, whose principal inducement to be present at this display of the Arts, was to exhibit his own pretty person, and attract a little of the public gaze by his preposterous habiliments and unmeaning countenance; to fasten upon the first person who came within the sound of his scarcely articulate voice with observing, “It is d——d hot, ?pon honour—can't stand it—very fatiguing—I wonder so many persons are let in at once—there's no such thing as seeing, I declare, where there is such a crowd: I must come again, that's the end of it.” On another, was the full-dressed Elegante, with her bonnet in one hand, and her catalogue in the other, apparently intent upon examining the pictures before [241]her, while, in fact, her grand aim was to discover whether she herself was observed. The lounging Blood, who had left his horses at the door, was bustling among the company with his quizzing-glass in his hand, determined, if possible, to have a peep at every female he met, caring as much for the Exhibition itself, as the generality of the visitors cared for him. The Connoisseur was placing his eye occasionally close to the paintings, or removing to short distances, right and left, to catch them in the most judicious lights, and making remarks on his catalogue with a pencil; and Mrs. Roundabout, from Leadenhall, who had brought her son Dicky to see the show, as she called it, declared it was the 'most finest sight she ever seed, lifting up her hand and eyes at the same time as Dicky read over the list, and charmed her by reciting the various scraps of poetry inserted in the catalogue to elucidate the subjects. It was altogether a source of inexpressible delight and amusement. Tom, whose taste for the arts qualified him well for the office of guide upon such an occasion, directed the eye of his Cousin to the best and most masterly productions in the collection, and whose attention was more particularly drawn to the pictures (though occasionally devoted to the inspection of a set of well-formed features, or a delicately turned ancle,) was much pleased to find Bob so busy in enquiry and observation.
Upon entering the rooms, Bob was overwhelmed with joy; the elegance of the guests, along with the number and quality of the paintings, created so many fascinating distractions that he couldn’t focus on anything for long. He was surrounded by everything that could captivate the eye and inspire the imagination. Groups of interesting women were strolling through the rooms with charming partners by their sides, pointing out the most beautiful paintings from the catalogs, naming the artists, or describing the subjects. Sitting on one of the benches was the weary Dandy, whose main reason for attending this art display was to show off his own good looks and attract some public attention with his ridiculous outfits and blank expression; he would latch onto anyone within earshot, remarking, “It’s so hot, I swear—I can’t take it—so tiring—I can’t believe so many people are let in at once—there’s no way to really see anything with this crowd: I have to come back, that’s all there is to it.” Nearby, the elegantly dressed woman, with her bonnet in one hand and her catalog in the other, seemed focused on examining the paintings before her, while her real goal was to see if anyone was watching her. The idle gentleman, who had left his horses at the door, was weaving through the crowd with his binoculars in hand, determined to catch a glimpse of every woman he met, caring as much about the Exhibition as most visitors cared about him. The Art Expert was occasionally leaning in close to the paintings or stepping back to view them in the best light, making notes on his catalog with a pencil; and Mrs. Roundabout, from Leadenhall, who had brought her son Dicky to see the “show,” declared it was the “most amazing sight she had ever seen,” raising her hand and eyes as Dicky read through the list, delighting her by reciting the snippets of poetry included in the catalog to explain the subjects. It was all a source of immense joy and amusement. Tom, who had a good taste in art that made him a perfect guide for such an event, directed his cousin's attention to the best and most impressive pieces in the collection, and although Bob occasionally admired a well-formed face or a delicately turned ankle, he was very pleased to see Bob so engaged in inquiry and observation.
“We have here,” said Tom, “a combination of the finest specimens in the art of painting laid open annually for public inspection. Music, Poetry, and Painting, have always been held in high estimation by those who make any pretensions to an improved mind and a refined taste. In this Exhibition the talents of the Artists in their various lines may be fairly estimated, and the two former may almost be said to give life to the latter, in which the three are combined. The Historian, the Poet, and the Philosopher, have their thoughts embodied by the Painter; and the tale so glowingly described in language by the one, is brought full before the eye by the other; while the Portrait-painter hands down, by the vivid touches of his pencil, the features and character of those who by their talents have deservedly signalized themselves in society. The face of nature is displayed in the landscape, and the force of imagination by the judicious selector of scenes from actual life. Hence painting is the fascinating region of enchantment. The pencil is a magic wand; it calls up [242]to view the most extensive and variegated scenery calculated to wake the slumbering mind to thought.
“We have here,” said Tom, “a collection of the best examples in the art of painting showcased every year for everyone to see. Music, poetry, and painting have always been highly valued by those who consider themselves cultured and have refined tastes. In this exhibition, we can fairly assess the talents of the artists in their different styles, with the first two almost bringing the latter to life, where all three come together. The historian, the poet, and the philosopher have their ideas brought to life by the painter; the story vividly told in words by one is portrayed visually by the other. Meanwhile, the portrait artist captures and preserves the features and character of those who have made a name for themselves in society through their talents. The face of nature is shown in the landscapes, and the power of imagination is revealed by the skillful selection of scenes from real life. Thus, painting is an enchanting realm. The pencil is like a magic wand; it conjures up a wide array of scenery designed to awaken the dormant mind to reflection. [242]”
“Upon my life!” cried Bob, “we seem to have no need of Sparkle now, for you are endeavouring to imitate him.”
“Honestly!” exclaimed Bob, “it looks like we don’t even need Sparkle anymore because you’re trying to mimic him.”
“Your observations maybe just, in part,” replied Tom; “but I can assure you I have no inclination to continue in the same strain. At the same time, grave subjects, or subjects of the pencil and graver, are deserving of serious consideration, except where the latter are engaged in caricature.”
“Your observations might be partially correct,” replied Tom; “but I can assure you I have no desire to keep discussing this. That said, serious topics, or those related to art and engraving, deserve thoughtful consideration, unless they’re being used for satire.”
“And that has its utility,” said Bob.
“And that has its use,” said Bob.
“To be sure it has,” continued Tom—“over the human mind, wit, humour and ridicule maintain authoritative influence. The ludicrous images which flit before the fancy, aided by eccentric combinations, awaken the risible powers, and throw the soul into irresistible tumults of laughter. Who can refrain from experiencing risible emotions when he beholds a lively representation of Don Quixote and Sancho Pança—Hudibras and his Ralpho—merry old Falstaff shaking his fat sides, gabbling with Mrs. Quickly, and other grotesque figures to be found in the vast variety of human character? To lash the vices and expose the follies of mankind, is the professed end of this species of painting.
"Indeed, it has," Tom continued. "Over the human mind, wit, humor, and ridicule hold significant influence. The funny images that dance in our imagination, combined in unexpected ways, spark our ability to laugh and send us into uncontrollable fits of laughter. Who can resist feeling amused when they see a lively depiction of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, Hudibras and his Ralpho, the jolly old Falstaff shaking his belly while chatting with Mrs. Quickly, and other ridiculous characters found in the wide range of human personalities? The main purpose of this type of art is to criticize vices and expose the foolishness of humanity."
Objects well worthy of attention—like comedy—may degenerate, and become subservient to licentiousness and profligacy; yet the shafts of ridicule judiciously aimed, like a well-directed artillery, do much execution. With what becoming severity does the bold Caricature lay open to public censure the intrigues of subtle Politicians, the [243]chicanery of corrupted Courts, and the flattery of cringing Parasites! Hence satirical books and prints, under temperate regulations, check the dissoluteness of the great. Hogarth's Harlot's and Rake's Progress have contributed to reform the different classes of society—nay, it has even been doubted by some, whether the Sermons of a Tillotson ever dissuaded so efficaciously from lust, cruelty, and intemperance, as the Prints of an Hogarth. Indeed it may with truth be observed, that the art of Painting is one of those innocent and delightful means of pleasure which Providence has kindly offered to brighten the prospects of life: under due restriction, and with proper direction, it may be rendered something more than an elegant mode of pleasing the eye and the imagination; it may become a very powerful auxiliary to virtue.”
Important subjects—like comedy—can sometimes lose their worth and become tools for immorality and excess; however, sharply aimed humor acts like well-placed artillery and can have a significant impact. With what appropriate severity does bold caricature expose the schemes of cunning politicians, the deceit of corrupt courts, and the flattery of obsequious followers! Thus, satirical books and artworks, when regulated sensibly, curb the decadence of the powerful. Hogarth's "Harlot's Progress" and "Rake's Progress" have played a role in reforming various social classes—some even question whether Tillotson's sermons dissuaded people from lust, cruelty, and excess as effectively as Hogarth's prints. Indeed, it can be truthfully stated that the art of painting is one of those innocent and enjoyable sources of pleasure that Providence has generously provided to enhance life's experiences: with proper boundaries and guidance, it can become more than just an elegant way to please the eye and imagination; it can be a powerful ally to virtue.
“I like your remarks very well,” said Bob; “but there is no such thing as paying proper attention to them at present; besides, you are moralizing again.”
"I really like what you have to say," said Bob, "but it's hard to focus on that right now; plus, you're preaching again."
“True,” said Tom, “the subjects involuntarily lead me to moral conclusions—there is a fine picture—Nature blowing Bubbles for her Children, from the pencil of Hilton; in which is united the simplicity of art with allegory, the seriousness of moral instruction and satire with the charms of female and infantine beauty; the graces of form, action, colour and beauty of parts, with those of collective groups; and the propriety and beauty of——”
“True,” said Tom, “the topics naturally lead me to moral conclusions—there’s a beautiful painting—Nature blowing Bubbles for her Children, by Hilton; it combines the simplicity of art with allegory, the seriousness of moral teaching and satire with the appeal of female and childlike beauty; the elegance of form, action, color and the beauty of individual elements, along with those of overall groups; and the appropriateness and beauty of——”
He was proceeding in this strain, when, turning suddenly as he supposed to Tallyho, he was not a little surprised and confused to find, instead of his Cousin, the beautiful and interesting Miss Mortimer, at his elbow, listening with close attention to his description.
He was going on like this when, suddenly turning as he thought to Tallyho, he was quite surprised and confused to find, instead of his cousin, the beautiful and intriguing Miss Mortimer at his side, listening intently to his tale.
“Miss Mortimer,” continued he—which following immediately in connection with his last sentence, created a buz of laughter from Sparkle, Merrywell, and Mortimer, who were in conversation at a short distance, and considerably increased his confusion.
“Miss Mortimer,” he continued—this immediately followed his last sentence, causing Sparkle, Merrywell, and Mortimer, who were chatting nearby, to burst into laughter, which only made him more embarrassed.
“Very gallant, indeed,” said Miss Mortimer, “and truly edifying. These studies from nature appear to have peculiar charms for you, but I apprehend your observations were not meant for my ear.”
"Very brave, indeed," said Miss Mortimer, "and really enlightening. These nature studies seem to have a unique appeal for you, but I suspect your comments weren't intended for me to hear."
“I was certainly not aware,” continued he, “how much I was honoured; but perceiving the company you are in, I am not much astonished at the trick, and undoubtedly [244]have a right to feel proud of the attentions that have been paid to my observations.”
“I definitely didn’t realize,” he continued, “how much I was being honored; but seeing the company you’re with, I’m not really surprised by the trick, and I certainly [244]have every right to feel proud of the attention my observations have received.”
By this time the party was increased by the arrival of Col. B——, his daughter Maria, and Lady Lovelace, who, with Sparkle's opera glass in her hand, was alternately looking at the paintings, and gazing at the company. Sparkle, in the mean time, was assiduous in his attentions to Miss Mortimer, whose lively remarks and elegant person excited general admiration.
By this time, the party grew with the arrival of Col. B——, his daughter Maria, and Lady Lovelace, who, with Sparkle's opera glass in her hand, was looking at the paintings and then at the guests. Meanwhile, Sparkle was focused on Miss Mortimer, whose lively comments and graceful presence drew everyone's admiration.
The first greetings of such an unexpected meeting were followed by an invitation on the part of the Colonel to Tom and Bob to dine with them at half past six.
The initial greetings of this surprising encounter were soon followed by the Colonel inviting Tom and Bob to join them for dinner at 6:30.
Tallyho excused himself upon the score of a previous engagement; and a wink conveyed to Tom was instantly understood; he politely declined the honour upon the same ground, evidently perceiving there was more meant than said; and after a few more turns among the company, and a survey of the Pictures, during which they lost the company of young Mortimer and his friend Merry well, (at which the Ladies expressed themselves disappointed) they, with Sparkle, assisted the females into the Colonel's carriage, wished them a good morning, and took their way towards Temple Bar.
Tallyho excused himself because of a prior commitment; a wink exchanged with Tom was quickly understood. He politely declined the invitation for the same reason, clearly sensing there was more being implied than stated. After a few more rounds with the guests and looking at the paintings, during which they lost track of young Mortimer and his friend Merry (much to the ladies' disappointment), they, along with Sparkle, helped the women into the Colonel's carriage, wished them a good morning, and headed toward Temple Bar.
“I am at a loss,” said Dashall, “to guess what you meant by a prior engagement; for my part, I confess I had engaged myself with you, and never felt a greater inclination for a ramble in my life.”
“I’m confused,” said Dashall, “about what you meant by a prior engagement; for my part, I admit I had committed to you, and I've never felt more eager for a walk in my life.”
“Then,” said Bob, “I'll tell you—Merry well and Mortimer had determined to give the old Colonel and his company the slip; and I have engaged, provided you have no objection, to dine with them at the Globe in Fleet Street, at half past four. They are in high glee, ready and ripe for fun, determined to beat up the eastern quarters of the town.”
“Then,” said Bob, “I'll tell you—Merrywell and Mortimer had decided to ditch the old Colonel and his group; and I have agreed, if you don't mind, to have dinner with them at the Globe on Fleet Street at 4:30. They are in great spirits, eager for fun, and ready to explore the eastern part of the town.”
“An excellent intention,” continued Tom, “and exactly agreeable to my own inclinations—we'll meet them, and my life on't we shall have a merry evening. It is now four—we will take a walk through the temple, and then to dinner with what appetite we may—so come along. You have heard of the Temple, situated close to the Bar, which takes its name. It is principally occupied by Lawyers, and Law-officers, a useful and important body of men, whose lives are devoted to the study and practice of the law of the land, to keep peace and harmony among the [245]individuals of society, though there are, unfortunately, too many pretenders to legal knowledge, who prey upon the ignorant and live by litigation{1}—such as persons who have
“Great idea,” Tom continued, “and just what I feel like—we’ll meet them, and I bet we’ll have a fun evening. It’s now four—we’ll take a walk through the temple, and then have dinner with whatever appetite we have—so let’s go. You’ve heard of the Temple, near the Bar, which it’s named after. It’s mainly filled with lawyers and legal officials, a useful and important group of people whose lives are dedicated to studying and practicing the law of the land, keeping peace and harmony among members of society. Unfortunately, there are too many fakers out there pretending to know the law, who take advantage of the uninformed and survive by litigation.”
[246]been employed as clerks to Pettifoggers, who obtain permission to sue in their names; and persons who know no more of law than what they have learned in Abbot's Park,{1} or on board the Fleet,{2} who assume the title of Law Agents or Accountants, and are admirably fitted for Agents in the Insolvent Debtor's Court under the Insolvent Act, to make out Schedules, &c. Being up to all the arts and manouvres practised with success for the liberation of themselves, they are well calculated to become tutors of others, though they generally take care to be well paid for it.”
[246] have worked as clerks for petty lawyers, who get permission to file lawsuits in their names; and people who know no more about the law than what they picked up in Abbot's Park,{1} or while aboard the Fleet,{2} who call themselves Law Agents or Accountants, and are perfectly suited to work as Agents in the Insolvent Debtor's Court under the Insolvent Act, to prepare Schedules, etc. Skilled in all the tricks and strategies used successfully for their own release, they are well-equipped to teach others, though they usually make sure to get paid handsomely for it.
By this time they were entering the Temple. “This,” continued Tom, “is an immense range of buildings, stretching from Fleet-street to the river, north and south; and from Lombard-street, Whitefriars, to Essex-street in the Strand, east and west.
By this time they were entering the Temple. “This,” continued Tom, “is a huge complex of buildings, stretching from Fleet Street to the river, north and south; and from Lombard Street and Whitefriars to Essex Street in the Strand, east and west.
“It takes its name from its being founded by the Knights Templars in England. The Templars were crusaders, who, about the year 1118, formed themselves into a military body at Jerusalem, and guarded the roads for the safety of pilgrims. In time the order became very powerful. The Templars in Fleet-street, in the thirteenth century, frequently entertained the King, the Pope's nuncio, foreign ambassadors, and other great personages.
“It gets its name from being founded by the Knights Templar in England. The Templars were crusaders who, around the year 1118, formed a military group in Jerusalem and protected the roads for the safety of pilgrims. Over time, the order became very powerful. The Templars in Fleet Street, in the thirteenth century, often hosted the King, the Pope's envoy, foreign ambassadors, and other important figures.”
“It is now divided into two societies of students, called the Inner and Middle Temple, and having the name of Inns of Court.
“It is now divided into two groups of students, known as the Inner and Middle Temple, and referred to as Inns of Court.
“These societies consist of Benchers, Barristers, Students, and Members. The government is vested in the Benchers. In term time they dine in the hall of the society, which is called keeping commons. To dine a fortnight in each term, is deemed keeping the term; and twelve of these terms qualify a student to be called to year of Henry the Sixth, when Sir Walter Beauchamp, as counsel, supported the claim of precedence of the Earl of Warwick, against the then Earl Marshal, at the bar of the House of Lords. Mr. Roger Hunt appeared in the same capacity for the Earl Marshal, and both advocates, in their exordium, made most humble protestations, entreating the lord against whom they were retained, not to take amiss what they should advance on the part of their own client.
“These societies are made up of Benchers, Barristers, Students, and Members. The Benchers hold the power. During the school term, they eat in the society's hall, which is known as keeping commons. Dining for a fortnight in each term is considered keeping the term; and completing twelve of these terms qualifies a student to be called to the year of Henry the Sixth, when Sir Walter Beauchamp, acting as counsel, supported the Earl of Warwick's claim to precedence against the then Earl Marshal at the House of Lords. Mr. Roger Hunt represented the Earl Marshal in the same role, and both advocates, at the start of their arguments, made very humble protests, asking the lord they represented not to take offense at what they would present on behalf of their own client.”
Another point on which the lawyers of the present age differ from their ancestors, is in their prolixity. It was reserved for modern invention to make a trial for high treason last eight days, or to extend a speech to nine hours duration.
Another point where today’s lawyers differ from their predecessors is in their wordiness. It’s a modern development to have a treason trial last eight days or to stretch a speech to nine hours long.
[248]"These societies have the following officers and servants: a treasurer, sub-treasurer, steward, chief butler, three under-butlers, upper and under cook, a pannierman, a gardener, two porters, two wash-pots, and watchmen.
[248]"These societies have the following officers and staff: a treasurer, assistant treasurer, steward, head butler, three assistant butlers, head and assistant cook, a delivery person, a gardener, two porters, two cleaning staff, and security guards.
“The Benchers assume and exercise a power that can scarcely be reconciled to the reason of the thing. They examine students as to their proficiency in the knowledge of the law, and call candidates to the bar, or reject them at pleasure, and without appeal. It is pretty well known that students in some cases eat their way to the bar; in which there can be no great harm, because their clients will take the liberty afterwards of judging how far they have otherwise qualified themselves. But every man that eats in those societies should be called, or the rejection should be founded solely on his ignorance of the law, and should be subject to an appeal to a higher jurisdiction; otherwise the power of the Benchers may be exercised on private or party motives.
“The Benchers hold and use a power that’s hard to justify. They assess students on their understanding of the law and can admit candidates to the bar or reject them at will, without any chance for appeal. It’s known that in some situations, students can work their way into the bar; this isn’t necessarily a big deal, since their clients will later judge their qualifications. However, anyone who participates in those societies should be admitted, or their rejection should be based solely on their lack of legal knowledge and should be able to be appealed to a higher authority; otherwise, the Benchers' power could be influenced by personal or biased reasons.”
“The expence of going through the course of these Societies is not great. In the Inner Temple, a student pays on admission, for the fees of the society, 3L. 6s. 8d. which, with other customary charges, amounts to 4L 2s. A duty is also paid to the King, which is high. Terms may be kept for about 10s. per week, and, in fact, students may dine at a cheaper rate here than any where beside. The expences in the principal societies of like nature are something more.
“The cost of going through these societies isn't that high. In the Inner Temple, a student pays a total of £3.33 (3L. 6s. 8d.) upon admission for the society fees, which, along with other usual charges, adds up to £4.10 (4L. 2s.). There’s also a hefty fee paid to the King. Students can keep terms for about £10 (10s.) a week, and in fact, they can dine here for a cheaper rate than anywhere else. The expenses in the main societies of a similar nature are a bit higher.”
“Their kitchens, and dinner-rooms, merit the inspection of strangers, and may be seen on applying to the porter, or cooks, without fee or introduction. Our time is short now, or we would take a peep; you must therefore content yourself with my description.
“Their kitchens and dining rooms are worth checking out, and you can see them by asking the porter or the cooks without any fee or introduction. Our time is short right now, or we would take a look; so you’ll have to settle for my description instead.”
“The Temple is an irregular building. In Fleet-street are two entrances, one to the Inner, and the other to the Middle Temple. The latter has a front in the manner of Inigo Jones, of brick, ornamented with four large stone pilastres, of the Ionic order, with a pediment. It is too narrow, and being lofty, wants proportion. The passage to which it leads, although designed for carriages, is narrow, inconvenient, and mean.
“The Temple is an oddly shaped building. On Fleet Street, there are two entrances: one to the Inner Temple and the other to the Middle Temple. The Middle Temple features a facade in the style of Inigo Jones, made of brick, decorated with four large stone pilasters in the Ionic order, topped with a pediment. It’s too narrow, and because it’s tall, it lacks proportion. The passage it leads to, although meant for carriages, is narrow, awkward, and unimpressive.”
“The garden of the Inner Temple is not only a most happy situation, but is laid out with great taste, and kept [249]in perfect order. It is chiefly covered with green sward,, which is pleasing to the eye, especially in a city, and is most agreeable to walk on. It lies, as you perceive, along the river, is of great extent, and has a spacious gravel walk, or terrace, on the bank of the Thames. It forms a crowded promenade in summer, and at such times is an interesting spot.
“The garden of the Inner Temple is not only a beautiful spot, but it's also designed with great style and kept [249]in perfect shape. It's mostly covered with green grass, which looks nice, especially in a city, and feels great to walk on. It stretches alongside the river, is quite large, and has a wide gravel path or terrace along the Thames. In the summer, it becomes a bustling gathering place and is an interesting spot at those times.”
“The Middle Temple has a garden, but much smaller,, and not so advantageously situated.
“The Middle Temple has a garden, but it's much smaller and not as well located.”
“The hall of the Middle Temple is a spacious and elegant room in its style. Many great feasts have been given in it in old times. It is well worth a visit.
“The hall of the Middle Temple is a large and stylish room. Many grand feasts have been held here in the past. It’s definitely worth a visit.”
“The Inner Temple hall is comparatively small, but is a fine room. It is ornamented with the portraits of several of the Judges. Before this hall is a broad paved terrace, forming an excellent promenade, when the gardens are not sufficiently dry.
“The Inner Temple hall is relatively small, but it’s a beautiful room. It's decorated with portraits of several judges. In front of this hall is a wide paved terrace, making for a great place to walk when the gardens aren't too wet.”
“There are two good libraries belonging to these societies, open to students, and to others on application to the librarian, from ten in the morning till one, and in the afternoon from two till six.
"There are two great libraries associated with these societies, available to students and others upon request to the librarian, open from ten in the morning until one, and in the afternoon from two until six."
“The Temple church belongs in common to the two societies. The Knights Templars built their church on this site, which was destroyed, and the present edifice was erected by the Knights Hospitallers. It is in the Norman style of architecture, and has three aisles, running east and west, and two cross aisles. At the western end is a spacious round tower, the inside of which forms an elegant and singular entrance into the church, from which it is not separated by close walls, but merely by arches. The whole edifice within has an uncommon and noble aspect. The roof of the church is supported by slight pillars of Sussex marble, and there are three windows at each side, adorned with small pillars of the same marble. The entire floor is of flags of black and white marble; the roof of the tower is supported with six pillars, having an upper and lower range of small arches, except on the eastern side, opening into the church: The length of the church is eighty-three feet; the breadth sixty; and the height thirty-four; the height of the inside of the tower is forty-eight feet, and its diameter on the floor fifty-one.
“The Temple church is shared by two societies. The Knights Templars originally built their church on this site, which was destroyed, and the current building was constructed by the Knights Hospitallers. It features Norman architecture, comprising three aisles that run east and west, along with two cross aisles. At the western end, there’s a large round tower, which serves as an elegant and unique entrance to the church. This entrance isn’t closed off by walls but is framed by arches. The overall interior of the building has a distinct and grand appearance. The church's roof is supported by slender pillars made of Sussex marble, with three windows on each side, also embellished with small pillars of the same marble. The entire floor is made of black and white marble tiles; the tower’s roof is held up by six pillars arranged with an upper and lower set of small arches, except on the eastern side that opens into the church. The church measures eighty-three feet in length, sixty feet in width, and thirty-four feet in height; the interior of the tower reaches a height of forty-eight feet, with a diameter of fifty-one feet at the floor level.”
“In the porch or tower are the tombs of eleven Knights Templars; eight of them have the figures of [250]armed knights on them, three of them being the tombs of so many Earls of Pembroke. The organ of this church is one of the finest in the world.
“In the porch or tower are the tombs of eleven Knights Templars; eight of them have the figures of [250]armed knights on them, three of them being the tombs of so many Earls of Pembroke. The organ of this church is one of the finest in the world.”
“The Temple church is open for divine service every day, at eleven o'clock in the morning, and at four in the afternoon. There are four entrances into the Temple, besides those in Fleet-street; and it is a thoroughfare during the day, but the gates are shut at night. The gardens are open to the public in summer. It is a place of much business and constant traffic, I assure you.”
“The Temple Church is open for services every day at 11 AM and 4 PM. There are four entrances to the Temple, in addition to the ones on Fleet Street, and it's a busy path during the day, but the gates close at night. The gardens are open to the public in the summer. It's a place full of activity and constant hustle, trust me.”
“I perceive it,” said Bob, “by the number of persons passing and repassing, every one apparently animated and impelled by some business of importance.”
“I can see it,” said Bob, “by the number of people going back and forth, each one clearly energized and driven by something important.”
“Yes, it is something like a steam-boiler, by which a considerable portion of the engines of the Law are kept in motion. They can alarm and allay according to the pockets of their customers, or the sagacity which they are able to discover in their heads. There are perhaps as many Quacks in this profession as in any other,” continued Tom, as they regained Fleet-street; when, perceiving it was half past four o'clock by St. Dunstan's—“But we must now make the best of our way, or we may be cut out of the good things of this Globe.”
“Yes, it's kind of like a steam boiler that keeps a big part of the legal system running. They can stir up trouble or calm things down depending on their clients' wallets or the intelligence they can sense from their clients. There are probably just as many frauds in this field as there are in any other,” Tom said as they made their way back to Fleet Street. Noticing it was half past four by St. Dunstan's, he added, “But we need to hurry, or we might miss out on the good opportunities in this Globe.”
“What are so many persons collected together here for?” enquired Bob.
“What are all these people gathered here for?” Bob asked.
“Merely to witness a little of ingenious machinery. Keep your eye on the two figures in the front of the church with clubs in their hands.”
“Just to see a bit of clever machinery. Pay attention to the two figures in front of the church holding clubs.”
“I do,” said Bob; “but there does not appear to me to be any thing very remarkable about them.”
“I do,” said Bob; “but to me, there doesn’t seem to be anything particularly special about them.”
He scarcely uttered the words, when he observed that these figures struck their clubs upon the bells which hung between them to denote the time of day.
He barely said the words when he noticed that these figures hit their clubs against the bells hanging between them to signal the time of day.
“These figures,” said Tom, “and the circumstance of giving them motion every fifteen minutes by the movements of the clock, have attracted a great deal of notice, particularly among persons from the country, and at almost every quarter of an hour throughout the day they are honoured with spectators. The church itself is very ancient, and has been recently beautified. The Bell thumpers, whose abilities you have just had a specimen of, have been standing there ever since the year 1671.”
“These figures,” Tom said, “and the fact that they move every fifteen minutes thanks to the clock have drawn a lot of attention, especially from people visiting from the countryside, and at nearly every quarter hour throughout the day, they’re greeted with onlookers. The church itself is quite old and has recently been improved. The Bell thumpers, whose skills you’ve just seen a sample of, have been standing there since 1671.”
“It is hard service,” said Bob, “and they must certainly deserve a pension from Government more than many of [251]the automatons who are now in the enjoyment of the national bounties.”
“It’s tough work,” said Bob, “and they definitely deserve a pension from the government more than many of [251]the machines who are currently benefiting from the national funds.”
“You are right enough,” said a Translator of Soles,{1} who had overheard Bob's last remark, with a pair of old shoes under his arm; “and d——n me if I would give a pair of crazy crabshells{2} without vamp or whelt for the whole boiling of 'em{3}-there is not one on 'em worth a bloody jemmy."{4}
“You're absolutely right,” said a Translator of Soles,{1} who had heard Bob's last remark, holding a pair of old shoes under his arm. “And damn me if I’d give a pair of crazy crabshells{2} without vamp or whelt for the whole lot{3}—none of them is worth a damn."{4}
Upon hearing this from the political Cobbler, a disturbed sort of shout was uttered by the surrounding spectators, who had rather increased than diminished in number, to hear the observations of the leathern-lung'd Orator; when Tom, giving his Cousin a significant pinch of the arm, impelled him forward, and left them to the enjoyment of their humour.
Upon hearing this from the political Cobbler, a shocked sort of shout came from the crowd, which had actually grown in number to hear the remarks of the leathery-voiced Orator. Tom gave his Cousin a meaningful pinch on the arm, pushed him forward, and left them to enjoy the moment.
“Political observations are always bad in the street,” said Tom; “it is a subject upon which scarcely any two persons agree distinctly-Old Wax and Bristles is about three sheets in the wind,{5} and no doubt there are enough to take advantage of any persons stopping at this time of the day."{6}
“Talking politics out in public is never a good idea,” said Tom. “It’s a topic where hardly anyone sees eye to eye—Old Wax and Bristles is pretty tipsy,{5} and you can bet there are plenty of people ready to take advantage of anyone lingering here at this time of day."{6}
“What have we here?” said Bob, who observed a concourse of people surrounding the end of Fetter Lane.
“What do we have here?” said Bob, noticing a crowd of people gathered at the end of Fetter Lane.
“Only a couple more of striking figures,” replied Tom, “almost as intelligent as those we have just seen.”
“Just a couple more impressive figures,” Tom replied, “almost as smart as the ones we just saw.”
[252]Bob bustled forward, and looking down the lane, perceived two Watchmen, one on each side the street, bearing poles with black boards inscribed in white letters, “Beware of bad houses,” and a lantern hanging to each.
[252]Bob hurried ahead, and looking down the street, saw two Watchmen, one on each side of the road, holding poles with black signs that had white letters saying, “Beware of bad houses,” and a lantern hanging from each.
“These,” said Tom, “are not decoy ducks, but scare crows, at least they are intended for such; whether their appearance does not operate as much one way as it does the other, is, I believe, a matter of doubt.”
“These,” said Tom, “aren’t decoy ducks; they're scarecrows, at least that’s what they’re meant to be. Whether they work better as one than the other is, I think, still up for debate.”
“Beware of bad houses,” said Bob—“I don't exactlY see the object.”
“Watch out for bad houses,” said Bob—“I don't really understand the point.”
“No, perhaps not,” continued his Cousin; “but I will tell you: this is a method which the Churchwardens of parishes sometimes take of shaming the pa-pa or fie fie ladies from their residences, or at least of discovering their visitors; but I am half inclined to think, that nine times out of ten the contrary effect is produced; for these men who are stationed as warnings to avoid, are easily to be blinded by the gay and gallant youths, who have” an inclination to obtain an admission to the fair cyprians; besides which, if the first inhabitants are really induced to quit, the house is quickly occupied by similar game, and the circumstance of the burning out, as it is termed, serves as a direction-post to new visitors; so that no real good is eventually effected-Come, we had better move on—there is nothing more extraordinary here.”
“No, maybe not,” continued his cousin; “but let me tell you: this is a method that parish churchwardens sometimes use to shame the *prostitutes* or *loose women* out of their homes, or at least to find out who their visitors are; but I’m half inclined to think that nine times out of ten the opposite effect happens. The men who are set up as warnings to avoid are easily fooled by the charming and dashing young guys who want to gain access to the lovely ladies. Besides, if the original residents are actually made to leave, the place quickly gets taken over by similar people, and the fact that it’s been cleared out serves as a signpost for new visitors, so no real good is ever accomplished—Come on, we should keep moving—there’s nothing more interesting here.”
“This is Peele's Coffee House,” continued he—“a house celebrated for its general good accommodations. Here, as well as at the Chapter Coffee House, in Paternoster Row, all the newspapers are kept filed annually, and may be referred to by application to the Waiters, at the very trifling expense of a cup of coffee or a glass of wine. The Monthly and Quarterly Reviews, and the provincial papers, are also kept for the accommodation of the customers, and constitute an extensive and valuable library; it is the frequent resort of Authors and Critics, who meet to pore over the news of the day, or search the records of past times.”
“This is Peele's Coffee House,” he continued, “a place well-known for its great amenities. Here, just like at the Chapter Coffee House on Paternoster Row, all the newspapers are kept on file annually and can be accessed by asking the waiters, for the small cost of a cup of coffee or a glass of wine. The Monthly and Quarterly Reviews, along with regional papers, are also available for customers, forming a large and valuable library. It’s a popular hangout for authors and critics, who come to catch up on the news or explore historical records.”
“An excellent way of passing an hour,” said Bob, “and a proof of the studied attention which is paid not only to the comforts and convenience of their customers, but also to their instruction.”
“An excellent way to spend an hour,” Bob said, “and proof of the careful attention given not only to the comfort and convenience of their customers but also to their education.”
“You are right,” replied Tom; “in London every man has an opportunity of living according to his wishes and [253]the powers of his pocket; he may dive, like Roderick Random, into a cellar, and fill his belly for four pence, or regale himself with the more exquisite delicacies of the London Tavern at a guinea; while the moderate tradesman can be supplied at a chop-house for a couple of shillings; and the mechanic by a call at the shop over the way at the corner of Water Lane,{1} may purchase his half pound of ham or beef, and retire to a public-house to eat it; where he obtains his pint of porter, and in turn has an opportunity of reading the Morning Advertiser, the Times, or the Chronicle. Up this court is a well-known house, the sign of the Old Cheshire Cheese; it has long been established as a chop-house, and provides daily for a considerable number of persons; but similar accommodations are to be found in almost every street in London. Then again, there are cook-shops of a still humbler description where a dinner may be procured at a still more moderate price; so that in this great Metropolis there is accommodation for all ranks and descriptions of persons, who may be served according to the delicacy of their appetites and the state of their finances.
“You're right,” Tom replied. “In London, everyone has the chance to live according to their desires and [253]how much money they have; someone can dive into a cellar like Roderick Random and fill their stomach for four pence, or treat themselves to the finer dishes at the London Tavern for a guinea. A regular tradesman can find meals at a chop-house for a couple of shillings, and a mechanic can swing by the shop across the street at the corner of Water Lane,{1} grab a half pound of ham or beef, and head to a pub to eat it where they can also get a pint of porter and read the Morning Advertiser, the Times, or the Chronicle. Up this court, there's a famous place called the Old Cheshire Cheese; it's been around for a long time as a chop-house and serves a good number of people every day. But you can find similar places in almost every street in London. Plus, there are even more affordable cook-shops where you can get a meal at an even lower price, so in this huge city, there’s something for everyone, catering to all tastes and financial situations.”
“A Chop-house is productive of all the pleasures in life; it is a combination of the most agreeable and satisfactory amusements: indeed, those who have never had an opportunity of experiencing the true happiness therein to be found, have a large portion of delight and gratification to discover: the heart, the mind and the constitution are to be mended upon crossing its threshold; and description must fall short in its efforts to pourtray its enlivening and invigorating influence; it is, in a word, a little world within itself, absolutely a universe in miniature, possessing a system peculiar to itself, of planets and satellites,
“A chop house brings all the pleasures in life; it’s a blend of the most enjoyable and satisfying activities. In fact, those who haven’t had the chance to experience the real happiness found there have a lot of joy and satisfaction waiting for them. The heart, mind, and body are revitalized upon entering; no description can fully capture its uplifting and energizing effect. It’s, in short, a small world unto itself, truly a miniature universe, with its own unique system of planets and satellites.”
and fixed stars and revolutions, and its motions are annual, rotatory and diurnal, in all its extensive diversity of waiters, cooks, saucepans, fryingpans, gridirons, salamanders, stoves and smoke-jacks; so that if you wish to know true and uncloying delight, you are now acquainted with where it is to be found. Not all the sages of the ancient or the modern world ever dreamed of a theory half so exquisite, or calculated to afford man a treat so truly delicious.
and fixed stars and revolutions, and its motions are yearly, rotational, and daily, in all its vast variety of waiters, cooks, saucepans, frying pans, grills, salamanders, stoves, and smoke-jacks; so if you want to know real and unending joy, you now know where to find it. Not all the wise people of the ancient or modern world ever imagined a theory as refined or capable of giving people a truly delightful experience.
“Within the doors of a Chop-house are to be found food for both body and soul-mortal and mental appetites-feasting for corporeal cravings and cravings intellectual-nourishment at once for the faculties both of mind and body: there, in fact, the brain may be invigorated, and the mind fed with good things; while the palate is satisfied by devouring a mutton chop, a veal cutlet, or a beef steak; and huge draughts of wisdom may be imbibed while drinking a bottle of soda or a pint of humble porter.
“Inside a chop house, you can find food for both body and soul—satisfying physical and mental appetites—feasting for your hunger and your intellect—providing nourishment for both your mind and body. Here, your brain can be energized, and your mind can be enriched with great thoughts, while your taste buds are delighted by enjoying a lamb chop, a veal cutlet, or a beef steak; and you can absorb vast amounts of wisdom while sipping on a bottle of soda or a pint of good old porter.”
“In this delightful place of amusement and convenience, there is provender for philosophers or fools, stoics or epicureans; contemplation for genius of all denominations; and it embraces every species of science and of art, (having an especial eye to the important art of Cookery;) it encompasses all that is worthy of the sublimest faculties and capacities of the soul; it is the resort of all that is truly good and glorious on earth, the needy and the noble, the wealthy and the wise. Its high estimation is universally acknowledged; it has the suffrage of the whole world, so much so, that at all times and in all seasons its supremacy is admitted and its influence recognized. The name, the very name alone, is sufficient to excite all that is pleasant to our senses (five or seven, how many soever there may be.) A Chop-house! at that word what delightful prospects are presented to the mind's eye-what a clashing of knives and forks and plates and pewter pots, and rushing of footsteps and murmurings of expectant hosts enter into our delighted ears—what gay scenes of varied beauty, and many natured viands and viscous soups, tarts, puddings and pies, rise before our visual nerves-what fragrant perfumes, sweet scented odours, and grateful gales of delicate dainties stream into our olfactory perceptions,
“In this charming place of fun and convenience, there's something for everyone—philosophers or fools, stoics or hedonists; a space for thinkers of all kinds; and it includes every type of science and art, especially the important art of cooking. It encompasses everything worthy of the highest faculties and capacities of the soul; it's a gathering spot for all that is truly good and glorious on earth—the needy and the noble, the wealthy and the wise. Its high regard is universally recognized; it has the support of the entire world, so much so that at all times and in all seasons its supremacy is acknowledged and its influence felt. The name, just the name alone, is enough to stir all that is delightful to our senses (five or seven, however many there may be). A Chop-house! At that word, what wonderful visions come to mind—what clattering of knives and forks, plates and metal pots, the rush of footsteps and the murmurs of eager diners fill our delighted ears—what lively scenes of diverse beauty, along with a variety of dishes and rich soups, tarts, puddings, and pies, appear before our eyes—what fragrant scents, sweet aromas, and refreshing breezes of delicate treats waft into our nostrils.
[255]Its powers are as vast as wonderful and goodly, and extend over all animal and animated nature, biped and quadruped, the earth, the air, and all that therein is. By its high decree, the beast may no longer bask in the noon tide of its nature, the birds must forsake their pure ether, and the piscatory dwellers in the vasty deep may spread no more their finny sails towards their caves of coral. The fruits, the herbs, and the other upgrowings of the habitable world, and all created things, by one wave of the mighty wand are brought together into this their common tomb. It is creative also of the lordliest independence of spirit. It excites the best passions of the heart—it calls into action every kind and generous feeling of our nature—it begets fraternal affection and unanimity and cordiality of soul, and excellent neighbourhood among men-it will correct antipodes, for its ministerial effects will produce a Radical advantage-its component parts go down with the world, and are well digested.”
[255]Its powers are as vast as they are amazing and good, extending over all living creatures, both two-legged and four-legged, the earth, the sky, and everything in them. By its high command, animals can no longer thrive in their natural state, birds must leave their pure skies, and fish in the deep sea can no longer swim toward their coral homes. The fruits, the plants, and everything else that grows in the world, along with all created things, are all brought together into this common grave by a wave of its powerful wand. It also fosters the greatest independence of spirit. It stirs the best emotions of the heart—it activates every kind and generous feeling within us—it generates brotherly love, unity, and warmth among people, creating excellent community among individuals—it will even mend differences, because its influential effects will bring about a significant benefit—its essential parts will descend with the world and are well processed.
“Your description,” said Bob, “has already had the effect of awakening appetite, and I feel almost as hungry as if I were just returning from a fox-chace.”
“Your description,” said Bob, “has already made me feel hungry, and I feel almost as ravenous as if I were just coming back from a fox hunt.”
“Then,” continued the Hon. Tom Dashall, “it is not only admirable as a whole, its constituent and individual beauties are as provocative of respect as the mass is of our veneration. From among its innumerable excellencies—I will mention one which deserves to be held in recollection and kept in our contemplation-what is more delightful than a fine beef-steak?-spite of Lexicographers, there is something of harmony even in its name, it seems to be the key-note of our best constructed organs, (organs differing from all others, only because they have no stops,) it circles all that is full, rich and sonorous—I do not mean in its articulated enunciation, but in its internal acceptation—there—there we feel all its strength and diapas, or force and quantity.”
“Then,” continued the Hon. Tom Dashall, “not only is it impressive as a whole, but its individual beauties are just as worthy of respect as the overall admiration we have for it. Among its countless excellencies, let me highlight one that deserves our attention and contemplation—what’s more delightful than a great beef steak? Despite what lexicographers might say, there’s a kind of harmony in its name; it seems to resonate with our most finely tuned instruments (instruments that differ from others only because they have no stops). It embodies everything that is full, rich, and resonant—I’m not just talking about how it’s articulated, but about its deeper meaning—there, we feel all its strength and essence.”
“Admirable arrangements, indeed,” said Bob. “True,” continued Tom; “and all of them comparatively comfortable, according to their gradations ana the rank or circumstances of their customers. The Tavern furnishes wines, &c.; the Pot-house, porter, ale, and liquors suitable to the high or low. The sturdy Porter, sweating beneath his load, may here refresh himself with heavy wet;{l} the Dustman, or the Chimney-sweep, may sluice
“Great setups, for sure,” said Bob. “That’s right,” Tom replied; “and they’re all pretty comfortable, depending on the status and situation of their customers. The Tavern offers wine, etc.; the Pub has porter, ale, and drinks that suit everyone from the wealthy to the working-class. The hardworking porter, sweating under his load, can come here to enjoy a good drink; the dustman or the chimney sweep can wash down their work with a cold one.”
[256]Am ivory{1} with the Elixir of Life, now fashionably termed Daffy's.”
[256]Am ivory{1} with the Elixir of Life, now stylishly called Daffy's.”
“Daffy's,” said Tallyho-“that is somewhat new to me, I don't recollect hearing it before?”
“Daffy's,” said Tallyho, “that’s a bit unfamiliar to me. I don’t remember hearing it before?”
“Daffy's Elixir,” replied Dashall, “was a celebrated quack medicine, formerly sold by a celebrated Doctor of that name, and recommended by him as a cure for all diseases incident to the human frame. This Gin, Old Tom, and Blue Ruin, are equally recommended in the present day; in consequence of which, some of the learned gentlemen of the sporting' world have given it the title of Daffy's, though this excellent beverage is known by many other names.
“Daffy's Elixir,” Dashall replied, “was a famous quack medicine, once sold by a well-known doctor with that name, and he claimed it could cure all diseases that affect the human body. Today, Gin, Old Tom, and Blue Ruin are all similarly touted; as a result, some of the knowledgeable folks in the sports community have dubbed it Daffy's, even though this great drink is also known by many other names.
“For instance, the Lady of refined sentiments and delicate nerves, feels the necessity of a little cordial refreshment, to brighten the one and enliven the other, and therefore takes it on the sly, under the polite appellation of white wine. The knowing Kids and dashing Swells are for a drap of blue ruin, to keep all things in good twig. The Laundress, who disdains to be termed a dry washer,—dearly loves a dollop {2} of Old Tom, because, while she is up to her elbows in suds, and surrounded with steam, she thinks a drap of the old gemman (having no pretensions to a young one) would comfort and strengthen her inside, and consequently swallows the inspiring dram. The travelling Gat-gut Scraper, and the Hurdy-Grinder, think there is music in the sound of max, and can toss off their kevartern to any tune in good time. The Painter considers it desirable to produce effect by mingling his dead white with a little sky blue. The Donkey driver and the Fish-fag are bang-up for a flash of lightning, to illumine their ideas. The Cyprian, whose marchings and counter marchings in search of custom are productive of extreme fatigue, may, in some degree, be said to owe her existence to Jockey; at least she considers him a dear boy, and deserving her best attentions, so long as she has any power. The Link-boys, the Mud-larks, and the Watermen, who hang round public-house doors to feed horses, &c. club up their brads for a kevartern of Stark-naked in three outs. The Sempstress and Straw Bonnet-maker are for a yard of White Tape; and
“For example, the lady with refined feelings and sensitive nerves feels the need for a little drink to brighten her mood and lift her spirits, so she discreetly enjoys it, calling it white wine. The savvy kids and stylish young men prefer a bit of whiskey to keep everything in good shape. The laundress, who refuses to be called a dry washer, really loves a splash of Old Tom, because while she’s up to her elbows in suds and surrounded by steam, she thinks a drink of the old gentleman (not claiming to be a young one) would comfort and strengthen her inside, so she happily takes the inspiring shot. The traveling street performer and the musician believe there’s music in the sound of drink, and they can enjoy their refreshments to any beat. The painter thinks it’s important to create an effect by mixing his bright white with a touch of sky blue. The donkey driver and the fish vendor are all about a flash of excitement to brighten their ideas. The woman of the night, whose marches and routines in search of customers leave her extremely tired, might be said to owe her livelihood to Jockey; at least she considers him a good guy and deserving of her best attention, as long as she has any power. The link boys, the mud larks, and the watermen, who hang around pub doors to care for horses, pool their money for a drink of cheap gin in three parts. The seamstress and straw bonnet maker are looking for a roll of white tape; and
[256]the Swell Covies and Out and Outers, find nothing so refreshing after a night's spree, when the victualling-office is out of order, as a little Fuller's-earth, or a dose of Daffy's; so that it may fairly be presumed it is a universal beverage—nay, so much so, that a certain gentleman of City notoriety, though he has not yet obtained a seat in St. Stephen's Chapel, with an ingenuity equal to that of the Bug-destroyer to the King,{1} has latterly decorated his house, not a hundred miles from Cripplegate, with the words Wine and Brandy Merchant to her Majesty, in large letters, from which circumstance his depository of the refreshing and invigorating articles of life has obtained the appellation of the Queen's Gin Shop.”
[256]the Swell Covies and Out and Outers find nothing more refreshing after a night of partying, especially when the food supply is out of order, than a bit of Fuller's-earth or a dose of Daffy's; so it can be safely assumed that it's a universal drink—actually, it's so much so that a certain well-known businessman from the City, even though he hasn't secured a seat in St. Stephen's Chapel yet, has, with creativity comparable to that of the Bug-destroyer to the King, recently marked his house, not far from Cripplegate, with the words "Wine and Brandy Merchant to Her Majesty" in large letters. Because of this, his stock of these refreshing and revitalizing items has earned the nickname "the Queen's Gin Shop.”
Bob laughed heartily at his Cousin's interpretation of Daffy's.
Bob laughed loudly at his cousin's take on Daffy's.
While Tom humm'd, in an under tone, the fag end of a song, by way of conclusion—
While Tom hummed quietly the last part of a song, as a way to wrap things up—
By this time they were at the Globe; upon entering which, they were greeted by Mortimer and Merry well, who had arrived before them; and dinner being served almost immediately, they were as quickly seated at the table, to partake of an excellent repast.
By this time, they had arrived at the Globe. Upon entering, they were warmly greeted by Mortimer and Merry, who had gotten there before them. Dinner was served almost immediately, and they were quickly seated at the table to enjoy a fantastic meal.
CHAPTER XVII
[258] THE entrance to the house had attracted Tallyho's admiration as they proceeded; but the taste and elegance of the Coffee-room, fitted up with brilliant chandeliers, and presenting amidst a blaze of splendour every comfort and accommodation for its visitors, struck him with surprise; in which however he was not suffered to remain long, for Merrywell and Mortimer had laid their plans with some degree of depth and determination to carry into execution the proposed ramble of the evening, and had ordered a private room for the party; besides which, they had invited a friend to join them, who was introduced to Tom and Bob, under the title of Frank Harry. Frank Harry was a humorous sort of fellow, who could tell a tough story, sing a merry song, and was up to snuff, though he frequently got snuffy, singing,
[258] The entrance to the house impressed Tallyho as they approached; however, it was the taste and elegance of the coffee room, decorated with dazzling chandeliers and offering a wealth of comforts and amenities for its guests, that truly amazed him. He didn't have much time to linger in that surprise, though, because Merrywell and Mortimer had plotted with some thoughtfulness and determination to carry out their plans for the evening's outing, and they had reserved a private room for the group. Additionally, they had invited a friend to join them, who was introduced to Tom and Bob as Frank Harry. Frank Harry was a funny guy who could spin a good story, sing a cheerful song, and was quite sharp, although he often became a bit tipsy while singing.
He was also a bit of a dabbler at Poetry, a writer of Songs, Epigrams, Epitaphs, &c.; and having been a long resident in the East, was thought to be a very useful guide on such an excursion, and proved himself a very [259] pleasant sort of companion: he had a dawning pleasantry in his countenance, eradiated by an eye of vivacity, which seemed to indicate there was nothing which gave him so much gratification as a mirth-moving jest.
He was also somewhat of a dabble with poetry, a songwriter, and a writer of epigrams, epitaphs, etc.; having lived in the East for a long time, he was considered a very helpful guide on such an excursion, and he turned out to be a very [259] enjoyable companion: he had a hint of humor in his face, highlighted by a lively eye, which suggested that nothing brought him more happiness than a funny joke.
“What spirits were his, what wit and what whim, Now cracking a joke, and now breaking a limb.”
“What energy he had, what humor and what quirks, Now making a joke, and now getting hurt.”
Give him but food for laughter, and he would almost consider himself furnished with food and raiment. There was however a pedantic manner with him at times; an affectation of the clerical in his dress, which, upon the whole, did not appear to be of the newest fashion, or improved by wearing; yet he would not barter one wakeful jest for a hundred sleepy sermons, or one laugh for a thousand sighs. If he ever sigh'd at all, it was because he had been serious where he might have laugh'd; if he had ever wept, it was because mankind had not laugh'd more and mourn'd less. He appeared almost to be made up of contrarieties, turning at times the most serious subjects into ridicule, and moralizing upon the most ludicrous occurrences of life, never failing to conclude his observations with some quaint or witty sentiment to excite risibility; seeming at the same time to say,
Give him just a reason to laugh, and he would feel pretty much set with food and clothing. However, he sometimes had a bit of a pretentious vibe; his outfit had a clerical flair that didn't seem very fashionable or improved by wear. Still, he wouldn't trade one good joke for a hundred boring sermons, or one laugh for a thousand sighs. If he ever sighed, it was because he had been serious when he could have laughed; if he ever cried, it was because people hadn't laughed enough and had mourned too much. He seemed almost like a collection of contradictions, often turning serious topics into jokes, and finding wisdom in the most ridiculous moments of life, always wrapping up his thoughts with some clever or funny remark to get people laughing; all while seeming to say,
During dinner time he kept the table in a roar of laughter, by declaring it was his opinion there was a kind of puppyism in pigs that they should wear tails—calling a great coat, a spencer folio edition with tail-pieces—Hercules, a man-midwife in a small way of business, because he had but twelve labours—assured them he had seen a woman that morning who had swallowed an almanac, which he explained by adding, that her features were so carbuncled, that the red lettered days were visible on her face—that Horace ran away from the battle of Philippi, merely to prove that he was no lame poet—he described Critics as the door-porters to the Temple of Fame, whose business was to see that no persons slipped in with holes in their stockings, or paste buckles for diamond ones, but was much in doubt whether they always performed their duty honestly—he called the Sun the Yellow-hair'd Laddie [260] —and the Prince of Darkness, the Black Prince—ask'd what was the difference between a sigh-heaver and a coal-heaver; but obtaining no answer, I will tell you, said he—The coal-heaver has a load at his back, which he can carry—but a sigh-heaver has one at his heart, which he can not carry. He had a whimsical knack of quoting old proverbs, and instead of saying, the Cobbler should stick to his last, he conceived it ought to be, the Cobbler should stick to his wax, because he thought that the more practicable—What is bred in the bone, said he, will not come out with the skewer; and justified his alteration by asserting it must be plain enough to the fat-headed comprehensions of those epicurean persons who have the magpie-propensity of prying into marrow-bones.
During dinner, he kept everyone laughing by saying that he thought pigs had a kind of puppy-like quality that made them deserve tails—calling a great coat a spencer folio edition with tail-pieces—Hercules, a part-time midwife because he only had twelve labors—he claimed he saw a woman that morning who had swallowed an almanac, explaining that her features were so pockmarked that the red-lettered days were visible on her face—that Horace ran from the battle of Philippi just to show he wasn’t a lame poet—he described critics as the doormen to the Temple of Fame, whose job was to make sure no one sneaked in with holes in their stockings or fake diamond buckles, but he was unsure if they always did their job fairly—he called the Sun the Yellow-hair'd Laddie [260] —and the Prince of Darkness the Black Prince—he asked what the difference was between a sigh-heaver and a coal-heaver; but when he didn’t get an answer, he said—The coal-heaver has a load on his back that he can carry—but a sigh-heaver has one in his heart that he can’t carry. He had a quirky way of quoting old proverbs, and instead of saying the Cobbler should stick to his last, he thought it should be the Cobbler should stick to his wax because he thought that was more practical—What is bred in the bone, he said, won’t come out with the skewer; and justified his change by insisting that it must be obvious enough to the simple-minded people who like to pry into marrow-bones.
Dashall having remarked, in the course of conversation, that necessity has no law.
Dashall commented during the conversation that necessity has no law.
He declared he was sorry for it—it was surely a pity, considering the number of learned Clerks she might give employ to if she had—her Chancellor (continued he) would have no sinecure of it, I judge: hearing the petitions of her poor, broken-fortuned and bankrupt, subjects would take up all his terms, though every term were a year, and every year a term. Thus he united humour with seriousness, and seriousness with humour, to the infinite amusement of those around him.
He said he was sorry about it—it was definitely a shame, considering the number of educated clerks she could hire if she had—her Chancellor (he continued) wouldn't have an easy job, I think: listening to the requests of her struggling, unlucky, and broke subjects would take up all his time, even if each term lasted a year, and every year was one term. In this way, he combined humor with seriousness and seriousness with humor, delighting everyone around him.
Merrywell, who was well acquainted with, and knew his humour, took every opportunity of what is called drawing him out, and encouraging his propensity to punning, a species of wit at which he was particularly happy, for puns fell as thick from him as leaves from autumn bowers; and he further entertained them with an account of the intention he had some short time back of petitioning for the office of pun-purveyor to his late Majesty; but that before he could write the last line—“And your petitioner will ever pun” it was bestowed upon a Yeoman of the Guard. Still, however, said he, I have an idea of opening business as a pun-wright in general to his Majesty's subjects, for the sale and diffusion of all that is valuable in that small ware of wit, and intend to advertise—Puns upon all subjects, wholesale, retail, and for exportation. N B. 1. An allowance will be made to Captains and Gentlemen going to the East and West Indies—Hooks, Peakes, Pococks,{1} supplied on
Merrywell, who knew him well and understood his sense of humor, took every chance to engage him and encourage his love for puns, a type of wit he was particularly skilled at, as puns came from him as abundantly as leaves fall in autumn. He also entertained them with a story about how he had recently considered applying for the position of pun-purveyor to his late Majesty, but before he could finish writing the last line—“And your petitioner will ever pun”—the position was given to a Yeoman of the Guard. Nonetheless, he said, I have an idea to start a business as a general pun-wright for his Majesty's subjects, aiming to sell and spread all that is valuable in this niche of wit, and I plan to advertise—Puns on all subjects, wholesale, retail, and for export. N B. 1. Discounts will be available for Captains and Gentlemen traveling to the East and West Indies—Hooks, Peaks, Pococks, supplied on
[261] moderate terms—worn out sentiments and clap-traps will be taken in exchange. N B. 2. May be had in a large quantity, in a great deal box, price five acts of sterling comedy per packet, or in small quantities, in court-plaster sized boxes, price one melodrama and an interlude per box. N B. 3. The genuine puns are sealed with a true Munden grin—all others are counterfeits—Long live Apollo, &c. &c.
[261] moderate terms—worn-out sentiments and clichés will be accepted in exchange. Note: 2. Available in large quantities, in a big box, priced at five acts of sterling comedy per packet, or in smaller quantities, in court-plaster sized boxes, priced at one melodrama and an interlude per box. Note: 3. The genuine puns are sealed with an authentic Munden grin—all others are fakes—Long live Apollo, etc. etc.
The cloth being removed, the wine was introduced, and
The cloth was taken away, and the wine was poured in, and
Frank Harry became more lively at each glass—“Egad!” said he, “my intention of petitioning to be the king's punster, puts me in mind of a story.”
Frank Harry got more animated with each drink—“Wow!” he said, “my plan to ask to be the king's joke teller reminds me of a story.”
“Can't you sing it?” enquired Merrywell.
“Can’t you sing it?” asked Merrywell.
“The pipes want clearing out first,” was the reply, “and that is a sign I can't sing at present; but signal as it may appear, and I see some telegraphic motions are exchanging, my intention is to shew to you all the doubtful interpretation of signs in general.”
“The pipes need to be cleared out first,” was the reply, “and that's a sign I can't sing right now; but however it may seem, and I notice some telegraph signals are being exchanged, my goal is to show you all the uncertain interpretations of signs in general.”
“Let's have it then,” said Tom; “but, Mr. Chairman, I remember an old Song which concludes with this sentiment—
“Let's do it then,” said Tom; “but, Mr. Chairman, I recall an old song that ends with this sentiment—
“The bottle is out, we must replenish.”
“The bottle is empty, we need to refill it.”
The hint was no sooner given, than the defect was remedied; and after another glass,
The moment the hint was given, the issue was fixed; and after another drink,
“King James VI. on his arrival in London, (said he) was waited on by a Spanish Ambassador, a man of some erudition, but who had strangely incorporated with his learning, a whimsical notion, that every country ought to have a school, in which a certain order of men should be taught to interpret signs; and that the most expert in this department ought to be dignified with the title of Professor of Signs. If this plan were adopted, he contended, that most of the difficulties arising from the ambiguity of language, and the imperfect acquaintance which people of one nation had with the tongue of another, would be done away. Signs, he argued, arose from the dictates of nature; and, as they were the same in every country, there could be no danger of their being misunderstood. Full of this project, the Ambassador was [262] lamenting one day before the King, that the nations of Europe were wholly destitute of this grand desideratum; and he strongly recommended the establishment of a college founded upon the simple principles he had suggested. The king, either to humour this Quixotic foible, or to gratify his own ambition at the expense of truth, observed, in reply, 'Why, Sir, I have a Professor of Signs in one of the northernmost colleges in my dominions; but the distance is, perhaps, six hundred miles, so that it will be impracticable for you to have an interview with him.' Pleased with this unexpected information, the Ambassador exclaimed—'If it had been six hundred leagues, I would go to see him; and I am determined to set out in the course of three or four days.' The King, who now perceived that he had committed himself, endeavoured to divert him from his purpose; but, finding this impossible, he immediately caused letters to be written to the college, stating the case as it really stood, and desired the Professors to get rid of the Ambassador in the best manner they were able, without exposing their Sovereign. Disconcerted at this strange and unexpected message, the Professors scarcely knew how to proceed. They, however, at length, thought to put off their august visitant, by saying, that the Professor of Signs was not at home, and that his return would be very uncertain. Having thus fabricated the story, they made preparations to receive the illustrious stranger, who, keeping his word, in due time reached their abode. On his arrival, being introduced with becoming solemnity, he began to enquire, who among them had the honour of being Professor of Signs? He was told in reply, that neither of them had that exalted honour; but the learned gentleman, after whom he enquired, was gone into the Highlands, that they conceived his stay would be considerable; but that no one among them could even conjecture the period of his return. 'I will wait his coming,' replied the Ambassador, 'if it be twelve months.'
“King James VI, upon arriving in London, was visited by a Spanish Ambassador, an educated man who, oddly enough, had mixed his knowledge with a peculiar idea that every country should have a school for training a specific group of people to interpret signs. He believed that the most skilled in this area should be given the title of Professor of Signs. He argued that if this idea were adopted, it would eliminate most difficulties caused by the ambiguity of language and the lack of understanding between people from different nations. Signs, he claimed, stemmed from natural instincts and were universally understood, so there would be no risk of confusion. Full of this plan, the Ambassador lamented one day before the King that European nations lacked this vital necessity and strongly advocated for the establishment of a college based on his simple principles. The King, either to humor this fanciful notion or to satisfy his own ambitions at the expense of honesty, replied, 'Well, Sir, I have a Professor of Signs at one of the northernmost colleges in my realm; however, it's about six hundred miles away, so meeting him will likely be impractical for you.' Delighted with this unexpected news, the Ambassador exclaimed, 'If it were six hundred leagues, I would still go to see him; I'm determined to leave in three or four days.' Realizing he had put himself in a bind, the King tried to dissuade him from his plan, but when that failed, he immediately had letters written to the college explaining the situation and asking the professors to handle the Ambassador without compromising their Sovereign. The professors, bewildered by this strange and unexpected message, hardly knew how to respond. Eventually, they decided to postpone their prestigious visitor by claiming that the Professor of Signs was out and that his return was uncertain. Having concocted this story, they prepared to welcome the esteemed stranger, who, true to his word, arrived at their residence in due time. Upon his arrival and being introduced with appropriate formality, he began to ask who among them held the esteemed title of Professor of Signs. He was informed that none of them had that prestigious title; the learned gentleman he inquired about had gone into the Highlands, and they believed he would be away for quite some time, with no one able to speculate when he might return. 'I will wait for him,' replied the Ambassador, 'even if it takes twelve months.'”
“Finding him thus determined, and fearing, from the journey he had already undertaken that he might be as good as his word, the learned Professors had recourse to another stratagem. To this they found themselves driven, by the apprehension that they must entertain him as long as he chose to tarry; and in case he should unfortunately weary out their patience, the whole affair must terminate [263] in a discovery of the fraud. They knew a Butcher, who had been in the habit of serving the colleges occasionally with meat. This man, they thought, with a little instruction might serve their purpose; he was, however, blind with one eye, but he had much drollery and impudence about him, and very well knew how to conduct any farce to which his abilities were competent.
“Finding him so resolute, and fearing that the journey he had already undertaken made him likely to keep his word, the learned Professors resorted to another plan. They felt compelled to do this out of concern that they would have to entertain him for as long as he wanted to stay; and if he happened to wear out their patience, the whole situation would end in a revelation of the deception. They knew a butcher who occasionally supplied the colleges with meat. They thought that with a bit of training, he could help them; he was, however, blind in one eye, but he had a lot of humor and cheekiness, and he knew very well how to handle any prank that was within his skills. [263]”
“On sending for Geordy, (for that was the butcher's name) they communicated to him the tale, and instructing him in the part he was to act, he readily undertook to become Professor of Signs, especially as he was not to speak one word in the Ambassador's presence, on any pretence whatever. Having made these arrangements, it was formally announced to the Ambassador, that the Professor would be in town in the course of a few days, when he might expect a silent interview. Pleased with this information, the learned foreigner thought that he would put his abilities at once to the test, by introducing into his dumb language some subject that should be at once difficult, interesting, and important. When the day of interview arrived, Geordy was cleaned up, decorated with a large bushy wig, and covered over with a singular gown, in every respect becoming his station. He was then seated in a chair of state, in one of their large rooms, while the Ambassador and the trembling Professors waited in an adjoining apartment.
“After calling for Geordy (that was the butcher's name), they shared the story with him, and after instructing him on the role he was to play, he eagerly agreed to become the Professor of Signs, especially since he wouldn’t have to say a single word in the Ambassador's presence for any reason. Once these plans were set, it was officially announced to the Ambassador that the Professor would be in town in a few days and would be available for a silent meeting. Happy with this news, the learned foreigner figured he would immediately test his skills by introducing a topic that was challenging, interesting, and significant into his sign language. When the day of the meeting arrived, Geordy was cleaned up, adorned with a large bushy wig, and dressed in a unique gown that suited his status perfectly. He was then seated in a ceremonial chair in one of their big rooms, while the Ambassador and the nervous Professors waited in a nearby room.”
“It was at length announced, that the learned Professor of Signs was ready to receive his Excellency, who, on entering the room, was struck with astonishment at his venerable and dignified appearance. As none of the Professors would presume to enter, to witness the interview, under a pretence of delicacy, (but, in reality, for fear that their presence might have some effect upon the risible muscles of Geordy's countenance) they waited with inconceivable anxiety, the result of this strange adventure, upon which depended their own credit, that of the King, and, in some degree, the honour of the nation.
“It was finally announced that the esteemed Professor of Signs was ready to meet his Excellency, who, upon entering the room, was taken aback by his impressive and dignified presence. Since none of the Professors would dare to go in and witness the meeting, under the guise of delicacy (but really out of fear that their presence might affect Geordy's facial expressions), they waited with immense anxiety for the outcome of this unusual encounter, which impacted their own reputation, that of the King, and, to some extent, the honor of the nation.”
“As this was an interview of signs, the Ambassador began with Geordy, by holding up one of his fingers; Geordy replied, by holding up two. The Ambassador then held up three; Geordy answered, by clenching his fist, and looking sternly. The Ambassador then took an orange from his pocket, and held it up; Geordy returned the compliment, by taking from his pocket a [264] piece of a barley cake, which he exhibited in a similar manner. The ambassador, satisfied with the vast attainments of the learned Professor, then bowed before him with profound reverence, and retired. On rejoining the agitated Professors, they fearfully began to enquire what his Excellency thought of their learned brother? 'He is a perfect miracle,' replied the Ambassador, 'his worth is not to be purchased by the wealth of half the Indies.' 'May we presume to descend to particulars?' returned the Professors, who now began to think themselves somewhat out of danger. 'Gentlemen,' said the Ambassador, 'when I first entered into his presence, I held up one finger, to denote that there is one God. He then held up two, signifying that the Father should not be divided from the Son. I then held up three, intimating, that I believed in Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. He then clenched his fist, and, looking sternly at me, signified, that these three are one; and that he would defy me, either to separate them, or to make additions. I then took out an orange from my pocket, and held it up, to show the goodness of God, and to signify that he gives to his creatures not only the necessaries, but even the luxuries of life. Then, to my utter astonishment, this wonderful man took from his pocket a piece of bread, thus assuring me, that this was the staff of life, and was to be preferred to all the luxuries in the world. Being thus satisfied with his proficiency and great attainments in this science, I silently withdrew, to reflect upon what I had witnessed.' “Diverted with the success of their stratagem, the Professors continued to entertain their visitor, until he thought prudent to withdraw. No sooner had he retired, than the opportunity was seized to learn from Geordy, in what manner he had proceeded to give the Ambassador such wonderful satisfaction; they being at a loss to conceive how he could have caught his ideas with so much promptitude, and have replied to them with proportionable readiness. But, that one story might not borrow any features from the other, they concealed from Geordy all they had learned from the Ambassador; and desiring him to begin with his relation, he proceeded in the following manner:—'When the rascal came into the room, after gazing at me a little, what do you think, gentlemen, that he did? He held up one finger, as much as to say, you have only one eye. I then held up two, to [265] let him know that my one eye was as good as both of his. He then held up three, as much as to say, we have only three eyes between us. This was so provoking, that I bent my fist at the scoundrel, and had it not been for your sakes, I should certainly have risen from the chair, pulled off my wig and gown, and taught him how to insult a man, because he had the misfortune to lose one eye. The impudence of the fellow, however, did not stop here; for he then pulled out an orange from his pocket, and held it up, as much as to say, Your poor beggarly country cannot produce this. I then pulled out a piece of good cake, and held it up, giving him to understand, that I did not care a farthing for his trash. Neither do I; and I only regret, that I did not thrash the scoundrel's hide, that he might remember how he insulted me, and abused my country.' We may learn from hence, that if there are not two ways of telling a story, there are at least two ways of understanding Signs, and also of interpreting them.”
“As this was a sign language interview, the Ambassador started with Geordy by holding up one finger; Geordy responded by holding up two. The Ambassador then held up three; Geordy replied by clenching his fist and glaring. The Ambassador then pulled an orange from his pocket and held it up; Geordy matched him by pulling out a piece of barley cake from his pocket, displaying it similarly. The Ambassador, satisfied with the impressive skills of the learned Professor, then bowed deeply in respect and left. Upon rejoining the anxious Professors, they nervously asked what his Excellency thought of their learned colleague. 'He is a total marvel,' replied the Ambassador, 'his worth can’t be measured by the riches of half the Indies.' 'Can we delve into specifics?' asked the Professors, who were starting to feel a bit safer. 'Gentlemen,' said the Ambassador, 'when I first entered his presence, I held up one finger to signify that there is one God. He then held up two, meaning that the Father should not be separated from the Son. I then held up three, indicating that I believe in the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. He then clenched his fist and looked sternly at me, meaning that these three are one; and that he would challenge me to either separate them or add more to the concept. I then took an orange from my pocket and held it up to represent the goodness of God and signify that He provides not just the essentials, but even the luxuries of life. To my utter shock, this amazing man pulled a piece of bread from his pocket, assuring me that this is the staff of life and is more valuable than all the luxuries in the world. Being thus impressed with his knowledge and expertise in this matter, I quietly left to reflect on what I had witnessed.' “Amused by the success of their scheme, the Professors continued to entertain their visitor until he deemed it wise to leave. No sooner had he departed than they seized the opportunity to learn from Geordy how he managed to impress the Ambassador so remarkably; they were puzzled by how he could grasp his ideas so quickly and respond with equal speed. But, to ensure that one story wouldn't influence another, they kept from Geordy everything they had learned from the Ambassador; and asking him to start his account, he recounted as follows:—'When that rascal came into the room, after staring at me for a bit, what do you think, gentlemen, he did? He held up one finger, as if to say, you have only one eye. I then held up two to let him know that my one eye was as good as both of his. He then held up three, implying that we only have three eyes between us. This was so infuriating that I clenched my fist at the scoundrel, and had it not been for your presence, I would have definitely stood up, taken off my wig and gown, and shown him how to insult someone just because they were unlucky enough to lose an eye. However, the impudence of the fellow didn’t stop there; he then pulled out an orange from his pocket and held it up, as if to say, Your poor, miserable country can’t produce this. I then pulled out a piece of good cake and held it up, letting him know that I didn’t give a hoot about his fancy fruit. Neither do I; and I only regret that I didn’t give the scoundrel a beating, so he would remember how he insulted me and disrespected my country.' We can learn from this that while there may not be two ways to tell a story, there are at least two ways to understand signs and interpret them.”
This story, which was told with considerable effect by their merry companion, alternately called forth loud bursts of laughter, induced profound silence, and particularly interested and delighted young Mortimer and Tallyho; while Merrywell kept the glass in circulation, insisting on no day-light{1} nor heel-taps,{2} and the lads began to feel themselves all in high feather. Time was passing in fearless enjoyment, and Frank Harry being called on by Merrywell for a song, declared he had no objection to tip 'em a rum chant, provided it was agreed that it should go round.
This story, shared with great enthusiasm by their cheerful friend, triggered loud laughter, created deep silence, and especially captivated and entertained young Mortimer and Tallyho; meanwhile, Merrywell kept the drinks flowing, insisting on no day-light{1} nor heel-taps,{2} and the guys started to feel really good about themselves. Time was flying by in carefree enjoyment, and when Merrywell asked Frank Harry for a song, he said he had no problem belting out a lively tune, as long as they all agreed to share it.
This proposal was instantly acceded to, a promise made that he should not be at a loss for a good coal-box;{3} and after a little more rosin, without which, he said, he could not pitch the key-note, he sung the following[266]
This proposal was quickly accepted, with a promise that he would have a good coal-box;{3} and after a bit more rosin, which he claimed was necessary for him to set the tone, he sang the following[266]
(Spoken)—Yes, yes, London is the large world in a small compass: it contains all the comforts and pleasures of human life—“Aye aye, (says a Bumpkin to his more accomplished Kinsman) Ye mun brag o' yer Lunnun fare; if smoak, smother, mud, and makeshift be the comforts and pleasures, gie me free air, health and a cottage.”—Ha, ha, ha, Hark at the just-catch'd Johnny Rata, (says a bang-up Lad in a lily-shallow and upper toggery) where the devil did you come from? who let you loose upon society? d———e, you ought to be coop'd up at Exeter ?Change among the wild beasts, the Kangaroos and Catabaws, and shewn as the eighth wonder of the world! Shew 'em in! Shew 'em in! stir him up with a long pole; the like never seen before; here's the head of an owl with the tail of an ass—all alive, alive O! D———me how the fellow stares; what a marvellous piece of a mop-stick without thrums.—“By gum (says the Bumpkin) you looks more like an ape, and Ise a great mind to gie thee a douse o' the chops.”—You'd soon find yourself chop-fallen there, my nabs, (replies his antagonist)—you are not up to the gammon—you must go to College and learn to sing
(Spoken)—Yes, yes, London is a big world in a small space: it has all the comforts and pleasures of life—“Oh, come on, (says a country fellow to his more worldly relative) you can brag about your London lifestyle; if smoke, congestion, mud, and makeshift things are what you call comforts and pleasures, give me fresh air, good health, and a cottage.” —Ha, ha, ha, listen to the freshly caught Johnny Rata, (says a flashy young man in a fancy outfit) where in the world did you come from? who let you loose on society? damn it, you should be locked up at Exeter Exchange with the wild beasts, the kangaroos, and the other oddities, and shown as the eighth wonder of the world! Bring 'em in! Bring 'em in! poke him with a long stick; nothing like this has ever been seen before; here’s the head of an owl with the tail of a donkey—all alive, alive O! Damn, look at how the guy stares; what an incredible stick of a person without any charm.—“By gum (says the country fellow) you look more like an ape, and I feel like giving you a smack on the face.” —You’d quickly find yourself in trouble, my friend, (replies his opponent)—you’re not clever enough for this game—you need to go to college and learn to sing.
(Spoken)—All higgledy-piggledy, pigs in the straw—Lawyers, Lapidaries, Lamplighters, and Lap-dogs—Men-milliners, Money-lenders, and Fancy Millers, Mouse-trap Mongers, and Matchmen, in one eternal round of variety! Paradise is a pail of cold water in comparison with its unparalleled pleasures—and the wishing cap of Fortunatus could not produce a greater abundance of delight—Cat's Meat—Dog's Meat—Here they are all four a penny, hot hot hot, smoking hot, piping hot hot Chelsea Buns—Clothes sale, clothes—Sweep, sweep—while a poor bare-footed Ballad Singer with a hoarse discordant voice at intervals chimes in with
(Spoken)—All mixed up, pigs in the straw—Lawyers, Jewelers, Streetlamps, and Lapdogs—Hatmakers, Lenders, and Fancy Millers, Mouse Trap Sellers, and Match Sellers, in one never-ending variety! Paradise is nothing compared to its unmatched pleasures—and Fortunatus's wishing hat couldn't bring about more joy—Cat Food—Dog Food—Here they are all for a penny, steaming hot, super hot, piping hot Chelsea Buns—Clothes sale, clothes—Sweep, sweep—while a poor barefoot Ballad Singer with a raspy, off-key voice chimes in at intervals with
[267] so that the concatenation of sounds mingling all at once into one undistinguished concert of harmony, induces me to add mine to the number, by singing—
[267] so that the mix of sounds blending together into one indistinguishable harmony encourages me to join in by singing—
(Spoken)—“In gude truth,” says a brawney Scotchman, “I'se ne'er see'd sic bonny work in a' my liefe—there's nae walking up the streets without being knock'd doon, and nae walking doon the streets without being tripp'd up.”—“Blood-an-oons, (says an Irishman) don't be after blowing away your breath in blarney, my dear, when you'll want it presently to cool your barley broth.”—“By a leaf,” cries a Porter with a chest of drawers on his knot, and, passing between them, capsizes both at once, then makes the best of his way on a jog-trot, humming to himself, Ally Croaker, or Hey diddle Ho diddle de; and leaving the fallen heroes to console themselves with broken heads, while some officious friends are carefully placing them on their legs, and genteelly easing their pockets of the possibles; after which they toddle off at leisure, to sing
(Spoken)—“Honestly,” says a sturdy Scotsman, “I’ve never seen such beautiful chaos in my whole life—there's no walking up the streets without getting knocked down, and no walking down the streets without getting tripped over.” —“For heaven's sake,” says an Irishman, “don't waste your breath with nonsense, my dear, when you’ll need it soon to cool your barley soup.” —“By the way,” shouts a porter with a chest of drawers on his back, as he passes between them, knocking both of them over at once, then quickly makes his way on a jog-trot, humming to himself, Ally Croaker, or Hey diddle Ho diddle de; leaving the fallen guys to deal with their broken heads while some helpful friends carefully help them up and gently lighten their pockets; after which they stroll off at their own pace, ready to sing.
(Spoken)—Talk of sights and sounds—is not there the Parliament House, the King's Palace, and the Regent's Bomb—The Horse-guards, the Body-guards, and the Black-guards—The Black-legs, and the Bluestockings—The Horn-blower, and the Flying Pie-man—The Indian Juggler—Punch and Judy—(imitating the well-known Show-man)—The young and the old, the grave and the gay—The modest Maid and the willing Cyprian—The Theatres—The Fives Court and the Court of Chancery—[268]
(Spoken)—Talking about sights and sounds—aren't there the Parliament House, the King's Palace, and the Regent's Bomb—The Horse Guards, the Bodyguards, and the Black Guards—The Black Legs, and the Bluestockings—The Horn Blower, and the Flying Pie Man—The Indian Juggler—Punch and Judy—(imitating the well-known Showman)—The young and the old, the serious and the cheerful—The modest Maid and the willing Cyprian—The Theatres—The Fives Court and the Court of Chancery—[268]
The quaint peculiarities of the Singer gave indescribable interest to this song, as he altered his voice to give effect to the various cries of the inhabitants, and it was knock'd down with three times three rounds of applause; when Merrywell, being named for the next, sung, accompanied with Dashall and Frank Harry, the following
The charming quirks of the Singer made this song incredibly interesting as he changed his voice to capture the different sounds of the locals, and it received three cheers of applause. When Merrywell was called up next, he sang, accompanied by Dashall and Frank Harry, the following
In the mean time, the enemy of life was making rapid strides upon them unheeded, till Dashall reminded Merrywell of their intended visit to the East; and that as he expected a large portion of amusement in that quarter, he proposed a move.
In the meantime, the enemy of life was making quick progress against them without being noticed, until Dashall reminded Merrywell of their planned trip to the East; and since he anticipated a lot of fun in that area, he suggested they make a move.
They were by this time all well primed—ripe for a rumpus—bang-up for a lark or spree, any where, any how, or with any body; they therefore took leave of their present scene of gaiety.[269]
They were all ready for some fun—eager for a party—up for a good time anywhere, any way, or with anyone; so they decided to leave their current place of celebration.[269]
CHAPTER XVIII
IT was a fine moonlight evening, and upon leaving the Globe, they again found themselves in the hurry, bustle, and noise of the world. The glare of the gas-lights, and the rattling of coaches, carts and vehicles of various-descriptions, mingled with
IT was a beautiful moonlit evening, and as they left the Globe, they found themselves once more in the rush, clamor, and noise of the world. The brightness of the gas lights, along with the clattering of coaches, carts, and various vehicles, blended with
attracted the attention of their eyes and ears, while the exhilarating juice of the bottle had given a circulation to the blood which enlivened imagination and invigorated fancy. Bob conceived himself in Elysium, and Frank Harry was as frisky as a kitten. The first object that arrested their progress was the house of Mr. Hone, whose political Parodies, and whose trials on their account, have given him so much celebrity. His window at the moment exhibited his recent satirical publication entitled a Slap at Slop and the Bridge Street Gang.{1}
attracted their eyes and ears, while the exciting drink from the bottle had given a boost to their blood, sparking their imagination and energizing their thoughts. Bob felt like he was in paradise, and Frank Harry was as playful as a kitten. The first thing that caught their attention was Mr. Hone’s house, whose political parodies and the trouble he faced for them had made him quite famous. His window right now displayed his latest satirical work called A Slap at Slop and the Bridge Street Gang.{1}
[270] “Here,” said Tom, “we are introduced at once into a fine field of observation. The inhabitant of this house defended himself in three different trials for the publication of alleged impious, profane, and scandalous libels on the Catechism, the Litany, and the Creed of St. Athanasius, with a boldness, intrepidity, and perseverance, almost unparalleled, as they followed in immediate succession, without even an allowance of time for bodily rest or mental refreshment.”
[270] “Here,” said Tom, “we're immediately drawn into an interesting situation. The person living in this house defended himself in three separate trials for publishing so-called impious, profane, and scandalous libels against the Catechism, the Litany, and the Creed of St. Athanasius, with a level of courage, determination, and persistence that’s almost unmatched, as they occurred one after another, without any time allowed for physical rest or mental refreshment.”
“Yes,” continued Frank Harry, “and gained a verdict on each occasion, notwithstanding the combined efforts of men in power, and those whose constant practice in our Courts of Law, with learning and information at their fingers ends, rendered his enemies fearful antagonists.”
“Yes,” continued Frank Harry, “and won a verdict every time, despite the combined efforts of those in power and those whose constant practice in our courts, along with their knowledge and information at their fingertips, made his opponents formidable adversaries.”
“It was a noble struggle,” said Tallyho; “I remember we had accounts of it in the country, and we did not fail to express our opinions by subscriptions to remunerate the dauntless defender of the rights and privileges of the British subject.”
“It was a brave fight,” said Tallyho; “I remember hearing about it back home, and we definitely made our thoughts known through donations to reward the fearless defender of the rights and privileges of British citizens.”
“Tip us your flipper”{1} said Harry—-“then I see you are a true bit of the bull breed—one of us, as I may say. Well, now you see the spot of earth he inhabits—zounds, man, in his shop you will find amusement for a month—see here is The House that Jack Built—there is the Queen's Matrimonial Ladder, do you mark?—What think you of these qualifications for a Gentleman?
“Tip us your flipper”{1} said Harry—“then I know you’re a true part of the bull breed—one of us, I might say. Well, now you see the place he calls home—wow, man, in his shop you’ll find entertainment for a month—look here is The House that Jack Built—there is the Queen's Matrimonial Ladder, do you notice?—What do you think of these qualifications for a Gentleman?
“In love, and in liquor, and o'ertoppled with debt, With women, with wine, and with duns on the fret.”
“In love, in booze, and overwhelmed with debt, With women, with wine, and with creditors on my case.”
There you have the Nondescript—
Here's the Nondescript—
“Come,” said Dashall, “you must cut your story short; I know if you begin to preach, we shall have a sermon as long as from here to South America, so allons;” and with this impelling his Cousin forward, they
“Come on,” said Dashall, “you need to make your story shorter; I know if you start preaching, we’ll end up with a sermon as long as from here to South America, so let’s go;” and with this, he urged his cousin forward, they
[271] approached towards Saint Paul's, chiefly occupied in conversation on the great merit displayed in the excellent designs of Mr. Cruikshank, which embellish the work they had just been viewing; nor did they discover any thing further worthy of notice, till Bob's ears were suddenly attracted by a noise somewhat like that of a rattle, and turning sharply round to discover from whence it came, was amused with the sight of several small busts of great men, apparently dancing to the music of a weaver's shuttle.{1}
[271] walked towards Saint Paul's, mainly talking about the impressive designs by Mr. Cruikshank that decorate the work they had just seen; they didn’t notice anything else remarkable until Bob's attention was suddenly drawn to a noise resembling a rattle. He quickly turned around to find the source of the sound and was entertained by the sight of several small busts of famous figures seemingly dancing to the rhythm of a weaver's shuttle.{1}
“What the devil do you call this?” said he—“is it an exhibition of wax-work, or a model academy?”
“What on earth do you call this?” he said. “Is it a wax museum or a modeling school?”
“Neither,” replied Dashall; “this is no other than the shop of a well-known dealer in stockings and nightcaps, who takes this ingenious mode of making himself popular, and informing the passengers that
“Neither,” replied Dashall; “this is just the shop of a well-known dealer in stockings and nightcaps, who uses this clever way to make himself popular and let the passersby know that
with woolens for winter, and cottons for summer—Let us move on, for there generally is a crowd at the door, and there is little doubt but he profits by those who are induced to gaze, as most people do in London, if they can but entrap attention. Romanis is one of those gentlemen who has contrived to make some noise in the world by puffing advertisements, and the circulation of poetical handbills. He formerly kept a very small shop for the sale of hosiery nearly opposite the East-India House, where he supplied the Sailors after receiving their pay for a long voyage, as well as their Doxies, with the articles in which he deals, by obtaining permission to style himself “Hosier to the Rt. Hon. East India Company.” Since which, finding his trade increase and his purse extended, he has extended his patriotic views of clothing the whole population of London by opening shops in various parts, and has at almost all times two or three depositories for
with wool for winter and cotton for summer—Let's move on, because there's usually a crowd at the door, and it's pretty clear he benefits from those who are tempted to look, as most people do in London, if they can just catch attention. Romanis is one of those guys who's managed to make some noise in the world through flashy ads and the circulation of poetic flyers. He used to run a tiny shop selling hosiery almost directly across from the East India House, where he provided sailors after their long voyages with the items he sells, as well as their companions, by getting himself labeled as “Hosier to the Rt. Hon. East India Company.” Since then, as his business grew and his finances improved, he has expanded his mission to outfit the entire population of London by opening shops in various locations, and he usually has two or three showrooms for
1 Romanis, the eccentric Hosier, generally places a loom near the door of his shops decorated with small busts; some of which being attached to the upper movements of the machinery, and grotesquely attired in patchwork and feathers, bend backwards and forwards with the motion of the works, apparently to salute the spectators, and present to the idea persons dancing; while every passing of the shuttle produces a noise which may be assimilated to that of the Rattlesnake, accompanied with sounds something like those of a dancing-master beating time to his scholars. [272] his stock. At this moment, besides what we have just seen, there is one in Gracechurch Street, and another in Shoreditch, where the passengers are constantly assailed by a little boy, who stands at the door with some bills in his hand, vociferating—Cheap, cheap.”
1 Romanis, the quirky Hosier, usually sets up a loom by the entrance of his shops, which are decorated with small busts. Some of these busts are attached to the moving parts of the machinery and are dressed in patchwork and feathers, bending back and forth with the motion of the machines, seemingly to greet onlookers and create the impression of people dancing. Each time the shuttle passes, it makes a noise similar to a rattlesnake, mixed with sounds like a dance instructor keeping time for their students. [272] his stock. Right now, in addition to the ones we've just mentioned, there’s one on Gracechurch Street and another in Shoreditch, where passersby are constantly approached by a little boy standing at the door, holding some flyers and shouting, “Cheap, cheap.”
“Then,” said Bob, “wherever he resides I suppose may really be called Cheapside?”
“Then,” Bob said, “wherever he lives, I guess that can really be called Cheapside?”
“With quite as much propriety,” continued Ton, “as the place we are now in; for, as the Irishman says in his song,
“With just as much propriety,” Ton continued, “as the place we’re in right now; because, as the Irishman says in his song,
During this conversation, Mortimer, Merrywell, and Harry were amusing themselves by occasionally addressing the numerous Ladies who were passing, and taking a peep at the shops—giggling with girls, or admiring the taste and elegance displayed in the sale of fashionable and useful articles—justled and impeded every now and then by the throng. Approaching Bow Church, they made a dead stop for a moment.
During this conversation, Mortimer, Merrywell, and Harry were having a good time by occasionally talking to the many ladies walking by and checking out the shops—laughing with girls or admiring the style and elegance displayed in the sale of trendy and practical items—bumping into and being blocked by the crowd every now and then. As they got closer to Bow Church, they came to a complete stop for a moment.
“What a beautiful steeple!” exclaimed Bob; “I should, though no architect, prefer this to any I have yet seen in London.”
“What a beautiful steeple!” Bob exclaimed. “Even though I'm no architect, I prefer this one to any I’ve seen in London.”
“Your remark,” replied Dashall, “does credit to your taste; it is considered the finest in the Metropolis. St. Paul's displays the grand effort of Sir Christopher Wren; but there are many other fine specimens of his genius to be seen in the City. His Latin Epitaph in St. Paul's may be translated thus: 'If you seek his monument, look around you;' and we may say of this steeple, 'If you wish a pillar to his fame, look up.' The interior of the little church, Walbrook,{1} (St. Stephen's) is likewise considered a
“Your comment,” replied Dashall, “shows great taste; it’s regarded as the best in the city. St. Paul's showcases the incredible work of Sir Christopher Wren; however, there are many other impressive examples of his talent throughout the City. His Latin epitaph in St. Paul's can be translated as: 'If you’re looking for his monument, just look around you;' and we might say of this steeple, 'If you’re looking for a pillar to honor his legacy, just look up.' The interior of the little church, Walbrook, (St. Stephen's) is also considered a
[273] chef d'ouvre of the same artist, and serves to display the versatility of his genius.”
[273] masterpiece of the same artist, and showcases the versatility of his talent.”
Instead however of looking up, Bob was looking over the way, where a number of people, collected round a bookseller's window, had attracted his attention.
Instead, however of looking up, Bob was looking across the street, where a group of people gathered around a bookseller's window had caught his attention.
“Apropos,” cried Dashall,—“The Temple of Apollo—we should have overlook'd a fine subject, but for your remark—yonder is Tegg's Evening Book Auction, let us cross and see what's going on. He is a fellow of 'infinite mirth and good humour,' and many an evening have I passed at his Auction, better amused than by a farce at the Theatre.”
“Apropos,” exclaimed Dashall, “The Temple of Apollo—we would have missed a great topic if not for your comment—look over there, it’s Tegg’s Evening Book Auction. Let’s cross over and check it out. He’s a guy full of laughter and good vibes, and I’ve spent many evenings at his auction having more fun than I do at a comedy show.”
They now attempted to cross, but the intervening crowd of carriages, three or four deep, and in a line as far as the eye could reach, for the present opposed an obstacle.
They now tried to cross, but the crowd of carriages, three or four deep and lined up as far as the eye could see, was currently blocking their way.
“If I could think of it,” said Sparkle, “I'd give you the Ode on his Birth-day, which I once saw in MS.—it is the jeu d'esprit of a very clever young Poet, and who perhaps one of these days may be better known; but poets, like anatomical subjects, are worth but little till dead.”
“If I could think of it,” said Sparkle, “I’d share the Ode on his Birthday, which I once saw in manuscript—it’s the clever work of a talented young poet who might be more recognized one day; but poets, like anatomical subjects, aren’t worth much until they’re gone.”
“And for this reason, I suppose,” says Tom, “their friends and patrons are anxious they should rather be starved than die a natural death.”
“And for this reason, I guess,” says Tom, “their friends and supporters are eager for them to be starved rather than to die of old age.”
“Oh! now I have it—let us remain in the Church-yard a few minutes, while the carriages pass, and you shall hear it."[274]
“Oh! now I have it—let’s stay in the churchyard for a few minutes while the carriages go by, and you’ll hear it.”[274]
“Good!” exclaimed Bob; “but we will now endeavour to make our way across, and take a peep at the subject of the Ode.”
“Great!” Bob exclaimed; “but now we’ll try to make our way across and take a look at the subject of the Ode.”
Finding the auction had not yet commenced, Sparkle proposed adjourning to the Burton Coffee House in the adjacent passage, taking a nip of ale by way of refreshment and exhilaration, and returning in half an hour. This proposition was cordially agreed to by all, except Tallyho, whose attention was engrossed by a large collection of Caricatures which lay exposed in a portfolio on the table beneath the rostrum. The irresistible broad humour of the subjects had taken fast hold of his risible muscles, and in turning them over one after the other, he found it difficult to part with such a rich fund of humour, and still more so to stifle the violent emotion it excited. At length, clapping his hands to his sides, he gave full vent to the impulse in a horse-laugh from a pair of truly Stentorian lungs, and was by main force dragged out by his companions.
Finding that the auction hadn't started yet, Sparkle suggested they head over to the Burton Coffee House in the nearby passage for a quick drink of ale to refresh and energize themselves, and then come back in half an hour. Everyone agreed to this idea enthusiastically, except Tallyho, who was completely absorbed in a large collection of caricatures displayed in a portfolio on the table under the podium. The hilarious subjects had captured his attention, and as he flipped through them one by one, he found it hard to give up such a treasure trove of humor, and even harder to contain the strong laughter it sparked. Eventually, grabbing his sides, he couldn’t hold back and let out a loud, hearty laugh from his truly powerful lungs, and was forcibly pulled away by his friends.
While seated in the comfortable enjoyment of their nips of ale, Sparkle, with his usual vivacity, began an elucidation of the subjects they had just left. “The collection of Caricatures,” said he, “which is considered the largest in London, are mostly from the pencil of that self-taught artist, the late George Woodward, and display not only a genuine and original style of humour in the design, but a corresponding and appropriate character in the dialogue, or speeches connected with the figures. Like his contemporary in another branch of the art, George Morland, he possessed all the eccentricity and thoughtless improvidence so common and frequently so fatal to genius; and had not his good fortune led him towards Bow Church, he must have suffered severe privations, and perhaps eventually have perished of want. Here, he always found a ready market, and a liberal price for his productions, however rude or hasty the sketch, or whatever might be the subject of them.”
While sitting back comfortably with their drinks, Sparkle, with his usual energy, started to explain the topics they had just discussed. “The collection of Caricatures,” he said, “which is thought to be the largest in London, is mainly by that self-taught artist, the late George Woodward. They show not only a genuine and original sense of humor in the artwork but also fitting and relevant dialogue that goes along with the figures. Like his contemporary in another art form, George Morland, he had all the quirks and carefree unpredictability that often come with genius, which can be both common and sometimes very harmful. If luck hadn’t brought him to Bow Church, he likely would have faced serious hardships and maybe even starved. There, he always found a good market and a fair price for his work, no matter how rough or quick the sketches were, or what the subjects were.”
[275] “As to books,” continued he, “all ages, classes, and appetites, may be here suited. The superficial dabbler in, and pretender to every thing, will find collections, selections, beauties, flowers, gems, &c. The man of real knowledge may here purchase the elements, theory, and practice of every art and science, in all the various forms and dimensions, from a single volume, to the Encyclopedia at large. The dandy may meet with plenty of pretty little foolscap volumes, delightfully hot-pressed, and exquisitely embellished; the contents of which will neither fatigue by the quantity, nor require the laborious effort of thought to comprehend. The jolly bon-vivant and Bacchanal will find abundance of the latest songs, toasts, and sentiments; and the Would-be-Wit will meet with Joe Miller in such an endless variety of new dresses, shapes, and sizes, that he may fancy he possesses all the collected wit of ages brought down to the present moment. The young Clerical will find sermons adapted to every local circumstance, every rank and situation in society, and may furnish himself with a complete stock in trade of sound orthodox divinity; while the City Epicure may store himself with a complete library on the arts of confectionary, cookery, &c, from Apicius, to the “Glutton's Almanack.” The Demagogue may furnish himself with flaming patriotic speeches, ready cut and dried, which he has only to learn by heart against the next Political Dinner, and if he should not 'let the cat out,' by omitting to substitute the name of Londonderry for Cæsar, he may pass off for a second Brutus, and establish an equal claim to oratory with Burke, Pitt, and Fox. The——”
[275] “As for books,” he continued, “people from all ages, backgrounds, and interests can find something here. The casual reader and pretender to knowledge will discover collections, selections, highlights, and treasures. Those with real knowledge can purchase the essentials, theories, and practices of every art and science, available in every format from a single book to the complete Encyclopedia. The fashionable individual will come across plenty of nicely designed, beautifully bound volumes, whose content won’t overwhelm them with quantity or require intense thought to understand. The cheerful socialite will find plenty of the latest songs, toasts, and sentiments; and the aspiring wit will encounter Joe Miller presented in endless new styles and formats, leading them to believe they possess the wit of ages distilled into the present. The young cleric will find sermons tailored to every local situation and every social rank, allowing them to stock up on a solid foundation of orthodox beliefs; while the city foodie can gather a complete library on the arts of baking and cooking, from Apicius to the “Glutton's Almanack.” The political activist can arm themselves with fiery patriotic speeches, ready-made for the next political dinner, and if they manage not to slip up by mixing up Londonderry with Cæsar, they might pass for a modern Brutus and share the same rhetorical status as Burke, Pitt, and Fox. The——”
“Auction will be over,” interrupted Bob, “before you get half through your descriptive Catalogue of the Books, so finish your nip, and let us be off.”
“Auction will be over,” interrupted Bob, “before you get halfway through your descriptive Catalogue of the Books, so finish your drink, and let’s go.”
They entered, and found the Orator hard at it, knocking down with all the energy of a Crib, and the sprightly wit of a Sheridan. Puns, bon mots, and repartees, flew about like crackers.
They walked in and saw the Orator deeply engaged, striking down with all the energy of a Crib and the lively wit of a Sheridan. Puns, clever remarks, and quick comebacks flew around like firecrackers.
“The next lot, Gentlemen, is the Picture of London,—impossible to possess a more useful book—impossible to say what trouble and expence may be avoided by the possession of this little volume. When your Country Cousins pay you a visit, what a bore, what an expence, to be day after day leading them about—taking them up the Monument—down the Adelphi—round St. Paul's—across the [276] Parks, through the new Streets—along the Strand, or over the Docks, the whole of which may be avoided at the expence of a few shillings. You have only to clap into their pocket in the morning this invaluable little article, turn them out for the day, and, if by good luck they should not fall into the hands of sharpers and swindlers, your dear Coz will return safe home at night, with his head full of wonders, and his pockets empty of cash!”
“The next item, gentlemen, is the Picture of London—it's hard to find a more useful book. You can’t underestimate how much trouble and expense this little volume can save you. When your country relatives come to visit, what a hassle and cost it is to spend day after day showing them around—taking them up the Monument, down the Adelphi, around St. Paul's, across the [276] Parks, through the new Streets, along the Strand, or over the Docks—all of which can be avoided for just a few shillings. All you need to do is slip this invaluable little book into their pocket in the morning, send them off for the day, and if they’re lucky enough not to run into any con artists, your dear cousin will come back at night, filled with amazing stories and with their pockets empty of cash!”
“The d——l,” whispered Bob, “he seems to know me, and what scent we are upon.”
“The devil,” whispered Bob, “he seems to know me and what trail we're on.”
“Aye,” replied his Cousin, “he not only knows you, but he knows that some of your cash will soon be in his pockets, and has therefore made a dead set at you.”
“Yeah,” replied his cousin, “he not only knows you, but he also knows that some of your money will soon be in his pockets, so he’s really going after you.”
“Next lot, Gentlemen, is a work to which my last observation bore some allusion; should your friends, as I then observed, fortunately escape the snares and dangers laid by sharpers and swindlers to entrap the unwary, you may, perchance, see them safe after their day's ramble; but should—aye, Gentlemen, there's the rub—should they be caught by the numerous traps and snares laid for the Johnny Raw and Greenhorn in this great and wicked metropolis, God knows what may become of them. Now, Gentlemen, we have a remedy for every disease—here is the London Spy or Stranger's Guide through the Metropolis; here all the arts, frauds, delusions, &c. are exposed, and—Tom, give that Gentleman change for his half crown, and deliver Lot 3.—As I was before observing, Gentlemen—Turn out that young rascal who is making such a noise, cracking nuts, that I can't hear the bidding.—Gentlemen, as I before observed, if you will do me the favour of bidding me—”
“Next up, gentlemen, is a piece I hinted at last time. If your friends, as I mentioned then, are lucky enough to avoid the traps and dangers set by con artists and frauds targeting the unsuspecting, you might just see them return safe after their day out; but if—ah, gentlemen, that’s the catch—if they do fall into the many traps and snares set for the naive and inexperienced in this vast and ruthless city, who knows what could happen to them? Now, gentlemen, we have a solution for every problem—here is the London Spy or Stranger's Guide through the Metropolis; here all the tricks, scams, deceptions, etc. are laid bare, and—Tom, please give that gentleman change for his half crown, and hand over Lot 3.—As I was saying, gentlemen—Get that young troublemaker out of here who’s making so much noise cracking nuts that I can’t hear the bidding.—Gentlemen, as I was saying, if you would do me the favor of bidding—”
“Good night, Sir,” cried a younker, who had just exploded a detonating cracker, and was making his escape through the crowd.
“Good night, sir,” shouted a kid who had just set off a firecracker and was making his getaway through the crowd.
“The next lot, gentlemen, is the Young Man's best Companion, and as your humble Servant is the author, he begs to decline any panegyric—modesty forbids it—but leaves it entirely with you to appreciate its merits—two shillings—two and six—three shillings—three and six—four, going for four—for you, Sir, at four.”
“The next item, gentlemen, is the Young Man's Best Companion, and since I’m the author, I’ll skip any bragging—modesty prevents me from doing so—but I’ll let you judge its value yourself—two shillings—two and six—three shillings—three and six—four, going for four—for you, Sir, at four.”
“Me, Sir! Lord bless you, I never opened my mouth!”
“Me, Sir! God bless you, I never said a word!”
“Perfectly aware of that, Sir, it was quite unnecessary—I could read your intention in your eye—and observed the muscle of the mouth, call'd by anatomists the
“Perfectly aware of that, Sir, it was quite unnecessary—I could read your intention in your eye—and noticed the muscles of the mouth, referred to by anatomists as the
[277] zygomaticus major, in the act of moving. I should have been dull not to have noticed it—and rude not to have saved you the trouble of speaking: Tom, deliver the Gentleman the lot, and take four shillings.”
[277] zygomaticus major, in the act of moving. I must have been thick not to have noticed it—and inconsiderate not to have spared you the effort of speaking: Tom, give the Gentleman the whole lot, and take four shillings.”
“Well, Sir, I certainly feel flattered with your acute and polite attention, and can do no less than profit by it—so hand up the lot—cheap enough, God knows.”
“Well, Sir, I really appreciate your keen and courteous attention, and I can’t do anything less than take advantage of it—so let’s see the lot—cheap enough, that’s for sure.”
“And pray,” said Dashall to his Cousin as they quitted, “what do you intend doing with all your purchases? why it will require a waggon to remove them.”
“And by the way,” said Dashall to his cousin as they were leaving, “what do you plan to do with all your purchases? You’ll need a cart to haul them away.”
“O, I shall send the whole down to Belville Hall: our friends there will be furnished with a rare stock of entertainment during the long winter evenings, and no present I could offer would be half so acceptable.”
“O, I will send everything down to Belville Hall: our friends there will have a great source of entertainment during the long winter nights, and no gift I could give would be half as welcome.”
“Well,” remarked Mortimer, “you bid away bravely, and frequently in your eagerness advanced on yourself: at some sales you would have paid dearly for this; but here no advantage was taken, the mistake was explained, and the bidding declined in the most fair and honourable manner. I have often made considerable purchases, and never yet had reason to repent, which is saying much; for if I inadvertently bid for, and had a lot knocked down to me, which I afterwards disliked, I always found an acquaintance glad to take it off my hands at the cost, and in several instances have sold or exchanged to considerable advantage. One thing I am sorry we overlooked: a paper entitled, “Seven Reasons,” is generally distributed during the Sale, and more cogent reasons I assure you could not be assigned, both for purchasing and reading in general, had the seven wise men of Greece drawn them up. You may at any time procure a copy, and it will furnish you with an apology for the manner in which you have spent your time and money, for at least one hour, during your abode in London.”
“Well,” Mortimer said, “you bid confidently and often put yourself at risk. At some auctions, that could have cost you a lot; but here, no one took advantage, the mistake was explained, and the bidding was withdrawn in a fair and honorable way. I've made big purchases before and I've never regretted it, which is saying something. If I accidentally bid on something and ended up with it but didn't like it, I always found a friend willing to take it off my hands for the same price, and in several cases, I’ve sold or traded for a nice profit. One thing I regret we missed: a paper titled 'Seven Reasons' is usually handed out during the Sale, and you won’t find better reasons for both buying and reading in general, even if the seven wise men of Greece had put them together. You can get a copy any time, and it will give you a good excuse for how you've spent your time and money, at least for an hour, while you’re in London.”
Please, Sir, to buy a ha'porth of matches, said a poor, squalid little child without a shoe to her foot, who was running by the side of Bob—it's the last ha'porth, Sir, and I must sell them before I go home.
Please, sir, can you buy a half-penny worth of matches? said a poor, dirty little child with no shoes, who was running alongside Bob—it's the last half-penny, sir, and I have to sell them before I go home.
This address was uttered in so piteous a tone, that it could not well be passed unheeded.
This address was delivered in such a sorrowful tone that it couldn't be ignored.
“Why,” said Tallyho, “as well as Bibles and Schools for all, London seems to have a match for every body.”
“Why,” said Tallyho, “as well as Bibles and schools for everyone, London seems to have a match for everybody.”
“Forty a penny, Spring-radishes,” said a lusty bawling [278] fellow as he passed, in a voice so loud and strong, as to form a complete contrast to the little ragged Petitioner, ?who held out her handful of matches continuing her solicitations. Bob put his hand in his pocket, and gave her sixpence.
“Four for a penny, Spring radishes,” shouted a cheerful guy as he walked by, his voice booming and strong, completely contrasting with the small, ragged girl who was holding out her handful of matches, still asking for help. Bob reached into his pocket and gave her sixpence.
“We shall never get on at this rate,” said Tom; “and I find I must again advise you not to believe all you hear and see. These little ragged run-abouts are taught by their Parents a species of imposition or deception of which you are not aware, and while perhaps you congratulate yourself with 'the thought of having done a good act, you are only contributing to the idleness and dissipation of a set of hardened beings, who are laughing at your credulity; and I suspect this is a case in point—do you see that woman on the opposite side of the way, and the child giving her the money?”
“We're not getting anywhere at this rate,” Tom said. “I have to remind you again not to believe everything you see and hear. These ragged little kids are taught by their parents a kind of trickery that you don’t realize. While you may feel good about doing something nice, you're just encouraging the laziness and recklessness of a group of hardened people who are laughing at how gullible you are. I think this is a perfect example—do you see that woman across the street and the child handing her the money?”
“I do,” said Tallyho; “that, I suppose, is her mother?”
“I do,” said Tallyho; “that, I guess, is her mom?”
“Probably,” continued Dashall—“now mark what will follow.”
“Probably,” Dashall continued, “now watch what will happen next.”
They stopped a short time, and observed that the Child very soon disposed of her last bunch of matches, as she had termed them, gave the money to the woman, who supplied her in return with another last bunch, to be disposed of in a similar way.
They paused for a moment and noticed that the Child quickly sold her last bundle of matches, as she called them. She handed the money to the woman, who then gave her another last bundle to sell in the same manner.
“Is it possible?” said Bob.
“Is it possible?” asked Bob.
“Not only possible, but you see it is actual; it is not however the only species of deceit practised with success in London in a similar way; indeed the trade of match-making has latterly been a good one among those who have been willing to engage in it. Many persons of decent appearance, representing themselves to be tradesmen and mechanics out of employ, have placed themselves at the corners of our streets, and canvassed the outskirts of the town, with green bags, carrying matches, which, by telling a pityful tale, they induce housekeepers and others, who commiserate their situation, to purchase; and, in the evening, are able to figure away in silk stockings with the produce of their labours. There is one man, well known in town, who makes a very good livelihood by bawling in a stentorian voice,
“Not only is it possible, but it's actually happening; however, it's not the only type of deception successfully practiced in London in a similar way. In fact, the matchmaking business has recently become quite profitable for those willing to get involved. Many people who look decent, claiming to be out-of-work tradesmen and mechanics, have set up at the corners of our streets and canvassed the outskirts of the town with green bags filled with matches. By telling a sad story, they persuade housekeepers and others who feel sorry for their situation to buy from them; and by evening, they're able to dress in silk stockings thanks to their earnings. There’s one man, well-known in town, who makes a good living by shouting in a loud voice,
[279] He is usually dressed in something like an old military great coat, wears spectacles, and walks with a stick.”
[279] He usually wears something like an old military overcoat, has glasses, and walks with a cane.”
“And is a match for any body, match him who can,”, cried Frank Harry; “But, bless your heart, that's nothing to another set of gentry, who have infested our streets in clean apparel, with a broom in their hands, holding at the same time a hat to receive the contributions of the passengers, whose benevolent donations are drawn forth without inquiry by the appearance of the applicant.”
“And is a match for anyone, challenge him if you can,” shouted Frank Harry; “But, bless your heart, that’s nothing compared to another group of people, who have invaded our streets in clean clothes, with a broom in their hands, while also holding a hat to collect money from passersby, whose generous donations are given without question just because of how the person looks.”
“It must,” said Tallyho, “arise from the distresses of the times.”
“It must,” said Tallyho, “come from the struggles of the times.”
“There may be something in that,” said Tom; “but in many instances it has arisen from the depravity of the times—to work upon the well-known benevolent feelings of John Bull; for those who ambulate the public streets of this overgrown and still increasing Metropolis and its principal avenues, are continually pestered with impudent impostors, of both sexes, soliciting charity—men and women, young and old, who get more by their pretended distresses in one day than many industrious and painstaking tradesmen or mechanics do in a week. All the miseries, all the pains of life, with tears that ought to be their honest and invariable signals, can be and are counterfeited—limbs, which enjoy the fair proportion of nature, are distorted, to work upon humanity—fits are feigned and wounds manufactured—rags, and other appearances of the most squalid and abject poverty, are assumed, as the best engines of deceit, to procure riches to the idle and debaucheries to the infamous. Ideal objects of commiseration are undoubtedly to be met with, though rarely to be found. It requires a being hackneyed in the ways of men, or having at least some knowledge of the town, to be able to discriminate the party deserving of benevolence; but
“There might be some truth to that,” Tom said, “but in many cases, it comes from the corrupt nature of these times—taking advantage of the well-known generosity of John Bull. People walking the streets of this overgrown and still-growing city, especially its main avenues, are constantly hassled by shameless con artists, both men and women, young and old, who make more from their fake struggles in one day than many hardworking tradespeople or mechanics make in a week. All the hardships and pains of life, along with the tears that should be their genuine and constant signals, can be faked—limbs that are normally shaped are twisted to appeal to people's compassion—fits are faked and wounds created—rags and other signs of extreme poverty are donned, serving as the most effective tools of deception to gain wealth for the lazy and indulgences for the infamous. Ideal cases for sympathy can certainly be found, though they are rarely encountered. It takes someone who is familiar with human nature or at least has some understanding of the city to be able to tell who truly deserves help; but
The chief cause assigned by some for the innumerable classes of mendicants that infest our streets, is a sort of innate principle of independence and love of liberty. However, it must be apparent that they do not like to work, and to beg they are not ashamed; they are, with very few exceptions, lazy and impudent. And then what [280] is collected from the humane but deluded passengers is of course expended at their festivals in Broad Street, St. Giles's, or some other equally elegant and appropriate part of the town, to which we shall at an early period pay a visit. Their impudence is intolerable; for, if refused a contribution, they frequently follow up the denial with the vilest execrations.
The main reason some people give for the countless beggars who crowd our streets is a natural desire for independence and freedom. However, it’s clear that they don’t want to work and aren’t embarrassed to beg; they are, with very few exceptions, lazy and brazen. And what is collected from kind but misled passersby is usually spent at their gatherings in Broad Street, St. Giles's, or some other equally nice and suitable area of the city, which we will visit soon. Their audacity is unbearable; when turned down for money, they often respond with the worst insults.
“The common beggar spurns at your laws; indeed many of their arts are so difficult of detection, that they are enabled to escape the vigilance of the police, and with impunity insult those who do not comply with their wishes, seeming almost to say,
“The average beggar dismisses your laws; in fact, many of their tricks are so hard to catch that they manage to avoid the watchfulness of the police and boldly disrespect those who don’t give in to their demands, almost implying,"
“Begging has become so much a sort of trade, that parents have been known to give their daughters or sons the begging of certain streets in the metropolis as marriage portions; and some years ago some scoundrels were in the practice of visiting the outskirts of the town in sailors' dresses, pretending to be dumb, and producing written papers stating that their tongues had been cut out by the Algerines, by which means they excited compassion, and were enabled to live well.”
“Begging has become such a trade that parents have been known to give their daughters or sons specific streets in the city to beg on as part of their wedding dowries. A few years back, some crooks used to go to the outskirts of town dressed as sailors, pretending to be mute and showing written notes claiming that the Algerines had cut out their tongues. This way, they elicited sympathy and managed to live comfortably.”
“No doubt it is a good trade,” said Merry well, “and I expected we should have been made better acquainted with its real advantages by Capt. Barclay, of walking and sporting celebrity, who, it was said, had laid a wager of 1000L. that he would walk from London to Edinburgh in the assumed character of a beggar, pay all his expences of living well on the road, and save out of his gains fifty pounds.”
“No doubt it’s a good trade,” said Merry well, “and I thought we would have gotten to know its real advantages better from Capt. Barclay, who’s known for his walking and sporting fame. It was said he made a bet of £1000 that he would walk from London to Edinburgh disguised as a beggar, cover all his living expenses while on the road, and save fifty pounds out of his earnings.”
“True,” said Tom, “but according to the best account that can be obtained, that report is without foundation. The establishment, however, of the Mendicity Society{1}
“True,” said Tom, “but based on the best information we have, that report isn’t true. However, the creation of the Mendicity Society{1}
[281] is calculated to discover much on this subject, and has already brought to light many instances of depravity and deception, well deserving the serious consideration of the public.”
[281] is intended to reveal a lot about this topic, and has already uncovered many cases of wrongdoing and dishonesty that truly deserve the serious attention of the public.
As they approached the end of the Poultry,—“This,” said Dashall, “is the heart of the first commercial city in the known world. On the right is the Mansion House, the residence of the Lord Mayor for the time being.”
As they got closer to the end of the Poultry, Dashall said, “This is the heart of the first commercial city in the world. On the right is the Mansion House, where the current Lord Mayor lives.”
The moon had by this time almost withdrawn her cheering beams, and there was every appearance, from the gathering clouds, of a shower of rain.
The moon had nearly pulled back her comforting light, and the gathering clouds suggested a rain shower was on the way.
“It is rather a heavy looking building, from what I can see at present,” replied Tallyho.
“It looks like a pretty heavy building, from what I can see right now,” replied Tallyho.
“Egad!” said Tom, “the appearance of every thing at this moment is gloomy, let us cross.”
“Wow!” said Tom, “everything looks so gloomy right now, let’s cross.”
With this, they crossed the road to Debatt's the Pastry Cook's Shop.
With that, they crossed the street to Debatt's the Pastry Cook's Shop.
“Zounds!” said Tom, casting his eye upon the clock, “it is after ten; I begin to suspect we must alter our course, and defer a view of the east to a more favourable opportunity, and particularly as we are likely to have an accompaniment of water.”
“Wow!” said Tom, glancing at the clock, “it’s after ten; I think we need to change our plans and postpone seeing the east for a better time, especially since it seems we might get some rain.”
“Never mind,” said Merrywell, “we can very soon be in very comfortable quarters; besides, a rattler is always to be had or a comfortable lodging to be procured with an obliging bed-fellow—don't you begin to croak before there is any occasion for it—what has time to do with us?”
“Don’t worry,” said Merrywell, “we can be in a really comfy place soon; plus, there’s always a rattler around or a cozy spot to find with a friendly companion—don’t start complaining before there’s any reason to—what does time matter to us?”
“Aye aye,” said Frank Harry, “don't be after damping us before we get wet; this is the land of plenty, and there is no fear of being lost—come along.”
“Aye aye,” said Frank Harry, “don’t hold us back before we even get started; this is the land of plenty, and there’s no worry about getting lost—let’s go.”
“On the opposite side,” said Tom, addressing his Cousin, “is the Bank of England; it is a building of large extent and immense business; you can now only discern its exterior by the light of the lamps; it is however a place [282] to which we must pay a visit, and take a complete survey upon some future occasion. In the front is the Royal Exchange, the daily resort of the Merchants and Traders of the Metropolis, to transact their various business.”
“On the other side,” Tom said to his cousin, “is the Bank of England; it's a huge building with a lot of activity; right now, you can only see the outside in the light of the lamps. However, it’s a place [282] that we should visit and explore thoroughly another time. In front of it is the Royal Exchange, where merchants and traders from the city gather every day to do their business.”
“Come,” said Merry well, “I find we are all upon the right scent—Frank Harry has promised to introduce us to a house of well known resort in this neighbourhood—we will shelter ourselves under the staple commodity of the country—for the Woolsack and the Woolpack, I apprehend, are synonimous.”
“Come on,” said Merry, “I think we’re all on the right track—Frank Harry has promised to take us to a popular spot around here—we’ll make ourselves comfortable using the main product of the area—because the Woolsack and the Woolpack, I believe, are basically the same thing.”
“Well thought of, indeed,” said Dashall; “it is a house where you may at all times be certain of good accommodation and respectable society—besides, I have some acquaintance there of long standing, and may probably meet with them; so have with you, my boys. The Woolpack in Cornhill,” continued he, addressing himself more particularly to Tallyho, “is a house that has been long established, and deservedly celebrated for its general accommodations, partaking as it does of the triple qualifications of tavern, chop-house, and public-house. Below stairs is a commodious room for smoking parties, and is the constant resort of foreigners,{1}
“Well regarded, for sure,” said Dashall. “It’s a place where you can always count on good accommodations and respectable company. Besides, I’ve known some people there for a long time, and I’ll probably run into them; you will too, my friends. The Woolpack in Cornhill,” he added, speaking directly to Tallyho, “is a well-established place that’s well-known for its overall accommodations, as it combines the features of a tavern, a chop-house, and a public house. Downstairs, there’s a spacious room for smoking, and it’s a regular hangout for foreigners,{1}
[283] who are particularly partial to the brown stout, which they can obtain there in higher perfection than in any other house in London. Brokers and others, whose business calls them to the Royal Exchange, are also pretty constant visitors, to meet captains and traders—dispose of different articles of merchandise—engage shipping and bind bargains—it is a sort of under Exchange, where business and refreshment go hand in hand with the news of the day, and the clamour of the moment; beside which, the respectable tradesmen of the neighbourhood meet in an evening to drive dull care away, and converse on promiscuous subjects; it is generally a mixed company, but, being intimately connected with our object of seeing Real Life in London, deserves a visit. On the first floor is a good room for dining, where sometimes eighty persons in a day are provided with that necessary meal in a genteel style, and at a moderate price—besides other rooms for private parties. Above these is perhaps one of the handsomest rooms in London, of its size, capable of dining from eighty to a hundred persons. But you will now partake of its accommodations, and mingle with some of its company.”
[283] who especially love the brown stout, which they can enjoy there in better quality than anywhere else in London. Brokers and others who need to go to the Royal Exchange are also frequent visitors, meeting up with captains and traders—selling different goods—arranging shipping and making deals—it’s like a secondary Exchange where business and refreshments go hand in hand with the latest news and the buzz of the moment; in addition, the respectable local business owners gather in the evening to shake off their worries and chat about various topics; it’s usually a mixed crowd, but since it’s closely related to our goal of witnessing Real Life in London, it’s worth a visit. On the first floor, there’s a nice dining room where sometimes up to eighty people are served that essential meal in a stylish manner and at a reasonable price—along with other rooms for private events. Above that is perhaps one of the most beautiful rooms of its size in London, accommodating between eighty to a hundred diners. But now you can enjoy its amenities and mix with some of its patrons.
By this time they had passed the Royal Exchange, and Tom was enlarging upon the new erections lately completed; when all at once,
By this time, they had passed the Royal Exchange, and Tom was going on about the new buildings that had just been finished; when suddenly,
“Hallo,” said Bob, “what is become of our party?” “All right,” replied his Cousin; “they have given us the slip without slipping from us—I know their movements to a moment, we shall very soon be with them—this way—this way,” said he, drawing Bob into the narrow passage which leads to the back of St. Peter's Church, Cornhill—“this is the track we must follow.”
“Hey,” said Bob, “what happened to our group?” “All good,” replied his cousin; “they've ditched us without actually leaving—we know their movements down to the minute, and we'll catch up to them quickly—this way—this way,” he said, pulling Bob into the narrow passage that leads to the back of St. Peter's Church, Cornhill—“this is the route we need to take.”
Tallyho followed in silence till they entered the house, and were greeted by the Landlord at the bar with a bow of welcome; passing quickly to the right, they were saluted with immoderate volumes of smoke, conveying to their olfactory nerves the refreshing fumes of tobacco, and almost taking from them the power of sight, except to observe a bright flame burning in the middle of the room. Tom darted forward, and knowing his way well, was quickly seated by the side of Merrywell, Mortimer, and Harry; while Tallyho was seen by those who were invisible to him', groping his way in the same direction, amidst the laughter of the company, occasionally interlarded with scraps which caught his ear from a gentleman who was at the moment reading some of the comments from the columns of the Courier, in which he made frequent pauses and observations.
Tallyho followed quietly until they entered the house, where the Landlord at the bar greeted them with a welcoming bow. They quickly moved to the right and were hit with a thick cloud of smoke, filling their noses with the refreshing scent of tobacco, nearly obscuring their vision, except for a bright flame burning in the middle of the room. Tom rushed ahead, knowing his way well, and was soon seated next to Merrywell, Mortimer, and Harry. Meanwhile, Tallyho was seen by those who couldn’t see him, fumbling his way in the same direction, surrounded by the laughter of the company, occasionally catching snippets from a gentleman who was reading comments from the Courier, stopping often to make his own remarks.
[284] “Why, you can't see yourself for smoke,” said one; “D———n it how hard you tread,” said another. And then a line from the Reader came as follows—“The worthy Alderman fought his battles o'er again—Ha, ha, ha—Who comes here 1 upon my word, Sir, I thought you had lost your way, and tumbled into the Woolpack instead of the Skin-market.—' It is a friend of mine, Sir.'—That's a good joke, upon my soul; not arrived yet, why St. Martin's bells have been ringing all day; perhaps he is only half-seas over—Don't tell me, I know better than that—D———n that paper, it ought to be burnt by—The fish are all poison'd by the Gas-light Company—Six weeks imprisonment for stealing two dogs!—Hides and bark—How's sugars to-day?—Stocks down indeed—Yes, Sir, and bread up—Presto, be gone—What d'ye think of that now, eh?—Gammon, nothing but gammon—On table at four o'clock ready dressed and—Well done, my boy, that's prime.”
[284] "You can't see a thing with all this smoke," one person said. "Damn, you really stomp hard," another added. Then a line from the Reader came to mind—"The good Alderman relived his battles—Ha, ha, ha—Who's this? I honestly thought you had taken a wrong turn and ended up at the Woolpack instead of the Skin-market.—'It's a friend of mine.'—That's a great joke, I swear; he’s not here yet, really? St. Martin's bells have been ringing all day; maybe he's just a bit tipsy—Don’t kid me, I know better—Damn that paper, it should be burned—The fish are all ruined by the Gas-light Company—Six weeks in jail for stealing two dogs!—Hides and bark—How are sugar prices today?—Stocks are down for sure—Yes, and bread prices are up—Presto, be gone—What do you think of that?—Pure nonsense, just nonsense—Ready to serve at four o’clock, all dressed and—Well done, my boy, that’s excellent."
These sentences were uttered from different parts of the room in almost as great a variety of voices as there must have been subjects of conversation; but as they fell upon the ear of Tallyho without connection, he almost fancied himself transported to the tower of Babel amidst the confusion of tongues.
These sentences were spoken from various corners of the room in a range of voices as diverse as the topics being discussed; but as they reached Tallyho's ears without any clear connection, he almost felt like he had been transported to the Tower of Babel amidst the chaos of languages.
“Beg pardon,” said Tallyho, who by this time had gained a seat by his Cousin, and was gasping like a turtle for air—“I am not used to this travelling in the dark; but I shall be able to see presently.”
“Excuse me,” said Tallyho, who by this point had taken a seat next to his cousin, breathing heavily like a turtle for air—“I’m not used to traveling in the dark, but I’ll be able to see soon.”
“See,” said Frank Harry, “who the devil wants to see more than their friends around them? and here we are at home to a peg.”
“Look,” said Frank Harry, “who the hell wants to see anyone more than their friends around them? And here we are at home to a peg.”
[285] “I shall have finished in two minutes, Gentlemen,” said the Reader,{1} cocking up a red nose, that shone with resplendent lustre between his spectacles, and then continuing to read on, only listened to by a few of those around him, while a sort of general buz of conversation was indistinctly heard from all quarters.
[285] “I’ll be done in two minutes, gentlemen,” said the Reader,{1} lifting his red nose that shone brightly between his glasses, and then he kept reading on, barely noticed by a few people nearby, while a general buzz of conversation was faintly heard from all around.
They were quickly supplied with grog and segars, and Bob, finding himself a little better able to make use of his eyes, was throwing his glances to every part of the room, in order to take a view of the company: and while Tom was congratulated by those who knew him at the Round Table—Merrywell and Harry were in close conversation with Mortimer.
They were quickly given drinks and cigars, and Bob, feeling a bit more able to see, was looking around the room to get a sense of the crowd. Meanwhile, Tom was being congratulated by those who recognized him at the Round Table—Merrywell and Harry were deep in conversation with Mortimer.
At a distant part of the room, one could perceive boxes containing small parties of convivials, smoking and drinking, every one seeming to have some business of importance to claim occasional attention, or engaged in,
At a distant part of the room, you could see groups of people, smoking and drinking, each appearing to have some important matter that required occasional attention, or engaged in,
“The loud laugh that speaks the vacant mind.” In one corner was a stout swarthy-looking man, with large whiskers and of ferocious appearance, amusing those around him with conjuring tricks, to their great satisfaction and delight; nearly opposite the Reader of the Courier, sat an elderly Gentleman{2} with grey hair, who heard
“The loud laugh that reveals a shallow mind.” In one corner was a heavyset, dark-skinned man, with big whiskers and a fierce look, entertaining those around him with magic tricks, to their great enjoyment and pleasure; almost directly across from the Reader of the Courier sat an older gentleman with gray hair, who heard
[286] what was passing, but said nothing; he however puffed away large quantities of smoke at every pause of the Reader, and occasionally grinn'd at the contents of the paper, from which. Tallyho readily concluded that he was in direct political opposition to its sentiments.
[286] what was happening, but said nothing; he however puffed out huge clouds of smoke at every pause of the Reader, and sometimes grinned at the contents of the paper, from which Tallyho quickly gathered that he was in direct political opposition to its views.
The acquisition of new company was not lost upon to those who were seated at the round table, and it was not long before the Hon. Tom Dashall was informed that they hoped to have the honour of his Cousin's name as a member; nor were they backward in conveying a similar hint to Frank Harry, who immediately proposed his two friends, Mortimer and Merry well; an example which was followed by Tom's proposing his Cousin.
The acquisition of the new company didn't go unnoticed by those seated at the round table, and it wasn't long before the Hon. Tom Dashall was informed that they hoped to have the honor of his cousin's name as a member. They also promptly hinted the same to Frank Harry, who immediately proposed his two friends, Mortimer and Merrywell; an example that Tom followed by proposing his cousin.
Such respectable introductions could not fail to meet the approbation of the Gentlemen present,—consequently they were unanimously elected Knights of the Round Table, which was almost as quickly supplied by the Waiter with a capacious bowl of punch, and the healths of the newmade Members drank with three times three; when their attention was suddenly drawn to a distant part of the room, where a sprightly Stripling, who was seated by the swarthy Conjuror before mentioned, was singing the following Song:
Such respectable introductions were sure to win the approval of the gentlemen present, so they were all unanimously elected Knights of the Round Table. Almost immediately, the waiter brought over a large bowl of punch, and they toasted the new members with "three cheers." Then, their attention was suddenly captured by a lively young man sitting near the mentioned dark-skinned conjurer, who was singing the following song:
While this song was singing, universal silence prevailed, but an uproar of approbation followed, which lasted for some minutes, with a general call of encore, which however soon subsided, and the company was again restored to their former state of conversation; each party appearing distinct, indulged in such observations and remarks as were most suitable or agreeable to themselves.
While this song was being sung, there was total silence, but a loud cheer of approval followed that lasted for several minutes, with everyone calling for an encore. However, that soon faded, and the group returned to their previous conversations; each party seemed separate, enjoying comments and remarks that were most fitting or pleasing to them.
Bob was highly pleased with this description of a milling match; and as the Singer was sitting near the person who had excited a considerable portion of his attention at intervals in watching his tricks, in some of which great ingenuity was displayed, he asked his Cousin if he knew him.
Bob was really pleased with this description of a milling match, and since the Singer was sitting close to the person who had caught a lot of his attention while he watched his tricks, where a lot of creativity was shown, he asked his cousin if he knew him.
“Know him,” replied Tom, “to be sure I do; that is no other than Bitton, a well-known pugilist, who frequently exhibits at the Fives-Court; he is a Jew, and employs his time in giving lessons.”
“Know him,” replied Tom, “of course I do; that's none other than Bitton, a well-known boxer who often performs at the Fives-Court; he's Jewish and spends his time giving lessons.”
“Zounds!” said Mortimer, “he seems to have studied the art of Legerdemain as well as the science of Milling.”
“Wow!” said Mortimer, “he seems to have mastered both the tricks of sleight of hand and the skills of milling.”
“He is an old customer here,” said a little Gentleman at the opposite side of the table, drawing from his pocket a box of segars{1}—“Now, Sir,” continued he, “if you wish for a treat,” addressing himself to Tallyho, “allow me to select you one—there, Sir, is asgar like a nosegay—I had it from a friend of mine who only arrived yesterday—you don't often meet with such, I assure you.”
“He's a regular here,” said a small gentleman on the other side of the table, pulling out a box of cigars. “Now, Sir,” he continued, addressing Tallyho, “if you're in the mood for a treat, let me pick one for you—there, Sir, that's a cigar like a bouquet—I just got it from a friend of mine who arrived yesterday—you don't often come across something like this, I guarantee.”
Bob accepted the offer, and was in the act of lighting it, when Bitton approached toward their end of the room with some cards in his hand, from which Bob began to anticipate he would shew some tricks upon them.
Bob accepted the offer and was about to light it when Bitton walked over to their side of the room with some cards in his hand. Bob started to expect that he would show some tricks with them.
As soon as he came near the table, he had his eye upon the Hon. Tom Dashall, to whom he introduced 'himself by the presentation of a card, which announced his benefit for the next week at the Fives-Court, when all the prime lads of the ring had promised to exhibit.
As soon as he got close to the table, he focused on the Hon. Tom Dashall, to whom he introduced himself by handing over a card that announced his benefit for the following week at the Fives-Court, where all the top guys in the ring had committed to perform.
“Egad!” said Dashall, “it will be an excellent opportunity—what, will you take a trip that way and see the mighty men of fist?”
“Wow!” said Dashall, “it’ll be a great opportunity—what do you say, will you take a trip that way and check out the strong fighters?”
“With all my heart,” said Tallyho.
“With all my heart,” said Tallyho.
“And mine too,” exclaimed Mortimer.
“And mine too,” said Mortimer.
It was therefore quickly determined, and each of the party being supplied with a ticket, Bitton canvassed the room for other customers, after which he again retired to his seat.
It was soon figured out, and each person in the group received a ticket. Bitton looked around the room for other customers, then went back to his seat.
“Come,” said a smartly dressed Gentleman in a white hat, “we have heard a song from the other end of the room, I hope we shall be able to muster one here.”
“Come on,” said a sharply dressed man in a white hat, “we heard a song from the other side of the room, hopefully, we can find one here.”
This proposition was received with applause, and, upon Tom's giving a hint, Frank Harry was called upon—the glasses were filled, a toast was given, and the bowl was dispatched for a replenish; he then sung the following Song, accompanied with voice, manner, and action, well calculated to rivet attention and obtain applause:
This proposal was met with cheers, and when Tom suggested it, Frank Harry was asked to take the floor—the glasses were filled, a toast was made, and the bowl was sent for a refill; he then sang the following song, with a performance that grabbed attention and earned applause:
(Spoken)—Coome, coome (said the Bumpkin to himself,) Lunnun is the grand mart for every thing; there they have their Auction Marts, their Coffee Marts, and their Linen Marts: and as they are fond of a tid-bit of country pork, I see no reason why they should not have” a Pork and Bacon Mart—so get on (pig grunts,) I am glad to hear you have a voice on the subject, though it seems not quite in tune with my
(Spoken)—Come on, come on (the Bumpkin said to himself,) London is the big market for everything; they've got their Auction Markets, their Coffee Shops, and their Linen Stores: and since they like a tasty piece of country pork, I see no reason why they shouldn't have a Pork and Bacon Market—so let’s go (pig grunts,) I’m glad to hear you have something to say about it, even if it doesn’t quite match my tone.
(Spoken)—Hallo, (said the clown, scrambling up again, and scratching his broken head,) to be sure I have heard of sleight-of-hand, hocus-pocus and sich like; but by gum this here be a new manouvre called sleight of legs; however as no boanes be broken between us, I'll endeavour to make use on 'em once more in following the game in view: so here goes, with a
(Spoken)—Hello, (said the clown, getting back up and scratching his damaged head,) I've definitely heard of sleight-of-hand, tricks, and things like that; but wow, this is a new move called sleight of legs; however, since no bones are broken between us, I'll try to use them again while following the game in sight: so here goes, with a
(Spoken)—The genteeler and politer part of the world might feel a little inclined to call this piggish behaviour; but certainly after a long and fatiguing journey, nothing can be more refreshing than a drap of the cratur; and deeming this the regular mart for the good stuff, in he bolts, leaving his master to sing as long as he pleased—Hey derry, he deny, &c.
(Spoken)—The more refined and polite people might think this is rude behavior; but after a long and tiring trip, nothing is more refreshing than a drink of the good stuff; and considering this the regular place for the best, he dives in, leaving his master to sing as long as he wants—Hey derry, he deny, &c.
(Spoken)—Yes, there they lay all of a lump; and a precious group there was of them: The old women, well prun'd with snuff and twopenny, and bang-up with gin and bitters—the fair ones squalled; the clown growled like a bear with a broken head; the landlord, seeing all that could be seen as they roll'd over each other, stared, like a stuck pig! while this grand chorus of soft and sweet voices from the swinish multitude was accompanied by the pig with his usual grunt, and a
(Spoken)—Yeah, there they were all piled up; and what a colorful bunch they were: The old ladies, all spruced up with snuff and cheap booze, and tipsy on gin and bitters—the pretty ones were screaming; the clown grumbled like a bear with a headache; the landlord, witnessing the chaos as they tumbled over each other, looked shocked, like a deer in headlights! Meanwhile, this loud chorus of soft and sweet voices from the drunken crowd was joined by the pig with its familiar grunt, and a
(Spoken)—The devil take the pig! (said the Bumpkin) he is more trouble than enough. “The devil take you (said Miss Sukey Snuffle) for you are the greatest hog of the two; I dare say, if the truth was known, you are brothers.”—“I declare I never was so exposed in all my life (said Miss Delia Doldrum.) There's my beautiful bloom petticoat, that never was rumpled before in all my life—I'm quite shock'd!”—“Never mind, (said the landlord) nobody cares about it; tho' I confess it was a shocking affair.”—'I wish he and his pigs were in the horse-pond (continued she, endeavouring to hide her blushes with her hand)—Oh my—oh my!'—“What?” (said Boniface)—'Oh, my elbow! (squall'd out Miss Emilia Mumble) I am sure I shall never get over it.'—“Oh yes you will (continued he) rise again, cheer your spirits with another drop of old Tom, and you'll soon be able to sing
(Spoken)—The devil take the pig! (said the Bumpkin) he's more trouble than he's worth. “The devil take you (said Miss Sukey Snuffle) because you’re the biggest hog of the two; I bet if the truth came out, you two would be brothers.” — “I can’t believe I’ve ever felt so exposed in my life (said Miss Delia Doldrum). There’s my beautiful bloom petticoat, which has never been wrinkled before—I'm quite shocked!” — “Never mind, (said the landlord) nobody really cares about it; though I admit it was a shocking situation.” — “I wish he and his pigs were in the horse-pond (she continued, trying to hide her blushes with her hand)—Oh my—oh my!” — “What?” (said Boniface) — “Oh, my elbow! (squealed Miss Emilia Mumble) I’m sure I’ll never get over it.” — “Oh yes you will (he continued), just lift your spirits with another drop of old Tom, and you’ll be able to sing soon enough.”
(Spoken)—By gum (said he to himself, as he turn'd from the door) if the Lunneners likes country pork, country pork doant seem to like they; and if this be the success I'm to expect in this mighty great town in search of the Grand Mart, I'll come no more, for I thinks as how its all a flax; therefore I'll make myself contented to set at home in my own chimney corner in the country, and sing
(Spoken)—Wow (he said to himself as he turned away from the door), if the people from London like country pork, country pork doesn’t seem to like them; and if this is the kind of success I can expect in this huge city while looking for the Grand Market, I won’t come back. I think it’s all just a hassle; so I’ll be happy to stay home in my own cozy corner in the country and sing.
This song had attracted the attention of almost every one in the room; there was a spirit and vivacity in the singer, combined with a power of abruptly changing his voice, to give effect to the different passages, and a knowledge of music as well as of character, which gave it an irresistible charm; and the company, who had assembled round him, at the close signified their approbation by a universal shout of applause.
This song captured the attention of almost everyone in the room; there was an energy and liveliness in the singer, along with the ability to suddenly change his voice to enhance different parts, and a deep understanding of both music and personality, which made it incredibly captivating. The crowd that had gathered around him expressed their approval at the end with a loud cheer of applause.
All went on well—songs, toasts and sentiments—punch, puns and witticisms, were handed about in abundance; in the mean time, the room began to wear an appearance of thinness, many of the boxes were completely deserted, and the Knights of the Bound Table were no longer surrounded by their Esquires—still the joys of the bowl were exhilarating, and the conversation agreeable, though at times a little more in a strain of vociferation than had been manifested at the entrance of our party. It was no time to ask questions as to the names and occupations of the persons by whom he was surrounded; and Bob, plainly perceiving Frank Harry was getting into Queer Street, very prudently declined all interrogatories for the present, making, however, a determination within himself to know more of the house and the company.
Everything was going great—songs, toasts, and good vibes—punch, jokes, and clever remarks were flowing freely; meanwhile, the room started to look a bit empty, many of the boxes were completely deserted, and the Knights of the Bound Table were no longer surrounded by their Esquires. Still, the fun of the drinks was uplifting, and the conversation was enjoyable, although at times a bit louder than when our group first arrived. It wasn't a good time to ask about the names and jobs of the people around him; Bob, clearly noticing that Frank Harry was getting a bit lost, wisely avoided any questions for the moment, but he made a mental note to find out more about the place and the crowd.
Mortimer also discovered symptoms of lush-logic, for though he had an inclination to keep up the chaff, his dictionary appeared to be new modelled, and his lingo abridged by repeated clips at his mother tongue, by which he afforded considerable food for laughter.
Mortimer also noticed signs of lush-logic, because even though he wanted to keep up the banter, his dictionary seemed to be updated, and his language was shortened through repeated cuts to his mother tongue, which provided plenty of material for laughter.
Perceiving this, Tallyho thought it prudent to give his Cousin a hint, which was immediately taken, and the party broke up.[292]
Noticing this, Tallyho figured it would be smart to give his cousin a clue, which was quickly picked up, and the group dispersed.[292]
CHAPTER XIX
UPON leaving the house, it was quickly discovered that Mortimer was at sea without a rudder or compass, but was still enabled to preserve the true line of beauty, which is said to be in a flowing curve; Merry well was magnanimous, Frank Harry moppy, and all of them rather muggy. Harry was going Eastward, and the remainder of the party Westward; it was half-past one in the morning—the weather had cleared up as their brains had been getting foggy.
UPON leaving the house, it was quickly discovered that Mortimer was lost at sea without a rudder or compass, but he managed to keep the true line of beauty, which is said to be in a flowing curve; Merry was generous, Frank was gloomy, and all of them were a bit hazy. Harry was heading East, while the rest of the group went West; it was 1:30 in the morning—the weather had cleared up just as their minds were becoming unclear.
Tom proposed a rattler.
Tom suggested a rattler.
Frank Harry swore by the Bacchanalian divinity they might ride in the rumble-tumble if they liked, but none of it for him, and began to stammer out
Frank Harry swore by the Bacchanalian god that they could ride in the chaos if they wanted, but not him, and started to stammer out
During this time, having turned to the right on leaving the Woolpack, instead of the left, they were pursuing their way down Gracechurch Street, in a line with London Bridge, without discovering their mistake; nor were [293] they aware of the situation they were in till they reached the Monument.
During this time, after turning right instead of left when leaving the Woolpack, they were making their way down Gracechurch Street, in line with London Bridge, without realizing their mistake; they didn’t realize where they were until they reached the Monument.
“Zounds!” said Tom, “we are all wrong here.”
“Wow!” said Tom, “we’re all mistaken here.”
“All right,” said Merrywell—“all right, my boys—go it, my kidwhys.”
“All right,” said Merrywell—“all right, guys—go for it, my little ones.”
Bob hearing his Cousin's exclamation, began to make enquiries.
Bob, hearing his cousin's shout, started to ask questions.
“Never mind,” said Tom, “we shall get housed presently—I have it—I know the shop—it is but seldom I get out of the way, so come along—I dare say we shall see some more fun yet.”
“Never mind,” said Tom, “we’ll find a place to stay soon—I know the spot—it’s not often I go off the beaten path, so let’s go—I bet we’ll have some more fun along the way.”
Saying this, he led the way down Thames street and in a short time introduced them to the celebrated house in Dark-House Lane, kept open at all hours of the night for the accommodation of persons coming to market, and going off by the Gravesend boats and packets early in the morning.
Saying this, he led the way down Thames Street and soon introduced them to the famous house on Dark-House Lane, which was open all night to accommodate people coming to the market and leaving on the Gravesend boats and ferries early in the morning.
On entering this house of nocturnal convenience, a wide field for observation was immediately opened to the mind of Dashall: he was no novice to the varieties of character generally to be found within its walls; and he anticipated an opportunity of imparting considerable information to his Cousin, though somewhat clogg'd by his companions; being known however at the bar, he found no difficulty in providing them with beds: which being accomplished,
On entering this house of nocturnal convenience, a wide field for observation immediately opened up to Dashall's mind: he was no stranger to the different types of characters typically found within its walls; and he looked forward to the opportunity to share a lot of information with his Cousin, even though he was somewhat hindered by his companions. However, since he was known at the bar, he had no trouble arranging beds for them, which he successfully managed,
“Now,” said Tom, “for a new scene in Real Life. Here we are situated at Billingsgate, on the banks of the Thames; in another hour it will be all alive—we will refresh ourselves with coffee, and then look around us; but while it is preparing, we will take a survey of the interior—button up—tie a silk handkerchief round your neck, and we may perhaps escape suspicion of being mere lookers on; by which means we shall be enabled to mingle with the customers in the tap-room, and no doubt you will see some rum ones.”
“Now,” said Tom, “for a new scene in Real Life. Here we are at Billingsgate, on the banks of the Thames; in another hour, it will be bustling—we’ll grab some coffee, and then take a look around; but while it’s being prepared, let’s check out the interior—button up—tie a silk handkerchief around your neck, and maybe we can avoid being seen as just onlookers; by doing that, we’ll be able to blend in with the customers in the tap-room, and I’m sure you’ll see some interesting characters.”
They now entered the tap or general room, which exhibited an appearance beyond the powers of description.
They now entered the bar or main lounge, which looked beyond what words could explain.
In one corner lay a Sailor fast asleep, having taken so much ballast on board as to prevent the possibility of any longer attending to the log, but with due precaution resting his head on a bundle which he intended to take on board his ship with him in the morning, and apparently well guarded by a female on each side; in another was a weather-beaten Fisherman in a Guernsey frock and a thick [294] woollen night-cap, who, having just arrived with a cargo of fish, was toiling away time till the commencement of the market with a pipe and a pint, by whose side was seated a large Newfoundland dog, whose gravity of countenance formed an excellent contrast with that of a man who was entertaining the Fisherman with a history of his adventures through the day, and who in return was allowed to participate in the repeatedly filled pint—a Waterman in his coat and badge ready for a customer—and two women, each having a shallow basket for the purpose of supplying themselves with fish at the first market for the next day's sale.
In one corner, a Sailor lay fast asleep, having taken on so much weight that he could no longer keep track of the log. He had thoughtfully rested his head on a bundle he planned to take on his ship in the morning and seemed well-protected by a woman on either side of him. In another area was a weather-worn Fisherman, wearing a Guernsey sweater and a thick wool nightcap, who had just arrived with a catch of fish. He was passing the time until the market opened with a pipe and a pint, next to him sat a large Newfoundland dog, whose serious expression contrasted sharply with that of a man animatedly sharing stories of his adventures from the day. This man, in turn, was allowed to join in on the pint that was repeatedly refilled. A Waterman was there in his coat and badge, ready for a fare, along with two women, each with a shallow basket, preparing to buy fish for the next day's market.
?Going to Gravesend, Gentlemen?' enquired the Waterman, as Tom and Bob took their seats near him.
?Going to Gravesend, gentlemen?' asked the Waterman, as Tom and Bob settled into their seats near him.
“No,” was the reply.
“No,” was the response.
“Beg pardon, Sir; thought as how you was going down, and mought want a boat, that's all; hope no offence.”
"Excuse me, Sir; I thought you might be going down and might need a boat, that's all; I hope it's not a problem."
“I vas down at the Frying Pan in Brick Lane yesterday, (said the communicative adventurer;) Snivelling Bill and Carrotty Poll was there in rum order—you know Carrotty? Poll? so Poll, (Good health to you) you knows how gallows lushy she gets—veil, as I vas saying, she had had a good day vith her fish, and bang she comes back to Bill—you knows she's rather nutty upon Bill, and according to my thinking they manages things pretty veil together, only you see as how she is too many for him: so, vhen she comes back, b———tme if Bill vasn't a playing at skittles, and hadn't sold a dab all day; howsomdever he was a vinning the lush, so you know Bill didn't care—but, my eyes! how she did blow him up vhen she com'd in and see'd him just a going to bowl and tip, she tipp'd him a vollopper right across the snout vhat made the skittles dance again, and bang goes the bowl at her sconce instead of the skittles: it vas lucky for her it did not hit her, for if it had, I'll be d———d if ever she'd a cried Buy my live flounders any more—he vas at play vith Sam Stripe the tailor; so the flea-catcher he jumps in between 'em, and being a piece-botcher, he thought he could be peace-maker, but it voudn't do, tho' he jump'd about like a parch'd pea in a frying-pan—Poll called him Stitch louse, bid him pick up his needles and be off—Bill vanted to get at Poll, Poll vanted to get at Bill—and between them the poor Tailor got more stripes upon his jacket than there is colours in a harlequin's breeches at Bartlemy Fair—Here's good health to you—it was a [295] bodkin to a but of brandy poor Snip didn't skip out of this here vorld into that 'are?”
“I was down at the Frying Pan on Brick Lane yesterday,” said the talkative adventurer. “Snivelling Bill and Carrotty Poll were there in a bad mood—you know Carrotty? Poll? So Poll, (cheers to you), you know how ridiculously drunk she gets—well, like I was saying, she had a good day with her fish, and then she comes back to Bill—you know she's kind of crazy about Bill, and in my opinion, they manage things pretty well together, but the problem is, she’s too much for him. So when she comes back, bless me if Bill wasn’t playing skittles and hadn’t sold a single fish all day; however, he was winning some drinks, so you know Bill didn’t care—but wow! how she let him have it when she walked in and saw him about to bowl—she slapped him right across the face, which made the skittles dance, and then the ball went flying toward her head instead of the skittles. It was lucky it didn’t hit her, because if it had, I swear she’d never have shouted 'Buy my live flounders' again—he was playing with Sam Stripe the tailor; so the flea-catcher jumped in between them, and being a meddler, he thought he could settle things down, but it didn’t work, though he jumped around like a dried pea in a frying pan—Poll called him Stitch Louse, told him to pick up his needles and scram—Bill wanted to get at Poll, Poll wanted to get at Bill—and in between them, the poor tailor got more bruises on his jacket than there are colors in a harlequin's pants at Bartholomew Fair—Here's to your health—it was a [295] pain to a bottle of brandy, poor Snip didn't skip out of this world into the next, did he?”
“And how did they settle it?” enquired the Fisherman.
“And how did they resolve it?” asked the Fisherman.
?I'll tell you all about it: I never see'd such a b———dy lark in all my life; poor Sam is at all times as thin as a thread-paper, and being but the ninth part of a man, he stood no chance between a man and a voman—Bill vas bleeding at the konk like a half-killed hog, and Carrotty Moll, full of fire and fury, vas defending herself vith her fish-basket—Billy vas a snivelling, Poll a stoearing, and the poor Tailor in a funk—thinks I to myself, this here vont never do—so up I goes to Poll—Poll, says I———' To the devil I pitch you,' says she—only you know I knows Poll veil enough—she tried to sneak it over me, but she found as how I know'd better—Poll, says I, hold your luff—give us no more patter about this here rum rig—I'll give cost price for the fish, and you shall have the money; and while I was bargaining with her, d———n me if Bill and the Tailor vasn't a milling avay in good style, till Stripe's wife comes in, gives Snivelling Billy a cross-buttock and bolted off vith her fancy, like as the song says, The devil took the tailor
"I'll tell you all about it: I've never seen such a crazy scene in my life; poor Sam is always as thin as a piece of paper, and being barely a fraction of a man, he stood no chance against a man and a woman—Bill was bleeding from the head like a seriously injured hog, and Carrotty Moll, full of anger, was defending herself with her fish basket—Billy was whining, Poll was shouting, and the poor Tailor was panicking—so I thought to myself, this won't end well—so I went up to Poll—'Poll,' I said—'To hell with you,' she replied—only you know I know Poll well enough—she tried to trick me, but she found out I wasn't falling for it—'Poll,' I said, 'calm down—let's skip the nonsense about this crazy situation—I’ll pay you a fair price for the fish, and you'll get your money;' and while I was negotiating with her, I swear Bill and the Tailor were really going at it until Stripe's wife came in, knocked Snivelling Billy down and ran off with her guy, just like the song says, The devil took the tailor."
I never laugh'd so in all my life; I thought I should———'
I’ve never laughed so hard in my entire life; I thought I might———
At this moment a nod from the Landlord informed Tom his coffee was ready, when they were ushered into the parlour.
At that moment, a nod from the Landlord signaled to Tom that his coffee was ready as they were led into the parlor.
Bob, who had during the conversation in the other room, (which had occasionally been interrupted by the snores of the sleepy Sailor, the giggling of the Girls who appeared to have him in charge, and a growl from the dog,) been particularly attentive to the narration of this adventure, remarked that there was a peculiarity of dialect introduced, which, to a person coming out of the country, would have been wholly unintelligible.
Bob, who had been listening in on the conversation in the other room (which was occasionally interrupted by the snores of the sleepy Sailor, the giggles of the Girls who seemed to be looking after him, and a growl from the dog), noted that there was a unique way of speaking that, to someone coming from the countryside, would have been completely confusing.
“Yes,” replied Tom, “almost every trade and every calling of which the numerous inhabitants of this overgrown town is composed, has a language of its own, differing as widely from each other as those of provincials. Nor is this less observable in high life, where every one seems at times to aim at rendering himself conspicuous for some extraordinary mode of expression. But come, I [296] perceive the morning is shedding its rays upon us, and we shall be able to take a survey of the more general visitors to this place of extensive utility and resort—already you may hear the rumbling of carts in Thames Street, and the shrill voice of the Fishwives, who are preparing for a day's work, which they will nearly finish before two-thirds of the population leave their pillows. This market, which is principally supplied by fishing smacks and boats coming from the sea up the river Thames, and partly by land carriage from every distance within the limits of England, and part of Wales, is open every morning at day-light, and supplies the retailers for some miles round the Metropolis. The regular shop-keepers come here in carts, to purchase of what is called the Fish Salesman, who stands as it were between the Fisherman who brings his cargo to market and the Retailer; but there are innumerable hawkers of fish through the streets, who come and purchase for themselves at first hand, particularly of mackarel, herrings, sprats, lobsters, shrimps, flounders, soles, &c. and also of cod and salmon when in season, and at a moderate rate, composing an heterogeneous group of persons and characters, not easily to be met with elsewhere.” “Then,” said Bob, “there is a certainty of high and exalted entertainment;—I should suppose the supply of fish is very considerable.”
“Yes,” replied Tom, “almost every trade and profession in this sprawling town has its own language, differing as much from each other as regional dialects do. This is also true in high society, where everyone seems to want to stand out with some unique way of speaking. But come on, I [296] see the morning light breaking, and we can check out the general crowd coming to this popular spot—already you can hear the rumble of carts in Thames Street, and the loud calls of the Fishwives getting ready for a day’s work, which they’ll nearly finish before two-thirds of the population even get out of bed. This market, mainly supplied by fishing boats coming up the river Thames, and partly by shipments from all over England and parts of Wales, opens every morning at dawn, serving retailers for miles around the capital. The regular shopkeepers come here by cart to buy from the Fish Salesman, who acts as a middleman between the Fisherman bringing in his catch and the Retailer; but there are countless fish hawkers in the streets, who buy directly for themselves, especially mackerel, herring, sprat, lobster, shrimp, flounder, sole, etc., as well as cod and salmon when in season, all at reasonable prices. This creates a diverse group of people and characters that you don’t often find elsewhere.” “Then,” said Bob, “there's definitely going to be some top-notch entertainment; I imagine the fish supply must be quite impressive.”
“The quantity of fish consumed,” replied Tom, “in London is comparatively small, fish being excessively dear in general: and this is perhaps the most culpable defect in the supply of the capital, considering that the rivers of Great Britain and the seas round her coast teem with that food.—There are on an average about 2500 cargoes of fish, of 40 tons each, brought to Billingsgate, and about 20,000 tons by land carriage, making a total of about 120,000 tons; and the street venders form a sample of low life in all its situations.
“The amount of fish consumed,” Tom replied, “in London is relatively small, as fish is generally very expensive: and this is probably the most serious flaw in the capital’s supply, especially since the rivers of Great Britain and the seas around its coast are full of that food. On average, around 2,500 cargoes of fish, each weighing 40 tons, are brought to Billingsgate, along with about 20,000 tons transported by land, totaling roughly 120,000 tons; and the street vendors represent a snapshot of low life in all its forms.”
And the language you have already heard forms a part of what may be termed Cockneyism.”
And the language you've already heard is part of what might be called Cockneyism.
“Cockneyism,” said Bob, with an inquisitiveness in his countenance.
“Cockneyism,” said Bob, with a curious look on his face.
[297] “Yes,” continued Tom, “Cockney is universally known to be the contemptuous appellation given to an uneducated native of London, brought into life within the sound of Bow bell—pert and conceited, yet truly ignorant, they generally discover themselves by their mode of speech, notwithstanding they have frequent opportunities of hearing the best language; the cause, I apprehend, is a carelessness of every thing but the accumulation of money, which is considered so important with them—that they seem at all times to be in eager pursuit of it.
[297] “Yeah,” continued Tom, “Cockney is widely recognized as the insulting term used for an uneducated person from London, usually someone born near Bow bells. They can be pretty full of themselves but are genuinely clueless. You can easily spot them by how they talk, even though they often have chances to hear proper language. I think the reason for this is that they care about nothing but making money, which they view as extremely important—so they're always chasing after it.”
You will hear these gentry frequently deliver themselves in something like the following manner:
You will often hear these gentlemen express themselves in something like the following way:
“My eyes, Jim, vat slippy valking 'tis this here morning—I should ave fell'd right down if so be as how I adn't cotch'd ould of a postis—vere does you thinks I ave been? vy all the vay to Vapping Vail, an a top o Tower Hill—I seed a voman pillar'd—such scrouging and squeeging, and peltin vith heggs—ow funny!
“My eyes, Jim, what a slippery walk it is this morning—I would have fallen right down if I hadn't grabbed hold of a post—where do you think I have been? All the way to Vapping Vale and up on Tower Hill—I saw a woman propped up—such squeezing and squashing, and throwing with eggs—how funny!
“A female Fruit-seller will say to a Lady Oyster-dealer—Law, my dear Mrs. Melton, how ar you this cowld morning, Mem.?—the streets vil be nice and dirty—vel, for my part, I always likes dry vether—do your usband vork at Foxall still?—I likes to warm my cowld nose vith a pinch of your snuff—ow wery obliging—But come, I hear the bustle of Billingsgate, and you shall have a peep at the people. By this time they are all alive.”
“A female fruit seller will say to a lady oyster dealer—Well, my dear Mrs. Melton, how are you this cold morning, madam?—the streets will be nice and dirty—well, I for one always prefer dry weather—does your husband still work at Foxall?—I like to warm my cold nose with a pinch of your snuff—oh, very kind of you—But come, I hear the bustle of Billingsgate, and you can have a glimpse of the people. By now, they are all up and about.”
Bob laughed at his Cousin's specimens of cockney language, and they sallied forth, to make further observations.
Bob laughed at his cousin's examples of cockney language, and they set out to make more observations.
It was now a fine morning, the Sun shone with resplendent lustre upon all around them, and danced in playful dimples on the sportive Thames; there was however but little opportunity at the moment for them to contemplate subjects of this sort, their eyes and ears being wholly attracted by the passing and repassing of the persons desirous to sell or supply themselves with fish; Thames Street was almost blocked up with carts, and the hallooing and bawling of the different drivers, loading or unloading, formed an occasional symphony to the [298] continual hum of those who were moving in all directions to and from the market.
It was a beautiful morning, the sun shone brightly on everything around them, and sparkled playfully on the lively Thames; however, there was little time for them to think about such things, as their eyes and ears were completely focused on the people coming and going, wanting to sell or buy fish. Thames Street was nearly blocked with carts, and the shouting and yelling of different drivers, loading or unloading, created an occasional melody to the constant buzz of those moving to and from the market.
“By yer leaf” said a sturdy built fellow, sweating under a load of fish which appeared to press him almost down—“what the devil do you stand in the way for?”
“By your leave,” said a burly guy, sweating under a heavy load of fish that seemed to almost weigh him down. “What the hell are you standing in the way for?”
Bob, in stepping on one side to make room for this man to pass, unfortunately trod upon the toe of an Hibernian lady, who was bearing away a large basket of shrimps alive, and at the same time gave her arm so forcible a jerk with his elbow, as disengaged her hand from the load; by which means the whole cargo was overturned smack into the bosom of a smartly dressed youth in white ducks, who was conducting some Ladies on board one of the Gravesend boats. The confusion that followed is scarcely to be conceived—the agitation of Talt who at hearing the vociferated lamentations of the Irish woman—the spluttering of the disconcerted Dandy—the declaration of the owner of the shrimps, “that so help her God he should pay for her property”—the loud laughter of those around them, who appeared to enjoy the embarrassment of the whole party—and the shrimps hopping and jumping about amid the dirt and slush of the pavement, while the Ladies were hunting those which had fallen into the bosom of their conductor—formed a scene altogether, which, in spite of the confusion of his Cousin, almost convulsed the Hon. Tom Dashall with laughter, and which served but to increase the rancour of the owner of the shrimps, and the poor toe-suffering Irishwoman, the execrations of the Dandy Gentleman and his Ladies, and the miseries of poor Bob; to escape from which, he gave the Hibernian and her employer enough to purchase plaster for the one, and a fresh cargo for the other, and seizing Tom by the arm, dragged him away from the scene of his misfortunes in fishery.
Bob stepped aside to let a man pass but unfortunately stepped on the toe of an Irish lady, who was carrying a large basket of live shrimp. At the same time, he accidentally jerked her arm with his elbow, causing her to drop the entire load right into the lap of a sharply dressed young man in white pants, who was escorting some ladies onto one of the Gravesend boats. The chaos that ensued was unimaginable—Talt was agitated by the loud cries of the Irish woman, the flustered young man was flabbergasted, and the owner of the shrimp declared, “I swear I’ll pay for my things.” Laughter erupted from those nearby, who were clearly enjoying the embarrassment of everyone involved. The shrimp were jumping around in the dirt and slush on the pavement while the ladies tried to retrieve the ones that had fallen into their escort’s lap. The whole scene, despite Talt's confusion, nearly had Hon. Tom Dashall doubled over in laughter, while it only fueled the anger of the shrimp owner, the injured Irish woman, and the irritated young gentleman and his ladies, adding to Bob's misery. To escape the chaos, he gave the Irish lady and her employer enough money to buy a bandage for her toe and a fresh batch of shrimp, then grabbed Tom by the arm and pulled him away from the scene of misadventures.
Their progress however was presently impeded by a sudden scream, which appeared to come from a female, and .drew together almost all the people on the spot, it seemed as if it had been a preconcerted signal for a general muster, and it was quickly ascertained that fisty-cuffs were the order of the day, by the vociferations of the spectators, and the loud acclamations of “Go it, Poll—pitch it into her—mill her snitcher—veil done, Sail—all pluck—game to the back-bone—peppermint her upper-story, and grapple her knowledge-box—D———n my eyes, but that vas a good one, it [299] has altered her weather-cock and shifted her wind—There's your dairies—stand out of the way—Upon my sole you have overturned all my flounders—D———n you and your dabbs too.”
Their progress was suddenly stopped by a scream that seemed to come from a woman, which attracted almost everyone around. It felt like a prearranged signal for everyone to gather, and it quickly became clear that a fight was breaking out, based on the shouting from the onlookers and the loud cheers of “Go for it, Poll—give it to her—beat her up—give it your all—full of fight—brave to the core—show her who's boss, and take her down—D———n my eyes, that was a good hit, it [299] has changed her mood and direction—There’s your proof—get out of the way—You’ve messed up all my plans—D———n you and your nonsense too.”
Tom and Bob took up a favourable position for observation at the corner of a fish-stall, where they could quietly witness the combatants, and take a general survey of the proceedings.
Tom and Bob settled into a good spot for watching at the corner of a fish stall, where they could quietly observe the fighters and get an overall look at what was happening.
“Now,” said Tom, “here is a lark for you, a female fight.”
“Now,” said Tom, “here’s something fun for you, a girls' fight.”
“Fine salmon, or cod, Gentlemen,” said an elderly woman—“I wish I could tempt you to be customers.”
“Good salmon or cod, gentlemen,” said an older woman, “I wish I could convince you to be customers.”
“Well,” said Bob, “they are at it in good earnest.”
“Well,” Bob said, “they're really going for it.”
“O yes,” said the woman, “we always have it in real earnest, no sham—I wish Poll may sarve her out, for Sall is a d———d saucy b———h at all times.”
“O yes,” said the woman, “we always do it for real, no pretending—I hope Poll can take care of her, because Sall is a damn saucy b—h all the time.”
“And what have they quarrelled about?” inquired Dashall.
“And what have they argued about?” asked Dashall.
“Jealousy, Sir, nothing else; that there man in the night-cap, with the red ruff round his neck, is Sail's fancy man, and he sometimes lets her have a cargo of fish for services done and performed, you understand—and so Sail she comes down this morning, and she finds Poll having a phililoo with him, that's all; but I wish they would go and have it out somewhere else, for it spoils all business—Nance, go and get us a quartern of Jacky, that I may ax these Gentlemen to drink, for its a cold morning, and perhaps they are not used to be up so early.”
“Jealousy, sir, nothing more; that guy in the nightcap with the red ruff around his neck is Sail's boyfriend, and he sometimes gives her a load of fish for services rendered, you understand? So Sail comes down this morning and finds Poll having a chat with him, that’s all. But I wish they would take it somewhere else because it disrupts business. Nance, go and grab us a quarter of Jacky so I can offer these gentlemen a drink, since it’s a chilly morning, and maybe they’re not used to being up this early.”
Tom saw the drift of this in a moment, and taking the hint, supplied the needful to Nance, who was dispatched for the heart-cheering beverage, which they could perceive was in high reputation by those around them. The effluvia of the fish, the fumes of tobacco, and the reviving scent of the gin-bottle, rendered their olfactory salutations truly delightful. Nor could they escape the Fish-wife without becoming participators in the half pint of blue ruin.
Tom quickly understood what was happening and, getting the hint, gave Nance what she needed to go get the uplifting drink, which everyone around them clearly valued. The smell of the fish, the smoke from the tobacco, and the refreshing aroma of the gin bottle made the situation truly enjoyable for their senses. They also couldn't leave the Fish-wife without indulging in a half pint of cheap gin.
“Come,” said Tom, “we will now stroll a little further, and take a survey of the street; but first we will give a look here.
“Come on,” said Tom, “let’s walk a bit further and check out the street; but first, let’s take a look here.”
“This,” said he, “is the Custom House, a splendid building recently erected, in consequence of the old one being demolished by fire in 1814.” [300] “It is, indeed,” replied Bob, admiring the south front, which is executed in Portland stone.
“This,” he said, “is the Custom House, a beautiful building recently built because the old one was destroyed by fire in 1814.” [300] “It really is,” Bob replied, admiring the south front, which is made of Portland stone.
“Do you observe,” continued Tom, “the central compartment, which comprises what is called the Long Room, and which we will visit presently, is quite plain, except the attic, which is elegantly ornamented?—that alto-relievo contains allegorical representations of the arts and sciences, as connected with and promoting the commerce and industry of the nation—that to the west, a representation of the costume and character of the various nations with whom we hold intercourse in our commercial relations—in the centre, under the large massive dial-plate, are inscribed in large bronze letters the names of the founders and the date of its erection—the figures which support the dial in a recumbent position are emblematical of industry and plenty—that bold projection in the centre, gives a suitable character to the King's warehouse, and forms an appropriate support to the imperial arms upheld by the attributes of Ocean and Commerce.”
“Do you see,” Tom continued, “the main area, which includes what’s called the Long Room, and which we’ll check out soon, is pretty basic, except for the attic, which is beautifully decorated?—that alto-relievo shows symbolic representations of the arts and sciences, as they relate to and support the commerce and industry of the nation—that to the west, there’s a depiction of the costumes and characteristics of the various nations we trade with—in the center, beneath the large, solid dial-plate, the names of the founders and the date of its construction are engraved in large bronze letters—the figures holding up the dial are lying down and represent industry and abundance—that striking structure in the center gives a distinct character to the King's warehouse and serves as a fitting support to the imperial arms carried by symbols of Ocean and Commerce.”
Bob gazed with admiration and delight on this truly admirable and extensive pile of national architecture; the gentle breeze from the river, the occasional dash of the oar, and the activity which appeared on board the different vessels; together with the view of London Bridge on one side, over which he could perceive pedestrians and vehicles of various kinds passing and repassing, and the Tower on the other, conspired to heighten and give a most imposing effect to the scene.
Bob looked at this impressive and expansive piece of national architecture with admiration and joy. The gentle breeze from the river, the occasional splash of an oar, and the hustle and bustle on the different boats, along with the sight of London Bridge on one side, where he could see pedestrians and vehicles going back and forth, and the Tower on the other side, all contributed to making the scene feel even more grand.
“The designs,” said Tallyho, “are truly creditable to the taste and science of the architect.”
“The designs,” said Tallyho, “really reflect the skill and style of the architect.”
“And this Quay in front, is intended to be enlarged by filling up a part of the river; besides which, a new wall and quay are to be formed from the Tower to Billingsgate, and numerous other improvements are projected in the contiguous streets and lanes.” “Not before it is necessary,” was the reply. “It would be impossible,” continued Dashall, “to visit all the apartments this building contains; we will however have a look at the Long Room, and as we proceed I will endeavour to give you some further information. We are now entering the East wing, which is a counterpart of that on the West, having like this a grand stair-case with a double flight of steps, which conduct to a lobby at each end of the long room, lighted by [301] these vertical lantern-lights, the ceilings being perforated in square compartments, and glazed. These lobbies serve to check the great draughts of air which would otherwise flow through the room if it opened directly from the stair-case.”
“And this quay in front is set to be expanded by filling in part of the river; in addition, a new wall and quay will be built from the Tower to Billingsgate, along with numerous other improvements planned for the nearby streets and alleys.” “Not before it’s necessary,” was the response. “It would be impossible,” Dashall continued, “to tour all the rooms this building has; however, we will take a look at the Long Room, and as we move along, I’ll do my best to give you more information. We are now entering the East wing, which mirrors the West wing, featuring a grand staircase with a double flight of steps leading to a lobby at each end of the Long Room, illuminated by these vertical lantern lights. The ceilings are designed with square panels and glass. These lobbies help control the strong drafts of air that would otherwise sweep through the room if it opened directly from the staircase.”
They now entered the Long Room, the imposing appearance of which had its due effect upon Tallyho.
They now entered the Long Room, and its impressive look had a significant impact on Tallyho.
“Bless me!” cried he in a state of ecstasy, “this is a room to boast of indeed.”
“Wow!” he exclaimed ecstatically, “this is definitely a room to brag about.”
“Yes,” replied his Cousin, “there is not such another room in Europe; it is 190 feet long by 66 wide, and proportionably high, divided into three compartments by these eight massive pillars, from which, as you perceive, spring the three domes, which are so richly ornamented, and ventilated through the centre of each.”
“Yes,” replied his cousin, “there's no other room like it in Europe; it's 190 feet long and 66 feet wide, and it's proportionately high, divided into three sections by these eight massive pillars, from which, as you can see, rise the three domes, which are so beautifully decorated and ventilated through the center of each.”
“And all of stone?” inquired Bob.
“And everything is stone?” Bob asked.
“Not exactly so,” was the reply; “the floor (excepting the situation of the officers and clerks) is of stone, but the walls and ceilings are drawn out and tinted in imitation.”
“Not quite,” was the reply; “the floor (aside from where the officers and clerks are) is made of stone, but the walls and ceilings are painted and designed to look like it.”
“And what are these antique pedestals for, merely ornaments?”
“And what are these old pedestals for, just decorations?”
Tom was pleased at this inquiry, and with a smile of satisfaction replied—“No, these pedestals do double duty, and are something like what the rural poet, Goldsmith, describes in his Deserted Village—
Tom was happy about this question, and with a satisfied smile replied, “No, these pedestals serve dual purposes and are somewhat similar to what the rural poet, Goldsmith, talks about in his Deserted Village—
These are ornamental during the summer, but useful in the winter; they contain fire-places completely hid from view.”
These are decorative in the summer but practical in the winter; they have fireplaces that are completely hidden from sight.”
“Fire-places,” re-echoed Bob.
"Fireplaces," echoed Bob.
“Yes,” continued his Cousin; “the smoke, descending, passes through the piers on each side, and by their means a sufficient warmth is at all times kept up in the room.”
“Yes,” continued his cousin; “the smoke, coming down, goes through the columns on each side, and because of them, a comfortable warmth is always maintained in the room.”
“That is a capital contrivance,” said Tallyho.
"That's a great idea," said Tallyho.
“Then, to prevent the possibility of sustaining any serious injury from fire, on the ground, one and two pair stories, the communication is cut off by means of iron doors, which run on wheels in chase in the centre of the walls, and are moved backward and forward by a windlass; which doors are closed every evening, and would effectually prevent a communication beyond their boundaries. Fire-proof rooms also, as repositories for valuable books [302] and papers, are provided on each floor, where the important documents of the establishment are deposited every evening, and removed in trunks to the respective offices. There are in all 121 rooms devoted to various offices. This however is the principal: here the general business is transacted, particularly for all foreign concerns, both inwards and outwards. The Ship Master first makes the report of the cargo here; the entries of which, either for payment of duties, warehousing, or subsequent exportation, are all passed with the respective officers in this room. The business of the customs is managed by nine Commissioners, whose jurisdiction extends over all parts of England. We will now pass out at the west wing, adjourn to yon Tavern, refresh and refit, and after which a further walk.”
“Then, to avoid any serious injuries from fire on the ground and first two floors, access is blocked off by iron doors that slide on wheels along the center of the walls and are opened and closed with a winch. These doors are shut every evening and effectively prevent any passage beyond their boundaries. Fireproof rooms are also available on each floor to store valuable books [302] and documents, where important files of the organization are stored every evening and transported in trunks to the respective offices. There are a total of 121 rooms assigned to various offices. However, this is the main one: here, the general business is conducted, especially for all foreign matters, both incoming and outgoing. The Ship Master first reports the cargo here; the entries, whether for duty payments, storage, or later export, are all processed with the respective officers in this room. The customs operations are overseen by nine Commissioners, whose authority covers all areas of England. Now, let's exit through the west wing, head over to that Tavern, get some refreshments, and afterwards take a further walk.”
“With all my heart,” said Tallyho.
“With all my heart,” said Tallyho.
“What ho, Master B———,” said Dashall, saluting the Landlord as he entered the Tavern—“How does the world wag with you?—send us some soda water—the newspaper—let somebody clean our boots—give us pen, ink and paper, and prepare us some breakfast with all speed, but no fish, mind that.”
“What’s up, Master B———,” said Dashall, greeting the Landlord as he walked into the Tavern—“How’s everything going with you?—bring us some soda water—the newspaper—get someone to clean our boots—give us pen, ink, and paper, and get us some breakfast quickly, but no fish, remember that.”
The Landlord bowed assent to his honourable customer; and by the time they were ready, their orders were complied with.
The landlord nodded in agreement to his respected guest; and by the time they were prepared, their requests were fulfilled.
“Pray,” inquired Dashall of the obliging Landlord, who came in to ask if they were supplied with all they wished for, “did you ever recover any thing from that dashing Blade that so obligingly ordered his dinner here?”
“Pray,” asked Dashall of the accommodating Landlord, who stepped in to check if they had everything they wanted, “have you ever managed to get anything back from that flashy guy who so generously ordered his dinner here?”
“Never got a halfpenny—no no, he was not one of those sort of gentry—nor do I ever wish to see such again in my house.”
“Never got a penny—no, he was not that kind of person—nor do I ever want to see someone like that in my house again.”
This was uttered in a tone of discontent, which evidently shewed he had no relish for the conversation.
This was said in a dissatisfied tone, which clearly showed he had no appreciation for the conversation.
Dashall could not refrain from laughter; upon perceiving which, the Landlord withdrew with a loud slam of the door, and left his customers to enjoy their mirth.
Dashall couldn't help but laugh; noticing this, the landlord stormed out, slamming the door behind him, and left his customers to enjoy their fun.
“What are you laughing at?” cried Bob.
“What are you laughing at?” yelled Bob.
“Why,” continued his Cousin,
“Why,” his cousin continued,
[303] And there are many pleasant fellows now to be met with; but you shall have the tale as I had it: This house has been celebrated for furnishing excellent dinners, and the cookery of fish in particular; consequently it has been the resort of the Bucks, the Bloods, and the dashing Swells of the town, and I myself have been well entertained here. It will therefore not be wondered at that its accommodations should attract the notice of a Sharper whose name and character were well known, but who was in person a total stranger to the unsuspecting Landlord, whom however he did not fail to visit.
[303] There are many nice people around these days, but I'll share the story as I heard it: This place is famous for serving fantastic dinners, especially when it comes to fish; because of this, it's been a hotspot for wealthy and stylish folks in the city, and I've also enjoyed my time here. So, it’s no surprise that the amenities caught the eye of a con artist whose name and reputation were well known, but who was an absolute stranger to the unsuspecting landlord, whom he certainly made a point to visit.
Calling one afternoon for the purpose of seeing how the land lay, in high twig, and fashionably dressed, he was supplied with a bottle of sherry, and requested the landlord to take a part with him—praised the wine, talked of the celebrity of his house for fish, and gave an order for a dinner for sixteen friends during the following week. The bait was swallowed,
Calling one afternoon to see how things were going, dressed sharply and stylishly, he was given a bottle of sherry and asked the landlord to join him. He complimented the wine, mentioned the restaurant's reputation for fish, and ordered dinner for sixteen friends for the next week. The bait was taken,
“For a little flattery is sometimes well.”
"For a bit of flattery can be nice sometimes."
?But are your wines of the first quality? (inquired the visitor;) for good eating, you know, deserves good drinking, and without that we shall be like fishes out of water.'—' Oh, Sir, no man in London can supply you better than myself (was the reply;) but, if you please, you shall select which you may like best, my stock is extensive and good.' He was consequently invited into the cellar, and tasted from several binns, particularly marking what he chose to conceive the best. Upon returning to the parlour again—' Bless me, (cried he) I have had my pocket pick'd this morning, and lost my handkerchief—can you oblige me with the loan of one for present use? and I will send it back by one of my servants.'
"But are your wines top quality?" the visitor asked. "Good food deserves good wine, and without that, we’ll be like fish out of water.” "Oh, sir, no one in London can provide you with better than I can," came the reply. "If you’d like, you can choose what you think is best; my stock is extensive and good." He was then invited into the cellar to taste from several bins, particularly noting what he believed to be the best. Upon returning to the parlor, he exclaimed, "Oh no, I’ve been pickpocketed this morning and lost my handkerchief. Can you lend me one for now? I’ll make sure to send it back with one of my servants."
?Certainly, Sir,' was the reply; and the best pocket-handkerchief was quickly produced, with another bottle of wine, the flavour of which he had approved while below. He then wrote a letter, which he said must be dispatched immediately by a Ticket-porter to Albemarle Street, where he must wait for an answer. This being done, lie desired a coach to be called—asked the Landlord if he had any silver he could accommodate him with, as he had occasion to go a little further, but would soon return. This being complied with, by the Landlord giving him twenty shillings with the expectation of receiving a [304] pound note in return, he threw himself into the coach, wished his accommodating Host good afternoon, promised to return in less than an hour, but has never shewn his face here since. Poor B———don't like to hear the circumstance mentioned.”
"Certainly, Sir," was the reply, and the best pocket handkerchief was quickly brought out, along with another bottle of wine that he had liked while downstairs. He then wrote a letter that he said needed to be sent immediately by a ticket porter to Albemarle Street, where he would wait for a response. Once that was taken care of, he asked for a coach to be called and inquired if the landlord had any change available since he needed to go a little further but would be back soon. The landlord complied, giving him twenty shillings with the expectation of getting a pound note in return. He then jumped into the coach, wished his accommodating host a good afternoon, promised to return in less than an hour, but he never showed his face here again. Poor B——— doesn’t like to hear about it.
“Zounds!” said Tallyho, “somebody was green upon the occasion; I thought people in London were more guarded, and not so easily to be done. And who did he prove to be after all?”
“Wow!” said Tallyho, “someone was naive during this situation; I thought people in London were more cautious and not so easily tricked. And who did he turn out to be, after all?”
“No other than the well-known Major Semple, whose depredations of this sort upon the public rendered him so notorious.”
“No one other than the famous Major Semple, whose actions like these made him so infamous in the public eye.”
Having finished their repast, Tom was for a move; and they took their way along Thames Street in the direction for Tower Hill.
Having finished their meal, Tom was ready to go; and they made their way along Thames Street heading toward Tower Hill.
CHAPTER XX
“THE building before us,” said Tom, “is the Tower of London, which was formerly a palace inhabited by the various Sovereigns of this country till the reign of Queen Elizabeth. Fitzstephens says, it was originally built by Julius Cæsar; but I believe there is no proof of the truth of this assertion, except that one of the towers is to this day called Cæsar's Tower.”
“THE building before us,” said Tom, “is the Tower of London, which used to be a palace where different monarchs of this country lived until Queen Elizabeth's reign. Fitzstephens claims it was originally built by Julius Caesar; however, I think there isn't any solid evidence to support that claim, other than the fact that one of the towers is still called Caesar's Tower.”
“It seems a place of great security,” said Bob.
“It feels like a really safe place,” said Bob.
“Yes—William the Conqueror erected a fortress on part of its present site, to overawe the inhabitants of London on his gaining possession of the City, and about twelve years afterwards, in 1078, he erected a larger building than the first, either on the site of the former or near it. This building, repaired or rebuilt by succeeding Princes, is that which is now called the White Tower.”
“Yes—William the Conqueror built a fortress on part of the current site to intimidate the people of London after he took over the City, and about twelve years later, in 1078, he constructed a larger structure than the first, either on the same spot or close to it. This building, repaired or rebuilt by later monarchs, is what we now refer to as the White Tower.”
“It appears altogether to be a very extensive building,” said Tallyho; “and what have we here? (turning his eyes to the left)—the modern style of those form a curious contrast to that we are now viewing.”
“It looks like a really large building,” said Tallyho; “and what do we have here? (turning his eyes to the left)—the modern style of those makes an interesting contrast to what we’re looking at now.”
“That is called Trinity Square, and the beautiful edifice in the centre is the Trinity House; it is a new building, of stone, having the advantage of rising ground for its site, and of a fine area in the front.” [306] “The Trinity House,” reiterated Bob, “some ecclesiastical establishment, I presume, from its title?”
"That’s called Trinity Square, and the beautiful building in the center is the Trinity House; it’s a new stone structure built on a raised area, which gives it a nice front space." [306] "The Trinity House," Bob repeated, "some kind of religious establishment, I assume, based on its name?"
“There you are wrong,” continued Dashall; “it is a Corporation, which was founded in the year 1515 by Henry VIII. and consists of a Master, four Wardens, eighteen Elder Brothers, in whom is vested the direction of the Company, and an indefinite number of younger Brothers; for any sea-faring man may be admitted into the Society by that name, but without any part of the controul of its concerns. The elder Brethren are usually selected from the most experienced commanders in the navy and the merchants' service, with a few principal persons of his Majesty's Government.”
“There you’re mistaken,” continued Dashall; “it’s a Corporation that was founded in 1515 by Henry VIII. It consists of a Master, four Wardens, and eighteen Elder Brothers, who have the leadership of the Company, along with an unlimited number of younger Brothers; any sea-faring man can be admitted into the Society under that title, but without any control over its affairs. The Elder Brothers are typically chosen from the most experienced commanders in the navy and the merchant service, along with a few key figures from His Majesty’s Government.”
“But what, in the name of wonder,” inquired Bob, “have Sailors to do with the Trinity?”
“But what, in the name of wonder,” asked Bob, “do sailors have to do with the Trinity?”
“As much as other persons,” was the reply; “if it is the anchor of hope, as we are taught, they have as great a right to rely upon it as any body else—besides, the names given to houses and places in London have nothing to do with their occupations or situations, any more than the common language of life has to do with nature; else why have we a Waterloo House in the vicinity of St. Giles's for the sale of threads, laces, and tapes—a Fleet for the confinement of prisoners, or the King's Bench devoted to the same purposes, unless it is,
“As much as anyone else,” was the reply; “if it is the anchor of hope, as we’re taught, they have just as much right to depend on it as anyone else—besides, the names given to houses and places in London have nothing to do with their functions or locations, just like everyday language has nothing to do with nature; otherwise, why do we have a Waterloo House near St. Giles's for selling threads, laces, and tapes—a Fleet for holding prisoners, or the King's Bench used for the same purposes, unless it is,
Though London contains a round of delights and conveniences scarcely to be equalled, it is at the same time a combination of incongruities as difficult to be conceived. The denomination of this House has therefore nothing to do with the business to which it is devoted. The body which transacts its concerns is called The Master, Wardens and Assistants, of the Guild, or Fraternity of the most glorious and undivided Trinity, and of St. Clement, in the parish of Deptford, Stroud, in the county of Kent.”
Though London has a range of delights and conveniences that are hard to match, it is also full of contradictions that are tough to understand. The name of this House is unrelated to the work it does. The group that handles its affairs is called The Master, Wardens and Assistants, of the Guild, or Fraternity of the most glorious and undivided Trinity, and of St. Clement, in the parish of Deptford, Stroud, in the county of Kent.
“An admirable illustration of your assertion,” replied Bob; “and pray may I be allowed, without appearing romantic or unnecessarily inquisitive, to ask what are the objects of the Institution?”
“That's a great example of what you're saying,” replied Bob; “and may I ask, without sounding overly sentimental or nosy, what the goals of the Institution are?”
“Certainly. The use of this Corporation is to superintend the general interests of the British shipping, military and commercial. To this end, the powers of the [307] Corporation are very extensive; the principal of which are, to examine the children educated in mathematics in Christ's Hospital—examine the masters of the King's ships—appoint pilots for the Thames—erect light-houses and sea-marks—grant licenses to poor seamen, not free of the City, to row on the Thames—and superintend the deepening and cleansing of the river; they have power to receive donations for charitable purposes, and annually relieve great numbers of poor seamen and seamen's widows and orphans; and as they alone supply outward-bound ships with ballast, on notice of any shoal or obstruction arising in the river Thames, they immediately direct their men and lighters to work on it till it is removed. The profits arising to the Corporation by this useful regulation is very considerable.”
“Certainly. The purpose of this Corporation is to oversee the general interests of British shipping, military, and commerce. To achieve this, the powers of the [307] Corporation are quite extensive; the main ones include examining children educated in mathematics at Christ's Hospital—evaluating the masters of the King's ships—appointing pilots for the Thames—building lighthouses and sea markers—granting licenses to poor seamen, who are not free of the City, to row on the Thames—and overseeing the deepening and cleaning of the river. They have the authority to accept donations for charitable purposes and annually assist many poor seamen, widows, and orphans of seamen; and since they exclusively supply outbound ships with ballast, whenever there’s a notice of any shoal or obstruction in the River Thames, they promptly send their men and lighters to address it until it’s removed. The profits generated for the Corporation through this valuable regulation are quite significant.”
During this conversation they had continued to walk towards the Trinity House, and were now close to it.
During this conversation, they had kept walking toward Trinity House and were now close to it.
“Come,” continued Dashall, “the interior is worth seeing: there are some fine paintings in it, and the fitting up is altogether of an elegant description.”
“Come,” Dashall said, “the inside is worth checking out: there are some great paintings in there, and the decor is really elegant.”
Upon making application at the door, and the customary payment of a shilling each, they were admitted. The appearance of the Hall, which is grand, though light and elegant, particularly attracted the attention of Tallyho. The double stair-case, which leads to the court-room, was an object of peculiar delight. The beautiful model of the Royal William in the Secretary's Office was much admired; but the Court-room was abundant in gratification. Here they were ushered into a spacious apartment,*particularly elegant, being unincumbered; the ceiling finished in a superior style, and decorated with paintings of the late King and Queen—James the Second—Lord Sandwich—Lord Howe, and Mr. Pitt. Here Bob wandered from portrait to portrait, examining the features and character of each, and admiring the skill and ability of the artists. At the upper end of the room he was additionally pleased to find a large painting containing a group of about twenty-four of the elder Brethren, representing them at full length, attended by their Secretary, the late Mr. Court. Many of the persons being well remembered by Dashall, were pointed out by him to his Cousin, and brought to his recollection names deservedly celebrated, though now no more. This picture was the gift of the Merchant Brethren in 1794.
Upon applying at the door and paying the usual fee of a shilling each, they were let in. Tallyho was particularly impressed by the Hall's grand yet light and elegant appearance. The double staircase leading to the court room was a special highlight for him. The stunning model of the Royal William in the Secretary's Office was also greatly admired, but the court room provided plenty of satisfaction. They were taken into a spacious room that was particularly graceful and uncluttered; the ceiling was finished in a high-quality style and decorated with paintings of the late King and Queen—James the Second—Lord Sandwich—Lord Howe, and Mr. Pitt. Bob strolled from portrait to portrait, examining the features and character of each one and appreciating the artists' talent. At the far end of the room, he was further delighted to discover a large painting featuring a group of about twenty-four of the elder Brethren, depicted in full length, along with their Secretary, the late Mr. Court. Many of the individuals, well-remembered by Dashall, were pointed out to his cousin, bringing to mind names that were rightfully celebrated, even though they were no longer alive. This painting was a gift from the Merchant Brethren in 1794.
Tallyho was much delighted with his survey of this truly elegant building, and the luminous account given by [308] his Cousin of the various persons whose portraits met his eye, or whose names and characters, connected with the establishment, had become celebrated for scientific research or indefatigable industry.
Tallyho was very pleased with his view of this truly elegant building, and the glowing description provided by [308] his cousin of the different people whose portraits he saw, or whose names and reputations, linked to the establishment, had become well-known for scientific research or tireless work.
“It will occupy too much time this morning,” said Dashall, “to visit the interior of the Tower, as I have dispatched a Ticket-porter to Piccadilly, ordering my curricle to be at Tom's Coffee-house at one; we will therefore defer that pleasure to the next opportunity of being this way. We will however take a look at the Bank and the Exchange, then a trundle into the fresh air for an hour, and return home to dinner; so come along, but we will vary our walk by taking another road back.”
“It'll take too much time this morning,” said Dashall, “to check out the inside of the Tower, since I've sent a Ticket-porter to Piccadilly, ordering my curricle to be at Tom's Coffee-house at one; so we’ll save that for the next chance we get to be around here. However, let’s take a quick look at the Bank and the Exchange, then enjoy some fresh air for an hour, and head back home for dinner; so let’s go, but we’ll take a different route back.”
With this intention, they now crossed Tower Hill, and turned to the left, along the Minories.
With this in mind, they crossed Tower Hill and turned left along the Minories.
“Here is a place,” said Dashall, “well known, and no doubt you have often heard of—Sparrow Corner and Rosemary Lane are better known by the appellation of Rag Fair. It is a general mart for the sale of second-hand clothes, and many a well-looking man in London is indebted to his occasional rambles in this quarter for his appearance. The business of this place is conducted with great regularity, and the dealers and collectors of old clothes meet at a certain hour of the afternoon to make sales and exchanges, so that it is managed almost upon the same plan as the Royal Exchange, only that the dealers here come loaded with their goods, which must undergo inspection before sales can be effected: while the Merchant carries with him merely a sample, or directs his Purchaser to the warehouse where his cargo is deposited. The principal inhabitants of this place are Jews, and they obtain supplies from the numerous itinerant collectors from all quarters of London and its suburbs, whom you must have observed parading the streets from the earliest hour of the morning, crying Ould clothes—Clothes sale.”
“Here’s a place,” said Dashall, “that’s well known, and you’ve probably heard of it—Sparrow Corner and Rosemary Lane are more commonly called Rag Fair. It’s a busy market for second-hand clothes, and many good-looking men in London owe their style to occasional visits to this area. Business here runs quite smoothly, and vendors and collectors of used clothes gather at a specific time in the afternoon to make sales and trades, almost like the Royal Exchange, except the sellers here come with their goods, which need to be inspected before they can sell them. Meanwhile, merchants only carry a sample or tell buyers where their products are stored. The main residents in this area are Jews, and they get supplies from numerous door-to-door collectors from all over London and its suburbs, who you must have seen walking the streets from early morning, shouting Old clothes—Clothes for sale.”
“It surely can hardly be a trade worth following,” said Talltho.
“It hardly seems like a worthwhile trade to pursue,” said Talltho.
“There are many hundreds daily wandering the streets, however,” replied Tom, “in pursuit of cast-off apparel, rags, and metals of different sorts, or at least pretend so. The Jews are altogether a set of traders. I do not mean to confine my observations to them only, because there are persons of other sects employed in the same kind of business; and perhaps a more dangerous set of cheats could [309] scarcely be pointed at, as their chief business really is to prowl about the houses and stables of people of rank and fortune, in order to hold out temptations to their servants, to pilfer and steal small articles not likely to be missed, which these fellows are willing to purchase at about one-third of their real value. It is supposed that upwards of 15,000 of these depraved itinerants among the Jews are daily employed in journeys of this kind; by which means, through the medium of base money and other fraudulent dealings, many of them acquire property with which they open shops, and then become receivers of stolen property; the losses thus sustained by the public being almost incalculable—
“There are hundreds of people wandering the streets every day,” Tom said, “looking for discarded clothes, rags, and various types of metals, or at least pretending to. The Jews are all just a bunch of traders. I don’t mean to limit my comments to them alone, because there are people from other groups involved in the same kind of work; and maybe a more dangerous group of con artists would be hard to find, since their main job is to lurk around the homes and stables of wealthy and influential people, trying to tempt their servants into stealing small items that aren’t likely to be missed. These individuals are willing to buy those items for about a third of their actual value. It’s thought that over 15,000 of these shady itinerants among the Jews are out there every day doing this; through the use of counterfeit money and other dishonest practices, many of them accumulate enough property to open shops and then become fences for stolen goods, leading to losses for the public that are nearly uncountable—[309]
It is estimated that there are from fifteen to twenty thousand Jews in the Metropolis, and about five or six thousand more stationed in the great provincial and seaport towns. In London they have six Synagogues, and in the country places there are at least twenty more. Most of the lower classes of those distinguished by name of German or Dutch Jews, live principally by their wits, and establish a system of mischievous intercourse all over the country, the better to enable them to carry on then-fraudulent designs in every way. The pliability of their consciences is truly wonderful—
It’s estimated there are about fifteen to twenty thousand Jews in the city, with an additional five to six thousand in major provincial and port towns. In London, they have six synagogues, and there are at least twenty more in the countryside. Most of the lower-class individuals, identified as German or Dutch Jews, primarily rely on their wits and create a network of cunning interactions across the country to better carry out their fraudulent schemes. The flexibility of their morals is truly remarkable—
Nay, I remember the time when they used to perambulate our streets openly, professing to purchase base coin, by bawling—“Any bad shilling, any bad shilling.” The interference of the Police however has prevented the calling, though perhaps it is impossible to prevent a continuance of the practice any more than they can that of utterance. These men hesitate not to purchase stolen property, or metals of various kinds, as well as other articles pilfered from the Dock-yards, and stolen in the provincial towns, which are brought to the Metropolis to elude detection, and vice versa; in some cases there are contrivances that the buyer and seller shall not even see each other, in order that no advantage may be taken by giving information as to the parties.” [310] “Upon my life, the contrivances of London are almost incomprehensible,” said Bob, “and might deter many from venturing into it; but this surprises me beyond any thing.”
No, I remember the time when they used to walk through our streets openly, claiming to buy bad coins, shouting, “Any bad shilling, any bad shilling.” The Police's intervention has stopped this shouting, but it’s probably impossible to completely stop the practice, just like they can’t stop people from talking. These men don’t hesitate to buy stolen goods or various metals, as well as other items taken from the Dockyards and stolen in smaller towns, which are brought to the city to avoid being caught, and vice versa; in some cases, there are setups so that the buyer and seller don’t even see each other, to prevent anyone from snitching on them.” [310] “Honestly, the tricks in London are almost impossible to understand,” said Bob, “and might scare many people away; but this surprises me more than anything.”
“It is however too lamentably true,” continued Tom; “for these people, educated in idleness from the earliest infancy, acquire every debauched and vicious principle which can fit them for the most complicated arts of fraud and deception, to which they seldom fail to add the crime of perjury, whenever it can be useful to shield themselves or their friends from the punishment of the law. Totally without moral education, and very seldom trained to any trade or occupation by which they can earn an honest livelihood by manual labour—their youths excluded from becoming apprentices, and their females from engaging themselves generally as servants, on account of the superstitious adherence to the mere ceremonial of their persuasion, as it respects meat not killed by Jews—nothing can exceed their melancholy condition, both as it regards themselves and society. Thus excluded from the resources which other classes of the community possess, they seem to have no alternative but to resort to those tricks and devices which ingenuity suggests, to enable persons without an honest means of subsistence to live in idleness.
“It is, unfortunately, all too true,” Tom continued; “because these people, raised in laziness from a young age, absorb every corrupt and immoral principle that prepares them for the complex arts of fraud and deception. They often add perjury to their repertoire whenever it helps protect themselves or their friends from legal consequences. Completely lacking moral education and rarely trained in any trade or occupation that would allow them to earn a decent living through manual labor—excluded from becoming apprentices and their women generally barred from working as servants due to their superstitious commitment to the dietary laws of their faith regarding meat not killed by Jews—their situation is utterly dismal, both for themselves and for society. Thus, cut off from the resources available to other classes, they appear to have no choice but to resort to the tricks and schemes that their ingenuity can devise to help those without honest means of support to live in idleness.”
“The richer Jews are in the practice of lending small sums to the poorer classes of their community, in order that they may support themselves by a species of petty traffic; but even this system contributes in no small degree to the commission of crimes, since, in order to render it productive to an extent equal to the wants of families who do not acquire any material aid by manual labour, they are induced to resort to unlawful means of increasing it, by which they become public nuisances. From the orange-boy and the retailer of seals, razors, glass and other wares, in the public streets, or the collector of
“The wealthier Jews tend to lend small amounts of money to the poorer members of their community so they can support themselves through small businesses; however, this practice also leads to a significant amount of crime. To generate enough income for families that don’t receive any physical support from work, they often feel pressured to turn to illegal methods to boost their earnings, making them a nuisance to the public. This includes the street vendor selling oranges and those selling seals, razors, glass, and other goods in public spaces, or the collector of
to the shop-keeper, dealer in wearing apparel, or in silver and gold, the same principles of conduct too generally prevail.
to the shopkeeper, who deals in clothing or in silver and gold, the same principles of conduct tend to apply.
“The itinerants utter base money, to enable them by selling cheap, to dispose of their goods; while those who are stationary, with very few exceptions, receive and purchase at an under price whatever is brought them, [311] without asking questions; and yet most of their concerns are managed with so much art, that we seldom hear of a Jew being hanged; and it is also a fact, that during the holidays (of which they have many in the course of a year,) or at one of their weddings, you may see the barrow-woman of yesterday decked out in gay and gaudy attire of an expensive nature.”
“The travelers deal in cheap goods to sell their items quickly, while those who stay in one place, with very few exceptions, buy whatever is offered to them at a lower price without asking questions. Still, most of their business is handled so skillfully that we rarely hear about a Jew being hanged. It’s also true that during the holidays (which they have plenty of throughout the year) or at their weddings, you can see a street vendor from yesterday dressed up in flashy and expensive clothing.”
By this time they had reached the top of the minories, and were turning down Houndsditch. “We are now,” said Dashall, “close to another place chiefly inhabited by Jews, called Duke's Place, where they have a very elegant Synagogue, which has been visited by Royalty, the present King having, during his Regency, honoured them with a visit, through the introduction of the late Mr. Goldsmid. If it should be a holiday, we will be present at the religious ceremonies of the morning.” With this they entered Duke's Place, and were soon within the walls of this Temple of Judaism. In taking a view of it, Bob was much gratified with its splendid decorations, and without being acquainted with their forms, had doffd his castor,{1} but was presently informed by his Cousin that he must keep his hat on. The readers appeared to him to be singers; but the whole of the service being Hebrew, it was of little consequence to him, whether read or sung. He perceived, during the performances of these prayers, which were every now and then joined in by almost every one present, that many of the congregation appeared to be in close conversation, which, however, was taken no notice of by the persons officiating. He was well pleased with the singing of a youth and the accompaniment of a gentleman in a cock'd hat; for although he could not discover that he actually produced words, he produced sounds in many instances bearing a strong similarity to those of a bassoon. The venerable appearance and devotion of the High Priest, who was habited in a robe of white, also attracted his attention; while the frequent bursts of the congregation, joining in the exercises of the morning, in some instances almost provoked his risibility.
By this time, they had reached the top of the Minories and were turning down Houndsditch. “We are now,” said Dashall, “close to another area mostly inhabited by Jews, called Duke's Place, where they have a very elegant synagogue that has been visited by royalty. The current king honored them with a visit during his Regency, thanks to an introduction from the late Mr. Goldsmid. If it happens to be a holiday, we will be present at the morning religious ceremonies.” With that, they entered Duke's Place and soon found themselves inside this temple of Judaism. As Bob took in the view, he was impressed by its beautiful decorations and, not fully knowing the customs, had taken off his hat, but his cousin quickly informed him that he had to keep it on. To him, the readers looked like singers, but since the whole service was in Hebrew, it didn’t matter much to him if it was being read or sung. He noticed that during the prayers, which almost everyone joined in on, many members of the congregation seemed to be having quiet conversations, though the officiants didn’t seem to mind. He enjoyed the singing of a young man and the accompaniment from a gentleman in a cocked hat; even though Bob couldn't tell if he was actually singing words, the sounds he produced often resembled those of a bassoon. The venerable appearance and devotion of the High Priest, who was dressed in a white robe, also caught his attention, while the frequent outbursts from the congregation, joining in the morning exercises, at times nearly made him laugh.
“The religious ceremonies of these people,” said Tom, as they left the synagogue, “though somewhat imposing as to form and appearance, do not seem to be strongly interesting, for many of them are engaged during the whole of the service in some species of traffic; buying and
“The religious ceremonies of these people,” said Tom, as they left the synagogue, “though somewhat impressive in form and appearance, don’t seem to be very engaging, since many of them spend the entire service involved in some sort of business; buying and
[312] selling, or estimating the value of goods for sale. They are such determined merchants and dealers, that they cannot forget business even in the house of prayer. We have two sets of them. This is the Dutch Synagogue; but the most ancient is that of the Portuguese, having been established in England ever since the Usurpation. The members of it being mostly wealthy, are extremely attentive to their poor, among whom there is said not to be a single beggar or itinerant; while the Dutch or German. Jews get no education at all: even the most affluent of them are said to be generally unable either to read or write the language of the country that gave them birth. They confine themselves to a bastard or vulgar Hebrew, which has little analogy to the original. They observe the particular ritual of the German Synagogue, and also include the Polish, Russian, and Turkish Jews established in London. With the exception of a few wealthy individuals, and as many families who are in trade on the Royal Exchange, they are in general a very indigent class of people. Their community being too poor to afford them adequate relief, they have resorted to the expedient of lending them small sums of money at interest, to trade upon, which is required to be repaid monthly or weekly, as the case may be, otherwise they forfeit all claim to this aid.
[312] selling, or estimating the value of goods for sale. They are such determined merchants and dealers that they can’t even set aside their business when they’re at the house of worship. We have two groups of them. This is the Dutch Synagogue; the older one is the Portuguese, which has been in England since the time of the Usurpation. The members here, mostly wealthy, are very attentive to their poorer members, among whom there is said to be no beggar or itinerant; whereas the Dutch or German Jews receive no education at all: even the wealthiest of them are generally unable to read or write the language of the country where they were born. They stick to a sort of broken or vulgar Hebrew, which doesn’t resemble the original much. They follow the specific rituals of the German Synagogue and also include the Polish, Russian, and Turkish Jews who have settled in London. Apart from a few wealthy individuals and some families involved in trade on the Royal Exchange, they are usually quite a poor group. Their community is too impoverished to provide them with proper support, so they’ve taken to lending small amounts of money at interest for trading purposes, which must be repaid monthly or weekly as required; otherwise, they lose the right to this assistance.
“The Portuguese Jews are generally opulent and respectable, and hold no community with the others. They use a different liturgy, and their language is even different. They never intermarry with the Jews of the Dutch Synagogue. They pride themselves on their ancestry, and give their children the best education which can be obtained where they reside. The Brokers upon the Exchange, of the Jewish persuasion, are all or chiefly of the Portuguese Synagogue. Their number is limited to twelve by Act of Parliament, and they pay 1000 guineas each for this privilege.”
“The Portuguese Jews are generally wealthy and respected, and they don’t associate with others. They use a different prayer book, and their language is even distinct. They never intermarry with the Jews from the Dutch Synagogue. They take pride in their heritage and provide their children with the best education available in their area. The brokers on the stock exchange who are Jewish are mostly from the Portuguese Synagogue. Their number is capped at twelve by law, and they pay 1000 guineas each for this privilege.”
They had now reached the end of Houndsditch, when, passing through Bishopsgate Church Yard and Broad Street, they were soon at the Bank.
They had now reached the end of Houndsditch, and after passing through Bishopsgate Church Yard and Broad Street, they were soon at the Bank.
“This building,” said Dashall, “covers an extent of several acres of ground, and is completely isolated.”
“This building,” said Dashall, “covers several acres of land and is completely isolated.”
“Its exterior,” replied Bob, “is not unsuited to the nature of the establishment, as it certainly conveys an idea of strength and security.”
“Its exterior,” replied Bob, “fits the nature of the place, as it definitely gives off a sense of strength and security.”
[315] “That's true,” continued Tom; “but you may observe a want of uniformity of design and proportion, arising from its having been erected piece-meal, at different periods, and according to different plans, by several architects. This is the principal entrance; and opposite to it is the shortest street in the Metropolis, called Bank Street; it contains but one house. Now we will take a survey of the interior.”
[315] “That's true,” Tom continued, “but you might notice a lack of consistency in design and proportion because it was built in parts, over different times, and based on different plans by various architects. This is the main entrance; on the other side is the shortest street in the city, called Bank Street; it has only one house. Now, let’s take a look inside.”
They entered the Hall, where Tallyho was much pleased to be instructed as to the methodical way they have of examining notes for a re-issuing or exchanging into coin.
They entered the Hall, where Tallyho was quite happy to learn about the systematic way they have of reviewing notes for reissuing or exchanging them for coins.
“Here,” said Dashall, “are the Drawing-offices for public and private accounts. This room is seventy-nine feet long by forty; and, at the further end, you observe a very fine piece of sculpture: that is a marble Statue of King William III. the founder of the Bank. Thi national establishment was first incorporated by act of Parliament in 1694. The projector of the scheme was a Mr. James Paterson, a native of Scotland; and the direction of its concerns is vested in a Governor, Deputy-Governor, and twenty-four Directors, elected annually at a general Court of the Proprietors. Thirteen of the Directors, with the Governor, form a Court for the transaction of business. The Bank is open every day from nine in the morning till five in the afternoon, holidays excepted. It is like a little town. The Clerks at present are about 1000 in number, but a reduction is intended. The Rotunda is the most interesting apartment—we will go and have a look at the Money-dealers.
“Here,” said Dashall, “are the drawing offices for public and private accounts. This room is seventy-nine feet long by forty; and at the far end, you can see a really impressive piece of sculpture: that’s a marble statue of King William III, the founder of the Bank. This national institution was first established by an act of Parliament in 1694. The person behind the idea was Mr. James Paterson, a native of Scotland; and the management is overseen by a Governor, a Deputy-Governor, and twenty-four Directors, who are elected annually at a general meeting of the Proprietors. Thirteen of the Directors, along with the Governor, make up a Court for conducting business. The Bank is open every day from nine in the morning until five in the afternoon, except on holidays. It’s like a little town. There are currently about 1,000 clerks, but there are plans for a reduction. The Rotunda is the most interesting room—we’ll go check out the money-dealers.”
“Here,” continued he, as they entered the Rotunda, and mingled among the various persons and sounds that are so well known in that seat of traffic, “from the hours of eleven to three a crowd of eager Money-dealers assemble, and avidity of gain displays itself in ever-varying shapes, at times truly ludicrous to the disinterested observer. You will presently perceive that the justling and crowding of the Jobbers to catch a bargain, frequently exceed in disorder the scrambling at the doors of our theatres for an early admission: and sa loud and clamorous at times are the mingled noises of the buyers and sellers, that all distinction of sound is lost in a general uproar.”
“Here,” he continued as they walked into the Rotunda, blending in with the familiar faces and sounds of this busy hub, “from eleven to three, a crowd of eager traders comes together, and the desire for profit shows itself in countless ways, sometimes quite amusing to an unbiased observer. You’ll soon see that the pushing and shoving of the traders trying to snag a deal often creates more chaos than the rush for early entry at our theaters. And at times, the loud mix of voices from buyers and sellers is so overwhelming that you can’t distinguish one sound from another in the overall noise.”
Of this description, Tallyho had an absolute proof in [314] a few minutes, for the mingling variety of voices appeared to leave no space in time for distinguishing either the sense or the sound of the individual speakers; though it was evident that, notwithstanding the continual hubbub, there was a perfect understanding effected between parties for the sale and transfer of Stock, according to the stipulations bargained for.
Of this description, Tallyho had clear evidence in [314] a few minutes later, as the mix of voices left no room to distinguish the meaning or the sound of individual speakers. However, it was clear that, despite the constant noise, there was a complete understanding between the parties involved in the sale and transfer of Stock, following the agreed-upon terms.
“Ha, Mr. M———,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “how do you do?”
“Ha, Mr. M———,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “how are you?”
“Happy to say well, Sir, thank you,” was the reply. “Any commands?—markets are pretty brisk this morning, and we are all alive.”
“Glad to say I'm doing well, Sir, thank you,” was the reply. “Any requests?—the markets are quite lively this morning, and we’re all energized.”
“Pray,” said Tallyho, “who is that extraordinary looking Lady with such red lips and cheeks, beneath the garb of sadness?”
“Pray,” said Tallyho, “who is that striking lady with such red lips and cheeks, hidden beneath a cloak of sadness?”
“A constant visitor here,” replied Mr. M. “I may say a day scarcely passes without her being present.”
“A regular visitor here,” replied Mr. M. “I can say that hardly a day goes by without her being around.”
“She has a curious appearance,” said Bob; “her dress is all black from head to foot, and yet her cheeks disclose the ruddy glow of uninterrupted health. Is it that her looks belie her garb, or that her garb belies her looks?”
“She has a strange look,” Bob said. “Her whole outfit is black from head to toe, but her cheeks show a healthy glow. Is it that her appearance contradicts her clothing, or that her clothing contradicts her appearance?”
“Hush,” said Mr. M. “let her pass, and I will give you some information relative to her, which, if it does not gratify you, will at least satisfy some of your inquiries. I am half inclined to believe that all is not right in the seat of government with her, (pointing his finger to his head;) and she is therefore rather deserving of pity than an object of censure or ridicule; though I have reason to believe she frequently meets with attacks of the latter, when in search of the sympathy and benefit to be derived from a proper exercise of the former. Her name is Miss W———. Her father was formerly a two-penny postman, who resided at Rockingham Row, Walworth, and was himself somewhat eccentric in his dress and manners, and it was not at all unusual to meet him in the morning in the garb of his office, though decidedly against his inclination, and to see him on 'Change during 'Change hours, in silk stockings, and in every other way dressed as a Merchant, attending there according to custom and practice; and he managed, by some means or other, to keep up a character of respectability, and to give an accomplished education to the younger branches of this family; so that this lady, though unfortunate in her present circumstances, has been well brought up, and [315] mingled in polished society; and, if you were to enter into conversation with her now, you would find her intelligent in the selection of her words and the combination of sentences, to explain to you the most improbable events, and the most unheard of claims that she has upon all the Governments in the known world. This, however, would be done with good temper, unless any thing like an insulting observation should be conceived, or intended to be conveyed.”
“Hush,” said Mr. M. “Let her go by, and I’ll give you some information about her that, if it doesn’t satisfy you, will at least answer some of your questions. I’m starting to think that something’s not quite right with her mental state (pointing to his head); so she’s really more deserving of sympathy than scorn or mockery; although I suspect she often faces the latter when she’s trying to find the support and kindness from others that she truly needs. Her name is Miss W———. Her father used to be a two-penny postman who lived at Rockingham Row, Walworth, and he was somewhat quirky in his appearance and behavior. It was pretty common to see him in the morning wearing his postman uniform, even if he didn’t really want to, and to find him at the stock exchange during trading hours, dressed in silk stockings and looking very much like a Merchant, following the usual customs. Somehow, he managed to maintain a respectable image and ensure a good education for his younger children, so even though this lady is currently struggling, she was brought up well and had experiences in refined society. If you were to talk to her now, you’d find her articulate in her choice of words and sentence structure, explaining to you the most unbelievable stories and unheard of claims she has against all the governments in the known world. However, she would do this with a good attitude, unless she felt insulted or thought there was any intention to upset her.”
“And, pray, what is supposed to be the cause of her present manners and appearance?” inquired Bob.
“And, please tell me, what’s supposed to be the reason for her current behavior and looks?” asked Bob.
“It is principally attributed,” replied Mr M. “to the circumstance of losing a beloved brother, who she now continually declares is only kept from her by the persons who daily visit the Rotunda, with a view to prevent the recovery of the property she lays claim to, and the particulars of which she generally carries in her pocket. That brother however suffered the penalty of the law for a forgery;{1} but this she cannot be induced to believe.
“It’s mostly due,” replied Mr. M., “to the fact that she lost a beloved brother, who she insists is only kept from her by the people who visit the Rotunda every day, trying to stop her from getting the property she believes is rightfully hers, and the details of which she usually keeps in her pocket. That brother, however, faced legal consequences for forgery;{1} but she refuses to accept that.”
[316] We have reason to think she is frequently much straitened for want of the necessary supplies for sustenance, and she has temporary relief occasionally from those who knew her family and her former circumstances in life, while she boldly perseveres in the pursuit of fancied property, and the restoration of her brother.
[316] We have reason to believe she often struggles to get the basic supplies she needs to survive, and she sometimes receives temporary help from those who are aware of her family and her past situation. Meanwhile, she bravely continues her search for imagined wealth and the return of her brother.
“I have heard her make heavy complaints of the difficulties she has had to encounter, and the privations she has been subjected to; but her own language will best speak the impressions on her mind. Here is a printed letter which was circulated by her some time ago:—
“I’ve heard her express her frustrations about the challenges she’s faced and the hardships she’s endured; but her own words will convey the thoughts on her mind best. Here’s a printed letter that she circulated some time ago:—
To the worthy Inhabitants of the Parish of St. Mary, Newington, Surrey.
To the esteemed residents of the Parish of St. Mary, Newington, Surrey.
It is with feelings of deep regret I have to deplore the necessity that compels me to adopt a public measure, for the purpose of obtaining my property from those gentlemen that hold it in trust. For a period of ten years I have endured the most cruel and unjustifiable persecution, which has occasioned the premature death of my mother; a considerable loss of property; all my personal effects of apparel and valuables; has exposed me to the most wanton and barbarous attacks, the greatest insults, and the severe and continual deprivation of every common necessary. Having made every appeal for my right, or even a maintenance, without effect, I now take the liberty of adopting the advice of some opulent friends in the parish, and solicit general favour in a loan by subscription for a given time, not doubting the liberal commiseration of many ladies and gentlemen, towards so great a sufferer. As it is not possible to describe the wrongs I have endured, the misery that has been heaped upon me, in so limited a space, I shall be happy to give every explanation upon calling for the result of this entreaty and to those ladies and gentlemen that condescend to favour
I deeply regret that I have to take public action to reclaim my property from those individuals who are holding it in trust. For the past ten years, I have faced cruel and unjust persecution, which led to my mother's premature death, significant financial loss, the loss of all my personal belongings and valuables, and has subjected me to relentless and brutal attacks, severe insults, and a constant lack of basic necessities. Despite my efforts to assert my rights or even secure maintenance, I have been met with silence. Therefore, I am following the advice of some wealthy friends in the parish and am seeking general support through a loan by subscription for a specific period, confident in the generous compassion of many ladies and gentlemen towards someone who has suffered so greatly. Because it's impossible to fully convey the extent of my wrongs and the misery I’ve endured in such a short space, I would be happy to provide further details upon request or to those kind enough to assist.
S. WHITEHEAD
S. Whitehead
With their presence, at
With their presence, at
The White Hart Inn, Borough.
The White Hart Inn, Borough.
Besides Bills to an immense amount, accepted by the Dey of Algiers, and payable by his Grand Plenipotentiary.
Besides bills for a huge amount, accepted by the Dey of Algiers, and payable by his Grand Plenipotentiary.
Various sums in the English and Irish Funds, in the names of various Trustees: in the 3 per cent. Consols—3 per cent. 1726—3 per cent. South Sea Annuities—3 per cent. Old South Sea Annuities—4 per cent. 3 per cent. 5 per cent. Long Annuities.
Various amounts in the English and Irish Funds, under the names of different Trustees: in the 3% Consols—3% 1726—3% South Sea Annuities—3% Old South Sea Annuities—4% 3% 5% Long Annuities.
Besides various Freehold, Copyhold, and Leasehold Estates, Reversions and Annuities, of incalculable value.
Besides various Freehold, Copyhold, and Leasehold properties, Reversions, and Annuities, of immeasurable value.
One of the Freehold Estates is that known by the name of Ireland's Row, and the Brewhouse adjacent, Mile End; the Muswell Hill Estate; a large House in Russell Square, tenanted at present by Mr. B——-dd!!!
One of the Freehold Estates is one called Ireland's Row, along with the nearby Brewhouse at Mile End; the Muswell Hill Estate; and a large house in Russell Square that is currently rented by Mr. B——-dd!!!
“For the truth of this statement, or the real existence of any property belonging to her, I am not able to vouch. She is well known in all the offices of this great Establishment, is generally peaceable in her conduct, and communicative in her conversation, which at times distinguishes her as a person of good education.”
“For the truth of this statement, or the actual existence of any property that belongs to her, I can’t guarantee. She is well known in all the offices of this great organization, generally behaves well, and is talkative in her conversations, which sometimes shows that she is a person of good education.”
“Hard is the fortune which your Sex attends, Women, like princes, find few real friends; All who approach them their own ends pursue, Lovers and ministers are seldom true. Hence oft from reason heedless beauty strays, And the most trusted guide the most betrays.”
“Hard is the fate that women face; like royalty, they find few true friends. Everyone who gets close has their own agenda; lovers and helpers are rarely honest. Because of this, often beautiful people ignore reason, and the ones they trust the most end up betraying them.”
The conversation was here interrupted by the arrival of a Gentleman, who, taking Mr. M. on one side, Tom and Bob wished him a good morning. They proceeded to [318] view the various offices which branch out from the Rotunda, and which are appropriated to the management of each particular stock, in each of which Bob could not help admiring the happy disposition of every department to facilitate business. The arrangement of the books, and the clerks, under the several letters of the alphabet, he conceived was truly excellent.
The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a gentleman who, pulling Mr. M. aside, greeted Tom and Bob with a good morning. They went to [318] check out the different offices that branch out from the Rotunda, each dedicated to managing a specific stock. Bob couldn't help but admire how well each department was organized to make business run smoothly. He thought the way the books and clerks were sorted under the different letters of the alphabet was truly impressive.
“The Corporation of the Bank,” said Dashall, “are prohibited from trading in any sort of goods or merchandize whatsoever; but are to confine the use of their capital to discounting Bills of Exchange, and to the buying and selling of gold and silver bullion; with a permission however to sell such goods as are mortgaged or pawned to them and not redeemed within three months after the expiration of the time for their redemption. Their profits arise from their traffic in bullion; the discounting of Bills of Exchange for Bankers, Merchants, Factors, and Speculators; and the remuneration they receive from Government, for managing the public funds, and for receiving the subscriptions on loans and lotteries. But we may ramble about in these places for a month, and still have novelty in store; and there is a little world underneath the greater part of this extensive building devoted to printing-offices, ware-rooms, &c.”
“The Corporation of the Bank,” Dashall said, “is not allowed to trade in any kind of goods or merchandise; they are supposed to limit the use of their capital to discounting Bills of Exchange and buying and selling gold and silver bullion. They can, however, sell goods that are mortgaged or pawned to them if they’re not claimed within three months after the redemption period ends. Their profits come from trading in bullion; discounting Bills of Exchange for bankers, merchants, factors, and speculators; and the fees they receive from the government for managing public funds and handling subscriptions for loans and lotteries. But we could wander around these places for a month and still find something new; there’s a whole little world beneath much of this large building filled with printing offices, storage rooms, etc.”
They had now reached the door which leads into Bartholomew Lane, and, upon descending the steps, and turning to the left, Bob's eyes soon discovered the Auction Mart, “What have we here?” inquired he.
They had now reached the door that leads into Bartholomew Lane, and after going down the steps and turning to the left, Bob's eyes quickly spotted the Auction Mart. “What do we have here?” he asked.
“That,” replied his Cousin, “is a building which may deservedly be rank'd as one of the ornaments of the City; and its arrangements and economy, as well as the beauty of its interior, are well deserving the notice of every stranger. This fine establishment, which serves as a focus for the sale of estates and other property by public auction, is both useful and ornamental; it was built about the time when the spirit of combination was so strong in London. You must know, some years back, every kind of business and trade appeared likely to be carried on by Joint Stock Companies, and the profits divided upon small shares. Many Fire-offices have to date their origin from this source—the Hope, the Eagle, the Atlas, and others. The Golden Lane Brewery was opened upon this principle; some Water Companies were established; till neighbourhood [319] and partnership almost became synonimous; and, I believe, among many other institutions of that kind, the Building before us is one. It contains many handsome rooms and commodious offices; but, as for offices, every street and every alley abounds with them, and, now-a-days, if you want to hire a Cook or a Scullion, you have nothing to do but to send a letter to a Register-office, and you are suited in a twinkling. It was an excellent idea, and I remember the old Buck who used to call himself the founder of establishments of that nature, or rather the first introducer of them to the notice of Englishmen, poor old Courtois.”
“That,” replied his cousin, “is a building that rightfully deserves to be considered one of the highlights of the city. Its layout and design, along with the beauty of its interior, are worthy of attention from every visitor. This impressive establishment, which serves as a hub for the public auction of properties and land, is both practical and attractive; it was built around the time when the trend of collaboration was strong in London. A few years ago, it seemed like every type of business and trade was being operated as Joint Stock Companies, with profits shared among small stockholders. Many insurance companies trace their beginnings to this trend—like the Hope, the Eagle, the Atlas, and others. The Golden Lane Brewery was opened based on this principle; some water companies were established; until local community and partnership almost became synonymous; and I believe the building in front of us is one of many such institutions. It has many beautiful rooms and spacious offices; however, for offices, every street and alley is filled with them. Nowadays, if you want to hire a cook or a kitchen helper, all you need to do is send a letter to a registry office, and you'll find someone in no time. It was a brilliant idea, and I remember the old guy who used to call himself the founder of such establishments, or at least the first to bring them to the attention of the English, poor old Courtois.”
John Courtois is said to have been a native of Picardy, where he was born about the year 1737 or 1738. He repaired to this country while yet young, in the character of valet de chambre to a gentleman who had picked him up in his travels; and, as he came from one of the poorest of the French provinces, he “took root,” and throve wonderfully on his transplantation to a richer soil.
John Courtois is said to have been from Picardy, where he was born around 1737 or 1738. He came to this country when he was still young, working as a valet de chambre for a gentleman who had found him during his travels; and, since he came from one of the poorest regions of France, he "took root" and flourished remarkably after moving to a more prosperous environment.
On the death of his master, he removed to the neighbourhood of the Strand; and St. Martin's Street,. Leicester Square, became the scene of his industry and success. At a time when wigs were worn by boys, and a Frenchman was supposed the only person capable of making one fit “for the grande monarque,” he commenced business as a perruquier, and soon acquired both wealth and celebrity. To this he joined another employment, which proved equally lucrative and appropriate, as it subjected both masters and servants to his influence. This was the keeping of a register-office, one of the first known in the Metropolis, whence he drew incalculable advantages. He is also said to have been a dealer in hair, which he imported largely from the continent. And yet,, after all, it is difficult to conceive how he could have realized a fortune exceeding 200,000L.! But what may not be achieved by a man who despised no gains, however small, and in his own expressive language, considered farthings as “the seeds of guineas!”
After his master died, he moved to the Strand area, and St. Martin's Street in Leicester Square became the place where he worked hard and found success. During a time when boys wore wigs and it was believed that only a Frenchman could make one fit for the "great monarch," he started his business as a wig maker and quickly gained both wealth and fame. He also took on another business that was just as profitable and well-suited, as it gave him influence over both employers and employees. This was running a register office, one of the first in the city, from which he gained immense benefits. He was also said to have dealt in hair, which he imported in large quantities from the continent. Yet, it’s hard to imagine how he managed to accumulate a fortune exceeding £200,000! But what can’t be done by a man who never overlooked any earnings, no matter how small, and who in his own words, considered pennies as "the seeds of guineas!"
The following appears to be a true description of this very extraordinary man, whom we ourselves have seen more than once:—“Old Courtois was well known for more than half a century in the purlieus of St. Martin's and the Haymarket. His appearance was meagre and squalid, and his clothes, such as they were, were [320] pertinaciously got up in exactly the same cut and fashion, and the colour always either fawn or marone. For the last thirty years, the venerable chapeau was uniformly of the same cock. The principal feat, however, in which this fervent votary of Plutus appeared before the public, was his nearly fatal affair with Mary Benson, otherwise Mrs. Maria Theresa Phepoe. In April 1795, this ill-fated-woman projected a rather bungling scheme, in order to frighten her old acquaintance and visitor, Courtois, out of a considerable sum of money. One evening, when she was certain of his calling, she had her apartment prepared for his reception in a species of funereal style—a bier, a black velvet pall, black wax candles lighted, &c. No sooner had the friend entered the room, than the lady, assisted by her maid, pounced on him, forced him into an arm chair, in which he was forcibly held down by the woman, while the hostess, brandishing a case-knife or razor, swore with some violent imprecations, that instant should be his last, if he did not give her an order on his “banker for a large sum of money. The venerable visitor, alarmed at the gloomy preparations and dire threats of the desperate female, asked for pen, ink, and paper; which being immediately produced, he wrote a check on his banker for two thousand pounds. He immediately retired with precipitation, happy to escape without personal injury. The next morning, before its opening, he attended at the Banker's, with some Police-officers; and on Mrs. Phepoe's making her appearance with the check, she was arrested, and subsequently tried at the Old Bailey, on a capital charge, grounded on the above proceedings. However, through the able defence made by her counsel (the late Mr. Fielding) who took a legal objection to the case as proved, and contended that she never had or obtained any property of Mr. Courtois, on the principle that possession constituted the first badge of ownership, she was only sentenced to twelve months' imprisonment.”
The following seems to be an accurate portrayal of this very extraordinary man, whom we’ve seen more than once:—“Old Courtois was well known for over fifty years in the neighborhoods of St. Martin's and the Haymarket. He had a thin, scruffy appearance, and his clothes, whatever they were, were persistently styled in the same way, always in either fawn or maroon. For the last thirty years, his old hat had a consistent shape. However, the main event that this devoted follower of wealth presented to the public was his near-fatal incident with Mary Benson, also known as Mrs. Maria Theresa Phepoe. In April 1795, this unfortunate woman came up with a rather clumsy plan to scare her old acquaintance and visitor, Courtois, out of a significant amount of money. One evening, certain that he would come by, she set up her room with a kind of funeral theme—a bier, a black velvet covering, black wax candles lit, etc. As soon as he entered the room, the lady, with her maid’s help, jumped on him, pushed him into an armchair, and held him down while the hostess, waving a case-knife or razor, swore with some severe curses that this would be his last moment unless he gave her an order on his “banker” for a large sum of money. The terrified visitor, alarmed by the grim setup and the desperate woman's threats, asked for pen, ink, and paper; when these were quickly provided, he wrote a check for two thousand pounds. He left in a hurry, relieved to escape unharmed. The next morning, before the bank opened, he showed up there with some police officers; when Mrs. Phepoe arrived with the check, she was arrested and later tried at the Old Bailey on serious charges based on the above events. However, due to a strong defense by her lawyer (the late Mr. Fielding), who raised a legal objection to the case and argued that she never had or received any property from Mr. Courtois—pointing out that possession is the first sign of ownership—she was only sentenced to twelve months in prison.”
“Some years since, the late Lord Gage met Courtois, at the court-room of the East India House, on an election business. “Ah, Courtois!” said his Lordship, “what brings you here?”—'To give my votes, my Lord,' was the answer.—“What! are you a proprietor?—'Most certainly.'—“And of more votes than one?”—'Yes, my [321] Lord, I have four!'—“Aye, indeed! why then, before you take the book, pray be kind enough to pin up my curls!” With which modest request the proprietor of four votes, equal to ten thousand pounds, immediately complied!
“Some years ago, the late Lord Gage ran into Courtois at the East India House's courtroom for some election matters. “Ah, Courtois!” his Lordship said, “what brings you here?” — 'To cast my votes, my Lord,' Courtois replied. — “What! Are you a shareholder? — 'Absolutely.' — “And do you have more than one vote?” — 'Yes, my [321] Lord, I have four!' — “Really! Well then, before you take the book, could you please pin up my curls?” To which the owner of four votes, worth ten thousand pounds, immediately agreed!
“M. Courtois married a few years since, and has left several children. On reflecting that his widow's thirds would amount to an immense sum, with his usual prudence he made a handsome settlement on her during his lifetime. As his sons were not of very economical habits, he has bequeathed them small annuities only; and vested the bulk of his fortune in trustees on behalf of his daughters, who are infants.
“M. Courtois got married a few years ago and has several children. Realizing that his widow's share would be quite substantial, he wisely set up a generous financial arrangement for her while he was still alive. Since his sons weren't very good with money, he left them only small annuities; he entrusted the majority of his wealth to trustees for the benefit of his young daughters.”
“Until his death, he invariably adhered to the costume of the age in which he was born. A three-cocked hat, and a plum-coloured coat, both rather the worse for wear, in which we have seen him frequently, invariably designated his person and habits; while a penurious economy, that bid defiance to all vulgar imitation, accompanied him to his grave. His death occurred in 1819, in the 80th or 81st year of his age.”
“Until his death, he consistently wore the clothing style from the time he was born. A three-cornered hat and a plum-colored coat, both quite worn, were how we often recognized him; his frugal lifestyle, which rejected any common imitation, stayed with him until his grave. He passed away in 1819, at the age of 80 or 81.”
“Such characters,” observed Tallyho, “notwithstanding their eccentricity, afford useful lessons to those who, in this giddy and dissipated age, devote a part of their time to thinking.”
“Such characters,” Tallyho noted, “despite their quirks, offer valuable lessons to those who, in this crazy and indulgent era, spend some of their time reflecting.”
“No doubt of it,” replied Dashall; “they furnish examples of what may be done by perseverance and determination, and almost seem to verify the assertion, that every one may become rich if he pleases. But come, we must move towards Tom's Coffee House, in our way to which we will pass through the Royal Exchange, which lies directly before us. It was originally a brick building, erected by Sir Thomas Gresham in the year 1567, but being destroyed by the fire of London in 1666, the present building of Portland stone was raised in its place, the first stone of which was laid by Charles II. in 1667; in consequence of which his statue has been placed in the centre of its quadrangle, around which the Merchants assemble daily to transact their commercial business.{1}
“No doubt about it,” replied Dashall; “they provide examples of what can be achieved through perseverance and determination, and it almost seems to confirm the idea that everyone can become wealthy if they really want to. But come on, we need to head toward Tom's Coffee House, and on the way, we'll pass through the Royal Exchange, which is right in front of us. It was originally a brick building built by Sir Thomas Gresham in 1567, but it was destroyed in the Great Fire of London in 1666. The current building, made of Portland stone, was constructed in its place, with the first stone laid by Charles II in 1667; because of that, his statue stands in the center of its courtyard, where merchants gather daily to conduct their business.{1}
[322] “It has two principal fronts, one in Cornhill, and the other, which you now see, is at the end of Threadneedle Street; each of which has a piazza, affording a convenient shelter from the sun and rain. It is open as a thoroughfare from eight in the morning till six in the evening; but the hours in which business is chiefly transacted, are from two to five. Its extent is 203 feet by 171.”
[322] “It has two main entrances, one on Cornhill and the other, which you can see now, at the end of Threadneedle Street; each has a covered walkway providing a handy shelter from the sun and rain. It's open as a passageway from eight in the morning until six at night; however, the busiest business hours are from two to five. Its size is 203 feet by 171.”
By this time they had passed the gate, and Bob found himself in a handsome area with a fine piazza carried entirely round, and furnished with seats along the four walks, for Merchants of different nations, who meet, each at their different stations, and was immediately attracted by the appearance of the numerous specimens of art with which it was adorned.
By this time, they had gone through the gate, and Bob found himself in a beautiful area with a nice plaza all around, equipped with benches along the four paths for merchants from different countries, who gathered at their own spots. He was quickly drawn in by the many pieces of art that decorated the space.
“Do you observe,” said his Cousin, “within these piazzas are twenty-eight niches; all vacant but that in which is placed a statue of Sir Thomas Gresham, in the north-west angle; and that in the south-west, which presents a statue of Sir John Barnard, Magistrate of the City, and one of its Representatives in Parliament. Those smaller statues in the niches of the wall of the Quadrangle, in the upper story, are the Kings and Queens of England, beginning with Edward I. on the North side, and ending with his late Majesty on the East. As far as Charles I. they were executed by Gabriel Cibber. The various frames which are placed around under the piazza, contain the names, residences and occupations of Tradesmen, Mechanics and others. The grand front in Cornhill has been under repair lately, and in its appearance, no doubt, is greatly improved. The steeple which is just raised, is a handsome dome, surmounted by the original grasshopper, rendered somewhat celebrated by a prophecy, that certain alterations would take place in men, manners, and times, when the grasshopper on the top of the Exchange should meet the dragon at the top of Bow Church; and strange and extraordinary as it may appear, this very circumstance is said to have taken place, as they have both been seen in the warehouse of some manufacturer, to whom [323] they were consigned for repair; in addition to which, if Crockery's{1} relation of the transmogrifications of England is to be believed, the prophecy is in a considerable degree a whimsical and laughable Burletta, in one act, has recently been produced at the Royal Coburg Theatre, in which Mr. Sloman sings, with admirable comicality, the following Song, alluded to by the Hon. Tom Dashall, to the tune of O, The Roast Beef of Old England.
“Do you see,” said his cousin, “that there are twenty-eight niches in these piazzas? All are empty except for the one with the statue of Sir Thomas Gresham in the northwest corner; and the one in the southwest, which holds a statue of Sir John Barnard, who was the Magistrate of the City and one of its Representatives in Parliament. The smaller statues in the niches along the walls of the Quadrangle on the upper floor are the Kings and Queens of England, starting with Edward I on the north side and ending with the late King on the east. Up to Charles I, they were made by Gabriel Cibber. The various frames placed around under the piazza show the names, addresses, and jobs of tradespeople, mechanics, and others. The grand front on Cornhill has been undergoing repairs lately and, without a doubt, looks much better now. The steeple that has just gone up features a beautiful dome topped by the original grasshopper, which became somewhat famous due to a prophecy that there would be changes in people, manners, and times when the grasshopper atop the Exchange met the dragon from Bow Church; and as strange as it sounds, this is said to have actually happened, as they were both seen in the warehouse of some manufacturer who had them sent for repair. Additionally, if we are to believe Crockery's account of the changes in England, the prophecy is partly a whimsical and funny little play, with one act, that was recently performed at the Royal Coburg Theatre, where Mr. Sloman sings, with great humor, the following song mentioned by the Hon. Tom Dashall, to the tune of O, The Roast Beef of Old England.”
[324]There is a stair-case in each front, and one on each side, which lead to a gallery above, running round the whole building, containing the offices of various establishments; but I believe, in the original plan, shops were intended to fill the building to the top. At present, the upper rooms are occupied by Lloyd's celebrated Subscription Coffee-house, for the use of Under-writers and Merchants—by the Royal Exchange Insurance Company, and various offices of individuals. There are also the Gresham Lecture—Rooms, where lectures are read pursuant to the will of the late Sir Thomas Gresham, who bequeathed to the City of London and the Mercers' Company, all the profits arising from these and other premises in Cornhill, in trust to pay salaries to four lecturers in divinity, astronomy, music, and geometry; and three readers in civil law, physic, and rhetoric, who read lectures daily in term time.
[324]There is a staircase in each front, and one on each side, that leads to a gallery above, which runs around the entire building and houses the offices of various establishments; but I believe, in the original plan, shops were meant to fill the building to the top. Currently, the upper rooms are occupied by Lloyd's famous Subscription Coffee-house, for the use of underwriters and merchants—by the Royal Exchange Insurance Company, and various individual offices. There are also the Gresham Lecture Rooms, where lectures are held according to the will of the late Sir Thomas Gresham, who left all the profits from these and other properties in Cornhill to the City of London and the Mercers' Company, in trust to pay salaries to four lecturers in divinity, astronomy, music, and geometry; and three lecturers in civil law, medicine, and rhetoric, who give lectures daily during term time.
“This we may consider the grand mart of the universe! where congregate those sons of Commerce the British Merchants, who, in dauntless extent of enterprise, hold such distinguished pre-eminence!”
“This we can see as the great marketplace of the universe! where the British merchants, those champions of commerce, gather with fearless ambition, holding such outstanding prominence!”
Tallyho viewed the scene before him with an inquisitive eye, and was evidently wrapped in surprise at the “busy hum of men,” all actuated by one universal object, the acquisition of wealth. The spacious area exhibited a mass of mercantile speculators, numerously grouped, in conversation; under the piazzas appeared a moving multitude in like manner engaged, while the surrounding seats were in similar occupation; Dashall and Bob, of the many hundreds of individuals present, were perhaps the only two led to the place by curiosity alone.
Tallyho looked at the scene in front of him with a curious eye, clearly surprised by the “busy buzz of people,” all driven by one common goal: the pursuit of wealth. The large space showed a crowd of traders, clustered together, chatting; beneath the awnings was a moving crowd similarly engaged, while the benches around were occupied in the same way; among the hundreds of people there, Dashall and Bob were probably the only two who came out of pure curiosity.
Tallyho, who, on every occasion of “doubtful dilemma,” looked to his cousin Dashall for extrication, expressed his surprise at the appearance of a squalid figure, whose lank form, patched habiliments, and unshorn beard, indicated [325]extreme penury; in familiar converse with a gentleman fashionably attired, and of demeanour to infer unquestionable respectability.
Tallyho, who always turned to his cousin Dashall for help during “tricky situations,” was surprised to see a shabby figure whose thin frame, torn clothes, and unkempt beard showed signs of extreme poverty, chatting casually with a well-dressed gentleman who looked completely respectable.
“Interest,” said Tallyho, “supersedes every other consideration, else these two opposites would not meet.”
“Interest,” Tallyho said, “takes priority over everything else; otherwise, these two opposites wouldn’t come together.”
“Your observation is just,” replied his cousin; “the tatterdemallion to whom you allude, is probably less impoverished than penurious; perhaps of miserly habits, and in other respects disqualified for polite society. What then, he is doubtless in ample possession of the essential requisite; and here a monied man only is a good man, and without money no man can be respectable."{1}
“Your observation is correct,” replied his cousin; “the shabby person you’re talking about is probably less poor than stingy; maybe he has miserly habits and is, in other ways, not fit for polite society. So what? He certainly has the one thing that matters; in this place, only a wealthy man is a good man, and without money, no one can be respectable.”{1}
Here the continued and deafening noise of a hand-bell, rung by one of the Exchange-keepers underlings, perched on the balcony over the southern gate, interrupted Mr. Dashall's remarks; it was the signal for locking up the gates, and inferring at the same time obedience to the summons with due promptitude and submission, on pain of being detained two hours “in duresse vile.”
Here, the ongoing and loud sound of a handbell, rung by one of the Exchange-keeper's aides sitting on the balcony above the southern gate, interrupted Mr. Dashall's comments. It was the signal to lock the gates, and it implied that everyone needed to respond promptly and obediently, or they would be held back for two hours “in vile duress.”
Sufficient alacrity of egression not having been shown, the Keepers closed the two gates, and at the same time locked the east and western avenues; thus interdicting from egress above three hundred contumacious individuals, including the Hon. Tom Dashall and his Cousin.
Sufficient speed to leave not having been demonstrated, the Keepers closed the two gates and simultaneously locked the eastern and western paths; thereby preventing over three hundred stubborn individuals, including the Hon. Tom Dashall and his cousin, from exiting.
A considerable time having now elapsed without any prospect of enlargement, dissatisfaction gained ground apace, and shortly ripened into actual mutiny. The disaffected now proceeded to hold a council of war, and after a few moments deliberation, it was resolved unanimously to storm the avenues! Dashall and
A considerable time having now elapsed without any prospect of enlargement, dissatisfaction gained ground apace, and shortly ripened into actual mutiny. The disaffected now proceeded to hold a council of war, and after a few moments deliberation, it was resolved unanimously to storm the avenues! Dashall and
1 Some years ago, a gentleman of extensive property, residing in the country, was desirous of raising, by way of loan on the security of landed estates, the sum of 30,000L. His Solicitor in London, with whom he had corresponded on the subject, summoned him at last to town; a lender was found, who was to meet the Solicitor at a certain time and place appointed, in the neighbourhood of the Exchange. The borrower, on the day and near the hour fixed upon, was in the area of the Royal Exchange, when there crossed over a wretched looking being, the very personification of misery. The gentleman, unsolicited, gave the poor object a shilling. On going to the appointed rendezvous, how great was his astonishment to find in the person of the wealthy monied man the identical receiver of his bounty!—“Ha, ha,” cried he, “you shall not fare the worse for your generosity!” and actually advanced the money on terms much easier than expected. This personage was the celebrated Daniel Dancer.
1 A few years back, a wealthy landowner living in the countryside wanted to raise a loan secured by his property for the amount of £30,000. His lawyer in London, who he had been in touch with about this, finally called him to the city; a lender was found who was scheduled to meet the lawyer at a specific time and place near the Stock Exchange. On the day and around the time agreed upon, the borrower was in the vicinity of the Royal Exchange when he noticed a person who looked extremely miserable—a true representation of hardship. Without being asked, the gentleman gave the poor soul a shilling. When he arrived at the scheduled meeting, he was shocked to discover that the wealthy lender was actually the same person he had just helped! “Ha, ha,” he exclaimed, “you won’t suffer for your kindness!” and ended up offering the loan on terms much better than he had anticipated. This individual was the famous Daniel Dancer.
[326] Tallyho declined taking any part in the enterprise; they took a right view of the affair; they were mere casual visitants, not likely ever again to suffer a similar restraint, while the others were in the daily practice of transacting business on the spot: to them therefore the frequent recurrence of the present disaster might happen—theirs then was the cause, as being most particularly interested.
[326] Tallyho decided not to get involved in the project; they had a clear understanding of the situation; they were just temporary visitors and probably wouldn't face a similar limitation again, while the others were constantly engaged in business there: for them, the regular occurrence of this disaster could happen again—the responsibility fell on them, as they were the ones most directly affected.
An attack was made by the prisoners upon the portals opening into Bank Buildings and Sweeting's Kents; but the former having been shattered sometime since on a similar occasion, and subsequently very strongly repaired, it was found impregnable, at least to any immediate exertion of force, and being neither furnished with a park of artillery, nor with the battering ram of the ancients, the little army faced to the right about, enfiladed the area, and took up a new position, in due order of assault, against the door of the avenue leading into Sweeting's Rents. The affair was decided, and without bloodshed; the bars soon bent before the vigour of the assailants; one of these was taken into custody by a Beadle, but rescued, and the attack recommenced with success; when the opposite door was also opened by the Shop-keeper living in that avenue, and the Exchange was finally cleared at four minutes past five o'clock, after above an hour's detention, including the time occupied in storming the avenues.
An attack was launched by the prisoners on the gates leading into Bank Buildings and Sweeting's Kents. However, since the first gate had been damaged some time ago during a similar incident and was then heavily reinforced, it proved to be impenetrable, at least against any immediate force. Lacking heavy artillery or a battering ram like the ancients used, the small army turned to the right, took control of the area, and positioned themselves for a renewed assault on the door leading into Sweeting's Rents. The situation was resolved without any violence; the bars quickly bent under the strength of the attackers. One attacker was apprehended by a Beadle but was rescued, leading to a successful renewed assault. Eventually, the shopkeeper residing in that area opened the opposite door, and the Exchange was finally cleared at four minutes past five o'clock, after more than an hour’s delay, including the time spent storming the entrances.
The triumph of liberty was now complete; the intrepid phalanx disbanded itself; and our Heroes having made the farewell conge to their victorious compeers, proceeded into Cornhill, where, Dashall espying his curricle at the door of Tom's Coffee House, they, after refreshing themselves, took a cheerful country drive over London Bridge, Clapham Common, Wandsworth, &c. from which they returned at six o'clock to dinner, determined to have a night's rest before they proceeded in search of further adventures.[327]
The victory of freedom was now complete; the brave group broke up, and our Heroes, after saying goodbye to their victorious friends, headed to Cornhill, where Dashall spotted his curricle outside Tom's Coffee House. After they refreshed themselves, they took a pleasant country drive over London Bridge, through Clapham Common, Wandsworth, etc., and returned by six o'clock for dinner, planning to get a good night’s sleep before setting out for more adventures.[327]
CHAPTER XXI
TALKING over, at the breakfast-table, the occurrences of the preceding day—“On my conscience!” exclaimed Tallyho, “were the antediluvian age restored, and we daily perambulated the streets of this immense Metropolis during a hundred years to come, I firmly believe that every hour would bring a fresh accession of incident.”
TALKING over, at the breakfast table, the events of the previous day—“Honestly!” exclaimed Tallyho, “if the pre-flood age were brought back, and we walked the streets of this huge city for another hundred years, I truly believe that every hour would bring something new to talk about.”
“Ad infinitum,” answered Dashall; “where happiness is the goal in view, and fifteen hundred thousand competitors start for the prize, the manouvres of all in pursuit of the grand ultimatum must ever exhibit an interesting and boundless variety. London,
“Ad infinitum,” replied Dashall; “where happiness is the ultimate goal, and one million five hundred thousand competitors are racing for the prize, the strategies of everyone chasing the grand finale will always show an intriguing and endless variety. London,
where ingenious vice too frequently triumphs over talented worth—where folly riots in the glare of luxury, and merit pines in indigent obscurity.—Allons donc!—another ramble, and chance may probably illustrate my observation.”
where clever wrongdoing often wins out over true talent—where foolishness revels in the spotlight of luxury, while true merit fades in poor obscurity.—Let's go!—another walk, and maybe luck will shed light on my thoughts.
“Take notice,” said the discriminating Dashall to his friend, as they reached the Mall in St. James's Park, “of that solitary knight of the woeful countenance; his thread-bare raiment and dejected aspect, denote disappointment and privation;—ten imperial sovereigns to a plebeian [328] shilling, he is either a retired veteran or a distressed poet.”
“Check it out,” said the discerning Dashall to his friend, as they arrived at the Mall in St. James's Park, “that solitary knight looking all sad; his worn-out clothes and gloomy demeanor show signs of disappointment and hardship;—ten royal sovereigns to a common person's shilling, he’s either a retired soldier or a struggling poet.”
The object of curiosity, who had now seated himself, appeared to have attained the age of fifty, or more—a bat that had once been black—a scant-skirted blue coat, much the worse for wear—a striped waistcoat—his lank legs and thighs wrapt in a pair of something resembling trowsers, but “a world too wide for his shrunk shanks”—short gaiters—shoes in the last stage of consumption—whiskers of full dimensions—his head encumbered with an unadjusted redundancy-of grey hair: such were the habiliments and figure of this son of adversity!
The curious person, who had now taken a seat, seemed to be about fifty years old or older—a bat that used to be black—a worn-out blue coat that barely covered him—a striped vest—his skinny legs wrapped in pants that were way too big for his skinny legs—short gaiters—shoes on their last legs—full whiskers—his head topped with a messy mop of grey hair: this was the look and attire of this man down on his luck!
The two friends now seated themselves on the same bench with the stranger, who, absorbed in reflection, observed not their approach.
The two friends sat down on the same bench as the stranger, who was lost in thought and didn't notice them coming.
The silence of the triumvirate was broken in upon by Tom, who, with his usual suavity of manners, politely addressed himself to the unknown, on the common topic of weather, et cetera, without eliciting in reply more than an assenting or dissenting monosyllable, “You have seen some service, Sir?”
The silence of the trio was interrupted by Tom, who, with his usual charm, tried to engage the stranger in conversation about the weather and other small talk, but only got back a simple “yes” or “no” in response. “Have you seen some action, sir?”
“Yes.”
"Yep."
“In the army, I presume?”
"Are you in the army?"
“No.”
“Nope.”
“Under Government?”
"Under the Government?"
“Yes.”
"Yep."
“In the navy, probably?”
"In the Navy, maybe?"
“No.”
“No.”
“I beg your pardon,” continued Dashall—“my motives originate not in idle inquisitiveness; if I can be of any service———”
“I’m sorry,” Dashall continued, “my intentions aren’t just idle curiosity; if I can help in any way———”
The stranger turned towards him an eye of inquiry. “I ask not from impertinent curiosity,” resumed Dashall, “neither would I wish indelicately to obtrude an offer of assistance, perhaps equally unnecessary as unacceptable; yet there are certain mutabilities of life wherein sympathy may be allowed to participate.”
The stranger looked at him with a questioning gaze. “I’m not asking out of nosy curiosity,” Dashall continued, “and I don’t want to awkwardly offer help that might be both unnecessary and unwelcome; however, there are some changes in life where it’s okay to show sympathy.”
“Sir,” said the other, with an immediate grateful expansion of mind, and freedom of communication—“I am inexpressibly indebted for the honour of your solicitude, and feel no hesitation in acknowledging that I am a literary writer; but so seldom employed, and, when employed, so inadequately requited, that to me the necessaries of life are frequently inaccessible.”
“Sir,” said the other, feeling immediately grateful and open in conversation, “I can’t express how indebted I am for your concern, and I have no qualms admitting that I am a writer. However, I am rarely employed, and when I am, I am compensated so poorly that the basics of life are often out of reach for me.”
[329] Here Tallyho interrupted the narrator by asking—whence it was that he had adopted a profession so irksome, precarious, and unproductive?
[329] Here Tallyho interrupted the narrator by asking where he had chosen such a difficult, uncertain, and unfulfilling profession.
[330] “May I ask,” said Mr. Dashall, “from what species of literary composition you chiefly derive your subsistence?”
[330] “Can I ask,” said Mr. Dashall, “what type of writing you mainly rely on for your income?”
“From puffing—writing rhyming advertisements for certain speculative and successful candidates for public favour, in various avocations; for instance, eulogizing the resplendent brilliancy of Jet or Japan Blacking—the wonderful effects of Tyrian-Dye and Macassar Oil in producing a luxuriant growth and changing the colour of the hair, transforming the thinly scattered and hoary fragments of age to the redundant and auburn tresses of youth—shewing forth that the “Riding Master to his late Majesty upwards of thirty years, and Professor of the Royal Menage of Hanover, sets competition at defiance, and that all who dare presume to rival the late Professor of the Royal Menage of Hanover, are vile unskilful pretenders, ci-devant stable-boys, and totally undeserving the notice of an enlightened and discerning public! In fact, Sir, I am reduced to this occasional humiliating employment, derogatory certainly to the dignity of literature, as averting the approach of famine. I write, for various adventurers, poetical panegyric, and illustrate each subject by incontrovertible facts, with appropriate incident and interesting anecdote.”
“From promoting—writing catchy ads for various hopeful and successful candidates seeking public attention in different fields; for example, praising the impressive shine of Jet or Japan Blacking—the amazing effects of Tyrian-Dye and Macassar Oil in creating a thick growth and changing hair color, turning the thin and gray strands of age into the full and auburn locks of youth—showing that the “Riding Master to his late Majesty for over thirty years, and Professor of the Royal Menage of Hanover, stands unmatched, and that anyone who dares to compete with the late Professor of the Royal Menage of Hanover is nothing but a lowly unskilled pretender, former stable-boy, and totally unworthy of the attention of an educated and discerning public! In fact, Sir, I have been reduced to this occasionally humbling job, certainly beneath the dignity of literature, in order to avoid starvation. I write, for various entrepreneurs, poetic praise, and back each subject with undeniable facts, along with fitting incidents and interesting anecdotes.”
“And these facts,” observed Bob Tallyho, “respectably authenticated?”
“And these facts,” Bob Tallyho noted, “are they properly verified?”
“By no means,” answered the Poet; “nor is it necessary, nobody takes the trouble of inquiry, and all is left to the discretion of the writer and the fertility of his invention.”
“Not at all,” replied the Poet; “and it’s not needed. No one bothers to ask, and everything is left to the writer's judgment and creativity.”
“On the same theme, does not there exist,” asked Dashall, “a difficulty in giving it the appearance of variety?”
“On the same topic, isn't there,” Dashall asked, “a challenge in making it seem varied?”
“Certainly; and that difficulty would seem quite insurmountable when I assure you, that I have written for a certain Blacking Manufacturer above two hundred different productions on the subject of his unparalleled Jet, each containing fresh incident, and very probably fresh incident must yet be found for two hundred productions more! But the misfortune is, that every thing is left to my invention, and the remuneration is of a very trifling nature for such mental labour: besides, it has frequently happened that the toil has proved unavailing—the production is rejected—the anticipated half-crown remains in the accumulating coffers of the Blacking-manufacturer, and the Author returns, pennyless and despondingly, to his attic, where, if fortune at last befriends him, he probably may breakfast dine and sup, tria juncta in uno, at a late hour in the evening!” [331] “And,” exclaimed the feeling Dashall, “this is real Life in London!”
“Sure, and that challenge seems pretty impossible when I tell you that I’ve written over two hundred different pieces for a certain Blacking Manufacturer about his amazing Jet, each one featuring new incidents, and it’s likely that I could come up with even more for two hundred additional pieces! The problem is, everything relies on my imagination, and the pay is really minimal for such mental work: plus, often the effort turns out to be for nothing—the piece gets rejected—the hoped-for half-crown stays in the growing coffers of the Blacking Manufacturer, and the Author goes back, broke and discouraged, to his attic, where, if luck finally smiles on him, he might end up having breakfast, lunch, and dinner all at once, really late in the evening!” [331] “And,” exclaimed the passionate Dashall, “this is real Life in London!”
“With me actually so,” answered the Poet.
“With me actually so,” answered the Poet.
The Blacking-maker's Laureat now offered to the perusal of his sympathising friends the following specimen of his ability in this mode of composition:—
The Blacking-maker's Laureate now presented to the review of his sympathetic friends the following example of his skill in this style of writing:—
[332] This trifle, well enough for the purpose, was honoured with approbation.
[332] This small thing, suitable for the purpose, received approval.
The two friends, unwilling to offend the delicacy of the Poet by a premature pecuniary compliment at this early stage of acquaintance, took his address and departed, professing an intention of calling upon him at his lodgings in the evening.
The two friends, not wanting to hurt the Poet's feelings with an early money-related compliment so soon after meeting, took down his address and left, saying they planned to visit him at his place in the evening.
“I would not, were I a bricklayer's labourer,” exclaimed Bob, “exchange situations with this unfortunate literary hack—this poor devil of mental toil and precarious result, who depends for scanty subsistence on the caprice of his more fortunate inferiors, whose minds, unexpanded by liberal feeling, and absorbed in the love of self, and the sordid consideration of interest, are callous to the impression of benevolence!—But let us hope that few such cases of genius in adversity occur, even in this widely extended and varied scene of human vicissitude.”
“I wouldn't, if I were a bricklayer's laborer,” Bob exclaimed, “trade places with this unfortunate writer—this poor soul who struggles mentally and faces uncertain outcomes, relying for a meager living on the whims of his luckier subordinates, whose narrow-mindedness and selfishness blind them to kindness!—But let’s hope that there aren’t many cases of brilliant people facing hardship, even in this vast and diverse landscape of human ups and downs.”
“That hope,” replied his Cousin, “is founded on
“That hope,” replied his Cousin, “is founded on
There are, at this moment, thousands in London of literary merit, of whom we may truly say,
There are currently thousands in London with literary talent, of whom we can genuinely say,
Men unsustained by the hand of friendship, who pine in unheeded obscurity, suffering the daily privations of life's indispensable requisites, or obtaining a scanty pittance at the will of opulent ignorance, and under the humiliating contumely, as we have just been informed, even of Blacking Manufacturers!
Men without the support of friendship, who fade away in unnoticed obscurity, enduring the daily lack of life's essentials, or receiving a meager wage at the mercy of wealthy ignorance, and under the humiliating disdain, as we have just learned, even from Blacking Manufacturers!
“But here is a man, who, during a period of eight years, held a public situation, the duties of which he performed satisfactorily to the last; and yet, on the abolition of the establishment, while the Principal retires in the full enjoyment of his ample salary, this senior Clerk and his fellows in calamity are cast adrift upon the world, to live or starve, and in the dearth of employment suitable to their habits and education, the unfortunate outcasts are left to perish, perhaps by the hand of famine in the streets, or that of despondency in a garret; or, what is worse than either, consigned to linger out their remaining wretched [333] days under the “cold reluctant charity” of a parish workhouse.{1}
“But here is a man who, for eight years, held a public position, performing his duties satisfactorily until the end; and yet, when the organization was shut down, while the Principal walks away with his generous salary, this senior Clerk and his fellow sufferers are left to fend for themselves in the world, to either survive or starve. With so few job opportunities that fit their skills and education, these unfortunate individuals are left to face a grim fate, maybe dying from hunger in the streets or succumbing to despair in a small attic; or, worse than either, forced to spend their remaining miserable days under the “cold reluctant charity” of a parish workhouse.[333]
“When the principal of a Public-office has battened for many years on his liberal salary, and the sole duties required of him have been those of occasionally signing a few official papers, why not discontinue his salary on the abolition of the establishment, and partition it out in pensions to those disbanded Clerks by whose indefatigable exertions the business of the public has been satisfactorily conducted? These allowances, however inadequate to the purpose of substantiating all the comforts, might yet realise the necessaries of life, and, at least, would avert the dread of absolute destitution.”
“When a public office holder has profited for many years from a generous salary, doing little more than occasionally signing official documents, why not stop his salary when the office is abolished and distribute it as pensions to the disbanded clerks who worked tirelessly to ensure public business ran smoothly? These pensions, even if insufficient for all their needs, could still cover life's essentials and at least prevent the fear of complete poverty.”
A pause ensued—Dashall continued in silent rumination—a few moments brought our Heroes to the Horse Guards; and as the acquirement “devoutly to be wished” was a general knowledge of metropolitan manners, they proceeded to the observance of Real Life in a Suttling House.
A pause followed—Dashall remained lost in thought—a few moments later, our Heroes arrived at the Horse Guards; and since the goal “devoutly to be wished” was a common understanding of city life, they set out to observe Real Life in a Suttling House.
Child's Suttling House at the Horse Guards is the almost exclusive resort of military men, who, availing themselves of the intervals between duty, drop in to enjoy a pipe and pint.
Child's Suttling House at the Horse Guards is mostly a hangout for military people, who, taking advantage of their breaks between duties, stop by to enjoy a drink and a smoke.
In the entrance on the left is a small apartment, bearing the dignified inscription, in legible characters on the door, of “The Non-Commissioned Officers' Room.” In front of the bar is a larger space, boxed off, and appropriated to the use of the more humble heroical aspirants, the private men; and passing through the bar, looking into Whitehall, is the Sanctum Sanctorum, for the reception of the more exalted rank, the golden-laced, three-striped, subordinate commandants, Serjeant-Majors and Serjeants, with the colour-clothed regimental appendants of Paymasters and Adjutants' Clerks, et cetera. Into this latter apartment our accomplished friends were ushered with becoming
In the entrance on the left is a small apartment, proudly labeled on the door as “The Non-Commissioned Officers' Room.” In front of the bar is a bigger area, sectioned off for the less prominent heroic aspirants, the private soldiers; and passing through the bar, overlooking Whitehall, is the Sanctum Sanctorum, meant for the higher ranks, the golden-laced, three-striped subordinate commanders, Serjeant-Majors and Serjeants, along with the color-decorated regimental associates of Paymasters and Adjutants' Clerks, et cetera. Into this latter room, our accomplished friends were ushered with the proper decorum.
[334] respect to their superior appearance, at the moment when a warm debate was carrying on as to the respective merits of the deceased Napoleon and the hero of Waterloo.
[334] regarding their better looks, at the time when a heated discussion was taking place about the respective qualities of the late Napoleon and the hero of Waterloo.
The advocate of the former seemed unconnected with the army: the adherent to the latter appeared in the gaudy array of a Colour-Serjeant of the Foot Guards, and was decorated with a Waterloo medal, conspicuously suspended by a blue ribbon to the upper button of his jacket; and of this honourable badge the possessor seemed not less vain than if he had been adorned with the insignia of the most noble order of the Garter.
The supporter of the first group seemed detached from the military: the supporter of the second group was dressed in the flashy uniform of a Color Sergeant of the Foot Guards, proudly wearing a Waterloo medal, which hung from a blue ribbon attached to the upper button of his jacket; and the owner of this honorable badge appeared just as proud as if he were wearing the insignia of the most prestigious order of the Garter.
“I contend, and I defy the universe to prove the contrary,” exclaimed the pertinacious Serjeant in a tone of authoritative assertion, “that the Duke of Wellington is a greater man than ever did, does, or hereafter may exist!”
“I argue, and I challenge the universe to prove me wrong,” declared the persistent Serjeant in a tone of confident assertion, “that the Duke of Wellington is a greater man than anyone who has ever lived, lives now, or will ever exist!”
“By no means,” answered the Civilian. “I admit, so far as a thorough knowledge of military tactics, and a brilliant career of victory constitutes greatness, his grace of Wellington to be a great hero, but certainly not the greatest 'inan that ever did, does, or hereafter may exist!” “Is there a greater man? Did there ever exist a greater?—when and where?” the Serjeant impatiently demanded.
“Not at all,” replied the Civilian. “I’ll agree that if a deep understanding of military tactics and a successful career filled with victories define greatness, then the Duke of Wellington is a great hero. But he's definitely not the greatest man who has ever lived, is currently living, or will ever live!” “Is there a greater man? Has there ever been a greater one?—when and where?” the Sergeant asked impatiently.
“Buonaparte was a greater,” answered the opposing disputant; “because to military renown unparalleled in the annals of ancient or modern history, he added the most consummate knowledge of government; and although his actions might frequently partake of arbitrary sway, (and who is the human being exempted from human frailty) yet he certainly created and sustained, in her most elevated zenith, the splendour of France, till crushed by the union of nations in arms; and if power is the criterion of greatness, who was, is, or ever can be greater than the man, who, emerging from obscurity, raised himself solely by his mental energies to the highest elevation of human glory; and who, this Island excepted, commanded the destinies of all Europe! The most determined of his enemies will not deny, calmly and duly appreciating his merits, that he possessed unrivalled talent; and this fact the hero, whose cause you so vehemently espouse, would, I have no doubt, be the foremost in acknowledging.”
“Buonaparte was greater,” replied the opposing speaker, “because along with his unmatched military fame in both ancient and modern history, he also had an incredible understanding of governance. And while his actions might often seem autocratic (and who is free from human flaws?), he undeniably created and maintained, at its peak, the glory of France until it was brought down by a coalition of nations in arms. If power is the measure of greatness, then who was, is, or ever can be greater than the man who, rising from obscurity, used only his intellect to reach the highest point of human glory; and who, except for this Island, controlled the fate of all Europe! Even the most staunch of his opponents won't deny, when calmly and fairly considering his achievements, that he had unmatched talent; and I'm sure that the hero whose cause you passionately support would be among the first to recognize this.”
In deficiency of argument, the Serjeant resorted to invective; the vociferous disputation reached the next [335] room, and was taken up by the rank and file in a manner not less tumultuous; when an honest native of the “Emerald Isle” good-humouredly terminated the war of words, calling for half a quartern of gin, with which to qualify a pint of Whitbread's entire.
In the absence of a solid argument, the Serjeant resorted to insults; the loud argument spilled over into the next [335] room and was picked up by the regular crowd in just as chaotic a manner. Then, a good-natured man from the “Emerald Isle” cheerfully ended the verbal battle by asking for half a quartern of gin to mix with a pint of Whitbread's ale.
“To the immortal memory of St. Patrick, and long life to him!” exclaimed Patrick O'Shaughnessy. “If there did not exist but them two selves, bad luck to the spalpeen who will say that the Duke and my Lord Londondery would not be the greatest men in the universe!”
“To the everlasting memory of St. Patrick, and may he live long!” shouted Patrick O'Shaughnessy. “If it were just the two of them, may bad luck come to the fool who claims that the Duke and my Lord Londondery wouldn’t be the greatest men in the world!”
This sally led to a cessation of hostilities, which might have been followed by a definitive treaty of peace, but the dæmon of discord again made its appearance in the tangible shape of a diminutive personage, who, hitherto silently occupying a snug out-of-the-way corner by the fireplace, had escaped observation.
This outburst led to a halt in fighting, which could have been followed by a final peace treaty, but the spirit of conflict reemerged in the form of a small figure, who had been quietly sitting in a cozy, hidden spot by the fireplace, unnoticed.
Dashall and his Cousin emerging from the Sanctum Sanctorum, where their presence seemed to have operated as a check on the freedom of discussion, had just seated themselves in the room allotted to the private soldiers, when, in a broad northern accent, the aforesaid taciturn gentleman, selecting the two strangers, who, of all the company, seemed alone worthy the honour of his notice, thus addressed them:
Dashall and his cousin were coming out of the Sanctum Sanctorum, where their presence appeared to have stifled open discussion. They had just taken their seats in the room assigned to the private soldiers when, in a strong northern accent, the previously silent man chose the two newcomers, who seemed the only ones in the entire group deserving of his attention, and spoke to them:
“I crave your pardon, Sirs—but I guess frae your manner that ye are no unacquainted wi' the movements o' high life—do you ken how lang the King means to prolong his abode amang our neebors owre the water, his hair-brain'd Irish subjects, whase notions o' loyalty hae excited sae mony preposterously antic exhibitions by that volatile race O' people?”
“I apologize, gentlemen—but I can tell from your demeanor that you’re familiar with the happenings of high society—do you know how long the King plans to stay among our neighbors across the water, his reckless Irish subjects, whose ideas of loyalty have sparked so many ridiculous displays from that unpredictable group of people?”
“I am not in possession,” answered Dashall, “of any information on the subject.”
“I don’t have any information on that topic,” replied Dashall.
“By the manes of the Priest,” exclaimed Mr. O'Shaughnessy, “but the King (God bless him) has visited the land of green Erin, accompanied by the spirit of harmony, and praties without the sauce of butter-milk be his portion, who does not give them both a hearty welcome!—Arrah, what mane you by a preposterous exhibition? By hecky, the warm hearts of the sons and daughters of St. Patrick have exhibited an unsophisticated feeling of loyalty, very opposite indeed to the chilling indifference, not to say worse of it, of those his subjects at home; and as Sir William, the big Baronet of the City, said in the House [336] that gives laws to the land, Why should not his Majesty be cheered up a little?”
“By the manes of the Priest,” exclaimed Mr. O'Shaughnessy, “but the King (God bless him) has come to the land of green Erin, accompanied by the spirit of harmony, and anyone who doesn't give a warm welcome to him and his praties without butter-milk sauce deserves it!—What do you mean by such a ridiculous display? Honestly, the warm hearts of the sons and daughters of St. Patrick have shown a genuine loyalty, which is quite the opposite of the cold indifference, not to mention worse, of his subjects back home; and as Sir William, the big Baronet of the City, said in the House [336] that makes the laws for the land, why shouldn't his Majesty be cheered up a bit?”
This effusion of loyalty was well received, and Dashall and his Cousin cordially united in the general expression of approbation.
This outpouring of loyalty was well received, and Dashall and his cousin warmly joined in the overall expression of approval.
“This is a' vera weel,” said the Northern; “but an overstrained civility wears ay the semblance o' suspicion, and fulsome adulation canna be vera acceptable to the mind o' delicate feeling: for instance, there is my ain country, and a mair ancient or a mair loyal to its legitimate Sovereign there disna exist on the face o' the whole earth; wad the King condescend to honor wi' his presence the palace o' Holyrod House, he wad experience as ardent a manifestation o' fidelity to his person and government in Auld Reekie as that shown him in Dublin, though aiblins no quite sae tumultuous; forbye, it wadna hae been amiss to hae gaen the preference to a nation whare his ancestors held sway during sae mony centuries, and whare, in the castle of Edinburgh, is still preserved the sacred regalia, with which it migh no hae been unapropos to hae graced his royal head and hand amidst the gratifying pageantry o' a Scotch coronation. Sure I am that North Britain has never been honored publicly wi' a royal visit.—Whether ony branch o' the present reigning family hae been there incognita they best ken themselves.”
“This is a really good point,” said the Northerner; “but excessive politeness often looks like suspicion, and insincere flattery can’t be truly appreciated by someone sensitive: for example, there’s my own country, and there isn’t a place more ancient or more loyal to its rightful Sovereign anywhere on earth; if the King were to honor us with his presence at Holyrood House, he would receive as strong a display of loyalty to him and his government in Old Reekie as he would in Dublin, although perhaps not quite as rowdy; moreover, it wouldn’t have been unreasonable to prefer a nation where his ancestors ruled for so many centuries, and where, in Edinburgh Castle, the sacred regalia is still preserved, with which it might have been fitting to crown his royal head and hand amid the splendid ceremony of a Scottish coronation. I’m certain that North Britain has never been publicly honored with a royal visit.—Whether any member of the current reigning family has been there incognito, they know best themselves.”
“You seem to have forgot,” observed Tallyho, “the visit of the Duke of Cumberland to Scotland in the year 1745.”
“You seem to have forgotten,” noted Tallyho, “the Duke of Cumberland's visit to Scotland in 1745.”
“Begging your pardon for setting you right in that particular,” answered the cynic, with a most significant expression of countenance, “that, Sir, was not a visit, but a visitation!”
“Excuse me for correcting you on that,” replied the cynic, with a very meaningful look on his face, “that, sir, wasn’t a visit, but a visitation!”
“Appropriate enough,” whispered Dashall to Tallyho.
“Sounds good enough,” whispered Dashall to Tallyho.
“Augh, boderation to nice distinctions!” exclaimed O'Shaughnessy; “here, Mister Suttler be after tipping over anoder half quartern of the cratur, wid which to drink success to the royal visitant.”
“Ugh, moderation to nice distinctions!” shouted O'Shaughnessy; “look, Mister Suttler just spilled another half-quarter of the stuff, with which to toast the royal visitor.”
“And that the company may participate in the gratifying expression of attachment to their Sovereign, Landlord,” said Dashall, “let the glass go round.”
“And so the company can join in the gratifying show of loyalty to their Sovereign, Landlord,” said Dashall, “let’s pass the glass around.”
“Testifying our regard for the Sovereign,” resumed the Northern, “it canna be understood that we include a' the underlings o' Government. We ought, as in duty bound, to venerate and obey the maister o' the house; bat it is [337] by no means necessary that we should pay a similar respect to his ox and his ass, his man-servant and his maid-servant. May be, had he been at hame on a late occasion o' melancholy solemnity, blood wadna hae been spilt, and mickle dool and sorrow wad hae been avoided.”
“Testifying our respect for the Sovereign,” continued the Northern, “it cannot be understood that we include all the low-level officials of the Government. We should, as a matter of duty, honor and obey the master of the house; but it is by no means necessary that we should show the same respect to his ox and his donkey, his male servant and his female servant. Perhaps, if he had been at home during a recent sad occasion, blood would not have been shed, and a lot of grief and sorrow would have been avoided.”
“We perfectly understand your allusion,” said one from the group of Life-guardsmen: “Of us now present there were none implicated in the unfortunate occurrences either of that day or a subsequent one: yet we must not silently hear our comrades traduced—perhaps then it may be as well to drop the subject.”
“We completely understand your reference,” said one of the Life-guardsmen in the group. “None of us here were involved in the unfortunate events of that day or the next. However, we can't just stand by and let our friends be slandered—maybe it’s best to change the topic.”
“I canna think o' relinquishing a topic 0' discourse,” answered the Northern, “replete wi' mickle interest, merely at your suggestion; it may be ye did your duty in obeying the commands, on that lamentable occasion, O' your superior officers, and it is to be hoped that the duty O' the country, towards those with whom originated the mischief, will not be forgotten; there is already on record against the honour 0' your corps a vera serious verdick.”
“I can’t imagine giving up such an interesting topic just because you suggested it,” replied the Northerner. “You may have done your duty by following orders from your higher-ups during that unfortunate incident, and let’s hope that the duty to the country regarding those who caused the trouble won’t be overlooked; there’s already a very serious verdict recorded against the honor of your unit.”
Here the Life-guardsmen spontaneously started up; but the immediate interposition of Dashall averted me impending storm; while Tallyho, imitating the generosity of his Cousin, ordered the circulation once more of the bottle, to Unanimity betwixt the military and the people. Harmony thus restored, the two friends took their leave, amidst the grateful acknowledgments of the company, O'Shaughnessy swearing on their departure, that doubtless the two strangers were begot in Ireland, although they might have come over to England to be born! While the pertinacious Northern observed, that appearances were aften deceitful, although, to be sure, the twa friends had vera mickle the manners 0' perfectly well-bred gentlemen, and seem'd, forbye, to hae a proper sense o' national honor.
Here, the Life-guardsmen spontaneously stood up; but Dashall's quick intervention prevented an impending conflict. Meanwhile, Tallyho, following his cousin's example, ordered another round of drinks to celebrate the unity between the military and the people. With harmony restored, the two friends took their leave amidst the grateful thanks of the company, with O'Shaughnessy swearing as they left that the two strangers must have been born in Ireland, even if they had come to England for their birth! While the persistent Northerner remarked that appearances are often deceptive, he conceded that the two friends had all the manners of perfectly well-bred gentlemen and seemed to have a proper sense of national honor.
Proceeding into Whitehall, Tallyho much admired the statue-like figures of the mounted sentries in the recesses by the gate of the Horse-guards; the relief had just approached; the precision of retirement of the one party, and advance to its post of the other: the interesting appearance of the appropriately caparisoned and steady demeanour of the horses, and their instinctive knowledge of military duty, excited deservedly prolonged attention,
Proceeding into Whitehall, Tallyho admired the statue-like figures of the mounted guards in the alcoves by the Horse Guards' gate. The relief was just approaching; the precise way one group withdrew while the other advanced to its post was impressive. The interesting sight of the horses, properly adorned and standing still, along with their instinctive understanding of military duty, deservingly drew prolonged attention.
[338] “One would think,” said Tallyho, “that these noble animals are really actuated by reasoning faculties.”
[338] “You would think,” said Tallyho, “that these noble animals are truly driven by reasoning abilities.”
“Hereafter,” replied Dashall, “you will still more incline to this opinion, when we have an opportunity of being present on a cavalry field-day in Hyde Park, where manoeuvre will appear to have attained its acme of perfection, as much from the wonderful docility of the horse as the discipline of the rider."{l}
“From now on,” replied Dashall, “you’ll be even more convinced of this when we get the chance to watch a cavalry training day in Hyde Park, where it will seem like maneuvering has reached its peak of perfection, thanks to both the amazing obedience of the horse and the discipline of the rider.”{l}
“But hold, who have we here?—Our friend Sparkle, gazing about him with an eye of inquisitive incertitude, as if in search of lost property.”
“But wait, who do we have here?—Our friend Sparkle, looking around with a curious and uncertain eye, as if he’s searching for something he misplaced.”
As his two friends approached, he seemed bewildered in the labyrinth of conjecture.—“I have lost my horse!” he exclaimed, in answer to the inquiry of Dashall. “Having occasion to stop half an hour at Drummond's, I gave the animal in charge of an Israelite urchin, and now neither are to be seen.”
As his two friends got closer, he looked confused in the maze of thoughts. “I’ve lost my horse!” he shouted in response to Dashall's question. “I had to stop for half an hour at Drummond’s and entrusted the horse to a young Jewish kid, and now I can’t find either of them.”
Casting a look down the street, they at last discerned the Jew lad, quickly, yet carefully leading the horse along, with two boys mounted on its back. Thoroughly instructed in the maxim—Get money, honestly if you can, but get it by any means! young Moses had made the most of the present opportunity, by letting out the horse, at a penny a ride, from Charing Cross to the Horse Guards; this, by his own confession, was the fifteenth trip! Sparkle, highly exasperated, was about to apply the discipline of the whip to the shoulders of the thrifty speculator, when Tallyho, interceding in his behalf, he was released, with a suitable admonition.
Casting a glance down the street, they finally spotted the Jewish boy, quickly but carefully guiding the horse along, with two boys riding on its back. Fully aware of the saying—Get money, honestly if you can, but get it by any means!—young Moses was making the most of the opportunity, charging a penny a ride from Charing Cross to the Horse Guards; by his own admission, this was the fifteenth trip! Sparkle, very annoyed, was about to whip the thrifty entrepreneur when Tallyho stepped in on his behalf, and he was let go with a fitting warning.
Sparkle, mounting his recovered charger, left his [339] pedestrian friends for the present, to continue their excursion; who, proceeding up St. Martin's Lane, and admiring that noble edifice, the Church, reached, without other remarkable occurrence, the quietude of Leicester Square.
Sparkle, getting back on his horse, left his [339] walking friends for now to carry on their trip; they proceeded up St. Martin's Lane, admiring the impressive Church, and made their way, without any other notable events, to the calm of Leicester Square.
Close by is Barker's Panorama, an object of attraction too prominent to be passed without inspection. They now entered, and Tallyho stood mute with delight at the astonishing effect of the perspective; while, as if by the powers of enchantment, he seemed to have been transported into other regions. Amidst scenes of rich sublimity, in the centre of a vast amphitheatre, bounded only by the distant horizon, far remote from the noisy bustle of the Metropolis, he gave full scope to his imagination; and after an hour of pleasing reverie, left the fascinating delusion with evident reluctance.
Close by is Barker's Panorama, an attraction so impressive that it couldn't be overlooked. They entered, and Tallyho stood speechless with delight at the stunning visual effects; it felt as if he had been magically transported to another place. Surrounded by breathtaking scenes in the middle of a huge amphitheater, stretching out to the distant horizon and far away from the chaotic bustle of the city, he let his imagination run wild. After an hour of enjoyable daydreaming, he left the captivating illusion with clear reluctance.
Emerging once more into the gay world, the two associates, in search of Real Life in London, proceeded through Covent Garden Market, where fruit, flowers, and exotics in profusion, invite alike the eye and the appetite.
Emerging once again into the vibrant world, the two friends, in search of Real Life in London, walked through Covent Garden Market, where the abundance of fruits, flowers, and exotic items appeals to both the eye and the appetite.
Onwards they reached the classic ground of Drury, “Where Catherine Street descends into the Strand.”
Onward they arrived at the iconic area of Drury, “Where Catherine Street goes down to the Strand.”
“I never,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “pass this spot without a feeling of veneration—the scenes of “olden times” rise on my view, and the shades of Garrick, and our late loss, and not less illustrious Sheridan, flit before me! This was then, as now, the seat of Cyprian indulgence—the magnet of sensual attraction, where feminine youth and beauty in their most fascinating and voluptuous forms were let out by the unprincipled procuress, and the shrines of Venus and Apollo invited the votaries of each to nocturnal sacrifice.{1}
“I never,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “pass by this spot without feeling a sense of reverence—the scenes of ‘old times’ appear before me, and the spirits of Garrick, along with our recent loss, and the equally notable Sheridan, hover in my mind! This was then, just as it is now, the center of indulgence—an attraction for the senses, where young women and beauty in their most captivating and alluring forms were offered by the unscrupulous madam, and the temples of Venus and Apollo called on worshippers to make their nighttime offerings.{1}
[340] “This street and neighbourhood was wont to exhibit, nightly, a melancholy proof of early infamy. Here might be seen a prolonged succession of juvenile voluptuaries, females, many of them under fourteen years of age, offering themselves to indiscriminate prostitution, in a state verging on absolute nudity, alluring the passengers, by every seductive wile, to the haunts of depravity, from which retreat was seldom effected without pecuniary exaction, and frequently accompanied by personal violence. The nuisance has been partly abated, but entirely to remove it would be a task of more difficult accomplishment than that of cleansing the Augean stable, and would baffle all the labours of Hercules!”
[340] “This street and neighborhood used to show, every night, a sad reminder of early vice. Here, one could see a long line of young people, mostly girls, many under fourteen, selling themselves for sex, often barely clothed, trying to lure passersby with every tempting tactic into the places of degradation, from which it was rarely possible to escape without losing money, and often facing physical harm. The problem has lessened somewhat, but getting rid of it completely would be a job much harder than cleaning the Augean stables, and it would stump even the hardest efforts of Hercules!”
“This fact,” observed Tallyho, “throws an indelible stain on metropolitan police.”
“This fact,” noted Tallyho, “puts a permanent mark on the city police.”
“Not so,” answered his companion, “scarce a day passes without groups of these unfortunates being held before a magistrate, and humanely disposed of in various ways, with the view of preventing a recurrence to vicious habits,—but in vain;—the stain is more attributed to the depraved nature of man, who first seduces, and then casts off [341] to infamy and indigence the unhappy victim of credulity. Many of these wretched girls would, in all probability, gladly have abstained from the career of vice, if, on their first fall, they had experienced the consoling protection of parents or friends;—but, shut out from home,—exiled from humanity,—divested of character, and without resources,—no choice is left, other than mendicity or prostitution!”{1}
“Not at all,” replied his companion, “hardly a day goes by without groups of these unfortunate people being brought before a judge and dealt with in various ways to try to prevent them from returning to harmful habits—but it’s pointless; the blame lies more with the corrupt nature of humanity, which first lures them in and then abandons the unfortunate victims of naivety to shame and poverty. Many of these miserable girls would likely have chosen to avoid a life of vice if, during their first struggle, they had received the supportive protection of parents or friends;—but, being shut out from home—exiled from society—stripped of their dignity and without any resources—there’s no option left for them but begging or prostitution!”[341]
The sombre reflections occasioned by these remarks gradually gave way to those of a more enlivening hue, as the two friends proceeded along the Strand. The various display, at the tradesmen's shop windows, of useful and ornamental articles,—the continued bustle of the street,—the throng of passengers of every description, hurrying on in the activity of business, or more leisurely lounging their way under the impulse of curiosity,—the endless succession of new faces, and frequent occurrence of interesting incident;—these united in forming an inexhaustible fund of amusement and admiration.
The serious thoughts caused by these comments slowly shifted to more uplifting ones as the two friends walked along the Strand. The various displays in the shop windows, featuring useful and decorative items—the constant hustle and bustle of the street—the crowd of people rushing off to work or casually strolling along out of curiosity—the constant stream of new faces and the many interesting happenings; all of these combined to create an endless source of entertainment and wonder.
Passing through Temple Bar, “Once more,” said [342] Dashall, “we enter the dominions of another Sovereign,—the Monarch of the City,—than whom there is none more tenacious of the rights and immunities of his subjects. Professing a strictly civil government, and consequent hostility to military interference, it does not always happen that the regal sway of the East harmonizes with that of the West, and the limited reign of the former is generally most popular when most in opposition to that of the latter. Several important events have occurred wherein a late patriotic Right Honourable Chief Magistrate has had the opportunity of manifesting a zealous, firm, and determined attachment to the privileges of the community: the good wishes of his fellow-citizens have accompanied his retirement, and his private and public worth will be long held in deserved estimation.”
Passing through Temple Bar, “Once again,” said [342] Dashall, “we enter the territory of another Sovereign—the Monarch of the City—who is more tenacious of the rights and freedoms of his subjects than anyone else. Although he claims to maintain a strictly civil government and is therefore opposed to military interference, it doesn’t always happen that the royal authority of the East aligns with that of the West, and the limited reign of the former is usually most popular when it's most opposed to that of the latter. Several significant events have occurred where a recent patriotic Right Honourable Chief Magistrate had the chance to show his strong, firm, and unwavering commitment to the community's rights. The good wishes of his fellow citizens have followed him into retirement, and both his private and public worth will be held in high regard for a long time.”
Turning up the Old Bailey, and passing, with no pleasing sensations, that structure in front of which so many human beings expiate their offences with their lives, without, in any degree, the frequency of the dreadful example lessening the perpetration of crime,—“The crowd thickens,” exclaimed the 'Squire; and advancing into Smithfield, a new scene opened on the view of the astonished Tallyho. An immense and motley crowd was wedged together in the open space of the market, which was surrounded by booths and shows of every description, while the pavement was rendered nearly impassable by a congregated multitude, attracted by the long line of stalls, exhibiting, in ample redundancy, the gorgeously gilt array of ginger-bread monarchs, savory spice-nuts, toys for children and those of elder growth, and the numerous other et cetera of Bartholomew Fair, which at that moment the Lord Mayor of London, with accustomed state and formality, was in the act of proclaiming.
Turning up at the Old Bailey and passing by, without any pleasant feelings, that building in front of which so many people pay for their crimes with their lives, despite the frequent grim example doing nothing to reduce the rate of crime,—“The crowd is growing,” exclaimed the 'Squire; and as they moved into Smithfield, a whole new scene unfolded before the astonished Tallyho. An enormous and diverse crowd was packed together in the open space of the market, which was surrounded by booths and attractions of every kind, while the pavement was nearly blocked by a gathered multitude drawn in by the long line of stalls, showcasing in overwhelming abundance the beautifully gilded displays of gingerbread figures, tasty spice nuts, toys for kids and adults, and the countless other things of Bartholomew Fair, which at that moment the Lord Mayor of London, with his usual pomp and ceremony, was in the process of announcing.
A more dissonant uproar now astounded the ears of Bob than ever issued from the hounds at falt in the field or at variance in the kennel! The prolonged stunning and vociferous acclamation of the mob, accompanied by the deeply sonorous clangor of the gong—the shrill blast of the trumpet—the hoarse-resounding voices of the mountebanks, straining their lungs to the pitch of extremity, through speaking tubes—the screams of women and children, and the universal combination of discord, announced the termination of the Civic Sovereign's performance in the drama; “the revelry now had began,” [343] and all was obstreperous uproar, and “confusion worse confounded.”
A louder commotion now shocked Bob's ears more than anything the hounds had ever made in the field or the kennel! The prolonged, overwhelming cheers of the crowd, along with the deep, resonant clang of the gong—the sharp blast of the trumpet—the loud, straining voices of the street performers shouting through their megaphones—the cries of women and children, and the overall mix of chaos signaled the end of the Civic Sovereign's show in the play; “the festivities had now begun,” [343] and all was chaotic noise and “confusion worse confounded.”
In the vortex of the vast assemblage, the Hon. Tom Dashall and his Cousin were more closely hemmed in than they probably would have been at the rout of female distinction, where inconvenience is the order of the night, and pressure, to the dread of suffocation, the criterion of rank and fashion. Borne on the confluent tide, retreat was impracticable; alternately then, stationary and advancing with the multitude, as it urged its slow and undulating progress; or paused at the attractions of Wombwell and Gillman's rival menageries—the equestrian shows of Clark and Astley—the theatres of Richardson and Gyngell, graced by the promenade of the dramatis personæ and lure of female nudity—the young giantess—the dwarfs—and the accomplished lady, who, born without arms, cuts out watch-papers with her toes, and takes your likeness with her teeth!—Amidst these and numerous other seductive impediments to their progress, our pedestrians, resisting alike temptation and invitation, penetrated the mass of spectators, and gained an egress at Long Lane, uninjured in person, and undamaged in property, “save and except” the loss, by Bob, of a shoe, and the rent frock of his honourable Cousin. To repair the one and replace the other was now the predominant consideration. By fortunate proximity to a descendant of St. Crispin, the latter object was speedily effected; but the difficulty of finding, in that neighbourhood, a knight of the thimble, appearing insurmountable, the two friends pursued their course, Dashall drawing under his arm the shattered skirts of his garment, until they reached Playhouse Yard, in Upper Whitecross Street, St. Luke's, to which they had been previously directed, the epitome of Monmouth Street, chiefly inhabited by tailors and old clothes retailers, where purchase and repair are equally available.
In the chaos of the large crowd, the Hon. Tom Dashall and his cousin found themselves more tightly packed than they probably would have at a high-society party, where discomfort is the norm and being jostled is a sign of status and fashion. Swept along by the sea of people, they couldn't retreat; instead, they moved with the crowd, which pushed forward slowly and undulating, pausing now and then at the attractions of Wombwell and Gillman’s competing menageries, the horse shows of Clark and Astley, and the theaters of Richardson and Gyngell, dotted with performers and the allure of scantily clad women—the towering giantess, the dwarfs, and the talented lady who, born without arms, cuts paper with her toes and takes your portrait with her teeth! Amidst these and many other tempting distractions, our two friends resisted both temptation and invitation, waded through the crowd, and finally emerged onto Long Lane, unharmed in body and without loss of belongings, “except for” Bob losing a shoe and his cousin's ripped coat. Fixing one and replacing the other was now their main concern. Luckily, they were close to a descendant of St. Crispin, so they quickly took care of the coat; however, finding a tailor in that area proved more challenging. So, the two friends continued on, Dashall holding up the torn fabric of his coat until they reached Playhouse Yard in Upper Whitecross Street, St. Luke's, which they had been told about before—like a condensed version of Monmouth Street, mainly filled with tailors and used clothing sellers, where you can both buy and repair.
Entering a shop occupied by an intelligent Scotch tailor, who, with his son, was busily employed in making up black cloth and kerseymere waistcoats, his spouse, a native of Edinburgh, with a smile of complacency and avidity of utterance that strongly indicated a view to the main chance, put her usual inquiry:
Entering a shop run by a smart Scottish tailor, who, along with his son, was busy creating black cloth and kerseymere waistcoats, his wife, originally from Edinburgh, with a satisfied smile and eager to talk, asked her usual question:
“What is your wull, Gentlemen—what wad you please to want?”
“What is your will, gentlemen—what would you like?”
“My good lady,” answered Dashall, “we would be [344] glad to accept the services of your husband,” exhibiting at same time the rent skirts of his frock. “This accident was sustained in passing, or rather in being squeezed through the Fair; my friend too, experienced a trifling loss; but, as it has been replaced, I believe that he does not require present amendment.”
“My good lady,” replied Dashall, “we would be [344] happy to accept your husband’s help,” showing at the same time the torn edges of his coat. “This damage happened while we were going through the Fair; my friend also had a minor mishap, but since it has been fixed, I think he doesn't need any immediate repairs.”
The materials destined to form the black waistcoats were then put aside, while the northern adept in the exercise of the needle proceeded to operate on the fractured garment; and a coat being supplied, ad interim, Tom and his friend accepted the “hospitable invitation of the guid wife, and seated themselves with unhesitating sociability.
The materials meant for the black vests were then set aside, while the northern expert with the needle worked on the damaged garment; and as they provided a coat in the meantime, Tom and his friend happily accepted the welcoming invitation of the kind lady and sat down with easy friendliness.
“And sae ye hae been to the Fair, gentlemen?” “We have, madam,” said Dashall, “and unintentionally so; we were not, until on the spot, aware of any such exhibition, and got within its vortex just as the Lord Mayor had licensed, by proclamation, the commencement of this annual scene of idleness, riot and dissipation!”
“And so you have been to the Fair, gentlemen?” “We have, ma'am,” replied Dashall, “and unintentionally so; we weren’t aware of any such event until we got there and got caught up in it just as the Lord Mayor had announced, by proclamation, the start of this annual display of idleness, chaos, and excess!”
“Hoot awa, Sir, ye wadna wish to deprive us o' our amusements; poor folks dinna often enjoy pleasure, and why should na they hae a wee bit o' it now and then, as weel as the rich?”
“Hoot away, Sir, you wouldn't want to take away our fun; poor people don’t often get to enjoy themselves, and why shouldn’t they have a little bit of it now and then, just like the rich?”
“I know not, my good lady,” exclaimed Bon, “that I can altogether assimilate with your's my ideas of pleasure; if it consists in being pressed nearly to death by a promiscuous rabble, in attempts on your pocket, shoes trod off your feet by the formidable iron-cased soles of a drayman's ponderous sandals, to say nothing of the pleasing effect thus produced upon your toes, and in having the coat torn off from your back, I would freely resign to the admirers of such pleasure the full benefit of its enjoyment.”
“I don’t know, my good lady,” exclaimed Bon, “if I can fully agree with your idea of pleasure; if it means being crushed nearly to death by a mixed crowd, having people dig into your pockets, your shoes getting stomped off your feet by the heavy boots of a drayman, not to mention the delightful consequences for your toes, and having your coat ripped off your back, I would gladly leave the enjoyment of such pleasure to those who appreciate it.”
“Accidents wull happen ony where and in ony situation,” replied the garrulous wife; “ye may be thankfu', gentlemen, that its nae waur,—and, for the matter o' the rent frock, my guid man wull repair it in sic a way that the disaster wull no be seen, and the coat wull look as weel as ever.”
"Accidents can happen anywhere and in any situation," replied the chatty wife. "You should be thankful, gentlemen, that it’s not worse—and about the torn dress, my good man will fix it in such a way that the damage won't be noticeable, and the coat will look as good as ever."
The promise was verified; the reparation was made with equal neatness and celerity; something beyond the required remuneration was given; and Dashall inquiring if the worthy dame of Auld Reekie would take a drop of cordial, the friendly offer was accepted, and the glass of [345] good fellowship having been drank, and civilities interchanged, the strangers departed.
The promise was fulfilled; the compensation was made swiftly and neatly; more than what was needed was given; and Dashall asked if the kind woman from Auld Reekie would like a drink of cordial. She accepted the friendly offer, and after sharing a glass of [345] good cheer and exchanging pleasantries, the strangers left.
They were now in Whitecross Street, where sojourned their acquaintance of the morning, the distressed Poet; and, from the accuracy of description, had no difficulty in ascertaining his place of residence.
They were now on Whitecross Street, where their acquaintance from the morning, the troubled Poet, was staying; and, thanks to the detailed description, they had no trouble finding his place.
It was in a public-house; a convenient lodging for the forlorn being, who, exiled from friendship, and unconnected by any ties of consanguinity, can dress his scanty meal by a gratuitous fire, and where casual generosity may sometimes supply him with a draught of Hanbury's exhilarating beverage.
It was in a pub; a handy place for the lonely person, who, cut off from friendship and without any family ties, can prepare his meager meal by a free fire, and where occasional kindness might sometimes treat him to a drink of Hanbury's refreshing beverage.
At the bar, directly facing the street door, the strangers, on inquiring for the Poet by name, were directed by the landlord, with a sarcastical expression of countenance, to “the first floor down the chimney!” while the Hostess, whose demeanour perfectly accorded with that of the well-manner'd gentlewoman, politely interfered, and, shewing the parlour, sent a domestic to acquaint her lodger that he was wanted below stairs.
At the bar, directly facing the street door, the strangers asked for the Poet by name and were directed by the landlord, who had a sarcastic look on his face, to “the first floor down the chimney!” Meanwhile, the Hostess, who acted like a well-mannered lady, politely stepped in, pointed to the parlor, and sent someone to let her lodger know he was needed downstairs.
The summons was instantaneously obeyed; but as the parlour precluded the opportunity of private conversation, being partly occupied by clamorous butchers, with whom this street abounds to redundancy, the Poet had no other alternative than that of inviting the respectable visitants to his attic, or, as the Landlord facetiously named the lofty domicile, his first floor down the chimney!
The call was instantly answered; however, since the living room didn't allow for private conversation and was partly filled with noisy butchers that this street has in abundance, the Poet had no choice but to invite the esteemed guests to his attic, or as the Landlord humorously referred to it, his first floor down the chimney!
Real Life in London must be seen, to be believed. The Hon. Tom Dashall and his friend Tallyho were reared in the lap of luxury, and never until now formed an adequate conception of the distressing privations attendant on suffering humanity.
Real life in London has to be seen to be believed. The Hon. Tom Dashall and his friend Tallyho were raised in luxury and had never truly understood the painful hardships that come with suffering humanity until now.
With a dejection of spirits evidently occasioned by the humiliating necessity of ushering his polished friends into the wretched asylum of penury, the Poet led the way with tardy reluctancy, while his visitors regretted every step of ascent, under the appalling circumstance of giving pain to adversity; yet they felt that to recede would be more indelicate than to advance.
With a clear feeling of disappointment caused by the embarrassing need to bring his refined friends into the miserable place of poverty, the Poet led the way with slow reluctance, while his guests regretted every step they took upward, given the terrible situation of causing pain to someone in need; yet they realized that turning back would be more rude than moving forward.
The apartment which they now entered seemed a lumber room, for the reception of superfluous or unserviceable furniture, containing not fewer than eleven decayed and mutilated chairs of varied description; and the limited space, to make the most of it in a pecuniary point of view, [346] was encroached upon by three uncurtained beds, of most impoverished appearance,—while, exhibiting the ravages of time in divers fractures, the dingy walls and ceiling, retouched by the trowel in many places with a lighter shade of repairing material, bore no unapt resemblance to the Pye-bald Horse in Chiswell-street! Calculating on its utility and probable future use, the builder of the mansion had given to this room the appendage of a chimney, but evidently it had for many years been unconscious of its usual accompaniment, fire. Two windows had originally admitted the light of heaven, but to reduce the duty, one was internally blocked up, while externally uniformity was preserved. A demolished pane of glass in the remaining window, close to which stood a small dilapidated table, gave ingress to a current of air; the convenient household article denominated a clothes-horse, stood against the wall; and several parallel lines of cord were stretched across the room, on which to hang wet linen, a garret being considered of free access to all the house, and the comfort or health of its occupant held in utter derision and contempt!
The apartment they entered looked like a storage room, crammed with unnecessary or broken furniture, filled with at least eleven worn-out and damaged chairs of different styles. To maximize limited space from a financial perspective, three uncurtained beds appeared in this cramped area, all looking very shabby. The dingy walls and ceiling, patched up in various places with a lighter repair material, showed signs of age, resembling the Pye-bald Horse in Chiswell Street! The builder added a chimney to this room, presumably for its future usefulness, but clearly, it hadn’t seen a fire in many years. Originally, two windows brought in natural light, but to save on cost, one was boarded up, while the outside remained unchanged. A broken pane of glass in the other window, next to a small rundown table, allowed a draft to enter; a clothes-horse leaned against the wall, and several lines of cord were strung across the room for hanging wet laundry since the attic was accessible to everyone in the house, completely disregarding the comfort or health of its occupant!
Here then,—
Here we go,—
entered Dashall and his Cousin Tallyho. The latter familiarly seating himself on the ricketty remains of what had once been an arm-chair, but now a cripple, having lost one of its legs, the precarious equilibrium gave way under the unaccustomed shock of the contact, and the 'Squire came to the ground, to his no small surprise, the confusion of the poet, and amusement of Dashall!
entered Dashall and his cousin Tallyho. The latter casually sat down on the wobbly remnants of what used to be an armchair, but was now a bit of a wreck since it had lost one of its legs. The shaky balance gave way under the sudden weight, and the 'Squire ended up on the floor, much to his surprise, the poet's embarrassment, and Dashall's amusement!
With many apologies for the awkwardness of their very humble accommodation, and grateful expression of thanks for the honour conferred upon him, the Poet replaced Tallyho in a firmer seat, and a silence of some few moments ensued, the two friends being at a loss in what manner to explain, and the Poet unwilling to inquire the object of their visit.
With many apologies for the awkwardness of their very humble accommodation, and a grateful expression of thanks for the honor given to him, the Poet settled Tallyho into a more comfortable seat, and a moment of silence followed, as the two friends struggled to find a way to explain themselves, while the Poet hesitated to ask about the purpose of their visit.
Dashall began at last, by observing that in pursuit of the knowledge of Real Life in London, he and his accompanying friend had met with many incidents both ludicrous and interesting; but that in the present instance their visit was rather influenced by sympathy than [347] curiosity, and that where they could be serviceable to the interest of merit in obscurity, they always should be happy in the exercise of a duty so perfectly congenial with their feelings.
Dashall finally started by mentioning that in their quest to understand Real Life in London, he and his friend had come across many events that were both funny and engaging; however, in this case, their visit was more about empathy than [347] curiosity, and wherever they could support the cause of deserving individuals who were overlooked, they would always be glad to carry out a duty that aligned perfectly with their values.
Many years had elapsed since the person, to whom these remarks were addressed, had heard the voice of consolation, and its effect was instantaneous; his usual sombre cast of countenance became brightened by the glow of cheerful animation, and he even dwelt on the subject of his unfortunate circumstances with jocularity:
Many years had passed since the person this was directed to had heard a comforting voice, and the effect was immediate; his typically gloomy face lit up with a cheerful glow, and he even talked about his unfortunate situation with humor:
“The elevated proximity of a garret,” he observed, “to the sublimer regions, has often been resorted to as the roost of genius; and why should I, of the most slender, if any, literary pretensions, complain? And yet my writings, scattered amongst the various fugitive periodical publications of this and our sister island, if collected together, would form a very voluminous compilation.”
“The high position of an attic,” he noted, “has often been seen as the perch of creativity; so why should I, with my minimal, if any, literary aspirations, complain? Yet my works, spread across various fleeting periodicals on this island and the one next to it, if brought together, would make quite a large collection.”
“I have always understood,” said Bob, “that the quality, not the quantum, constituted the fame of an author's productions.”
“I've always believed,” said Bob, “that the quality, not the quantity, is what makes an author's work famous.”
“True, Sir,” answered the Poet; “and I meant not the vanity of arrogating to myself any merit from my writings, with reference either to quantum or quality. I alluded to the former, as merely proving the inefficacy of mental labour in realizing the necessaries of life to an author whom celebrity declines acknowledging. Similarly situated, it would appear was the Dutchman mentioned by the late Doctor Walcot,
“That's true, Sir,” replied the Poet; “and I didn’t mean to boast about any merit from my writings, whether in quantity or quality. I was referring to the first point, which simply shows how futile mental work can be in providing the necessities of life for an author who fame refuses to recognize. It seems the Dutchman mentioned by the late Doctor Walcot was in a similar situation,”
“On the other hand, Collins, Hammond, and Gray, wrote each of them but little, yet their names will descend to posterity!—And had Gray, of his poems the Bard, and the Elegy in a Country Church Yard, written only one, and written nothing else, he had required no other or better passport to immortality!”{1}
"On the other hand, Collins, Hammond, and Gray didn't write much, but their names will be remembered forever!—And if Gray had only written one of his poems, the Bard or the Elegy in a Country Church Yard, that alone would have been enough for him to achieve immortality!"{1}
[348] In this opinion the visitants, who were both well conversant with our native literature, readily acquiesced.
[348] In this opinion, the visitors, who were both familiar with our local literature, quickly agreed.
“Have you never,” asked Dashall, “thought of publishing a volume by subscription?”
“Have you ever,” asked Dashall, “considered publishing a book through subscriptions?”
“I meditated such intention,” answered the Poet, “not long ago; drew up the necessary Prospectus, with a specimen of the Poetry, and perambulated the Metropolis in search of patronage. In some few instances I was successful, and, though limited the number, yet the high respectability of my few Subscribers gave me inexpressible satisfaction; several of our nobility honoured me with their names, and others, my patrons, were of the very first class of literature. Nevertheless, I encountered much contumelious reception; and after an irksome and unavailing perseverance of a month's continuance, I was at last compelled to relinquish all hope of success.
“I thought about that recently,” replied the Poet, “wrote up the necessary Proposal, including a sample of the Poetry, and wandered around the City looking for support. In a few cases, I had some success, and while the number was small, the high regard of my few Subscribers brought me immense satisfaction; several members of the nobility offered their names, and other patrons were among the top tier of literature. However, I faced a lot of disrespectful reactions; and after a frustrating month of trying hard without any results, I finally had to give up all hope of success.”
“Having then on my list the name of a very worthy Alderman who lately filled the Civic Chair with honour to himself and advantage to his fellow-citizens, I submitted my prospectus in an evil hour to another Alderman, a baronet, of this here and that there notoriety!
“Having on my list the name of a very respectable Alderman who recently held the Civic Chair with pride for himself and benefit for his fellow-citizens, I foolishly submitted my proposal at a bad time to another Alderman, a baronet, known for this and that!”
“Waiting in his Banking-house the result of my application, he condescended to stalk forth from the holy of holies, his inner room, with the lofty demeanour of conscious importance, when, in the presence of his Clerks and others, doubtless to their great edification and amusement, the following colloquy ensued, bearing in his hand my unlucky Prospectus, with a respectful epistle which had accompanied it:—
“While waiting in his office for the outcome of my application, he graciously stepped out from his private office, carrying himself with the air of someone who felt very important. In front of his clerks and others, likely to their amusement and interest, the following conversation took place, as he held my unfortunate prospectus along with the respectful letter that had come with it:—”
“Are you the writer,” he asked in a majesterial tone, “of this here letter?”
“Are you the writer,” he asked in an authoritative tone, “of this letter?”
“I am, Sir W*****m, unfortunately!”
“I am, Sir W*****m, sadly!”
“Then,” he continued, “you may take them there papers back again, I have no time to read Prospectuses, and so Mister Poet my compliments, and good morning to you!!!”
“Then,” he continued, “you can take those papers back again. I don’t have time to read prospectuses, so Mister Poet, my compliments, and good morning to you!!!”
“These literally were his words; and such was the astounding effect they produced on my mind, that, although I had meant to have passed through the Royal Exchange, I yet, in the depth of my reverie, wandered I knew not where, and, before recovering my recollection, found myself in the centre of London Bridge!”
“These were his exact words; and the incredible impact they had on me was such that, even though I had planned to walk through the Royal Exchange, I somehow got lost in my thoughts and ended up, without realizing it, in the middle of London Bridge!”
[349] The detail of this fact, so characteristic of rude, ungentlemanly manners, and the barbarian ignorance of this great man of little soul, excited against him, with Dashall and his friend, a mingled feeling of ridicule, contempt and reprobation!
[349] The specifics of this fact, which are typical of rude and unrefined behavior, as well as the ignorance of this supposedly great person with a small character, sparked a mix of mockery, disdain, and disapproval from Dashall and his friend!
“Real Life in London still!” exclaimed Talltho; “intellect and indigence in a garret, and wealth and ignorance in a banking-house!—I would at least have given him, in deficiency of other means, the wholesome castigation of reproof.”
“Real life in London still!” exclaimed Talltho; “brains and poverty in a small apartment, and money and ignorance in a bank!—I would have at least given him, lacking other options, the tough love of some criticism.”
“I did,” said the Poet, “stung to the quick by such unmerited contumely, I retired to my attic, and produced a philippic named the Recantation: I cannot accommodate you at present with a copy of the Poem, but the concluding stanzas I can repeat from memory:—
“I did,” said the Poet, “hurt deeply by such undeserved insults, I went up to my attic and wrote a sharp piece called the Recantation. I can’t provide you with a copy of the poem right now, but I can recite the final stanzas from memory:—
[350] “Bravo!” exclaimed Dashall; “re-issue your Prospectus, my friend, and we will accelerate, with our best interest and influence, the publication of your volume. Let it be dedicated to the Hon. Tom Dashall and his Cousin Bob Tallyho. In the meanwhile, accept this trifle, as a complimentary douceur uniformly given on such occasions; and, amidst the varied scenes of Real Life in London, I shall frequently recur to the present as the most gratifying to my feelings.”
[350] “Well done!” shouted Dashall; “publish your Prospectus again, my friend, and we’ll do our best to speed up the release of your book. It should be dedicated to the Hon. Tom Dashall and his Cousin Bob Tallyho. In the meantime, take this small gift, which is usually given on such occasions; and, amidst the diverse experiences of real life in London, I will often think back to this moment as the most satisfying to my feelings.”
The benevolent associates now departed, pleased with the occurrences of the day, and, more than all, with the last, wherein the opportunity was afforded them of extending consolation and relief to genius in adversity![351]
The kind companions have now left, happy with the events of the day and, most importantly, with the last one, where they had the chance to offer support and help to those struggling with their talent![351]
CHAPTER XXII
TOM and his Cousin were surprised the next morning by a visit from Mr. Mortimer and his friend Merrywell, whose dismal features and long visages plainly indicated some unpleasant disaster, and Tom began to fear blame would be attached to them for leaving his party at Darkhouse Lane.
TOM and his cousin were taken aback the next morning by a visit from Mr. Mortimer and his friend Merrywell, whose gloomy expressions and long faces clearly showed that something bad had happened, and Tom started to worry that they might get blamed for leaving his group at Darkhouse Lane.
“Pray,” said Merrywell, “can you tell me where to find your friend Sparkle?”
“Hey,” said Merrywell, “can you tell me where to find your friend Sparkle?”
“Indeed,” replied Dashall, a little relieved by this question, “I am not Sparkle's keeper; but pray be seated—what is the matter, is it a duel, do you want a second?—I know he is a good shot.”
“Yeah,” replied Dashall, feeling a bit relieved by the question, “I’m not Sparkle's keeper; but please have a seat—what’s going on, is it a duel, do you need a second?—I know he’s a good shot.”
“This levity, Sir,” said Mortimer, “is not to be borne. The honour of a respectable family is at stake, and must be satisfied. No doubt you, as his very oldest friend, know where he is; and I desire you will immediately inform me, or———”
“This lightheartedness, Sir,” said Mortimer, “is unacceptable. The honor of a respectable family is at stake and must be protected. Surely you, as his oldest friend, know where he is; and I ask that you tell me right away, or———”
“Sir,” said Dashall, who was as averse as unused to be desired by any person—“do you know whom you address, and that I am in my own house? if you do, you have certainly discarded all propriety of conduct and language before you cross'd the threshold.”
“Sir,” said Dashall, who was as uncomfortable as he was unaccustomed to being wanted by anyone—“do you know who you’re talking to, and that I’m in my own home? If you do, you have clearly thrown out all standards of behavior and speech before you stepped inside.”
“Gentlemen,” said Merrywell, “perhaps some explanation is really necessary here. My friend Mortimer speaks under agonized feelings, for which, I am sure, your good sense will make every allowance. Miss Mortimer———”
“Gentlemen,” said Merrywell, “maybe a little explanation is needed here. My friend Mortimer is speaking from a place of deep distress, and I’m sure your good judgment will be understanding. Miss Mortimer———”
“Miss Mortimer,” exclaimed Dashall, rising from his [352] seat, “you interest me strongly, say, what of Miss Mortimer?”
“Miss Mortimer,” exclaimed Dashall, getting up from his [352] seat, “you really pique my interest, so what’s the deal with Miss Mortimer?”
“Alas,” said Mortimer, evidently endeavouring to suppress emotions which appeared to agitate his whole frame, and absorb every mental faculty, “we are unable to account for her absence, and strongly suspect she is in company with your friend Sparkle—can you give us any information relative to either of them?”
“Unfortunately,” said Mortimer, clearly trying to hold back emotions that seemed to shake him to his core and consume all his thoughts, “we can’t explain her absence and strongly suspect she’s with your friend Sparkle—can you provide us with any information about either of them?”
Dashall assured them he knew nothing of the fugitives, but that he would certainly make every inquiry in his power, if possible to find out Sparkle. Upon which they departed, though not without hinting they expected Tom had the power of making a search more effectually than either Mortimer or Merrywell.
Dashall assured them he had no knowledge of the fugitives, but that he would definitely make every effort to find out about Sparkle. With that, they left, though not without suggesting that they believed Tom could conduct a search more effectively than either Mortimer or Merrywell.
“Egad!” said Tom to Tallyho, “this absence of Sparkle means something more than I can at present conceive; and it appears that we must now venture forth in search of our guide. I hope he has taken a good direction himself.”
“Wow!” said Tom to Tallyho, “this lack of Sparkle means something more than I can currently understand; and it looks like we have to go out and look for our guide. I hope he picked a good direction himself.”
“Mortimer appears hurt,” continued Bob, “and I can scarcely wonder at it.”
“Mortimer seems hurt,” Bob continued, “and I can hardly blame him.”
“It is a trifle in high life now-a-days,” replied Dashall, “and my life for it we shall obtain some clue to his mode of operation before the day is out. Love is a species of madness, and oftentimes induces extraordinary movements. I have discovered its existence in his breast for some time past, and if he is really with the lady, I wonder myself that he has not given some sort of intimation; though I know he is very cautious in laying his plans, and very tenacious of admitting too many persons to know his intentions, for fear of some indiscreet friend unintentionally frustrating his designs.”
“It’s a little thing in high society these days,” replied Dashall, “and I bet we’ll figure out how he operates before the day is over. Love is a kind of madness and often leads to unexpected actions. I’ve sensed it in him for a while now, and if he’s really with the lady, I’m surprised he hasn’t hinted at it; although I know he’s very careful about his plans and doesn’t like to let too many people in on his intentions, afraid that some indiscreet friend might unintentionally mess things up.”
“I apprehend we shall have a wild-goose chase of it,” rejoined Bob.
"I think we're going to be wasting our time," Bob replied.
“It serves however,” continued Tom, “to diversify our peregrinations; and if it is his pleasure to be in love, we will endeavour to chase pleasure in pursuit of the Lover, and if guided by honourable motives, which I cannot doubt, we will wish him all the success he can wish himself, only regretting that we are deprived of his agreeable company.
“It does, however,” continued Tom, “add some variety to our travels; and if he chooses to be in love, we will try to seek joy in supporting the Lover, and if he is driven by honorable intentions, which I have no doubt, we will wish him all the success he desires, only lamenting that we are missing his enjoyable company.
[353] “But come, let us forth and see how the land lies; many persons obtain all their notoriety from an elopement; it makes a noise in the world, and even though frequently announced in our newspapers under fictitious titles, the parties soon become known and are recollected ever after; and some even acquire fame by the insertion of a paragraph announcing an elopement, in which they insinuate that themselves are parties; so that an elopement in high life may be considered as one of the sure roads to popularity.”
[353] “But come on, let’s go out and see how things are; many people gain all their fame from eloping; it makes a buzz in the world, and even though it’s often reported in our newspapers under fake names, those involved soon become well-known and are remembered forever; some even gain notoriety by having a blurb published about an elopement, suggesting that they are part of it; so an elopement among the elite can be considered one of the sure paths to fame.”
“But not always a safe one,” replied Bob.
“But not always a safe one,” Bob replied.
“Life is full of casualties,” rejoined Dashall, “and you are by this time fully aware that it requires something almost beyond human foresight to continue in the line of safety, while you are in pursuit of Real Life in London. Though it may fairly be said, 'That all the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely passengers,' still they have their inside and their outside places, and each man in his time meets with strange adventures. It may also very properly be termed a Camera Obscura, reflecting not merely trees, sign-posts, houses, &c. but the human heart in all its folds, its feelings, its passions, and its motives. In it you may perceive conceit flirting its fan—arrogance adjusting its cravat—pedantry perverting its dictionary—vacuity humming a tune—vanity humming his neighbour—cunning shutting his eyes while listening to a pedagogue—and credulity opening his eyes and ears, willing and anxious to be deceived and duped.”
“Life is full of losses,” Dashall replied, “and you know by now that it takes almost superhuman foresight to stay safe while you're trying to find Real Life in London. Although it can be said, 'That all the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely passengers,' they still have their roles and their places, and everyone experiences strange adventures in their time. It can also be quite accurately described as a Camera Obscura, reflecting not just trees, signposts, houses, etc., but also the human heart in all its complexity, its feelings, its passions, and its motivations. In it, you can see arrogance adjusting its cravat—pedantry twisting its dictionary—vacuity humming a tune—vanity gossiping about others—cunning pretending to listen while ignoring a teacher—and gullibility eager and willing to be fooled.”
“It is a strange world, indeed,” said Tallyho; “and of all that I have ever heard or seen, this London of your's is the most extraordinary part.”
“It’s a strange world, for sure,” said Tallyho; “and out of everything I’ve ever heard or seen, this London of yours is the most remarkable part.”
“Yes,—
“Yes,"
answered his Cousin; “in fact, it is like every thing, and at the same time like nothing—[354]
answered his Cousin; “actually, it's like everything and at the same time like nothing—[354]
By this time they were at Long's, where, upon inquiry, all trace of Sparkle had been lost for two days. All was mystery and surprise, not so much that he should be absent, as that his servant could give no account of him, which was rather extraordinary. Tom ascertained, however, that no suspicion appeared to have been excited as to Miss Mortimer, and, with commendable discretion, avoided expressing a word which could create such an idea, merely observing, that most likely he had taken an unexpected trip into the country, and would be heard of before the day was out.
By this time, they were at Long's, where, upon asking, they found that Sparkle had been missing for two days. There was a mix of mystery and surprise, not so much over his absence, but because his servant couldn’t provide any information about him, which was quite odd. However, Tom found that there was no suspicion raised about Miss Mortimer, and he wisely avoided saying anything that might suggest such a thing, simply stating that he had probably gone on an unplanned trip to the countryside and would be back before the day was done.
On leaving Long's however they were met again by Mortimer in breathless anxiety, evidently labouring under some new calamity.
On leaving Long's, they were met again by Mortimer, who was visibly anxious and clearly struggling with some new crisis.
“I am glad I have found you,” said he, addressing himself to Dashall; “for I am left in this d———d wilderness of a place without a friend to speak to.”
“I’m glad I found you,” he said to Dashall, “because I’m stuck in this damn wilderness without a single friend to talk to.”
“How,” inquired Ton, “what the d———l is the matter with you?”
“How,” Ton asked, “what the heck is wrong with you?”
“Why, you must know that Merry well is gone—”
“Look, you should know that Merry is gone—”
“Gone—where to?”
“Gone—where's the destination?”
“To—to—zounds, I've forgot the name of the people; but two genteel looking fellows just now very genteely told him he was wanted, and must come.”
“To—oh my, I’ve forgotten the name of the people; but two well-dressed guys just now very politely told him he was needed and had to come.”
“Indeed!”
"Absolutely!"
“Yes, and he told me to find you out, and let you know that he must become a bencher; and, without more todo, walked away with his new friends, leaving me forlorn enough. My Sister run away, my Uncle run after her—Sparkle absent, and Merrywell—”
“Yes, and he told me to look for you and let you know that he needs to become a bencher; and without saying anything more, he walked away with his new friends, leaving me feeling pretty abandoned. My sister ran away, my uncle went after her—Sparkle is missing, and Merrywell—”
“In the hands of the Nab-men—I see it all clear enough; and you have given a very concise, but comprehensive picture of your own situation; but don't despair, man, you will yet find all right, be assured; put yourself under my guidance, let the world wag as it will; it is useless to torment yourself with things you cannot prevent or cure.
“In the hands of the Nab-men—I understand it completely; and you’ve provided a brief yet clear view of your situation; but don’t lose hope, my friend, you will be alright, trust me; follow my lead, no matter what happens in the world; it’s pointless to stress over things you can’t change or fix."
“The right end of life is to live and be jolly.”
“The best way to live is to enjoy life and be happy.”
[355] Mortimer scarcely knew how to relish this advice, and seemed to doubt within himself whether it was meant satirically or feelingly, till Dashall whispered in his ear a caution not to betray the circumstances that had transpired, for his Sister's sake. “But,” continued he, “I never suffer these things, which are by no means uncommon in London, to interfere with my pursuits, though we are all somewhat at a loss. However, as the post is in by this time, some news may be expected, and we will call at home before we proceed any further.—Where do you think the Colonel is gone to?”
[355] Mortimer barely knew how to appreciate this advice and seemed to question whether it was meant humorously or sincerely until Dashall whispered in his ear a warning not to reveal what had happened, for his sister's sake. “But,” he continued, “I never let these situations, which are quite common in London, get in the way of my goals, even though we're all a bit confused. Anyway, since the post must be in by now, we can expect some news, and we’ll stop by home before we go any further. Where do you think the Colonel has gone?”
“Heaven only knows,” replied Mortimer; “the whole family is in an uproar of surmise and alarm,—what may be the end of it I know not.”
“Heaven only knows,” replied Mortimer; “the whole family is in a frenzy of speculation and worry—what the outcome will be, I have no idea.”
“A pretty breeze Master Sparkle has kick'd up, indeed,” continued Tom; “but I have for some time noticed an alteration in him. He always was a gay trump, and whenever I find him seriously inclined, I suspect some mischief brewing; for rapid transitions always wear portentous appearances, and your serious files are generally sly dogs. My life for it they have stolen a march upon your Uncle, queered some country Parson, and are by this time snugly stowed away in the harbour of matrimony. As for Merrywell, I dare be sworn his friends will take care of him.”
“A nice breeze Master Sparkle has stirred up, for sure,” continued Tom; “but I’ve noticed a change in him for a while now. He’s always been a cheerful guy, and whenever I see him getting serious, I suspect some trouble is brewing; because sudden changes often look ominous, and your serious types are usually sneaky. I bet they’ve pulled a fast one on your Uncle, tricked some rural pastor, and are by now comfortably settled in the harbor of marriage. As for Merrywell, I’m sure his friends will look after him.”
Expectation was on tiptoe as Dashall broke the seal of a letter that was handed to him on arrival at home. Mortimer was on the fidget, and Tallyho straining his neck upon the full stretch of anxiety to hear the news, when Dashall burst into a laugh, but in which neither of the others could join in consequence of not knowing the cause of it. In a few minutes however the mystery was in some degree explained.
Expectation was high as Dashall broke the seal of a letter that was handed to him when he got home. Mortimer was restless, and Tallyho was straining his neck in anxiety to hear the news, when Dashall suddenly burst into laughter, but neither of the others could join in because they didn’t know why. However, in a few minutes, the mystery was somewhat explained.
“Here,” said Tom, “is news—extraordinary news—an official dispatch from head-quarters, but without any information as to where the tents are pitched. It is but a short epistle.” He then read aloud,
“Here,” said Tom, “is news—amazing news—an official message from the headquarters, but it doesn’t say where the tents are set up. It’s just a brief letter.” He then read aloud,
“Dear Dashall,
"Hey Dashall,"
“Please inform the Mortimer family and friends that all's well.
“Please let the Mortimer family and friends know that everything is fine.
Your's truly,
Yours truly,
C. Sparkle.”
C. Sparkle.
Then handing the laconic epistle to Mortimer—“I trust,” said he, “you will now be a little more at ease.”
Then handing the short note to Mortimer—“I hope,” he said, “you will feel a bit more at ease now.”
[356] Mortimer eagerly examined the letter for the postmark, but was not able to make out from whence it came.
[356] Mortimer eagerly checked the letter for the postmark, but he couldn't figure out where it came from.
“I confess,” said he, “I am better satisfied than I was, but am yet at a loss to judge of the motives which have induced them to pursue so strange a course.”
“I admit,” he said, “I feel more satisfied than I did before, but I’m still at a loss to understand the reasons that made them take such an unusual path.”
“The motive,” cried Tom, “that may be easily explained; and I doubt not but you will find, although it may at present appear a little mysterious, Sparkle will be fully able to shew cause and produce effect. He is however a man of honour and of property, and most likely we may by this time congratulate you upon the change of your Sister's name. What a blaze it will make, and she will now most certainly become a sparkling subject. Hang it, man, don't look so dull upon a bright occasion.
“The motive,” shouted Tom, “can easily be explained; and I’m sure you’ll see, even if it seems a bit mysterious right now, Sparkle will definitely be able to show the reason and make it clear. He is, after all, a man of honor and has wealth, and by now, we can probably congratulate you on your sister’s change of name. What a splash that will make, and she will definitely be an exciting topic to talk about. Come on, man, don’t look so gloomy on such a cheerful occasion.”
This mirth of Dash all's did not seem to be in consonance with the feelings of Mortimer, who hastily took his departure.
This joy from Dash didn’t seem to match Mortimer's feelings, who quickly left.
“Come,” said Tom to his Cousin, “having gained some information respecting one friend, we will now take a stroll through Temple Bar, and have a peep at Merrywell; he may perhaps want assistance in his present situation, though I will answer for it he is in a place of perfect security.”
“Come,” Tom said to his cousin, “now that we’ve learned something about one friend, let’s take a walk through Temple Bar and check in on Merrywell; he might need some help with what he’s dealing with right now, though I’m sure he’s in a perfectly safe place.”
“How,” said Bob—“what do you mean?”
“How,” Bob said, “what do you mean?”
“Mean, why the traps have nibbled him. He is arrested, and gone to a lock-up shop, a place of mere accommodation for gentlemen to take up their abode, for the purpose of [357] arranging their affairs, and where they can uninterruptedly make up their minds whether to give bail, put in appearance and defend the suit, or take a trip to Abbott's Priory; become a three months' student in the college of art, and undergo the fashionable ceremony of white-washing.”
“See, the traps have caught him. He’s been arrested and taken to a holding cell, a place just for gentlemen to stay while they sort out their affairs, where they can quietly decide whether to post bail, show up to defend themselves, or head off to Abbott's Priory; become a student for three months at the art college, and go through the trendy ritual of white-washing.”
“I begin to understand you now,” said Bob, “and the only difference between our two friends is, that one has willingly put on a chain for life—”
“I’m starting to understand you now,” said Bob, “and the only difference between our two friends is that one has willingly chosen to wear a chain for life—”
“And the other may in all probability (continued Tom,) have to chaff his time away with a chum—perhaps not quite so agreeable, though it really is possible to be very comfortable, if a man can reconcile himself to the loss of liberty, even in “durance vile.”
“And the other might probably (continued Tom) end up spending his time with a buddy—maybe not quite as enjoyable, but it's definitely possible to be pretty comfortable if a person can get used to the loss of freedom, even in “durance vile.”
By this time they were walking leisurely along Piccadilly,
By this time, they were strolling casually along Piccadilly,
“Who is that meagre looking man and waddling woman, who just passed us?” inquired Tallyho.
“Who is that skinny-looking guy and waddling woman who just walked by us?” asked Tallyho.
“An old Bencher,” was the reply; “there you see all that is left of a man of haut ton, one who has moved in the highest circles; but alas! bad company and bad play have reduced him to what he now is. He has cut up and turn'd down very well among the usurers and attornies; but it is impossible to say of him, as of his sirloin of a wife (for she cannot be called a rib, or at all events a spare rib) that there is any thing like cut and come again. The poor worn-out Exquisite tack'd himself to his Lady, to enable him to wipe out a long score, and she determined on taking him for better for worse, after a little rural felicity in a walk to have her fortune told by a gipsy at Norwood. He is now crippled in pocket and person, and wholly dependent upon bounty for the chance of prolonging a miserable existence. His game is up. But what is life but a game, at which every one is willing to play? one wins and another loses: why there have been as many moves among titled persons, Kings, Queens, Bishops, Lords and Knights, within the last century, as there are in a game at chess. Pawns have been taken and restored in all classes, from the Sovereign, who pawns or loses his crown, to the Lady whose reputation is in pawn, and becomes at last not worth half a crown. Shuffling, cutting, dealing out and [358] dealing in, double dealing and double faces, have long been the order of the day. Some men's cards are all trumps, whilst others have carte blanche; some honours count, whilst others stand for nothing. For instance, did not the little man who cast up his final accounts a short time back at St. Helena, like a Corsican conjurer, shuffle and cut about among kings and queens, knaves and asses, (aces I mean) dealing out honours when he liked, and taking trumps as he thought fit?—did he not deal and take up again almost as he pleased, having generally an honour in his sleeve to be played at command, or un roi dans le marche; by which cheating, it was scarcely possible for any one to get fair play with him, till, flushed by success, and not knowing how to bear his prosperity, he played too desperately and too long? The tables were turned upon him, and his enemies cheated him, first of his liberty, and ultimately of his life.”
“An old Bencher,” was the reply; “there you see all that is left of a man of high society, someone who has mingled in the top circles; but alas! bad company and poor choices have brought him to where he is now. He has done quite well among the loan sharks and lawyers; but it’s impossible to say of him, as of his rather substantial wife (since she can’t really be called a rib, or at least a spare rib), that there’s anything like a repeat performance. The poor, exhausted man clung to his Lady to clear a long debt, and she decided to take him for better or worse, after a little rural joy in a walk to have her fortune told by a gypsy at Norwood. He is now broke and crippled, completely reliant on handouts for a chance to extend a miserable existence. His game is over. But what is life but a game that everyone is willing to play? Some win and others lose: there have been as many moves among titled individuals, Kings, Queens, Bishops, Lords, and Knights in the past century as there are in a chess match. Pawns have been taken and restored in all classes, from the Sovereign, who pawns or loses his crown, to the Lady whose reputation is at stake, ultimately becoming worth little more than half a crown. Shuffling, cutting, dealing out, and [358] dealing in, double-dealing and false faces, have long been the norm. Some men's cards are all trumps, while others have carte blanche; some honors matter, while others are worthless. For example, didn’t the little man who settled his affairs not long ago at St. Helena, like a Corsican magician, shuffle and cut among kings and queens, fools and aces, dealing out honors as he pleased, and taking trumps when he thought it best?—didn’t he deal and take back almost at will, usually having an ace up his sleeve to play at command, or un roi dans le marche; through this cheating, it was nearly impossible for anyone to get a fair chance against him, until, high on success and unsure how to handle his fortune, he played too recklessly and too long? The tables turned on him, and his enemies cheated him, first out of his freedom, and ultimately out of his life.”
At this moment Tallyho, who was listening in close attention to his Cousin, struck his foot against a brown paper parcel which rolled before him.—“Hallo!” exclaimed he, “what have we here?—somebody has dropped a prize.”
At that moment, Tallyho, who was paying close attention to his cousin, kicked a brown paper package that rolled in front of him. “Hey!” he exclaimed, “what's this? Someone dropped a prize.”
“It is mine, Sir,” said an old woman, dropping them a curtsey with a smile which shone through her features, though thickly begrimed with snuff.
“It’s mine, Sir,” said an old woman, giving them a curtsey with a smile that brightened her face, even though it was heavily smudged with snuff.
“A bite,” said Tom.
"A bite," Tom said.
“I dropp'd it from my pocket, Sir, just now.”
“I just dropped it from my pocket, sir.”
“And pray,” inquired Tom, “what does it contain?” picking it up.
“And what’s in it?” Tom asked, picking it up.
“Snuff, Sir,” was the reply; “a kind, good-hearted Gentleman gave it to me—God bless him, and bless your Honour too!” with an additional smile, and a still lower curtsey.
“Snuff, Sir,” was the reply; “a kind, good-hearted gentleman gave it to me—God bless him, and bless you too!” with an extra smile and a deeper curtsy.
Upon examining the paper, which had been broken by the kick, Tom perceived, that by some magic or other, the old woman's snuff had become sugar.
Upon examining the paper, which had been torn by the kick, Tom realized that, by some magic or another, the old woman's snuff had turned into sugar.
“Zounds!” said he, “they have played some trick upon you, and given you brimstone instead of snuff, or else you are throwing dust in our eyes.”
“Wow!” he said, “they’ve pulled some kind of trick on you, giving you something terrible instead of snuff, or you’re just trying to mislead us.”
The parcel, which contained a sample of sugar, was carefully rolled up again and tied, then dropped to be found by any body else who chose to stoop for it.
The package, which held a sample of sugar, was carefully rolled up again and tied, then dropped to be found by anyone else who decided to pick it up.
“This,” said Dashall, “does not turn out to be what I first expected; for the practices of ring and money [359] dropping{1} have, at various times, been carried on with great success, and to the serious injury of the unsuspecting. The persons who generally apply themselves to this species of cheating are no other than gamblers who ingeniously contrive, by dropping a purse or a ring, to draw in some customer with a view to induce him to play; and notwithstanding their arts have frequently been exposed, we every now and then hear of some flat being done by these sharps, and indeed there are constantly customers in London to be had one way or another.”
“This,” Dashall said, “is not turning out to be what I initially expected; the tricks involving the ring and money [359] dropping{1} have, at different times, been successfully executed, often to the serious detriment of the unsuspecting. The individuals who usually engage in this type of cheating are simply gamblers who cleverly use a dropped purse or ring to lure in a customer to tempt him into playing; and even though their schemes have often been exposed, we still occasionally hear about someone getting scammed by these con artists, and in fact, there are always customers available in London one way or another.”
“Then you had an idea that that parcel was a bait of this kind,” rejoined Bob.
“Then you thought that parcel was a trap like this,” Bob replied.
“I did,” replied his Cousin; “but it appears to be a legitimate letter from some industrious mechanic to his friend, and is a curious specimen of epistolary correspondence; and you perceive there was a person ready to claim it, which conspired rather to confirm my suspicions, being a little in the style of the gentry I have alluded to. They vary their mode of proceeding according to situation and circumstance. Your money-dropper contrives to find his own property, as if by chance. He picks up the purse with an exclamation of 'Hallo! what have we here?—Zounds! if here is not a prize—I'm in rare luck to-day—Ha, ha, ha, let's have a peep at it—it feels heavy, and no doubt is worth having.' While he is examining its contents, up comes his confederate, who claims a share on account of having been present at the finding. 'Nay, nay,' replies the finder, 'you are not in it. This Gentleman is the only person that was near me—was not you, Sir? 'By this means the novice is induced to assent, or perhaps assert his prior claim. The finder declares,
“I did,” replied his cousin; “but it seems to be a genuine letter from some hard-working mechanic to his friend, and it's an interesting example of letter writing; and you see there was someone ready to claim it, which only adds to my suspicions, as it resembles the style of the upper class I've mentioned. They change their methods based on the situation and circumstances. Your money-dropper manages to stumble upon his own property, as if by chance. He picks up the purse, exclaiming, 'Wow! What do we have here?—Goodness! If this isn't a find—I'm really lucky today—Ha, ha, ha, let's take a look at it—it feels heavy, and it's probably worth keeping.' While he checks out the contents, his accomplice arrives, claiming a share for having been there when it was found. 'No, no,' replies the finder, 'you’re not involved. This gentleman is the only one who was near me—aren't you, sir?' In this way, the inexperienced one is led to agree or maybe even assert his prior claim. The finder declares,
[360] that sooner than have any dispute about it, he will divide the contents in three parts; recommends an adjournment to a public-house in the neighbourhood, to wet the business and drink over their good luck. This being consented to, the leading points are accomplished. The purse of course is found to contain counterfeit money—Flash-screens or Fleet-notes,{1} and the division cannot well be made without change can be procured. Now comes the touch-stone. The Countryman, for such they generally contrive to inveigle, is perhaps in cash, having sold his hay, or his cattle, tells them he can give change; which being understood, the draught-board, cards, or la bagatelle, are introduced, and as the job is a good one, they can afford to sport some of their newly-acquired wealth in this way. They drink and play, and fill their grog again. The Countryman bets; if he loses, he is called upon to pay; if he wins, 'tis added to what is coming to him out of the purse.
[360] Rather than argue about it, he decides to split the contents into three parts; he suggests heading to a nearby pub to celebrate with drinks. Once everyone agrees, the main points are settled. It turns out the purse only holds fake money—Flash-screens or Fleet-notes,{1} and they can’t divide it up without getting change. Now comes the real test. They often manage to lure in a countryman, who might have cash from selling hay or cattle, and he offers to provide change; once that’s established, they bring out the draught-board, cards, or bagatelle, and since the job is a good one, they’re willing to gamble some of their newfound money. They drink, play, and refill their drinks. The countryman places bets; if he loses, he has to pay up; if he wins, it gets added to what he's supposed to get from the purse.
“If, after an experiment or two, they find he has but little money, or fight shy, they bolt, that is, brush off in quick time, leaving him to answer for the reckoning. But if he is what they term well-breeched, and full of cash, they stick to him until he is cleaned out,{2} make him drunk, and, if he turns restive, they mill him. If he should be an easy cove,{3} he perhaps give them change for their flash notes, or counterfeit coin, and they leave him as soon as possible, highly pleased with his fancied success, while they laugh in their sleeves at the dupe of their artifice.”
“If, after a couple of tries, they see he has little money or seems cautious, they quickly leave him to pay the bill. But if he’s what they call well-off and has a lot of cash, they stick around until he’s broke, get him drunk, and if he starts to get uneasy, they deal with him. If he’s an easy target, he might give them change for their counterfeit bills or fake coins, and they’ll leave him as soon as they can, feeling satisfied with their trickery while they secretly laugh at how they've fooled him.”
“And is it possible?” inquired Tallyho—
“And is it possible?” Tallyho asked—
“Not without our special wonder,” continued Dashall; “but such things have been practised. Then again, your ring-droppers, or practisers of the fawney rig, are more cunning in their manoeuvres to turn their wares into the ready blunt.{4} The pretending to find a ring being one of the meanest and least profitable exercises of their ingenuity, it forms a part of their art to find articles of much more
“Not without our special wonder,” continued Dashall; “but these things have happened. Plus, your ring-droppers, or those who practice the fawney rig, are more skilled in their tricks to turn their goods into cash. The act of pretending to find a ring is one of the most pathetic and least profitable uses of their cleverness; it’s part of their craft to locate items of much greater value.”
[361] value, such as rich jewelry, broaches, ear-rings, necklaces set with diamonds, pearls, &c. sometimes made into a paper parcel, at others in a small neat red morocco case, in which is stuck a bill of parcels, giving a high-flown description of the articles, and with an extravagant price. Proceeding nearly in the same way as the money-droppers with the dupe, the finder proposes, as he is rather short of steeven,{1} to swap{2}his share for a comparatively small part of the value stated in the bill of parcels: and if he succeeds in obtaining one-tenth of that amount in hard cash, his triumph is complete; for, upon examination, the diamonds turn out to be nothing but paste—the pearls, fishes' eyes—and the gold is merely polished brass gilt, and altogether of no value. But this cannot be discovered beforehand, because the bilk{3} is in a hurry, can't spare time to go to a shop to have the articles valued, but assures his intended victim, that, as they found together, he should like to smack the bit,{4 }without blowing the gap,{5} and so help him G—d, the thing wants no buttering up,{6} because he is willing to give his share for such a trifle.”
[361] value, like expensive jewelry, brooches, earrings, and diamond or pearl necklaces, sometimes wrapped in a paper parcel or in a small, neat red leather case. Inside, there’s an invoice that provides a lofty description of the items along with an outrageous price. Following a similar tactic as money-droppers with their targets, the finder, who is a bit short on cash, proposes to trade his share for a smaller portion of the value listed on the invoice: if he manages to get one-tenth of that amount in cash, he considers it a victory; upon inspection, the diamonds are just glass, the pearls are actually fish eyes, and the gold is just polished brass, completely worthless. However, this can’t be figured out in advance because the scammer is in a rush, doesn’t have the time to take the items to a store for an appraisal, and assures his potential mark that since they found it together, he’d like to strike a deal without any fuss and, believe him, there’s no need for any sweet-talking since he’s willing to trade his share for such a small amount.
This conversation was suddenly interrupted by a violent crash just behind them, as they passed Drury Lane Theatre in their way through Bussel Court; and Bob, upon turning to ascertain from whence such portentous sounds proceeded, discovered that he had brought all the Potentates of the Holy Alliance to his feet. The Alexanders, the Caesars, the Buonapartes, Shakespeares, Addisons and Popes, lay strewed upon the pavement, in one undistinguished heap, while a poor Italian lad with tears in his eyes gazed with indescribable anxiety on the shapeless ruin—' Vat shall me do?—dat man knock him down—all brokt—you pay—Oh! mine Godt, vat shall do! ' This appeal was made to Dashall and Tallyho, the latter of whom the poor Italian seemed to fix upon as the author of his misfortune in upsetting his board of plaster images; and although he was perfectly unconscious of the accident, the appeal of the vender of great personages had its desired effect upon them both; and [362] finding themselves quickly surrounded by spectators, they gave him some silver, and then pursued their way.
This conversation was suddenly interrupted by a loud crash just behind them as they passed Drury Lane Theatre on their way through Bussel Court. Bob turned to see where the alarming noise came from and found that he had knocked over all the figures of the Holy Alliance. The Alexanders, Caesars, Buonapartes, Shakespeares, Addisons, and Popes were all piled up on the pavement in one messy heap, while a poor Italian boy, tears in his eyes, stared anxiously at the wreckage—"What shall I do? That man knocked them down—all broken—you pay—Oh! My God, what shall I do!" This plea was directed at Dashall and Tallyho, with the poor Italian seeming to blame Tallyho for his accident of toppling his display of plaster figures. Even though Tallyho was completely unaware of what had happened, the appeal from the vendor of famous personalities had the desired effect on both of them; and as they quickly found themselves surrounded by onlookers, they gave him some silver and then continued on their way.
“These men,” said Dashall, “are generally an industrious and hard-living people; they walk many miles in the course of a day to find sale for their images, which they will rather sell at any price than carry back with them at night; and it is really wonderful how they can make a living by their traffic.”
“These guys,” said Dashall, “are usually hardworking and live pretty tough lives; they walk many miles each day to find buyers for their images, which they would rather sell for any price than take back with them at night; and it’s really impressive how they manage to make a living from their trade.”
“Ha, ha, ha,” said a coarse spoken fellow following—“how the Jarman Duck diddled the Dandies just now—did you twig how he queered the coves out of seven bob for what was not worth thrums.{1} The Yelper{2} did his duty well, and finger'd the white wool{3} in good style. I'm d———d if he was not up to slum, and he whiddied their wattles with the velvet, and floored the town toddlers easy enough.”
“Ha, ha, ha,” said a rough guy following—“did you see how the Jarman Duck just tricked the Dandies? Did you notice how he got those guys to part with seven bucks for something worth nothing.{1} The Yelper{2} did a great job and handled the white wool{3} in style. I'm damn sure he knew what he was doing, and he played them like a fiddle with ease, taking down the town kids without any trouble.”
“How do you mean?” said his companion.
“How do you mean?” said his friend.
“Why you know that foreign blade is an ould tyke about this quarter, and makes a good deal of money—many a twelver{4} does he get by buying up broken images of persons who sell them by wholesale, and he of course gets them for little or nothing: then what does he do but dresses out his board, to give them the best appearance he can, and toddles into the streets, touting{5} for a good customer. The first genteel bit of flash he meets that he thinks will dub up the possibles,{6} he dashes down the board, breaks all the broken heads, and appeals in a pitiful way for remuneration for his loss; so that nine times out of ten he gets some Johnny-raw or other to stump up the rubbish.”
“Listen, that shady character is well-known around here and makes a good amount of cash—he often picks up a bunch of cheap stuff by buying broken items from people who sell them in bulk, and of course, he gets them for very little. Then, he sets up his display to make everything look as nice as possible and heads into the streets, looking for a good customer. The first flashy person he spots who seems like they might buy something, he sets up his display, breaks all the damaged items, and then pleads for compensation for his losses; so, more often than not, he manages to get some unsuspecting fool to pay for the junk.”
“Zounds!” said Dashall, “these fellows are smoking us; and, in the midst of my instructions to guard you against the abuses of the Metropolis, we have ourselves become the dupes of an impostor.”
“Wow!” said Dashall, “these guys are getting the best of us; and now, while I was trying to warn you about the dangers of the city, we’ve ended up being tricked by a fraud ourselves.”
[363] “Well,” said Tallyho, “it is no more than a practical illustration of your own observation, that it is scarcely possible for any person to be at all times secure from the arts and contrivances of your ingenious friends the Londoners; though I confess I was little in expectation of finding you, as an old practitioner, so easily let in.”
[363] “Well,” said Tallyho, “this is just a practical example of what you’ve pointed out: it’s almost impossible for anyone to be completely safe from the tricks and schemes of your clever friends in London; though I have to admit, I didn’t expect to find you, as someone with more experience, falling for it so easily.”
“It is not much to be wondered at,” continued Tom, “for here we are in the midst of the very persons whose occupations, if such they may be termed, ought most to be avoided; for Covent Garden, and Drury Lane, with their neighbourhoods, are at all times infested with swindlers, sharpers, whores, thieves, and depredators of all descriptions, for ever on the look out. It is not long since a man was thrown from a two-pair of stairs window in Charles Street,{1} which is just by, having been decoyed into a house of ill fame by a Cyprian, and this in a situation within sight of the very Police Office itself in Bow Street!”
“It’s not surprising,” Tom continued, “because we’re right in the middle of people whose jobs, if you can even call them that, should really be avoided. Covent Garden and Drury Lane, along with their surrounding areas, are always crawling with con artists, scammers, prostitutes, thieves, and all kinds of criminals who are constantly on the prowl. Just recently, a man was thrown out of a second-floor window on Charles Street,{1} which is nearby, after being lured into a house of ill repute by a prostitute, and this happened right in view of the Police Station on Bow Street!”
“Huzza! ha, ha, ha, there he goes,” vociferated by a variety of voices, now called their attention, and put an end to their conversation; and the appearance of a large concourse of people running up Drury Lane, engrossed their notice as they approached the other end of Russel Court.
“Yay! Ha, ha, ha, there he goes,” shouted a mix of voices, grabbing their attention and cutting off their conversation; and the sight of a large crowd of people running up Drury Lane captured their interest as they reached the other end of Russel Court.
On coming up with the crowd, they found the cause of the vast assemblage of persons to be no other than a Quaker{2} decorated with a tri-coloured cockade, who was
On approaching the crowd, they discovered that the reason for the large gathering of people was simply a Quaker{2} adorned with a tri-colored cockade, who was
[365] very quietly walking with a Police Officer, and exhibiting a caricature of himself mounted on a velocipede, and riding over corruption, &c. It was soon ascertained that he had accepted an invitation from one of the Magistrates of Bow Street to pay him a visit, as he had done the day before, and was at that moment going before him.
[365] quietly walking with a police officer, showing off a cartoon of himself riding a bicycle and tackling corruption, etc. It was quickly confirmed that he had accepted an invitation from one of the magistrates at Bow Street to visit him, just like he did the day before, and was currently on his way to see him.
“I apprehend he is a little cracked,” said Tom; “but however that may be, he is a very harmless sort of person. But come, we have other game in view, and our way lies in a different direction to his.”
“I think he’s a bit off,” said Tom; “but either way, he’s a pretty harmless kind of guy. But come on, we have other plans, and we’re headed in a different direction than him.”
“Clothes, Sir, any clothes to-day?” said an importunate young fellow at the corner of one of the courts, who at the same time almost obstructed their passage.
“Excuse me, sir, do you have any clothes today?” said a persistent young man at the corner of one of the alleys, who was almost blocking their way.
Making their way as quickly as they could from this very pressing personage, who invited them to walk in.
Making their way as quickly as possible from this very important person, who invited them to come inside.
“This,” said Tom, “is what we generally call a Barker. I believe the title originated with the Brokers in Moor-fields, where men of this description parade in the fronts of their employers' houses, incessantly pressing the passengers to walk in and buy household furniture, as they do clothes in Rosemary Lane, Seven Dials, Field Lane, Houndsditch, and several other parts of the town. Ladies' dresses also used to be barked in Cranbourn Alley and the neighbourhood of Leicester Fields; however, the nuisance has latterly in some measure abated. The Shop-women in that part content themselves now-a-days by merely inviting strangers to look at their goods; but Barkers are still to be found, stationed at the doors of Mock Auctions, who induce company to assemble, by bawling “Walk in, the auction is now on,” or “Just going to begin.” Of these mock auctions, there have been many opened of an evening, under the imposing glare of brilliant gas lights, which throws an unusual degree of lustre upon the articles put up for sale. It is not however very difficult to distinguish them from the real ones, notwithstanding they assume all the exterior appearances of genuineness, even up to advertisements in the newspapers, purporting to be held in the house of a person lately gone away under embarrassed circumstances, or deceased. They are denominated Mock Auctions, because no real intention exists on the part of the sellers to dispose of their articles under a certain price previously fixed upon, which, although it may not be high, is invariably more than they are actually worth: besides which, they may be easily discovered by the anxiety they evince to show the goods to strangers at
“This,” said Tom, “is what we usually call a Barker. I think the name came from the Brokers in Moor-fields, where these guys hang out in front of their employers' shops, constantly urging people to come in and buy household furniture, just like they do with clothes in Rosemary Lane, Seven Dials, Field Lane, Houndsditch, and other spots around town. Women’s dresses used to be advertised this way in Cranbourn Alley and near Leicester Fields; however, that annoyance has somewhat faded lately. Now, shop women in that area mostly just invite passersby to check out their items; but you can still find Barkers outside Mock Auctions, calling out, “Come in, the auction is on,” or “Just about to start.” Many of these mock auctions have opened in the evening, under the bright glow of gas lights, which makes the items for sale look even more appealing. However, it's not too hard to tell them apart from real auctions, even though they try to look genuine—right down to ads in newspapers claiming to be held in the home of someone who recently left under difficult circumstances or has passed away. They are called Mock Auctions because the sellers have no real intention of selling their items for the previously set price, which, while it might not be much, is always more than their actual value. Plus, you can often tell because they show a lot of eagerness to display the goods to strangers at
[366]the moment they enter, never failing to bestow over-strained panegyrics upon every lot they put up, and asking repeatedly—“What shall we say for this article? a better cannot be produced;” and promising, if not approved of when purchased, to change it. The Auctioneer has a language suited to all companies, and, according to his view of a customer, can occasionally jest, bully, or perplex him into a purchase.—“The goods must be sold at what they will fetch;” and he declares (notwithstanding among his confederates, who stand by as bidders, they are run up beyond the real value, in order to catch a flat,) that “the present bidding can never have paid the manufacturer for his labour.”
[366]As soon as they walk in, they always make exaggerated compliments about every item they put up for sale, repeatedly asking, “What can we say about this item? You can't find anything better,” and promising to exchange it if the buyer isn't satisfied. The auctioneer knows how to speak to different crowds and can sometimes joke, pressure, or confuse a customer into buying something. “The goods have to be sold for whatever people are willing to pay,” he insists, even though, among his accomplices who are bidding, they drive the prices up beyond the actual worth to trick unsuspecting buyers, claiming that “the current bids could never have covered the manufacturer's costs.”
In such places, various articles of silver, plate, glass and household furniture are exposed to sale, but generally made up of damaged materials, and slight workmanship of little intrinsic value, for the self-same purpose as the Razor-seller states—
In these places, different items made of silver, silverware, glass, and furniture are available for sale, but they are typically made from damaged materials and have poor craftsmanship with little real value, just like the Razor seller mentions—
Passing the end of White Horse Yard—“Here,” continued Tom, “in this yard and the various courts and alleys which lead into it, reside numerous Girls in the very lowest state of prostitution; and it is dangerous even in the day time to pass their habitations, at all events very dangerous to enter any one of them. Do you see the crowd of squalid, half-clad and half-starved creatures that surround the old woman at the corner?—Observe, that young thing without a stocking is stealing along with a bottle in one hand and a gown in the other; she is going to put the latter up the spout{1} with her
Passing the end of White Horse Yard—“Here,” Tom continued, “in this yard and the various courts and alleys leading into it, live many girls in the lowest levels of prostitution; and it's risky even during the day to walk past their homes, definitely very risky to enter any of them. Do you see the group of dirty, half-dressed, and half-starved people around the old woman at the corner?—Look at that young girl without a stocking, sneaking by with a bottle in one hand and a dress in the other; she’s about to put the latter up the spout{1} with her
[367] accommodating Uncle,{1} in order to obtain a little of the enlivening juice of the juniper to fill the former.”
[367] accommodating Uncle,{1} to get some of the refreshing juice of the juniper to fill the former.”
“Surely,” said Tallyho, “no person could possibly be inveigled by her charms?”
“Surely,” said Tallyho, “nobody could be fooled by her charms?”
[369] “They are not very blooming just now,” answered his Cousin—“you do not see her in a right light. It is impossible to contemplate the cases of these poor creatures without dropping a tear of pity. Originally seduced from a state of innocence, and eventually abandoned by their seducers, as well as their well-disposed parents or friends, they are left at an early age at large upon the world; loathed and avoided by those who formerly held them in estimation, what are they to do?—It is said by Shakespeare, that
[369] “They’re not really thriving right now,” replied his Cousin, “you just don’t see her clearly. It’s impossible to look at the situations of these poor people without shedding a tear of compassion. They were originally led away from innocence and ultimately deserted by their seducers, as well as by their caring parents or friends. Left to navigate the world on their own at such a young age, shunned and avoided by those who once respected them, what are they supposed to do?—Shakespeare said that
“Sin will pluck on sin.”
“Sin will lead to sin.”
They seem to have no alternative, but that of continuing in the practice which they once too fatally begun, in which the major part of them end a short life of debauchery and wretchedness.
They don’t seem to have any other option except to keep going with the lifestyle they once started, which most of them end up living a short life of partying and misery.
“Exposed to the rude insults of the inebriated and the vulgar—the impositions of brutal officers and watchmen—to the chilling blasts of the night during the most inclement weather, in thin apparel, partly in compliance with the fashion of the day, but more frequently from the
“Exposed to the harsh insults of the drunk and the crude—the demands of rough officers and guards—to the biting cold of the night during the worst weather, in light clothing, partly to keep up with the fashion of the time, but more often from the
[370] Pawnbroker's shop rendering their necessary garments inaccessible, diseases (where their unhappy vocation does not produce them) are thus generated.
[370] The pawnbroker's shop makes their essential clothing hard to reach, and illnesses (unless their unfortunate job causes them) are created in this way.
“Many are the gradations from the highest degree of prostitution down to the trulls that parade the streets by day, and one or two more steps still include those who keep out all night. Some of the miserable inhabitants of this quarter are night-birds, who seldom leave their beds during the day, except to refresh themselves with a drop of Old Tom; but as the evening approaches, their business commences, when you will see them decked out like fine ladies, for there are coves of cases,{1} and others in the vicinity of the Theatres, who live by letting out dresses for the evening, where they may be accommodated from a camesa{2} to a richly embroidered full-dress court suit, under the care of spies, who are upon the look-out that they don't brush off with the stock. Others, again, are boarded and lodged by the owners of houses of ill-fame, kept as dirty and as ragged as beggars all day, but who,
“Many levels exist between the highest form of prostitution down to the women who walk the streets during the day, and there are a couple more tiers that include those who stay out all night. Some of the unfortunate people in this area are night owls, who rarely leave their beds during the day, except to grab a drink of Old Tom; but as night falls, their work begins, and you’ll see them dressed up like elegant ladies, because there are coves of cases,{1} and others near the theaters, who make a living by renting out dresses for the night, where they can choose anything from a nightgown{2} to an elaborate court outfit, all while being watched over by lookouts, ensuring they don’t run off with the clothing. Others, meanwhile, are housed and cared for by proprietors of brothels, kept as filthy and ragged as beggars throughout the day, but who,
“Dress'd out at night, cut a figure.”
“Dressed up at night, made an impression.”
It however not unfrequently happens to those unhappy Girls who have not been successful in their pursuits, and do not bring home with them the wages of their prostitution, that they are sent to bed without supper, and sometimes get a good beating into the bargain; besides which, the Mistress of the house takes care to search them immediately after they are left by their gallants, by which means they are deprived of every shilling.”
It often happens to those unfortunate girls who haven’t been successful in their pursuits and don’t come home with the money from their work that they are sent to bed without dinner, and sometimes receive a beating on top of that. Additionally, the housekeeper makes sure to search them right after their clients leave, which means they end up with no money at all.
Approaching the City, they espied a crowd of persons assembled together round the door of Money the perfumer. Upon inquiring, a species of depreciation was exposed, which had not yet come under their view.
Approaching the City, they saw a crowd of people gathered around the door of Money the perfumer. Upon asking, they discovered a kind of devaluation that they hadn't noticed before.
It appeared that a note, purporting to come from a gentleman at the Tavistock Hotel, desiring Mr. Money to wait on him to take measure of his cranium for a fashionable peruke, had drawn him from home, and that during his absence, a lad, in breathless haste, as if dispatched by the principal, entered the shop, stating that Sir. Money wanted a wig which was in the window, with some combs and hair-brushes, for the Gentleman's inspection, and also a pot of his Circassian cream. The bait took, the articles
It seemed that a note, claiming to be from a guy at the Tavistock Hotel, asking Mr. Money to come by and measure his head for a stylish wig, had pulled him away from home. While he was gone, a young boy rushed into the shop as if he had been sent by the man, saying that Mr. Money needed the wig that was displayed in the window, along with some combs and hairbrushes for the gentleman to look at, and also a jar of his Circassian cream. The offer worked; the items
[371] were packed up, and the wily cheat had made good his retreat before the return of the coiffeur, who was not pleased with being seduced from his home by a hoaxing letter, and less satisfied to find that his property was diminished in his absence by the successful artifices of a designing villain. This tale having got wind in the neighbourhood, persons were flocking round him to advise as to the mode of pursuit, and many were entertaining each other by relations of a similar nature; but our heroes having their friend Merrywell in view (or rather his interest) made the best of their way to the Lock-up-house.
[371] were packed up, and the crafty con artist had successfully made his escape before the hairdresser returned, who was not happy about being lured away from home by a fake letter, and even less pleased to discover that his belongings had been reduced in his absence due to the clever tricks of a deceitful villain. Once this story spread in the neighborhood, people began gathering around him to offer advice on how to track down the culprit, while many others shared similar stories for entertainment; but our heroes, keeping their friend Merrywell (or rather his interests) in mind, hurried on to the Lock-up house.
CHAPTER XXIII
ON entering the Lock-up House, Bob felt a few uneasy sensations at hearing the key turned. The leary Bum-trap ushered the Gemmen up stairs, while Tallyho was endeavouring to compose his agitated spirits, and reconcile himself to the prospect before him, which, at the moment, was not of the most cheering nature.
ON entering the Lock-up House, Bob felt a few uneasy sensations at hearing the key turn. The shady Bum-trap led the gentlemen upstairs, while Tallyho was trying to calm his rattled nerves and come to terms with the grim situation ahead of him, which, at that moment, was not very encouraging.
“What, my gay fellow,” said Merry well, “glad to see you—was just going to scribble a line to inform you of my disaster. Zounds! you look as melancholy as the first line of an humble petition, or the author of a new piece the day after its damnation.”
“What’s up, my cheerful friend?” said Merry, “I’m happy to see you—I was just about to write you a note about my misfortune. Wow! You look as gloomy as the opening line of a humble petition, or the writer of a new play the day after it flops.”
“In truth,” replied Bob, “this is no place to inspire a man with high spirits.”
“In truth,” replied Bob, “this is no place to lift a man’s spirits.”
“That's as it may be,” rejoined Merry well; “a man with money in his pocket may see as much Real Life in London within these walls as those who ramble at large through the mazes of what is termed liberty.”
“That's true enough,” replied Merry; “a man with cash in his pocket can experience just as much of Real Life in London within these walls as those who wander freely through the complexities of what people call liberty.”
“But,” continued Tom, “it must be admitted that the views are more limited.”
“But,” Tom went on, “we have to admit that the views are more limited.”
“By no means,” was the reply. “Here a man is at perfect liberty to contemplate and cogitate without fear of being agitated. Here he may trace over past recollections, and enjoy future anticipations free from the noise and bustle of crowded streets, or the fatigue of attending fashionable routs, balls, and assemblies. Besides which, it forms so important a part of Life in London, that few without a residence in a place of this kind can imagine its utility. It invigorates genius, concentrates ingenuity, and stimulates invention.”
“Not at all,” was the reply. “Here, a person can think and reflect without worrying about being disturbed. They can go over past memories and look forward to future possibilities, all free from the noise and chaos of crowded streets or the exhaustion of attending trendy parties, balls, and gatherings. Moreover, it plays such a crucial role in life in London that few who don’t have a home in a place like this can truly appreciate its value. It energizes creativity, focuses innovation, and sparks new ideas.”
[373] “Hey dey!” said Tallyho, looking out of the window, and perceiving a dashing tandem draw up to the door—“who have we here? some high company, no doubt.”
[373] “Hey there!” said Tallyho, looking out the window and seeing a stylish tandem pull up to the door—“who do we have here? some important guests, I bet.”
“Yes, you are right; that man in the great coat, who manages his cattle with such dexterity, is no other than the king of the castle. He is the major domo, or, in other words, the Bailiff himself. That short, stout-looking man in boots and buckskins, is his assistant, vulgarly called his Bum.{1} The other is a Gentleman desirous of lodging in a genteel neighbourhood, and is recommended by them to take up his residence here.”
“Yes, you’re right; that guy in the big coat, who handles his cattle so skillfully, is none other than the king of the castle. He’s the major domo, or, in other words, the Bailiff himself. That short, stocky man in boots and buckskins is his assistant, commonly referred to as his Bum.{1} The other one is a gentleman looking to stay in a nice neighborhood, and they’re recommending that he make his home here.”
“What,” inquired Bob, “do Bailiffs drive gigs and tandems?”
“What,” asked Bob, “do bailiffs drive gigs and tandems?”
“To be sure they do,” was the reply; “formerly they were low-bred fellows, who would undertake any dirty business for a maintenance, as you will see them represented in the old prints and caricatures, muffled up in Îreat coats, and carrying bludgeons; but, in present Real life, you will find them quite the reverse, unless they find it necessary to assume a disguise in order to nibble a queer cove who proves shy of their company'; but among Gentlemen, none are so stylish, and at the same time so accommodating—you are served with the process in a private and elegant way, and if not convenient to come to an immediate arrangement, a gig is ready in the highest taste, to convey you from your habitation to your place of retirement, and you may pass through the most crowded streets of the city, and recognise your friends, without fear of suspicion. Upon some occasions, they will also carry their politeness so far as to inform an individual he will be wanted on such a day, and must come—a circumstance which has the effect of preventing any person from knowing the period of departure, or the place of destination; consequently, the arrested party is gone out of town for a few days, and the matter all blows over without any injury sustained. This is the third time since I have been in the house that the tandem has started from the door, and returned with a new importation.”
"To be sure they do," was the reply; "in the past, they were low-class people who would do any dirty job for a living, as you can see in the old prints and caricatures, bundled up in greatcoats and carrying clubs. But in today's real life, you’ll find they are quite the opposite, unless they need to disguise themselves to catch some shady guy who doesn't want to be seen. Among gentlemen, none are as stylish and accommodating—they serve you with the process in a private and classy way. If it’s not convenient to settle things immediately, a well-appointed carriage is ready to take you from your home to your safe place, and you can pass through the busiest streets of the city, recognizing your friends without raising suspicion. Sometimes, they even go so far as to let a person know they’ll be needed on a certain day and must come—this avoids anyone knowing when they will leave or where they’re headed; so, the person who’s been arrested just ends up out of town for a few days, and then everything settles down without any harm done. This is the third time since I’ve been in the house that the tandem has left from the door and come back with a new addition."
By this time, the gig having been discharged of its cargo, was reascended by the Master and his man, and bowl'd off again in gay style for the further accommodation of fashionable friends, whose society was in such high
By this time, the gig, having unloaded its cargo, was climbed back into by the Master and his assistant, and they set off again in style for the enjoyment of stylish friends, whose company was in such high demand.
[374] estimation, that no excuse or denial could avail, and who being so urgently wanted, must come.
[374] estimation, that no excuse or denial could help, and who being so urgently needed, must come.
“'Tis a happy age we live in,” said Merry well; “the improvements are evident enough; every thing is done with so much facility and gentility, that even the race of bailiffs are transformed from frightful and ferocious-looking persons to the most dashing, polite and accommodating characters in the world. He however, like others, must have his assistant, and occasional substitute.
“It's a happy time we live in,” Merry said. “The improvements are obvious; everything is done with so much ease and grace that even bailiffs have changed from scary, fierce-looking people to the most stylish, polite, and accommodating individuals in the world. However, like others, he must have his assistant and occasional substitute.
“A man in this happy era is really of no use whatever to himself. It is a principle on which every body, that is any body, acts, that no one should do any thing for himself, if he can procure another to do it for him. Accordingly, there is hardly the most simple performance in nature for the more easy execution of which an operator or machine of some kind' or other is not employed or invented; and a man who has had the misfortune to lose, or chuses not to use any of his limbs or senses, may meet with people ready to perform all their functions for him, from paring his nails and cutting his corns, to forming an opinion. No man cleans his own teeth who can afford to pay a dentist; and hundreds get their livelihood by shaving the chins and combing the hair of their neighbours, though many, it must be admitted, comb their neighbour's locks for nothing. The powers of man and the elements of nature even are set aside, the use of limbs and air being both superseded by steam; in short, every thing is done by proxy—death not excepted, for we are told that our soldiers and sailors die for us. Marriage in certain ranks is on this footing. A prince marries by proxy, and sometimes lives for ever after as if he thought all the obligations of wedlock were to be performed in a similar manner. A nobleman, it is true, will here take the trouble to officiate in the first instance in person; but there are plenty of cases to shew that nothing is further from his noble mind than the idea of continuing his slavery, while others can be found to take the labour off his hands. So numerous are the royal roads to every desideratum, and so averse is every true gentleman from doing any thing for himself, that it is to be dreaded lest it should grow impolite to chew one's own victuals; and we are aware that there are great numbers who, not getting their share of Heaven's provision, may be said to submit to have their food eat for them.”
“A man in this happy era is really of no use to himself at all. It's a principle that everyone who matters follows: no one should do anything for themselves if they can have someone else do it for them. As a result, there's hardly a simple task in nature for which some operator or machine isn’t used or created; and a person who has lost, or chooses not to use, any of their limbs or senses can find people ready to handle all their functions for them, from trimming their nails to forming an opinion. No one cleans their own teeth if they can afford to see a dentist, and hundreds make a living shaving the faces and combing the hair of others, even though many, it must be said, do it for free. The abilities of humans and natural elements have even been overshadowed; the use of limbs and air has been replaced by steam. In short, everything is done by proxy—death included, since we are told our soldiers and sailors die for us. Marriage in certain circles works this way. A prince marries by proxy and sometimes goes on living as if he thinks all the responsibilities of marriage should be handled similarly. A nobleman might initially officiate in person, but there are many instances that show he has no desire to continue his obligations when others can take the work off his hands. There are so many royal paths to every desire, and true gentlemen are so opposed to doing anything for themselves that it may become impolite to chew your own food; and we know there are many who, not getting their fair share of Heaven's provisions, can be said to allow their food to be eaten for them.”
[375] Tallyho laugh'd, and Dashall signified his assent to the whimsical observations of Merrywell, by a shrug of the shoulders and an approving smile.
[375] Tallyho laughed, and Dashall indicated his agreement with Merrywell's playful comments by shrugging his shoulders and giving an approving smile.
“Apropos,” said Merrywell—“what is the news of our friend Sparkle?”
“Apropos,” said Merrywell—“what’s the news about our friend Sparkle?”
“O, (replied Tom) he is for trying a chance in the Lottery of Life, and has perhaps by this time gained the prize of Matrimony:{1} but what part of the globe he inhabits it is impossible for me to say—however, he is with Miss Mortimer probably on the road to Gretna.”
“O,” replied Tom, “he's taking a shot at the Lottery of Life and might have even won the prize of marriage by now. But I can't say where in the world he is—although, he’s likely on the way to Gretna with Miss Mortimer.”
“Success to his enterprise,” continued Merrywell; “and if they are destined to travel through life together, may they have thumping luck and pretty children. Marriage to some is a bitter cup of continued misery—may the reverse be his lot.”
“Here’s to his success,” Merrywell said, “and if they're meant to go through life together, I hope they have amazing luck and beautiful kids. For some, marriage feels like a never-ending struggle—may that not be his experience.”
“Amen,” responded Dashall.
“Amen,” Dashall replied.
“By the way,” said Merrywell, “I hope you will favour me with your company for the afternoon, and I doubt not we shall start some game within these walls well worthy of pursuit; and as I intend to remove to more commodious apartments within a day or two, I shall certainly expect to have a visit from you during my abode in the county of Surrey.”
“By the way,” said Merrywell, “I hope you’ll join me this afternoon, and I’m sure we can start a game here that’s worth playing; since I plan to move to more comfortable rooms in a day or two, I definitely expect a visit from you while I'm in Surrey.”
“Going to College?” inquired Tom.
"Are you going to college?" asked Tom.
“Yes; I am off upon a sporting excursion for a month or two, and I have an idea of making it yield both pleasure and profit. An occasional residence in Abbot's Park is one of the necessary measures for the completion of a Real Life in London education. It is a fashionable retreat absolutely necessary, and therefore I have voluntarily determined upon it. What rare advice a young man may pick up in the precincts of the Fleet and
“Yes; I’m heading out for a hunting trip for a month or two, and I plan to make it both enjoyable and profitable. Spending some time in Abbot's Park is essential for completing a Real Life in London education. It’s a trendy getaway that’s absolutely necessary, so I’ve decided to go for it. A young man can pick up some invaluable advice in the area around the Fleet and
1 It has often been said figuratively, that marriage is a lottery; but we do not recollect to have met with a practical illustration of the truth of the simile before the following, which is a free translation of an Advertisement in the Louisiana Gazette:—
1 It has often been said figuratively that marriage is like a lottery; however, we don’t recall encountering a practical example of this idea until this one, which is a loose translation of an advertisement from the Louisiana Gazette:—
[376] the King's Bench! He may soon learn the art of sharp-shooting and skirmishing.”
[376] the King's Bench! He might quickly pick up the skills of marksmanship and engaging in quick battles.”
“And pray,” says Tallyho, “what do you term skirmishing?”
“And tell me,” says Tallyho, “what do you mean by skirmishing?”
“I will tell you,” was the reply. “When you have got as deeply in debt every where as you can, you may still remain on the town as a Sunday-man for a brace of years, and with good management perhaps longer. Next you may toddle off to Scotland for another twelvemonth, and live in the sanctuary of Holyrood House, after seeing the North, where writs will not arrive in time to touch you. When tired of this, and in debt even in the sanctuary, and when you have worn out all your friends by borrowing of them to support you in style there, you can brush off on a Sunday to the Isle of Man, where you are sure to meet a parcel of blades who will be glad of your company if you are but a pleasant fellow. Here you may live awhile upon them, and get in debt (if you can, for the Manx-men have very little faith,) in the Island. From this, you must lastly effect your escape in an open boat, and make your appearance in London as a new face. Here you will find some flats of your acquaintance very glad to see you, even if you are indebted to them, from the pleasures of recollection accruing from past scenes of jollity and merriment. You must be sure to amuse them with a good tale of a law-suit, or the declining health of a rich old Uncle, from either of which you are certain of deriving a second fortune. Now manage to get arrested, and you will find some, who believe your story, ready to bail you. You can then put off these actions for two years more, and afterwards make a virtue of surrendering yourself in order to relieve your friends, who of course will begin to be alarmed, and feel so grateful for this supposed mark of propriety, that they will support you for a while in prison, until you get white-washed. In all this experience, and with such a long list of acquaintances, it will be hard if some will not give you a lift at getting over your difficulties. Then you start again as a nominal Land-surveyor, Money-scrivener, Horse-dealer, or as a Sleeping-partner in some mercantile concern—such, for instance, as coals, wine, &c. Your popularity and extensive acquaintance will get your Partner a number of customers, and then if you don't succeed, you have only to become a Bankrupt, secure your certificate, and start free again in some other line. Then [377] there are other good chances, for a man may marry once or twice. Old or sickly women are best suited for the purpose, and their fortunes will help you for a year or two at least, if only a thousand or two pounds. Lastly, make up a purse» laugh at the flats, and finish on the Continent.”
“I'll tell you,” was the reply. “Once you’ve maxed out your debts everywhere, you can still hang around town as a Sunday socialite for a couple of years, and with some smart planning, maybe even longer. After that, you can take a little trip to Scotland for another year, living in the safety of Holyrood House after checking out the North, where legal papers won’t catch up with you. When you’re tired of that, and still in the red even in the sanctuary, and after you’ve worn out all your friends by borrowing from them to keep you living well there, you can dash off on a Sunday to the Isle of Man, where you’re sure to meet a bunch of guys who will be happy to have you around as long as you’re fun. Here, you can live off them for a while and maybe rack up some more debt (if you can, because the locals are pretty skeptical), on the Island. Finally, you’ll need to make a getaway in an open boat and show up in London as a fresh face. You’ll find some of your old friends more than happy to see you, even if you still owe them money, because of the good memories from past fun times together. You should definitely entertain them with a good story about a lawsuit or the declining health of a wealthy old uncle since either one could lead you to a second fortune. Then manage to get arrested, and you’ll find some folks who believe your story, ready to bail you out. You can postpone these issues for another two years, and when you finally turn yourself in to relieve your friends’ concerns, they’ll feel so thankful for this supposed show of responsibility that they’ll support you for a while in jail until you’re cleared. With all this experience and a long list of connections, it’ll be hard to not find someone willing to help you out of your problems. Then you can start again as a land surveyor, money lender, horse trader, or as a sleeping partner in some business venture—like coal, wine, etc. Your popularity and wide network will help your partner attract customers, and if all else fails, you just need to declare bankruptcy, get your certificate, and start fresh in another field. Then [377] there are other great opportunities, because a man can marry once or even twice. Older or less healthy women are the best picks for this, and their fortunes can support you for a year or two at least, even if it’s just a thousand or two pounds. Finally, gather up some cash, laugh at the fools, and wrap it all up on the Continent.”
“Very animated description indeed,” cried Dashall, “and salutary advice, truly.”
“Really lively description,” exclaimed Dashall, “and truly helpful advice.”
“Too good to be lost,” continued Merrywell.
“Too good to be lost,” continued Merrywell.
“And yet rather too frequently acted on, it is to be feared.”
“And yet it’s worriedly acted on far too often.”
“Probably so—”
"Probably."
“But mark me, this is fancy's sketch,” and may perhaps appear a little too highly coloured; but if you remain with me, we will clip deeper into the reality of the subject by a little information from the official personage himself, who holds dominion over these premises; and we may perhaps also find some agreeable and intelligent company in his house.”
“But pay attention, this is just a fanciful outline,” and it might seem a bit exaggerated; but if you stick with me, we’ll dig a little deeper into the reality of the situation with some insights from the official person in charge here; and we might also discover some pleasant and insightful company in his home.”
This proposition being agreed to, and directions given accordingly by Merrywell to prepare dinner, our party gave loose to opinions of life, observations on men and mariners, exactly as they presented themselves to the imagination of each speaker, and Merrywell evidently proved himself a close observer of character.
This idea was accepted, and Merrywell was instructed to get dinner ready. Our group shared their thoughts on life and made observations about people and sailors, just as each person imagined them. It was clear that Merrywell was a keen observer of character.
“Places like this,” said he, “are generally inhabited by the profligate of fashion, the ingenious artist, or the plodding mechanic. The first is one who cares not who suffers, so he obtains a discharge from his incumberances: having figured away for some time in the labyrinths of folly and extravagance, till finding the needful run taper, he yields to John Doe and Richard Roe as a matter of course, passes through his degrees in the study of the laws by retiring to the Fleet or King's Bench, and returns to the world with a clean face, and an increased stock of information to continue his career. The second are men who have heads to contrive and hands to execute improvements in scientific pursuits, probably exhausting their time, their health, and their property, in the completion of their projects, but who are impeded in their progress, and compelled to finish their intentions in durance vile, by the rapacity of their creditors. And the last are persons subjected to all the casualties of trade and the arts of the former, and unable to meet the peremptory demands of [378] those they are indebted to; but they seldom inhabit these places long, unless they can pay well for their accommodations. Money is therefore as useful in a lock-up-house or a prison as in any other situation of life.
“Places like this,” he said, “are usually filled with the reckless fashionable crowd, the creative artists, or the hardworking mechanics. The first group includes those who don't care who gets hurt as long as they can escape their burdens: after messing around in a maze of foolishness and excess for a while, they eventually realize they need to settle their debts, so they casually end up in court, study law by spending time in the Fleet or King's Bench, and then return to society with a fresh start and an expanded knowledge base to pursue their future. The second group consists of individuals with the brains to innovate and the skills to bring their scientific ideas to life, often wearing themselves down mentally, physically, and financially to finish their projects, but finding themselves held back and forced to carry out their plans while locked up, thanks to their greedy creditors. The last group includes people who face all the ups and downs of trade and the manipulations of the previous group, struggling to meet the urgent demands of their debts; however, they usually don't stay in these places for long unless they can afford to pay for their stay. So, money is just as valuable in a holding cell or prison as it is in any other part of life.”
“Money, with the generality of people, is every thing; it is the universal Talisman; there is magic in its very name. It ameliorates all the miserable circumstances of life, and the sound of it may almost be termed life itself. It is the balm, the comfort, and the restorative. It must indeed be truly mortifying to the opulent, to observe that the attachment of their dependents, and even the apparent esteem of their friends, arises from the respect paid to riches. The vulgar herd bow with reverence and respect before the wealthy; but it is in fact the money, and not the individual, which they worship. Doubtless, a philosophic Tallow-chandler would hasten from the contemplation of the starry heavens to vend a farthing rushlight; and it therefore cannot be wondered at that the Sheriffs-officer, who serves you with a writ because you have not money enough to discharge the just demands against you, should determine at least to get as much as he can out of you, and, when he finds your resources exhausted, that he should remove you to the common receptacle of debtors; which however cannot be done to your own satisfaction without some money; for if you wish a particular place of residence, or the most trifling accommodation, there are fees to pay, even on entering a prison.”
“Money is everything to most people; it’s the universal charm with a magical name. It improves all the hardships of life, and the very sound of it can almost be considered life itself. It’s the cure, the comfort, and the remedy. It must be really embarrassing for the wealthy to see that their followers’ loyalty, and even their friends’ apparent respect, comes from their wealth. The common people bow in reverence to the rich, but they’re really worshiping the money, not the person. Surely, a thoughtful candle maker would rush from contemplating the stars to sell a cheap candle; so it’s no surprise that the sheriff’s officer, who serves you with a notice because you don’t have enough money to meet your obligations, would try to get as much as he can from you. And when he sees that you’re out of resources, he’ll send you to a debtor’s prison, which can’t be done to your liking without some cash; if you want a specific spot to stay or even the smallest convenience, there are fees to pay, even just to enter a prison.”
“In that case then,” said Tallyho, “a man is actually obliged to pay for going to a prison.”
“In that case then,” said Tallyho, “a man is actually required to pay for being sent to prison.”
“Precisely so, unless he is willing to mingle with the very lowest order of society. But come, we will walk into the Coffee-room, and take a view of the inmates.”
“Exactly, unless he’s willing to hang out with the absolute lowest part of society. But come on, let’s go into the Coffee-room and check out the people there.”
Upon entering this, which was a small dark room, they heard a great number of voices, and in one corner found several of the prisoners surrounding a Bagatelle-board, and playing for porter, ale, &c; in another corner was a young man in close conversation with an Attorney; and a little further distant, was a hard-featured man taking instructions from the Turnkey how to act. Here was a poor Player, who declared he would take the benefit of the Act, and afterwards take a benefit at the Theatre to reestablish himself. There a Poet racking his imagination, and roving amidst the flowers of fancy, giving a few touches by way of finish to an Ode to Liberty, with the [379] produce of which he indulged himself in a hope of obtaining the subject of his Muse. The conversation was of a mingled nature. The vociferations of the Bagatelle-players—the whispers of the Attorney and his Client—and the declarations of the prisoner to the Turnkey, “That he would be d———d if he did not sarve 'em out, and floor the whole boiling of them,” were now and then interrupted by the notes of a violin playing the most lively airs in an animated and tasteful style. The Performer however was not visible, but appeared to be so near, that Merrywell, who was a great lover of music, beckoned his friends to follow him. They now entered a small yard at the back of the house, the usual promenade of those who resided in it, and found the Musician seated on one of the benches, which were continued nearly round the yard, and which of itself formed a panorama of rural scenery. Here was the bubbling cascade and the lofty fountain—there the shady grove of majestic poplars, and the meandering stream glittering in the resplendent lustre of a rising sun. The waving foliage however and the bubbling fountain were not to be seen or heard, (as these beauties were only to be contemplated in the labours of the painter;) but to make up for the absence of these with the harmony of the birds and the ripplings of the stream, the Musician was endeavouring, like an Arcadian shepherd with his pipe, to make the woods resound with the notes of his fiddle, surrounded by some of his fellow-prisoners, who did not fail to applaud his skill and reward his kindness, by supplying him with rosin, as they termed it, which was by handing him the heavy-wet as often as they found his elbow at rest. In one place was to be seen a Butcher, who upon his capture was visited by his wife with a child in her arms, upon whom the melody seemed to have no effect. She was an interesting and delicate-looking woman, whose agitation of spirits upon so melancholy an occasion were evidenced by streaming tears from a pair of lovely dark eyes; and the Butcher, as evidently forgetful of his usual calling, was sympathising with, and endeavouring to soothe her into composure, and fondling the child. In another, a person who had the appearance of an Half-pay Officer, with Hessian boots, blue pantaloons, and a black silk handkerchief, sat with his arms folded almost without taking notice of what was passing around him, though a rough Sailor with a pipe in his mouth occasionally [380] enlivened the scene by accompanying the notes of the Musician with a characteristic dance, which he termed a Horn-spike.
Upon entering a small dark room, they heard a lot of voices. In one corner, they found several prisoners gathered around a Bagatelle board, playing for porter, ale, etc. In another corner was a young man deeply engaged in conversation with an attorney. A little further away, a hardened man was taking instructions from the turnkey on what to do. There was a poor player who claimed he would take advantage of the Act and later perform at the theater to get back on his feet. Nearby, a poet was racking his brain, lost in fanciful thoughts and putting the finishing touches on an ode to Liberty, hoping his work would win him inspiration. The conversation was a mix of sounds: the shouts of the Bagatelle players, the whispers of the attorney and his client, and the prisoner's bold statement to the turnkey that he’d be damned if he didn’t get back at them, taking down the lot of them. Every so often, these conversations were interrupted by lively violin music, played in an animated and stylish way. The musician was out of sight but seemed so close that Merrywell, who loved music, signaled for his friends to follow. They entered a small yard behind the house, a usual hangout for the residents, and found the musician seated on one of the benches that encircled the yard, creating a picturesque scene. There was a bubbling fountain and tall poplars casting shade, with a stream glimmering in the glow of the rising sun. However, the foliage and the fountain weren’t actually visible or audible (these beauties were only captured in paintings); to compensate for their absence, the musician, like a shepherd with his pipe, was trying to make the woods echo with the notes of his fiddle, surrounded by fellow prisoners who applauded his talent and rewarded his efforts by providing him with rosin, as they called it, by handing him the heavy wet whenever they noticed his elbow at rest. In one spot, a butcher, visited by his wife holding a child during his capture, seemed unmoved by the music. She was an appealing and delicate-looking woman, and her agitated spirit was evident in the tears streaming from her lovely dark eyes. The butcher, clearly distracted from his usual trade, was trying to comfort her and gently caring for the child. In another corner sat a man who looked like a retired officer, dressed in Hessian boots, blue pants, and a black silk handkerchief, with his arms crossed, barely noticing what was happening around him, though a rough sailor with a pipe occasionally livened things up by dancing along to the musician's tunes, which he called a Horn-spike.
It was a fine scene of Real Life, and after taking a few turns in the gardens of the Lock-up or Sponging-house, they returned to Merrywell's apartments, which they had scarcely entered, when the tandem drew up to the door.
It was a great scene of real life, and after strolling around the gardens of the Lock-up or Sponging-house for a bit, they went back to Merrywell's rooms, which they had barely stepped into when the tandem pulled up to the door.
“More company,” said Merry well.
“More company,” said Merry.
“And perhaps the more the merrier,” replied Tom.
"And maybe the more, the better," replied Tom.
“That is as it may prove,” was the reply; “for the company of this house ace as various at times as can be met with in any other situation. However, this appears to wear the form of one of our fashionable, high-life Gentlemen; but appearances are often deceitful, we shall perhaps hear more of him presently—he may turn out to be one of the prodigals who calculate the duration of life at about ten years, that is, to have a short life and a merry one.”
“That may be true,” was the reply; “the people in this house can be as varied as you’d find anywhere else. However, this seems to follow the style of one of our trendy, high-society men; but looks can be misleading. We might learn more about him soon—he could end up being one of those party animals who think life lasts about ten years, living fast and having fun.”
“That seems to me to be rather a short career, too,” exclaimed Bob.
"That seems like a pretty short career to me, too," Bob exclaimed.
“Nay, nay, that is a long calculation, for it frequently cannot be made to last half the number. In the first place, the Pupil learns every kind of extravagance, which he practises en maitre the two next years. These make an end of his fortune. He lives two more on credit, established while his property lasted. The next two years he has a letter of licence, and contrives to live by ways and means (for he has grown comparatively knowing.) Then he marries, and the wife has the honour of discharging his debts, her fortune proving just sufficient for the purpose. Then he manages to live a couple of years more on credit, and retires to one of his Majesty's prisons.”
“No, no, that's a long calculation because it often doesn't even last half as long. First, the student learns every kind of excess, which he practices like a master for the next two years. These habits wipe out his wealth. He lives on credit for another two years, established while his assets lasted. For the next two years, he has a free pass and figures out how to get by (since he has become somewhat savvy). Then he gets married, and his wife gets the pleasure of paying off his debts, her fortune being just enough for that. After that, he manages to live a couple more years on credit before ending up in one of the King’s prisons.”
By this time Mr. Safebind made his appearance, and with great politeness inquired if the Gentlemen were accommodated in the way they wished? Upon being assured of this, and requested to take a seat, after some introductory conversation, he gave them the following account of himself and his business:—
By this time, Mr. Safebind showed up and politely asked if the gentlemen were getting what they needed. Once they confirmed this and invited him to sit down, he shared some introductory conversation before giving them an overview of himself and his business:—
“We have brought nine Gemmen into the house this morning; and, though I say it, no Gemman goes out that would have any objection to come into it again.”
“We brought nine gentlemen into the house this morning, and, if I may say so, no gentleman leaves who wouldn’t want to come back in.”
Tallyho shrugg'd up his shoulders in a way that seemed to imply a doubt.
Tallyho shrugged his shoulders in a way that seemed to suggest uncertainty.
[381] “For,” continued he, “a Gemman that is a Gemman shall always find genteel treatment here. I always acts upon honour and secrecy; and if as how a Gemman can't bring his affairs into a comfortable shape here, why then he is convey'd away without exposure, that is, if he understands things.”
[381] “For,” he continued, “a gentleman who is a gentleman will always find respectful treatment here. I always act with honor and discretion; and if a gentleman can’t sort out his affairs comfortably here, then he is discreetly dealt with, as long as he knows how things work.”
With assurances of this kind, the veracity of which no one present could doubt, they were entertained for some time by their loquacious Host, who, having the gift of the gab,{1} would probably have continued long in the same strain of important information; when dinner was placed on the table, and they fell to with good appetites, seeming almost to have made use of the customary grace among theatricals.{2}
With reassurances like these, which no one there could doubt, they were entertained for a while by their talkative host, who, with the gift of conversation, would likely have gone on sharing important information for a long time. When dinner was served, they eagerly dug in, almost as if they had done the usual blessing that performers often say.
“The table cleared, the frequent glass goes round, And joke and song and merriment abound.”
“The table cleaned off, the drinks keep flowing, and laughter, songs, and fun fill the air.”
“Your house,” said Dashall, “might well be termed the Temple of the Arts, since their real votaries are so frequently its inhabitants.”
“Your house,” said Dashall, “could easily be called the Temple of the Arts, since its true supporters often live there.”
“Very true, Sir,” said Safebind, “and as the Poet observes, it is as often graced by the presence of the devotees to the Sciences: in point of company he says we may almost call it multum in parvo, or the Camera Obscura of Life. There are at this time within these walls, a learned Alchymist, two Students in Anatomy, and a Physician—a Poet, a Player, and a Musician. The Player is an adept at mimicry, the Musician a good player, and the Poet no bad stick at a rhyme; all anxious to turn their talents to good account, and, when mingled together, productive of harmony, though the situation they are in at present is rather discordant to their feelings; but then you know 'tis said, that discord is the soul of harmony, and they knocked up a duet among themselves yesterday, which I thought highly amusing.”
“Very true, Sir,” said Safebind, “and as the Poet notes, it is often enhanced by the presence of those devoted to the Sciences: in terms of company, he says we could almost call it multum in parvo, or the Camera Obscura of Life. Right now, within these walls, we have a knowledgeable Alchemist, two Students of Anatomy, and a Physician—a Poet, an Actor, and a Musician. The Actor is skilled at mimicry, the Musician is a great player, and the Poet has a knack for rhyme; all eager to use their talents wisely, and when they're together, they create harmony, even though their current situation feels quite awkward; but you know it’s said that discord is the essence of harmony, and they put together a duet yesterday that I found very entertaining.”
“I am fond of music,” said Merry well—“do you think they would take a glass of wine with us?”
“I love music,” said Merry with a smile. “Do you think they would join us for a glass of wine?”
[382] “Most readily, no doubt,” was the reply. “I will introduce them in a minute.” Thus saying, he left the room, and in a very few minutes returned with the three votaries of Apollo, who soon joined in the conversation upon general subjects. The Player now discovered his loquacity; the Poet his sagacity; and the Musician his pertinacity, for he thought no tones so good as those produced by himself, nor no notes—we beg pardon, none but bank notes—equal to his own.
[382] “Of course,” was the reply. “I’ll introduce them in a minute.” With that, he left the room and soon came back with the three followers of Apollo, who quickly joined the conversation on various topics. The Actor now showed off his talkativeness; the Poet revealed his wisdom; and the Musician demonstrated his stubbornness, insisting that no sounds were better than the ones he created, and no notes—sorry, we mean no banknotes—were as good as his own.
It will be sufficient for our present purpose to add, that the bottle circulated 'quickly, and what with the songs of the Poet, the recitations of the Player, and the notes of the Fiddler, time, which perfects all intellectual ability, and also destroys the most stupendous monuments of art, brought the sons of Apollo under the table, and admonished Dashall and his Cousin to depart; which they accordingly did, after a promise to see their friend Merry well in his intended new quarters.[383]
It will be enough for our current purpose to add that the bottle passed around quickly, and with the Poet's songs, the Player's recitations, and the Fiddler's music, time— which enhances all intellectual abilities and also erodes even the greatest works of art— led the sons of Apollo to end up under the table and prompted Dashall and his Cousin to leave; which they did after promising to help their friend Merry settle into his new place.[383]
CHAPTER XXIV
THE next scene which Tom was anxious to introduce to his Cousin's notice was that of a Political Dinner; but while they were preparing for departure, a letter arrived which completely satisfied the mind of the Hon. Tom Dashall as to the motives and views of their friend Sparkle, and ran as follows:
THE next scene that Tom was eager to show his cousin was a Political Dinner; but while they were getting ready to leave, a letter arrived that totally clarified the motives and intentions of their friend Sparkle for the Hon. Tom Dashall, and it read as follows:
“Dear Dashall,
"Hey Dashall,"
“Having rivetted the chains of matrimony on the religious anvil of Gretna Green, I am now one of the happiest fellows in existence. My election is crowned with success, and I venture to presume all after-petitions will be rejected as frivolous and vexatious. The once lovely Miss Mortimer is now the ever to be loved Mrs. Sparkle. I shall not now detain your attention by an account of our proceedings or adventures on the road: we shall have many more convenient opportunities of indulging in such details when we meet, replete as I can assure you they are with interest.
“Having joined the chains of marriage at the religious setting of Gretna Green, I am now one of the happiest guys around. My choice has been successful, and I can confidently assume that all future appeals will be dismissed as trivial and annoying. The once lovely Miss Mortimer is now the always beloved Mrs. Sparkle. I won’t keep you with stories of our travels or adventures on the way; we’ll have plenty more chances to share those details when we meet, as I can assure you they are full of interest.”
“I have written instructions to my agent in town for the immediate disposal of my paternal estate in Wiltshire, and mean hereafter to take up my abode on one I have recently purchased in the neighbourhood of Belville Hall, where I anticipate many pleasurable opportunities of seeing you and our friend Tallyho surrounding my hospitable and (hereafter) family board. We shall be there within a month, as we mean to reach our place of destination by easy stages, and look about us.
“I’ve sent instructions to my agent in town to quickly sell my family estate in Wiltshire, and I plan to move to a place I recently bought near Belville Hall, where I look forward to having many enjoyable times with you and our friend Tallyho around my welcoming (and future) family table. We’ll be there within a month, as we intend to reach our new home at a relaxed pace and explore the area.”
“Please remember me to all old friends in Town, and believe as ever,
“Please say hello to all my old friends in Town for me, and know that I still feel the same way,
Your's truly,
Yours truly,
“Charles Sparkle.”
“Charles Sparkle.”
“Carlisle.”
“Carlisle.”
[384 ] The receipt of this letter and its contents were immediately communicated to young Mortimer, who had already received some intelligence of a similar nature, which had the effect of allaying apprehension and dismissing fear for his Sister's safety. The mysterious circumstances were at once explained, and harmony was restored to the previously agitated family.
[384 ] The arrival of this letter and its contents were quickly shared with young Mortimer, who had already received some news of a similar kind, which helped ease his worries and calm his fears for his sister's safety. The mysterious circumstances were immediately clarified, and peace was restored to the previously unsettled family.
“I am truly glad of this information,” said Tom, “and as we are at present likely to be politically engaged, we cannot do less than take a bumper or two after dinner, to the health and happiness of the Candidate who so emphatically observes, he has gained his election, and, in the true language of every Patriot, declares he is the happiest man alive, notwithstanding the rivets by which he is bound.”
“I’m really happy to hear this,” said Tom, “and since we’re likely to be involved in politics right now, we can’t do less than have a drink or two after dinner, toasting to the health and happiness of the Candidate who confidently claims he has won his election, and, in the true words of every Patriot, says he is the happiest man alive, even with the constraints he faces.”
“You are inclined to be severe,” said Tallyho.
“You tend to be harsh,” said Tallyho.
“By no means,” replied Dashall; “the language of the letter certainly seems a little in consonance with my observation, but I am sincere in my good wishes towards the writer and his amiable wife. Come, we must now take a view of other scenes, hear long speeches, drink repeated bumpers, and shout with lungs of leather till the air resounds with peals of approbation.
“Not at all,” replied Dashall; “the tone of the letter does match my observations to some extent, but I genuinely wish the best for the writer and his lovely wife. Now, let’s move on to other things, listen to long speeches, drink a lot, and cheer loudly until the air is filled with sounds of approval.”
“We shall there see and hear the great men of the nation, Or at least who are such in their own estimation.”
“We will see and hear the great men of the nation there, or at least those who think of themselves as such.”
“Hey day,” said Tallyho, “who do you apply this to?”
“Hey there,” said Tallyho, “who are you directing this at?”
“Those who find the cap fit may wear it,” was the reply—”
“Those who find the cap fits can wear it,” was the reply—”
I leave it wholly to the discriminating few who can discover what belongs to themselves, without further comment.”
I leave it entirely to the insightful few who can recognize what belongs to them, without additional comment.
[385] By this time they had arrived at the Crown and Anchor Tavern, in the Strand, where they found a great number of persons assembled, Sir F. B——— having been announced as President. In a few minutes he was ushered into the room with all due pomp and ceremony, preceded by the Stewards for the occasion, and accompanied by a numerous body of friends, consisting of Mr. H———, Major C———, and others, though not equally prominent, equally zealous. During dinner time all went on smoothly, except in some instances, where the voracity of some of the visitors almost occasioned a chopping off the fingers of their neighbours; but the cloth once removed, and 'Non nobis Domine' sung by professional Gentlemen, had the effect of calling the attention of the company to harmony. The Band in the orchestra played, 'O give me Death or Liberty'—'Erin go brach'—'Britons strike home'—and 'Whilst happy in my native Land.' The Singers introduced 'Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled'—'Peruvians wake to Glory'—and the 'Tyrolese Hymn.' But the spirit of oratory, enlivened by the fire of the bottle, exhibited its illuminating sparks in a blaze of lustre which eclipsed even the gas lights by which they were surrounded; so much so, that the Waiters themselves became confused, and remained stationary, or, when they moved, were so dazzled by the patriotic effusions of the various Speakers, that they fell over each other, spilt the wine in the pockets of the company, and, by making afterwards a hasty retreat, left them to fight or argue between each other for supposed liberties taken even by their immediate friends.
[385] By this time they had reached the Crown and Anchor Tavern on the Strand, where a large crowd had gathered, as Sir F. B——— was announced as the President. A few minutes later, he was brought into the room with all the necessary pomp and ceremony, preceded by the Stewards for the occasion, and accompanied by many friends, including Mr. H———, Major C———, and others, who, while not as prominent, were equally enthusiastic. During dinner, everything went smoothly, except in a few cases where some guests’ eagerness nearly led to fingers being chopped off by their neighbors; but once the tablecloth was removed and 'Non nobis Domine' was sung by professional singers, it caught the audience's attention and brought about a sense of harmony. The Band in the orchestra played 'O give me Death or Liberty,' 'Erin go brach,' 'Britons strike home,' and 'While happy in my native Land.' The Singers introduced 'Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled,' 'Peruvians wake to Glory,' and the 'Tyrolese Hymn.' However, the spirit of oratory, fueled by the drinks, created an illuminating display that outshone even the gas lights around them; so much so that the Waiters became confused and stood still, or when they moved, were so dazzled by the passionate speeches that they tripped over one another, spilled wine in the guests' pockets, and made a hurried retreat, leaving the guests to bicker among themselves over what liberties had been taken, even by their closest friends.
Unbridled feelings of patriotic ardour appeared to pervade every one present; and what with the splendid oratory of the speakers, and the deafening vociferations of the hearers, at the conclusion of what was generally considered a good point, a sufficient indication of the feelings by which they were all animated was evinced.
Uncontrolled feelings of patriotic passion seemed to fill everyone there; and with the impressive speeches from the speakers and the loud cheers from the audience, at the end of what was widely seen as a strong point, it was clear what emotions were driving them all.
At the lower end of the table sat a facetious clerical Gentleman, who, unmindful of his ministerial duties, was loud in his condemnation of ministers, and as loud in his approbation of those who gave them what he repeatedly called a good hit. But here a subject of great laughter occurred; for Mr. Marrowfat, the Pea-merchant of Covent-Garden, and Mr. Barrowbed, the Feathermonger of Drury Lane, in their zeal for the good cause, arising at the same moment, big with ardour and sentiment, to address the [386] Chair on a subject of the most momentous importance in their consideration, and desirous to signalize themselves individually, so completely defeated their objects by over anxiety to gain precedence, that they rolled over each other on the floor, to the inexpressible amusement of the company, and the total obliteration of their intended observations; so much so, that the harangue meant to enlighten their friends, ended in a fine colloquy of abuse upon each other.
At the lower end of the table sat a sarcastic cleric who, ignoring his ministerial duties, loudly criticized ministers and equally praised those who he often referred to as delivering a good hit. A moment of great laughter ensued when Mr. Marrowfat, the pea merchant from Covent Garden, and Mr. Barrowbed, the feather dealer from Drury Lane, both got up at the same time, filled with enthusiasm and sentiment, to address the [386] Chair on a topic they considered extremely important. Eager to make an individual impression, they completely undermined their intentions by trying too hard to be heard first, which led to them tumbling over each other on the floor, causing the audience to burst into laughter and completely wiping out their intended comments; it ended up being a humorous exchange of insults between them instead.
The bottles, the glasses, and the other paraphernalia of the table suffered considerable diminution in the descent of these modern Ciceros, and a variety of speakers arising upon their downfall, created so much confusion, that our Heroes, fearing it would be some time before harmony could be restored, took up their hats and walked.
The bottles, glasses, and other items on the table were greatly reduced by the arrival of these modern Ciceros, and with so many speakers emerging from their downfall, there was so much confusion that our Heroes, worried that it would take a while to restore order, grabbed their hats and left.
“Now,” said Dashall, as they left the house, “you have had a full view of the pleasantries of a Political Dinner; and having seen the characters by which such an entertainment is generally attended, any further account of them is almost rendered useless.”
“Now,” said Dashall, as they left the house, “you've had a complete look at the fun of a Political Dinner; and having seen the types of people that usually show up at such an event, any more details about them are pretty much unnecessary.”
“At least,” replied Tallyho, “I have been gratified by the view of some of the leading men who contribute to fill up the columns of your London Newspapers.”
“At least,” replied Tallyho, “I have enjoyed seeing some of the prominent figures who help fill the pages of your London newspapers.”
“Egad!” said his Cousin, “now I think of it, there is a tine opportunity of amusing ourselves for the remainder of the evening by a peep at another certain house in Westminster: whether it may be assimilated, in point of character or contents, to what we have just witnessed, I shall leave you, after taking a review, to determine.”
“Wow!” said his cousin, “now that I think about it, there's a great chance for us to entertain ourselves for the rest of the evening by checking out another house in Westminster. Whether it’s similar in character or content to what we just saw, I’ll let you decide after I take a look.”
“What do you mean?” inquired Tallyho.
“What do you mean?” asked Tallyho.
“Charley's, my boy, that's the place for sport, something in the old style. The Professors there are all of the ancient school, and we shall just be in time for the first Lecture. It is a school of science, and though established upon the ancient construction, is highly suitable to the taste of the moderns.”
“Charley's, my boy, that's the place for sports, something in the traditional style. The professors there are all from the old school, and we’ll just make it in time for the first lecture. It’s a school of science, and although it's built on the classic framework, it’s really appealing to modern tastes.”
“Zounds!” replied Bob, “our heads are hardly in cue for philosophy after so much wine and noise; we had better defer it to another opportunity.”
“Wow!” replied Bob, “our minds aren’t really in the right place for deep thoughts after all this wine and noise; we should probably save it for another time.”
“Nay, nay, now's the very time for it—it will revive the recollection of some of your former sports;
“Nah, nah, now's the perfect time for it—it will brings back memories of some of your past adventures;
[387] Charley is a good caterer for the public appetite, and, to diversify the amusements of a Life in London, we will have a little chaff among the Bear-baiters.”
[387] Charley is a great caterer for the public’s tastes, and to mix things up in our Life in London, we'll enjoy some light banter among the Bear-baiters.
Tally-ho stared for a moment; then burst into laughter at the curious introduction his Cousin had given to this subject. “I have long perceived your talent for embellishment, but certainly was not prepared for the conclusion; but you ought rather to have denominated them Students in Natural History.”
Tally-ho stared for a moment, then burst into laughter at the strange introduction his cousin had made to this topic. “I’ve noticed your knack for embellishment for a while, but I definitely wasn’t ready for that ending; you really should have called them Students in Natural History instead.”
“And what is that but a branch of Philosophy?” inquired Dashall. “However, we are discussing points of opinion rather than hastening to the scene of action to become judges of facts—Allons.”
“And what is that but a branch of Philosophy?” asked Dashall. “But we're debating opinions instead of rushing to the action to judge the facts—Let’s go.”
Upon saying this, they moved forward with increased celerity towards Tothill-fields, and soon reached their proposed place of destination.
Upon saying this, they quickly moved forward towards Tothill-fields and soon reached their intended destination.
On entering, Tallyho was reminded by his Cousin to button up his toggery, keep his ogles in action, and be awake. “For,” said he, “you will here have to mingle with some of the queer Gills and rum Covies of all ranks.”
On entering, Tallyho was reminded by his cousin to button up his coat, keep his eyes open, and stay alert. “Because,” he said, “you’re going to have to mix with some of the strange characters and shady groups of all kinds.”
This advice being taken, they soon found themselves in this temple of torment, where Bob surveyed a motly group assembled, and at that moment engaged in the sports of the evening. The generality of the company bore the appearance of Butchers, Dog-fanciers and Ruffians, intermingled here and there with a few Sprigs of Fashion, a few Corinthian Sicells, Coster-mongers, Coal-heavers, Watermen, Soldiers, and Livery-servants.
This advice taken, they quickly found themselves in this place of torture, where Bob looked over a mixed group gathered, and at that moment, they were enjoying the evening's activities. Most of the crowd looked like butchers, dog lovers, and tough guys, mixed in with a few trendy people, some flashy individuals, street vendors, coal workers, watermen, soldiers, and servants.
The bear was just then pinn'd by a dog belonging to a real lover of the game, who, with his shirt-sleeves tuck'd up, declared he was a d———d good one, and nothing but a good one, so help him G———d. This dog, at the hazard of his life, had seized poor Bruin by the under lip, who sent forth a tremendous howl indicative of his sufferings, and was endeavouring to give him a fraternal hug; many other dogs were barking aloud with anxiety to take an active share in the amusement, while the bear, who was chained by the neck to a staple in the wall, and compelled to keep an almost erect posture, shook his antagonist with all the fury of madness produced by excessive torture. In the mean time bets were made and watches pull'd forth, to decide how long the bow-wow would bother the ragged Russian. The Dog-breeders were chaffing each other upon the value of their canine property, each holding his [388] brother-puppy between his legs, till a fair opportunity for a let-loose offered, and many wagers were won and lost in a short space of time. Bob remained a silent spectator; while his Cousin, who was better up to the gossip, mixt with the hard-featured sportsmen, inquired the names of their dogs, what prices were fix'd upon, when they had fought last, and other questions equally important to amateurs.
The bear was just then pinned by a dog belonging to someone who really loved the sport, who, with his shirt sleeves rolled up, declared he was a damn good one, and nothing but a good one, so help him God. This dog, risking his life, had grabbed poor Bruin by the underlip, who let out a huge howl indicating his pain, and was trying to give him a bear hug; many other dogs were barking loudly, eager to join in on the fun, while the bear, chained by the neck to a staple in the wall and forced to stay almost upright, shook his opponent with all the rage of madness caused by extreme torture. In the meantime, bets were being placed and watches were pulled out to see how long the barking dog would bother the ragged Russian. The dog breeders were teasing each other about the value of their canine companions, each holding his puppy between his legs, waiting for the right moment to let loose, and many bets were won and lost in a short amount of time. Bob stayed a silent observer, while his cousin, who was more in the loop, chatted with the tough-looking sportsmen, asking about the names of their dogs, the prices set on them, when they last fought, and other questions equally important to enthusiasts.
Bruin got rid of his customers in succession as they came up to him, and when they had once made a seizure, it was generally by a hug which almost deprived them of life, at least it took from them the power of continuing their hold; but his release from one was only the signal for attack from another.
Bruin dismissed his customers one by one as they approached him, and when they managed to get a grip on him, it usually involved a hug that almost took their breath away; at the very least, it made it impossible for them to keep holding on. However, getting rid of one person just signaled the next one to strike.
While this exhibition continued, Tom could not help calling his Cousin's attention to an almost bald-headed man, who occupied a front seat, and sat with his dog, which was something of the bull breed, between his legs, while the paws of the animal rested on the top rail, and which forcibly brought to his recollection the well-known anecdote of Garrick and the Butcher's dog with his master's wig on, while the greasy carcass-dealer was wiping the perspiration from his uncovered pericranium.
While this exhibition went on, Tom couldn’t help but point out an almost bald man sitting in the front row, with his dog, which was kind of a bull breed, between his legs. The dog's paws rested on the top rail, reminding Tom of the famous story about Garrick and the butcher's dog wearing his master's wig while the sweaty meat dealer wiped the sweat from his bare head.
Bob, who had seen a badger-bait, and occasionally at fairs in the country a dancing bear, had never before seen a bear-bait, stood up most of the time, observing those around him, and paying attention to their proceedings while entertaining sentiments somewhat similar to the following lines:—
Bob, who had witnessed a badger baiting and sometimes saw a dancing bear at country fairs, had never before seen a bear baiting. He stood up most of the time, watching those around him and focusing on what they were doing while feeling thoughts somewhat similar to these lines:—
When Charley the proprietor thought his bear was sufficiently exercised for the night, he was led to his den, lacerated and almost lamed, to recover of his wounds, with an intention that he should “fight his battles o'er again.” Meanwhile Tom and Bob walk'd homeward.
When Charley, the owner, thought his bear had exercised enough for the night, he was taken to his den, hurt and nearly lame, to recover from his injuries, with the plan that he would “fight his battles all over again.” Meanwhile, Tom and Bob walked home.
The next day having been appointed for the coronation of our most gracious Sovereign, our friends were off at an early hour in the morning, to secure their seats in [389] Westminster Hall; and on their way they met the carriage of our disappointed and now much lamented Queen, her endeavours to obtain admission to the Abbey having proved fruitless.
The next day was set for the coronation of our gracious Sovereign, so our friends left early in the morning to get their seats in [389] Westminster Hall. On their way, they saw the carriage of our now much-mourned Queen, who had been unable to gain entry to the Abbey despite her efforts.
It was a painful circumstance to Dashall, who was seldom severe in his judgments, or harsh in his censures. He regretted its occurrence, and it operated in some degree to rob a splendid ceremony of its magnificence, and to sever from royalty half its dignity.
It was a tough situation for Dashall, who was rarely strict in his judgments or harsh in his criticisms. He wished it hadn’t happened, and it somewhat took away from a grand event’s splendor and diminished royalty’s dignity.
The preparations however were arranged upon a scale of grandeur suited to the occasion. The exterior of Westminster Hall and Abbey presented a most interesting appearance. Commodious seats were erected for the accommodation of spectators to view the procession in its moving order, and were thronged with thousands of anxious subjects to greet their Sovereign with demonstrations of loyalty and love.
The preparations, however, were set up on a grand scale fitting for the occasion. The outside of Westminster Hall and Abbey looked very impressive. Comfortable seats were built for spectators to watch the procession as it went by, and they were filled with thousands of eager citizens ready to welcome their Sovereign with signs of loyalty and affection.
It was certainly a proud day of national festivity. The firing of guns and the ringing of bells announced the progress of the Coronation in its various stages to completion; and in the evening Hyde Park was brilliantly and tastefully illuminated, and an extensive range of excellent fireworks were discharged under the direction of Sir William Congreve. We must however confine ourselves to that which came under the view of the Hon. Tom Dashall and his Cousin, who, being seated in the Hall, had a fine opportunity of witnessing the banquet, and the challenge of the Champion.
It was definitely a proud day of national celebration. The sound of gunfire and the ringing of bells marked the different stages of the Coronation as it moved toward completion; and in the evening, Hyde Park was illuminated beautifully, with an impressive display of fireworks organized by Sir William Congreve. However, we will focus on what was happening in the view of the Hon. Tom Dashall and his cousin, who, sitting in the Hall, had a great chance to witness the banquet and the Champion's challenge.
A flooring of wood had been laid down in the Hall at an elevation of fourteen inches above the flags. Three tiers of galleries were erected on each side, covered with a rich and profuse scarlet drapery falling from a cornice formed of a double row of gold-twisted rope, and ornamented with a succession of magnificent gold pelmets and rosettes. The front of the door which entered from the passage without, was covered with a curtain of scarlet, trimmed with deep gold fringe, and looped up on each side with [390] silken ropes. The floor, and to the extremity of the first three steps of the Throne, was covered with a splendid Persian-pattern Wilton carpet, and the remainder of the steps with scarlet baize.
A wooden floor was installed in the Hall, raised fourteen inches above the stone flags. Three tiers of balconies were built on each side, draped in luxurious scarlet fabric that hung from a cornice made of double gold-twisted rope, adorned with a series of stunning gold pelmets and rosettes. The entrance door from the outside was covered with a scarlet curtain, edged with deep gold fringe, and tied back on each side with silken ropes. The floor and the first three steps leading up to the Throne were covered with an exquisite Persian-pattern Wilton carpet, while the rest of the steps were lined with scarlet baize.
The canopy of the throne, which was square, was surrounded by a beautiful carved and gilt cornice, prepared by Mr. Evans. Beneath the cornice hung a succession of crimson-velvet pelmet drapery, each pelmet having embroidered upon it a rose, a thistle, a crown, or a harp. Surmounting the cornice in front was a gilt crown upon a velvet cushion, over the letters “Geo. IV.” supported on each side by an antique gilt ornament. The entire back of the throne, as well as the interior of the canopy, were covered with crimson Genoa velvet, which was relieved by a treble row of broad and narrow gold lace which surrounded the whole. In the centre of the back were the royal arms, the lion and the unicorn rampant, embroidered in the most costly style. Under this stood the chair of state, and near the throne were six splendid chairs placed for the other members of the royal family. These decorations, and the Hall being splendidly illuminated, presented to the eye a spectacle of the most imposing nature, heightened by the brilliant assemblage of elegantly dressed personages. The Ladies universally wore ostrich feathers, and the Gentlemen were attired in the most sumptuous dresses.
The throne's canopy, which was square, was surrounded by a beautiful carved and gilded cornice created by Mr. Evans. Beneath the cornice hung a series of crimson-velvet pelmets, each one embroidered with a rose, a thistle, a crown, or a harp. At the front of the cornice sat a gilded crown on a velvet cushion, above the letters “Geo. IV,” flanked on both sides by an antique gilt decoration. The entire back of the throne and the interior of the canopy were covered in crimson Genoa velvet, accented by a triple row of wide and narrow gold lace that surrounded everything. In the center of the back were the royal arms, featuring the lion and the unicorn rampant, embroidered in the most lavish style. Below this was the chair of state, and nearby stood six magnificent chairs for the other members of the royal family. These decorations, combined with the Hall being beautifully lit, created a spectacular sight, made even more impressive by the dazzling crowd of elegantly dressed individuals. The ladies all sported ostrich feathers, while the gentlemen were dressed in their most luxurious outfits.
About four o'clock, his Majesty having gone through the other fatiguing ceremonies of the day, entered the Hall with the crown upon his head, and was greeted with shouts of “Long live the King!” from all quarters; shortly after which, the banquet was served by the necessary officers. But that part of the ceremony which most attracted the attention of Tallyho, was the challenge of the Champion, whose entrance was announced by the sound of the trumpets thrice; and who having proceeded on a beautiful horse in a full suit of armour, under the porch of a triumphal arch, attended by the Duke of Wellington on his right, and the Deputy Earl Marshal on his left, to the place assigned him, the challenge was read aloud by the Herald: he then threw down his gauntlet, which having lain a short time, was returned to him. This ceremony was repeated three times; when he drank to his Majesty, and received the gold cup and cover as his fee.
Around four o'clock, after his Majesty had completed the exhausting ceremonies of the day, he entered the Hall with the crown on his head and was met with cheers of "Long live the King!" from all sides. Soon after, the banquet was served by the requisite attendants. However, the part of the ceremony that caught Tallyho's attention the most was the Champion's challenge, announced by the sound of trumpets three times. Riding a stunning horse in full armor, he approached under a triumphal arch, flanked by the Duke of Wellington on his right and the Deputy Earl Marshal on his left. Once he reached his designated spot, the Herald read the challenge out loud. He then threw down his gauntlet, which lay for a moment before being picked up again. This ritual was repeated three times; then he raised a toast to his Majesty and received the gold cup and cover as his reward.
[391] The whole of this magnificent national pageant was conducted throughout with the most scrupulous attention to the customary etiquette of such occasions; and Tallyho, who had never witnessed any thing of the kind before, and consequently could have no conception of its splendour, was at various parts of the ceremony enraptured; he fancied himself in Fairy-land, and that every thing he saw and heard was the effect of enchantment. Our friends returned home highly gratified with their day's amusement.
[391] The entire grand national celebration was carried out with the utmost care for the usual etiquette of such events; and Tallyho, who had never experienced anything like it before, had no idea of its magnificence. At different moments during the ceremony, he was completely captivated; he imagined he was in Fairy-land, believing that everything he saw and heard was magical. Our friends returned home very pleased with their day's entertainment.
CHAPTER XXV
[392 ] THE following Tuesday having been appointed by the knowing ones for a pugilistic encounter between Jack Randall, commonly called the Nonpareil, and Martin, as well known by the appellation of The Master of the Rolls, from his profession being that of a baker; an excellent day's sport was anticipated, and the lads of the fancy were all upon the “qui vive.”
[392] The following Tuesday was set by the knowledgeable folks for a boxing match between Jack Randall, known as the Nonpareil, and Martin, more commonly referred to as The Master of the Rolls due to his job as a baker; everyone was looking forward to a great day of entertainment, and the fans were all on high alert.
Our friends had consequently arranged, on the previous night, to breakfast at an early hour, and take a gentle ride along the road, with a determination to see as much as possible of the attractive amusements of a milling-match, and to take a view as they went along of the company they were afterwards to mingle with.
Our friends had therefore made plans the night before to have breakfast early and take a leisurely ride along the road, aiming to experience as much as they could of the fun attractions of a milling match and to check out the crowd they would later mingle with.
“We shall now,” said Dashall (as they sat down to breakfast) “have a peep at the lads of the ring, and see a little of the real science of Boxing.”
“We're going to,” said Dashall (as they sat down to breakfast), “check out the guys in the ring and see a bit of the real art of boxing.”
“We have been boxing the compass through the difficult straits of a London life for some time,” replied Bob, “and I begin to think that, with all its variety, its gaiety, and
“We have been navigating the challenges of life in London for a while,” replied Bob, “and I’m starting to believe that, despite all its diversity, its excitement, and
[393] its pride, the most legitimate joys of life may fairly be said to exist in the country.”
[393] Its pride, the most genuine joys of life can truly be found in the countryside.
“I confess,” said Dashall, “that most of the pleasures of life are comparative, and arise from contrast. Thus the bustle of London heightens the serenity of the country, while again the monotony of the country gives additional zest to the ever-varying scenes of London. But why this observation at a moment when we are in pursuit of fresh game?”
“I must admit,” said Dashall, “that many of life's pleasures are relative and come from contrast. The hustle and bustle of London amplifies the tranquility of the countryside, while the dullness of the countryside makes the constantly changing scenes of London even more exciting. But why mention this now when we’re hunting for new excitement?”
“Nay,” said Tallyho, “I know not why; but I spoke as I thought, feeling as I do a desire to have a pop at the partridges as the season is now fast approaching, and having serious thoughts of shifting my quarters.”
“Nah,” said Tallyho, “I’m not sure why; but I said what I was thinking, since I really want to take a shot at the partridges with the season coming up soon, and I’m seriously considering changing my place.”
“We will talk of that hereafter,” was the reply. “You have an excellent day's sport in view, let us not throw a cloud upon the prospect before us—you seem rather in the doldrums. The amusements of this day will perhaps inspire more lively ideas; and then we shall be present at the masquerade, which will doubtless be well attended; all the fashion of the Metropolis will be present, and there you will find a new world, such as surpasses the powers of imagination—a sort of Elysium unexplored before, full of mirth, frolic, whim, wit and variety, to charm every sense in nature. But come, we must not delay participating in immediate gratifications by the anticipations of those intended for the future. Besides, I have engaged to give the Champion a cast to the scene of action in my barouche.”
“We’ll talk about that later,” came the reply. “You have an amazing day of fun ahead, so let’s not ruin the excitement that’s in front of us—you seem a bit down. The events of today might spark more cheerful thoughts; and then we’ll be at the masquerade, which will surely be packed with people; all the trendsetters from the city will be there, and you’ll discover a new world that goes beyond imagination—like a fresh paradise that’s never been explored before, filled with joy, playfulness, whimsy, cleverness, and variety to delight every sense. But come on, we shouldn’t hold back from enjoying the now by worrying about what’s to come. Besides, I’ve promised to give the Champion a ride to the event in my carriage.”
By this time Piccadilly was all in motion—coaches, carts, gigs, tilburies, whiskies, buggies, dog-carts, sociables, dennets, curricles, and sulkies, were passing in rapid succession, intermingled with tax-carts and waggons decorated with laurel, conveying company of the most varied description. In a few minutes, the barouche being at the door, crack went the whip, and off they bowled. Bob's eyes were attracted on all sides. Here, was to be seen the dashing Corinthian tickling up his tits, and his bang-up set-out of blood and bone, giving the go-by to a heavy drag laden with eight brawney bull-faced blades, smoking their way down behind a skeleton of a horse, to whom in all probability a good feed of corn would have been a luxury; pattering among themselves, occasionally chaffing the more elevated drivers by whom they were surrounded, and pushing forward their nags with all the ardour of a British [394] merchant intent upon disposing of a valuable cargo of foreign goods on ?Change. There, was a waggon, full of all sorts upon the lark, succeeded by a donkey-cart with four insides; but Neddy, not liking his burthen, stopt short on the way of a Dandy, whose horse's head coming plump up to the back of the crazy vehicle at the moment of its stoppage, threw the rider into the arms of a Dustman, who, hugging his customer with the determined grasp of a bear, swore d———n his eyes he had saved his life, and he expected he would stand something handsome for the Gemmen all round, for if he had not pitched into their cart, he would certainly have broke his neck; which being complied with, though reluctantly, he regained his saddle, and proceeded a little more cautiously along the remainder of the road, while groups of pedestrians of all ranks and appearances lined each side.
By this time, Piccadilly was buzzing with activity—coaches, carts, gigs, tilt carriages, whisky carts, buggies, dog carts, social vehicles, dennets, curricles, and sulkies were all rushing by in quick succession, mixed in with tax carts and wagons adorned with laurel, carrying a diverse crowd. In a few minutes, the barouche arrived at the door, the whip cracked, and off they went. Bob's attention was pulled in every direction. There was the flashy Corinthian showing off his prized horses and his flashy turnout, easily passing a heavy wagon loaded with eight burly, tough-looking guys, smoking their way behind a skinny horse that probably would have considered a decent feed of corn a luxury; they chatted among themselves, sometimes joking with the more prestigious drivers surrounding them, and urged their horses forward with all the enthusiasm of a British merchant keen on selling a valuable shipment of foreign goods at the Exchange. There was a wagon piled high with all sorts of goods passing by, followed by a donkey cart with four passengers; but Neddy, not happy with his load, stopped right in front of a dandy, whose horse's head came right up to the back of the rickety cart just as it stopped, throwing the rider into the arms of a dustman, who, hugging his new friend as tightly as a bear, swore that he had saved his life and expected him to treat the gentlemen all around since if he hadn’t crashed into their cart, he would have surely broken his neck; this was reluctantly agreed to, and the rider climbed back on his horse, continuing a bit more carefully down the road, while groups of pedestrians from all walks of life lined both sides.
At Hyde-Park Corner, Tom having appointed to take up the prime hammer-man, drew up, and was instantly greeted by a welcome from the expected party, who being as quickly seated, they proceeded on their journey.
At Hyde Park Corner, Tom, who was set to take on the main job, arrived and was immediately welcomed by the group he expected. They quickly took their seats and continued on their journey.
“This match appears to occupy general attention,” said Tom.
“This match seems to be grabbing everyone's attention,” said Tom.
“I should think so,” was the reply—“why it will be a prime thing as ever was seen. Betting is all alive—the Daffy Club in tip-top spirits—lots of money sported on both sides—somebody must make a mull{1}—but Randall's the man—he is the favourite of the day, all the world to a penny-roll.”
“I think so,” was the reply—“it’s going to be the best thing you’ve ever seen. Betting is really lively—the Daffy Club is in great spirits—lots of money wagered on both sides—someone’s going to win big—but Randall's the one—he’s the favorite today, all bets are on him.”
The simile of the penny roll being quite in point with the known title of one of the combatants, caused a smile on Dashall's countenance, which was caught by the eye of Tallyho, and created some mirth, as it was a proof of what has frequently been witnessed, that the lovers of the fancy are as apt in their imaginations at times, as they are ready for the accommodating one, two, or the friendly flush hit which floors their opponents.
The comparison of the penny roll fitting perfectly with the known title of one of the fighters made Dashall smile, which Tallyho noticed, sparking some laughter. This was a reminder of how often we see that those who enjoy the sport are just as quick with their imaginations at times as they are when it comes to landing a smooth one, two, or that friendly flush hit that takes down their rivals.
The morning was fine, and the numerous persons who appeared travelling on the road called forth many inquiries from Bob.
The morning was nice, and the many people who showed up traveling on the road raised a lot of questions from Bob.
“Now,” said he, “I think I recollect that the admirable author of the Sentimental Journey used to read as he went along—is it possible to read as we journey forward?” “Doubtless,” replied Tom, “it is, and will produce
“Now,” he said, “I think I remember that the amazing author of the Sentimental Journey used to read while traveling—is it really possible to read as we move forward?” “Of course,” Tom replied, “it is, and it will create
[395] a fund of amusing speculation as we jog on. Lavater founded his judgment of men upon the formation of their features; Gall and Spurzheim by the lumps, bumps and cavities of their pericraniums; but I doubt not we shall be right in our views of the society we are likely to meet, without the help of either—do you see that group?”
[395] a source of entertaining ideas as we go along. Lavater based his opinions of people on their facial features; Gall and Spurzheim on the shapes and contours of their skulls; but I’m sure we’ll have accurate insights about the society we’re about to encounter, without relying on either of those methods—do you see that group?”
Bob nodded assent.
Bob nodded in agreement.
“These,” continued Tom, “are profitable characters, or rather men of profit, who, kindly considering the constitution of their friends, provide themselves with refreshments of various kinds, to supply the hungry visitors round the ring—oranges, nuts, apples, gingerbread, biscuits and peppermint drops.”
“These,” Tom continued, “are profitable characters, or rather, people who make money, who, kindly considering the needs of their friends, bring along snacks of all kinds to serve the hungry visitors around the ring—oranges, nuts, apples, gingerbread, biscuits, and peppermint drops.”
“Not forgetting blue ruin and French lace,"{1} said the man of fist; “but you have only half done it—don't you see the Cash-cove{2} behind, with his stick across his shoulder, padding the hoof{3} in breathless speed? he has shell'd out the lour{4} for the occasion, and is travelling down to keep a wakeful winker{5} on his retailers, and to take care that however they may chuse to lush away the profit, they shall at least take care of the principal. The little Dandy just before him also acts as Whipper-in; between them they mark out the ground,{6} watch the progress, and pocket the proceeds. They lend the money for the others to traffic.”
“Don’t forget blue ruin and French lace,”{1} said the tough guy; “but you’ve only done part of it—can’t you see the Cash-cove{2} behind, with his stick over his shoulder, padding the hoof{3} in a hurry? He’s shell'd out the lour{4} for this, and is heading down to keep a wakeful winker{5} on his retailers, making sure that while they might waste the profit, they at least take care of the principal. The little Dandy right in front of him also plays the role of Whipper-in; together they outline the ground,{6} monitor the progress, and collect the earnings. They provide the funds for the others to trade.”
“I confess,” said Tom, “I was not exactly up to this.”
“I admit,” said Tom, “I wasn’t really prepared for this.”
“Aye, aye, but I know the Blunt-monger,{7} and am up to his ways and means,” was the reply.—“Hallo, my eyes, here he comes!” continued he, rising from his seat, and bowing obsequiously to a Gentleman who passed them in a tandem—“all right, I am glad of it—always good sport when he is present—no want of sauce or seasoning—he always comes it strong."{8}
“Aye, aye, but I know the Blunt-monger,{7} and I’m aware of his tricks,” was the reply. “Hey, look, here he comes!” he said, standing up and bowing respectfully to a gentleman who passed them in a tandem. “All good, I'm happy about it—there’s always good action when he’s around—never a lack of flair or excitement—he always brings it hard.”{8}
“I perceive,” replied Tom, “you allude to the noble Marquis of W———.”
“I see,” replied Tom, “you’re referring to the noble Marquis of W———.”
[396] Travelling gently along the road, they were presently impeded by a crowd of persons who surrounded a long cart or waggon, which had just been overturned, and had shot out a motley group of personages, who were being lifted on their legs, growling and howling at this unforeseen disaster. A hard-featured sailor, whose leg had been broken by the fall, brandished a splinter of the fractured limb, and swore—“That although his timbers were shivered, and he had lost a leg in the service, he would not be the last in the Ring, but he'd be d———d if he mount the rubbish-cart any more.” It is needless to observe his leg was a wooden one.
[396] Traveling slowly along the road, they soon came across a crowd of people gathered around a long cart that had just tipped over, spilling out a chaotic mix of individuals who were being helped to their feet, grumbling and complaining about this unexpected incident. A rough-looking sailor, whose leg had been broken in the fall, waved a piece of his shattered limb and shouted, “Even though my bones are broken and I’ve lost a leg in this job, I won’t be the last in the fight, but I’ll be damned if I ever get on that junk cart again.” It goes without saying that his leg was a wooden one.
Upon examining the inscription on the cart, it was found to contain the following words:—“Household Furniture, Building Materials, and Lumber carefully removed.” As it was ascertained that no real injury had been sustained, our party speedily passed the overturned vehicle and proceeded.
Upon looking at the inscription on the cart, we found the following words:—“Household Furniture, Building Materials, and Lumber carefully removed.” Since it was confirmed that no real damage had been done, our group quickly moved past the overturned vehicle and continued on.
The next object of attraction was a small cart drawn by one poor animal, sweating and snorting under the weight of six Swells, led by an old man, who seemed almost as incapable as his horse seemed unwilling to perform the journey. A label on the outside of the cart intimated that its contents was soap, which created some laughter between Tom and Bob. The man in the front, whose Jew-looking appearance attracted attention, was endeavouring to increase the speed of the conveyance by belabouring the boney rump of the prad{1} with his hat, while some of their pedestrian palls{2} were following close in the rear, and taking occasionally a drap of the cratur, which was handed out behind and returned after refreshment.
The next thing that caught their attention was a small cart pulled by a poor animal, sweating and snorting under the weight of six wealthy folks, led by an old man who looked almost as weak as his horse seemed reluctant to make the journey. A label on the outside of the cart suggested that it was carrying soap, which made Tom and Bob laugh. The man in front, who had a somewhat Jewish appearance, was trying to speed things up by hitting the bony rear of the horse with his hat, while some of their walking friends were following closely behind, occasionally taking a drink from a bottle that was passed back and forth after being shared.
“These,” said Tom to his Cousin, “are also men of profit, but not exactly in the way of those we passed—second-rate Swells and broken-down Gamesters, determined, as the saying is, to have a shy, even if they lose their sticks, and more properly may be termed men of plunder; desperate in their pursuits, they turn out with intent to make the best of the day, and will not fail to nibble all they can come easily at.”
“These,” Tom said to his cousin, “are also profit-seekers, but not exactly like those we just passed—second-rate wannabes and washed-up gamblers, intent, as the saying goes, to take a chance, even if they lose everything, and are more accurately described as thieves; desperate in their endeavors, they go out with the goal of making the most of the day, and they won’t hesitate to grab whatever they can easily get their hands on.”
“They are not worth the blood from a broken nose,” said the Pugilist, with a feeling for the honour of his profession which did him credit.—“They are all prigs, their company
“They aren’t worth the blood from a broken nose,” said the Pugilist, showing a respect for the honor of his profession that reflected well on him. —“They’re all self-righteous, their company
[397] spoils all genteel society, and frequently brings disgrace upon others with whom they are unworthy to associate, or even to be seen—there's no getting rid of such gentry. Is it not d———d hard a man can't have a pleasant bit of a turn-up, without having his friends filched?—But here comes the gay fellows, here they come upon the trot, all eager and anxious to mark the first blow, start the odds, and curry the coal.{1} These are the lads of life—true lovers of the sport—up to the manouvre—clear and quick-sighted, nothing but good ones—aye aye, and here comes Bill Gibbons, furnished with the fashionables.”
[397] ruins all polite society, and often brings shame to others who are unworthy of associating with them, or even being seen with them—there's no getting rid of these kinds of people. Isn't it really frustrating that a guy can't enjoy a nice little outing without having his friends taken away?—But here they come, the lively guys, all ready and eager to make the first move, set the stakes, and stir things up. These are the true characters of life—real fans of the game—ready for action—sharp-eyed and reliable—oh, and here comes Bill Gibbons, dressed in the latest styles.
“What do you call the fashionables?” inquired Bob.
“What do you call the trendy people?” Bob asked.
“Why, the Binders.”
“Why, the Binders.”
Here he was as much at a loss as ever, which the other perceiving, he continued—“The Binders are the stakes and ropes, to fence in the Ring.”
Here he was just as confused as ever, which the other noticed, so he continued—“The Binders are the stakes and ropes, to enclose the Ring.”
Bill Gibbons, who was well known on the road, and was speeding down pretty sharp, was followed by crowds of vehicles of all descriptions; as many to whom the place of meeting was but conjectured, upon seeing him felt assured of being in the right track. Here were to be seen the Swells in their tandems—the Nib Sprigs in their gigs, buggies, and dog-carts—and the Tidy Ones on their trotters, all alive and leaping. Mirth and merriment appeared spread over every countenance, though expectation and anxiety were intermingled here and there in the features of the real lads of the fancy; many of whom, upon this very interesting occasion, had bets to a considerable amount depending upon the result of the day. The bang-up blades were pushing their prads along in gay style, accompanied by two friends, that is to say, a biped and a quadruped. The queer fancy lads, who had hired hacks from the livery-stable keepers, were kicking up a dust, and here and there rolling from their prancers in their native soil; while the neck or nothing boys, with no prospect but a whereas before their eyes, were as heedless of their personal safety as they were of their Creditor's property. Jaded hacks and crazy vehicles were to be seen on all sides—here lay a bankrupt-cart with the panels knock'din, and its driver with an eye knock'd out, the horse lamed, and the concern completely knock'd up, just before the period when the hammer of the Auctioneer was to be called in, and his effects knock'd down. There was another
Bill Gibbons, who was well known on the road and speeding down quite rapidly, was followed by crowds of vehicles of all kinds; many who only guessed where the meeting point was felt sure they were on the right path. There were the stylish folks in their tandem bikes, the flashy types in their gigs, buggies, and dog-carts, and the neat ones on their trotters, all lively and hopping around. Laughter and joy seemed to be on everyone's face, though some of the real enthusiasts displayed a mix of excitement and anxiety; many of them had placed significant bets on the outcome of the day. The top-notch guys were showing off their horses in high spirits, accompanied by two friends, meaning one person and one horse. The quirky guys, who had rented horses from stable owners, were stirring up dust and occasionally falling off their mounts in the process; meanwhile, the reckless riders, oblivious to any chance of injury, didn't care about their safety nor their creditors' possessions. Tired horses and broken-down carriages were scattered everywhere—there lay a ruined cart with beat-up sides and its driver with a black eye, the horse limping, and the whole mess completely out of commission, just before the auctioneer was set to sell what was left. There was another
[398] of the same description, with a harum-scarum devil of a half-bred, making his way at all risks, at a full gallop, as unmanageable in his career as his driver had been in his speculations; dust flying, women sprawling, men bawling, dogs barking, and the multitude continually increasing. Scouts, Scamps, Lords, Loungers and Lacqueys—Coster-mongers from—To the Hill Fields—and The Bloods from Bermondsey, completely lined the road as far as the eye could reach, both before and behind; it was a day of the utmost importance to the pugilistic school, as the contest had excited a most unparalleled degree of interest!
[398] of the same description, with a wild, half-bred devil of a horse charging ahead at full speed, just as uncontrollable in its path as its driver had been in his ambitions; dust flying everywhere, women falling over, men shouting, dogs barking, and the crowd growing by the minute. Scouts, troublemakers, nobles, idlers, and servants—street vendors from the Hill Fields and the rowdy crowd from Bermondsey completely filled the road as far as the eye could see, both in front and behind; it was a day of major significance for the boxing community, as the match had sparked an unprecedented level of excitement!
It would be scarcely possible to give a full and accurate description of the appearances as they went along; imagination would labour in vain, and words are altogether incapable of conveying a picture of the road to this memorable fight; the various instances in which they could discover that things were not all right were admirably contrasted by others, where care and good coachmanship, with a perfect management of the bloods, proved the reverse—while the single horsemen, whose hearts were really engaged in the sport, were picking their way with celerity, and posting to the point of attraction.—The public-houses were thronged to excess, and the Turnpike-keepers made a market of the mirth-moving throng.
It would be nearly impossible to give a complete and accurate description of the scenes as they unfolded; imagination would struggle in vain, and words simply can't capture the image of the road to this unforgettable fight. The moments when they noticed that not everything was going smoothly were brilliantly contrasted by instances where careful driving and excellent horsemanship, along with great handling of the horses, showed the opposite—while the individual riders, who were truly passionate about the sport, were skillfully navigating their way and racing to the focal point. The pubs were packed to capacity, and the tollkeepers took full advantage of the lively crowd.
Our party arrived in the neighbourhood of Copthorne about half-past twelve, where all was bustle and confusion. The commissary in chief, Mr. Jackson, being out of town, some of the subalterns, who had taken the command pro tempore, had, for divers weighty reasons,principally founded on a view to the profits of certain of the Surrey Trusts, and to accommodate the sporting circles at Brighton, fixed the combat to take place in a meadow belonging to a farmer named Jarvis, near this place.
Our group got to the Copthorne area around 12:30, where everything was hectic and chaotic. Since the main officer, Mr. Jackson, was out of town, some of the junior officers who were temporarily in charge had, for various significant reasons—mainly because of the profits of certain Surrey Trusts and to accommodate the sports community in Brighton—decided that the match would happen in a field owned by a farmer named Jarvis, close to this spot.
On this spot accordingly the ring was formed, and an immense mass of all descriptions of vehicles was admitted, not much, it may naturally be supposed, to the prejudice of the owner of the premises, whose agents were praise-worthily active in levying proper contributions. Some Gentlemen however in the neighbourhood, observing that the strictest delicacy was not maintained towards the sacredness of their fences, insisted that the place was too confined, and intimated that a move must be made, or they should make application to the Magistrates; and at the same time suggested Crawley Downs, the site of so [399] many former skirmishes, as the most convenient spot for their accommodation.
At this location, the ring was established, and a huge number of various vehicles were allowed in, not much, it can be naturally assumed, to the detriment of the property owner, whose representatives were commendably diligent in collecting appropriate fees. Some gentlemen in the area, noticing that the utmost respect was not given to the sanctity of their fences, argued that the area was too tight, and indicated that a relocation was necessary, or they would approach the Magistrates; they also proposed Crawley Downs, the site of so [399] many past skirmishes, as the most suitable place for their needs.
In this state of things, a move immediately took place, and a fresh ring was established on the spot alluded to; but, in effecting this new lodgment, much mortification was experienced, not alone by those, who, after a dreadful drag up one of the worst by-roads in England, had obtained a comfortable situation, but by those, who, speculating on the formation of the ring, had expended considerable sums in the hire of waggons for their purpose from the surrounding farmers. The waggons it was found impossible to move in due time, and thus the new area was composed of such vehicles as were first to reach the appointed ground.
In this situation, a move took place right away, and a new ring was set up at the mentioned location; however, in creating this new encampment, a lot of frustration was felt, not only by those who had gone through a terrible journey along one of the worst backroads in England to find a comfortable spot, but also by those who, betting on the formation of the ring, had spent a significant amount of money hiring wagons from local farmers. It turned out to be impossible to move the wagons on time, so the new area ended up being made up of the vehicles that got there first.
The general confusion now was inconceivable, for, notwithstanding the departure of connoisseurs from Jarvis's Farm, Martin still maintained his post, alleging, that he was on the ground originally fixed, and that he should expect Randall to meet him there; in which demand he was supported by his backers. This tended to increase the embarrassment of the amateurs; however, about one, Randall arrived at Crawley Downs, in a post-chaise, and took up his quarters at a cottage near the ground, waiting for his man; and at two, General Barton, who had just mounted his charger, intending to consult the head-quarters of the Magistrates, to ascertain their intention in case of proceeding to action at Jarvis's Farm, was suddenly arrested in his progress by an express from the Martinites, announcing that their champion had yielded his claim to the choice of ground, and was so anxious for the mill, that he would meet Randall even in a saw-pit. Bill Gibbons arriving soon after, the Ring, with the assistance of many hands, was quickly formed; by which time, Tom and Bob had secured themselves excellent situations to view the combat.
The overall confusion was unimaginable, because even after the art experts left Jarvis's Farm, Martin still stuck to his spot, claiming it was where he was originally supposed to be and that he expected Randall to join him there, a demand backed by his supporters. This only made things more awkward for the amateurs; however, around one o'clock, Randall showed up at Crawley Downs in a carriage and settled into a cottage near the site, waiting for his opponent. At two, General Barton, who had just mounted his horse to check with the local Magistrates about their plans if a fight broke out at Jarvis's Farm, was suddenly stopped by a message from Martin's team, saying their fighter had given up his right to choose the ground and was so eager to fight that he would meet Randall anywhere, even a saw-pit. Bill Gibbons arrived shortly after, and with help from many people, the ring was quickly set up; by then, Tom and Bob had found great spots to watch the fight.
About twenty minutes before three, Randall entered the outer Ring, attended by General Barton and Mr. Griffiths. He was attired in a Whitehall upper Benjamin, and threw his hat into the Ring amidst loud applause. In a few minutes after, Martin approached from an opposite direction, accompanied by Mr. Sant and Mr. Elliott; he was also warmly greeted.
About twenty minutes before three, Randall entered the outer Ring, accompanied by General Barton and Mr. Griffiths. He was wearing a Whitehall upper Benjamin and threw his hat into the Ring amid loud applause. A few minutes later, Martin came from the opposite direction, with Mr. Sant and Mr. Elliott; he was also warmly welcomed.
The men now passed the ropes, and were assisted by their immediate friends in peeling for action. Martin was [400] attended by Spring and Thurton; Randall, by Harry Holt and Paddington Jones.
The guys now handed over the ropes and were helped by their close friends to get ready for action. Martin was [400] accompanied by Spring and Thurton; Randall was with Harry Holt and Paddington Jones.
The men stript well, and both appeared to be in excellent health, good spirits, and high condition; but the symmetry of Randall's bust excited general admiration; and the muscular strength of his arms, neck, and shoulders, bore testimony to his Herculean qualities; the whole force of his body, in fact, seem'd to be concentrated above his waistband. Martin stood considerably above him, his arms were much longer, but they wanted that bold and imposing weight which characterized those of Randall. They walked up to the scratch, and shook hands in perfect good fellowship. Every man now took his station, and the heroes threw themselves into their guard.
The men stripped down well, and both looked to be in great health, good spirits, and peak condition; however, the symmetry of Randall's torso drew widespread admiration, and the muscular strength of his arms, neck, and shoulders showcased his impressive physique. In fact, all the strength of his body seemed concentrated above his waistband. Martin stood noticeably taller than him, with much longer arms, but they lacked the bold and powerful presence that defined Randall's. They walked up to the scratch and shook hands in perfect camaraderie. Each man then took their position, and the heroes settled into their stances.
It was rumoured that Martin intended to lose no time in manoeuvring, but to go to work instanter. This however he found was not so easily to be effected as suggested, for Randall had no favour to grant, and was therefore perfectly on his guard. He was all wary caution, and had clearly no intention of throwing away a chance, but was evidently waiting for Martin to commence. Martin once or twice made play, but Randall was not skittishly inclined, all was “war hawk.” Randall made a left-handed hit to draw his adversary, but found it would not do. Martin then hit right and left, but was stopped. Randall was feeling for Martin's wind, but hit above his mark, though not without leaving one of a red colour, which told “a flattering tale.” Randall returned with his left, and the men got to a smart rally, when Randall got a konker, which tapped the claret. An almost instantaneous close followed, in which Randall, grasping Martin round the neck with his right arm, and bringing his head to a convenient posture, sarved out punishment with his left. This was indeed a terrific position. Randall was always famous for the dreadful force of his short left-handed hits, and on this occasion they lost none of their former character. Martin's nob was completely in a vice; and while in that hopeless condition, Randall fibbed away with the solid weight of the hammer of a tuck-mill. His aim was principally at the neck, where every blow told with horrible violence. Eight or ten times did he repeat the dose, and then, with a violent swing, threw Martin to the ground, falling on him as he; went with all his weight. The Ring resounded with applause, and Jack coolly took [401] his seat on the knee of his Second. Martin's friends began to look blue, but still expected, the fight being young, there was yet much to be done.
It was rumored that Martin planned to act quickly and get right to it. However, he found that it wasn’t as easy as it seemed, since Randall wasn’t going to give him any favors and was fully on guard. Randall was cautious and clearly wasn’t willing to miss any opportunity; he was patiently waiting for Martin to make the first move. Martin tried a couple of times to engage, but Randall wasn’t easily rattled; everything was tense. Randall took a sneaky shot to bait his opponent, but it didn’t work. Martin then swung wildly but got blocked. Randall was testing Martin’s defenses but missed his target, though he still managed to land a blow that left a mark, showing he was making progress. Randall countered with his left, and they got into a fast-paced exchange, during which Randall landed a punch that drew blood. Almost immediately after, Randall wrapped his right arm around Martin’s neck, positioning his head just right, and started dishing out punishment with his left hand. It was an intense situation. Randall was known for the incredible power of his short left punches, and this time was no different. Martin was completely trapped, and while stuck in that tough spot, Randall swung with the heavy force of a hammer. He aimed mainly at the neck, where each hit landed with brutal impact. He did this eight or ten times, then with a fierce swing, knocked Martin to the ground, falling on him with all his weight. The crowd erupted in applause, and Jack calmly took his seat on his Second's knee. Martin’s friends started to look worried, but since the fight was still early, they believed there was still plenty left to unfold.
All eyes were now turned to Martin, who being lifted on Spring's knee, in a second discovered that he was done. His head fell back lifeless, and all the efforts of Spring to keep it straight were in vain. Water was thrown on him in abundance, but without effect: he was, in fact, completely senseless; and the half-minute having transpired, the Nonpareil was hailed the victor.
All eyes were now on Martin, who, being held on Spring's knee, quickly realized that he was done for. His head fell back lifeless, and all of Spring's attempts to keep it upright were useless. Water was thrown on him in large amounts, but it didn't help: he was completely unresponsive; and after half a minute had passed, the Nonpareil was declared the winner.
Randall appeared almost without a scratch, while poor Martin lay like a lump of unleavened dough; he was removed and bled, but it was some time before he was conscious of his defeat.
Randall appeared almost unscathed, while poor Martin lay there like a lump of dough; he was taken away and had his wounds treated, but it took him a while to realize he had lost.
Nothing could exceed the astonishment which so sudden and complete a finish to the business produced. The round lasted but seven minutes and a half, of which four minutes and a half had elapsed before a blow was attempted. Thus ended one of the most extraordinary battles between two known game men on the pugilistic records. Very heavy bets had been made upon it in all parts of the kingdom. One gentleman is said to have had five thousand pounds, and another one thousand eight hundred guineas. The gains of the conqueror were supposed to be about a thousand pounds.
Nothing could top the shock that such a sudden and complete end to the fight caused. The round lasted only seven and a half minutes, with four and a half minutes passing before any punches were thrown. This concluded one of the most remarkable matches between two well-known fighters in boxing history. Heavy bets had been placed on it all over the country. One man reportedly wagered five thousand pounds, and another one thousand eight hundred guineas. The winner was thought to have made around a thousand pounds.
The amusements of the day were concluded by a second fight between Parish and Lashbroke, which proved a manly and determined contest for upwards of an hour, and in which the combatants evinced considerable skill and bravery, and was finally decided in favour of Parish. All amusement which might have been derived from this spectacle, however, was completely destroyed by the daring outrages of an immense gang of pickpockets, who broke in the Ring, and closed completely up to the ropes, carrying with them every person, of decent appearance, and openly robbing them of their watches, pocket-books and purses. And the lateness of the hour, it being five o'clock, and almost dark, favoured the depredators.
The day's entertainment wrapped up with a second fight between Parish and Lashbroke, which turned out to be a tough and gritty contest lasting over an hour. The fighters showed impressive skill and courage, ultimately leading to Parish's victory. However, all enjoyment of this event was completely ruined by a bold group of pickpockets who broke into the Ring and moved right up to the ropes, targeting anyone who looked respectable and openly stealing their watches, wallets, and purses. The late hour, around five o'clock and nearly dark, helped these thieves carry out their crimes.
In the midst of this struggle, Tom Dashall had nearly lost his fancy topper,{1} and Tallyho was secretly eased of his clicker.{2} From the scene of tumult and confusion they were glad to escape; and being again safely seated in the
In the middle of this chaos, Tom Dashall almost lost his fancy top hat, and Tallyho secretly got rid of his clicker. They were both relieved to get away from the turmoil and confusion and were once again safely seated in the
[402] barouche, they made the best of their way home; in doing which, they found the roads almost as much clogg'd as they were in the morning. The Randallites were meritorious, and, flushed with good fortune, lined the public-houses on the road to wet their whistles, singing and shouting his name in strains to them equally inspiring as
[402] carriage, they made their way home; in doing so, they found the roads nearly as congested as they were in the morning. The Randall supporters were enthusiastic, and, exhilarated by their good luck, filled the pubs along the road to quench their thirsts, singing and shouting his name in tunes that were just as uplifting as
while the Martinites rolled along the road in sullen silence; and, by the time they reached town, an account of the Battle was hawking about the streets, and songs singing to the praise of the successful combatant in all the melodious cadences of a last dying speech and confession: such is the promptitude of London Printers, Poets, and News-venders.
while the Martinites traveled down the road in gloomy silence; and by the time they got to town, stories about the Battle were being shouted in the streets, and songs were sung in praise of the victorious fighter in all the sweet tones of a final speech and confession: such is the quickness of London printers, poets, and news vendors.
“Well,” said Dashall, as they re-entered the house, “the events of this day have completely disappointed some of the knowing ones.”
“Well,” said Dashall as they walked back into the house, “today’s events have totally let down some of the so-called experts.”
“That may be,” replied Bob, “but they have been too knowing for me, notwithstanding your previous instructions. However, I don't regret seeing the humours of a Prize Ring; and the next time you catch me there, I must take a lesson from the man of profit, and keep a wakeful winker on the possibles. Really, I could not help feeling astonished at the immense number of persons assembled on such an occasion.”
“Maybe so,” replied Bob, “but they’ve been too clever for me, despite your earlier instructions. However, I don’t regret witnessing the antics of a Prize Ring; next time I find myself there, I’ll have to learn from the guy who knows how to profit and keep a close eye on the possibilities. Honestly, I couldn’t help but be amazed at the huge crowd gathered for such an event.”
“Zounds!” said Tom, “'tis the real centre of attraction, the thing, the tippy, and the twig, among the Lads of the Fancy. Why, it is pretty generally known, through the medium of the newspapers, that a certain Nobleman paid the debts of one of these Pugilists, amounting to 300L. that he might be released from Newgate in order to fight a prize battle; and it is not long since that the Marquis of T—ed—e, whilst entertaining a large party, after dinner introduced the subject with so much effect, that a purse of 100 guineas was subscribed among them for a turn up between two of the prime hammermen; who, being introduced, actually set-to in his drawing-room for the amusement of his friends. Nor is it less true, that this sporting Nobleman gloriously took up the conqueror, (as the saying is) and evinced his patronage and his power at once, by actually subduing his antagonist, proving to certitude, that if his Lordship would but practise this sublime art, he [403] could hardly fail of adding to his present title that of the Champion of England! It is the theme of constant conversation, and in many cases there is more anxiety about contests of this sort than there is about the arrival of a Monarch on the Irish coast among the lads of praties, whiskey, and buttermilk—thoughts are busy, energies are active—and money in galore is circulated upon it.”
"Wow!" said Tom, "this is the real center of attention, the thing, the main event, among the guys in the know. Well, it's pretty widely known, thanks to the newspapers, that a certain nobleman paid off the debt of one of these fighters, amounting to 300 pounds, so he could be released from Newgate to fight in a match; and not long ago, the Marquis of T—ed—e, while hosting a big party, brought up the topic so effectively that they raised a purse of 100 guineas for a match between two of the top fighters; who, once introduced, actually squared off in his living room for the entertainment of his guests. It's also true that this sporting nobleman dramatically backed the winner, as the saying goes, showing off his support and power all at once by actually overcoming his opponent, proving beyond doubt that if his lordship practiced this impressive sport, he could easily add 'Champion of England' to his current title! It's a constant topic of conversation, and often there’s more excitement about these matches than about the arrival of a king on the Irish coast among the folks enjoying potatoes, whiskey, and buttermilk—everyone's thoughts are buzzing, energy is high—and money is flowing all around it."
Bob laughed heartily at these observations of his Cousin upon what he termed the sublime art.
Bob laughed loudly at his cousin's comments about what he called the sublime art.
“You don't appear to enter into the spirit of it,” continued Tom; “but I can assure you, it is a very animating subject, and has occupied the attention of all classes, from the peer to the prelate, the peasant and the pot-boy; it is said that one of the lower order of ranting Preachers, not many miles from Bolton-on-the-Moors, lately addressed his auditory in the following metaphorical language, accompanied with striking and appropriate attitudes:—'I dare say, now, you'd pay to see a boxing-match between Randall and Turner, or Martin—yet you don't like to pay for seeing a pitched-battle between me and the Black Champion Beelzebub. Oh! my friends, many a hard knock, and many a cross-buttock have I given the arch bruiser of mankind—aye, and all for your dear sakes—pull—do pull off those gay garments of Mammon, strike the devil a straight-forward blow in the mouth, darken his spiritual daylights. At him manfully, give it him right and left, and I'll be your bottle-holder—I ask nothing but the money, which you'll not forget before you go.' ”
“You don’t seem to get into the spirit of it,” Tom continued. “But I can assure you, it’s a really exciting topic that’s caught the attention of everyone, from the nobility to religious leaders, from farmers to bartenders; there’s even a lower-class preacher not far from Bolton-on-the-Moors who recently addressed his audience in the following colorful way, using some striking gestures:—‘I bet you'd pay to see a boxing match between Randall and Turner, or Martin—yet you hesitate to pay to watch a showdown between me and the Black Champion Beelzebub. Oh! my friends, I’ve given the arch bruiser of humanity many hard knocks and wild throws—all for your benefit—come on—take off those flashy clothes of greed, give the devil a solid punch in the face, and dim his spiritual lights. Go at him bravely, hit him with all you've got, and I’ll be your corner man—I only ask for the money, which you won’t forget before you leave.’”
“The true spirit moved him,” said Bob, “and a very laudable one too; but he very emphatically deprecated the votaries of Mammon.”
“The true spirit inspired him,” said Bob, “and it's a really commendable one too; but he strongly disapproved of the followers of money.”
“Certainly, he being called, would have been unworthy of his calling if he had not.”
“Definitely, he would have been unworthy of his calling if he hadn’t answered it.”
This conversation was carried on over a glass of generous wine, and, dwindling into indifferent subjects, is not necessary to be detailed; suffice it to say, that, fatigued with the day's exertions, they sought repose in the arms of Morpheus at an early hour, determined on the pursuit of fresh game with the dawn of the morning.[404]
This conversation took place over a glass of generous wine, and as it drifted into unimportant topics, there’s no need to go into detail; it’s enough to say that, tired from the day’s activities, they laid down to sleep early, ready to chase new adventures with the break of dawn.[404]
CHAPTER XXVI
AN agreeable lounge through the Parks in the morning afforded them an opportunity of recalling in idea the pleasures of the past Real Life in London, of which Tallyho had been enabled to partake, and during which he again signified a desire to change the scene, by a departure at an early period for his native vales, to breathe, as he observed, the uncontaminated air of the country—to watch the wary pointer, and mark the rising covey—to pursue the timid hare, or chase the cunning fox; and Dashall finding him inflexible, notwithstanding his glowing descriptions of scenes yet unexplored, at length consented to accompany him to Belville Hall, upon condition that they should return again in a month. This mode of arrangement seemed perfectly satisfactory to Bob; and a view of the Panorama and a peep at the Tennis Court would have finished their rambles for the day, but at the latter place of amusement and healthful exercise, meeting with young Mortimer, a further developement of facts relative to Sparkle and his Bride transpired; in which it appeared that they had arrived at their place of destination, and had forwarded an invitation to his brother-in-law to [405] pay them an early visit, and who proposed starting in a few days.
A nice stroll through the parks in the morning gave them a chance to reminisce about the enjoyable times they had in Real Life in London, which Tallyho had experienced. He again expressed his wish to change the scenery by heading back to his hometown early, to enjoy, as he put it, the pure air of the countryside—watching the watchful pointer, noting the rising covey, chasing the timid hare, or hunting the clever fox. Dashall, finding him determined despite his enthusiastic descriptions of yet-to-be-explored adventures, eventually agreed to go with him to Belville Hall, on the condition that they would return in a month. This arrangement seemed perfectly fine to Bob; a look at the Panorama and a visit to the Tennis Court would have wrapped up their day, but at the latter recreational spot, they met young Mortimer, who revealed more details about Sparkle and his Bride. It turned out they had reached their destination and sent an invitation to his brother-in-law to [405] come for an early visit, with plans to leave in a few days.
“Well,” said Dashall, “we will all go together, and no doubt with our old friend Sparkle we shall be able to endure the unchanging prospects of a country life.”
“Well,” said Dashall, “we’ll all go together, and I’m sure with our old friend Sparkle, we’ll be able to handle the same old views of country life.”
“Never mind,” cried Tallyho, “a change of scene will no doubt be useful, and, at all events, by enduring the one, we may learn more judiciously to appreciate the other.”
“Never mind,” shouted Tallyho, “changing the scenery will definitely be helpful, and anyway, by putting up with this one, we can learn to appreciate the other more wisely.”
“True,” said Tom, “and I shall like myself all the better for being in good company. But pray, Mr. Mortimer, what do you mean to do at the approaching masquerade?”
“True,” said Tom, “and I’ll like myself even more for being in good company. But please, Mr. Mortimer, what are you planning to do at the upcoming masquerade?”
“Not quite decided yet,” was the reply.
“Not really sure yet,” was the reply.
“You go, of course?”
"Are you going, of course?"
“Certainly—as Orpheus, or Apollo. But pray what character do you intend to sustain?”
“Of course—like Orpheus or Apollo. But what role do you plan to take on?”
“That's a secret—”
“It's a secret—”
“Worth knowing, I suppose—well, well, I shall find you out, never fear.”
“Good to know, I guess—anyway, don’t worry, I’ll figure you out.”
“Time's a tell-tale,” said Dashall, “and will most likely unfold all mysteries; but I always think the life and spirit of a masquerade is much injured by a knowledge of the characters assumed by friends, unless it be where two or more have an intention of playing, as it were, to, and with each other; for where there is mystery, there is always interest. I shall therefore propose that we keep to ourselves the characters in which we mean to appear; for I am determined, if possible, to have a merry night of it.”
“Time reveals everything,” Dashall said, “and will probably uncover all secrets; but I believe the whole vibe of a masquerade gets hurt when we know the identities of our friends, unless it’s in cases where two or more people plan to play along with each other. Because where there’s mystery, there’s always excitement. So, I suggest we keep our chosen identities to ourselves; I’m set on having a fun night, if we can make it happen.”
[406] Tom's observations upon this subject were in perfect accordance with those of. Mortimer and Tallyho; though he had intended to consult his Cousin as to the character he should appear in, he now determined to take his own direction, or to have advice from Fentum in the Strand, whose advertisements to supply dresses, &c. he had observed in the newspapers.
[406] Tom's thoughts on this matter matched perfectly with those of Mortimer and Tallyho. Although he initially planned to ask his cousin for advice on the role he should play, he ultimately decided to go his own way or seek guidance from Fentum in the Strand, whose ads for costumes and other supplies he had seen in the newspapers.
These preliminaries being decided upon, as far as appeared needful at the moment, Mortimer departed towards home, where he expected to meet his Uncle upon his return from the chase after the fugitives, Sparkle and Miss Mortimer, now Mrs. Sparkle; and Tom and Bob to Piccadilly, where a select party of Dashall's friends were invited to dinner, and where they enjoyed a pleasant evening, drank rather freely, and had but little to regret after it, except certain qualmish feelings of the head and stomach the next morning.
With those initial matters settled for the time being, Mortimer headed home, where he anticipated meeting his uncle when he returned from pursuing the fugitives, Sparkle and Miss Mortimer, now Mrs. Sparkle. Meanwhile, Tom and Bob went to Piccadilly, where a select group of Dashall's friends were invited for dinner. They had a great evening, drank quite a bit, and only had a few regrets the following morning, mainly some uneasy feelings in their heads and stomachs.
The anticipated Masquerade had been the principal subject of conversation, so long as reason held her sway; but the hard exercise of the arm, and the generosity of the wine, had an early and visible effect upon some of the party, who did not separate till a late hour, leaving Bob just strength and intelligence enough to find the way to his dormitory.
The upcoming Masquerade had been the main topic of discussion as long as everyone was still thinking clearly; however, the physical exertion and the generous amounts of wine had a noticeable effect on some of the group early on. They didn’t leave until late, leaving Bob with just enough strength and clarity of mind to find his way back to his dorm.
By the arrival of the appointed evening for the grand Masquerade at Vauxhall Gardens, Tom Dashall, who had a particular view in keeping his intended proceedings a secret, had arranged all to his wishes, and anticipated considerable amusement from the interest he should take in the safety of his Cousin, whom he entertained no doubt of quickly discovering, and with whom he determined to promote as much mirth as possible.
By the time the scheduled evening for the big Masquerade at Vauxhall Gardens arrived, Tom Dashall, who had a specific reason for keeping his plans under wraps, had everything set up just the way he wanted. He looked forward to having a great time keeping an eye on his cousin, whom he was sure he would find soon, and with whom he aimed to create as much fun as possible.
Tallyho, in the mean time, had also made occasional calls upon Merrywell in his confinement, and, under his direction, been preparing for the occasion, equally determined, if possible, to turn the laugh on his Cousin; [407] and it must be acknowledged, he could scarcely have found a more able tutor, though he was doomed rather to suffer by his confidence in his instructor, as will hereafter be seen; for, in escaping the intended torment of one, he was unexpectedly subjected to the continual harassing of another.
Tallyho, in the meantime, had also visited Merrywell during his confinement, and with his guidance, had been getting ready for the occasion, equally determined, if possible, to outsmart his cousin; [407] and it must be said, he could hardly have found a better teacher, although he would soon find himself suffering because of his trust in his instructor, as will be revealed later; for, in trying to avoid the intended misery from one person, he unexpectedly ended up facing the constant annoyance from another.
It was about half after eleven o'clock, when Tallyho, duly equipped in his country costume, as a Huntsman, entered this splendid and spacious scene of brilliancy. The blaze of light which burst upon him, and the variety of characters in constant motion, appeared almost to render him motionless; and several of the would-be characters passed him with a vacant stare, declaring he was no character at all! nor was he roused from his lethargic position till he heard a view halloo, which seemed to come from a distant part of the Garden, and was so delivered, as actually to give him an idea of the party being in pursuit of game, by growing fainter towards the close, as if receding from him. The sound immediately animated him, and answering it in a truly sportsman-like style, he burst from his situation, and cracking his whip, at full speed followed in the direction from which it came, under the impression that he knew the voice of Dashall, and should discover him. In his speed, however, he was rather rudely attacked by a small dandy personage, whose outward appearance indicated some pretensions to manhood, with a “Demmee, Sir, how dare you be rude to my voman! for egad I shall have you clapped in the Round-house—here, Vatchman, take this here man in charge—Vatch! Vatch!” The voice however soon told him he had a lady to deal with, and he entered into a long harangue by way of apology. This not being acceptable to the offended party, he was surrounded by a host of Charleys springing their rattles all at once, and, notwithstanding the dexterous use of his whip, he was obliged to yield. At this moment, Tallyho was again sounded in his ears, issuing from another quarter; but his struggles to pursue the party from whom it came were ineffectual. A rough-hewn Sailor with a pipe in his mouth, and an immense cudgel in his hand, however, arrived to his assistance, accompanied by an Irish Chairman in a large blue coat, and a cock'd hat bound with gold lace, armed with a chair-pole, who effected his liberty; and he again scoured off in pursuit [408] of his friend, but without success. He now began to think his situation not altogether so pleasant as he could wish. He listened to every voice, examined every form that passed him in rapid succession; yet he felt himself alone, and determined not to be led away by sounds such as had already occupied his attention, but rather to look about him, and notice the eccentricities with which he was surrounded. Sauntering along in this mood, he was presently assailed by a voice behind him, exclaiming, “Bob—
It was around 11:30 when Tallyho, dressed in his country outfit as a huntsman, stepped into this impressive and expansive scene of lights. The burst of brightness and the mix of characters moving around made him feel almost frozen in place; several of the wannabe characters passed by him with blank stares, insisting he wasn't a character at all! He didn't snap out of his daze until he heard a distant "view halloo" from somewhere in the garden, which seemed to signal a hunt, fading away as if moving farther from him. The sound quickly energized him, and responding in a sporting manner, he burst from his spot, cracking his whip, and sped off in the direction it came from, thinking he recognized Dashall's voice and would find him. However, in his haste, he was suddenly confronted by a small, stylish guy, who looked like he wanted to appear more masculine, demanding, “Excuse me, sir, how dare you be rude to my lady! I swear I’ll have you thrown in jail—hey, Watchman, take this man into custody—Watch! Watch!” But as soon as he spoke, it became clear he was dealing with a woman, leading him to launch into a long apology. This didn’t satisfy the insulted party, and soon a group of officers sprang into action, rattling their batons simultaneously. Despite his attempts to fend them off with his whip, he was forced to surrender. At that moment, he heard Tallyho again from another direction; however, his attempts to chase after it were futile. Luckily, a rough sailor with a pipe and a huge stick came to help him, along with an Irish chairman in a large blue coat and a golden-banded hat, wielding a chair-pole, who managed to free him; he then took off again in pursuit of his friend, but without success. He started to think his situation wasn’t as enjoyable as he’d hoped. He listened attentively to every sound and scrutinized every figure rushing past him, yet he still felt alone, determined not to be distracted by fleeting noises that had already drawn his attention. As he strolled along in this reflective mood, a voice suddenly called out behind him, “Bob—
Upon hearing this, he turned hastily around, and encountered a group of Chimney-sweepers, who immediately set up such a clatter with their brushes and shovels, dancing at the same time in the true May-day style round him and a strapping Irish fish-woman, that he was completely prevented from pursuit, and almost from observation, while a universal laugh from those near him bespoke the mirth his situation excited; and the Hibernian damsel, with true Irish sympathy, attempted to allay his chagrin by clasping him in her brawny arms, and imprinting on his ruddy cheek a kiss. This only served to heighten their merriment and increase his embarrassment, particularly as his Cher ami swore she had not had a buss like it since the death of her own dear dead and departed Phelim, the last of her four husbands, who died of a whiskey fever, bawling for pratees and buttermilk, and was waked in a coal-shed.
Upon hearing this, he quickly turned around and ran into a group of chimney sweeps, who immediately started making a loud noise with their brushes and shovels, dancing around him and a strong Irish fish woman in true May Day fashion. He was completely blocked from pursuing and nearly from being seen, while a burst of laughter from those nearby showed the amusement his situation caused. The Irish girl, full of sympathy, tried to lift his spirits by wrapping her strong arms around him and planting a kiss on his cheek. This only made everyone laugh harder and made him even more embarrassed, especially when his friend swore she hadn’t had a kiss like that since her last husband, Phelim, who died of a whiskey fever, crying out for potatoes and buttermilk, and was laid to rest in a coal shed.
This mark of the Lady's favour was not so favourably received by Tallyho, and, determined to make his escape, he gave Moll a violent fling from him, overturned her and her basket, knock'd down two of the Chimney-sweepers, and then with a leap as if he had been springing at a five-barred gate, jumped over his late companion, who lay sprawling among the flue-fakers, and effected his purpose, to the inexpressible amusement of those, who, after enjoying a hearty laugh at him, now transferred their risibility to those he left behind. Finding himself once more unshackled, he smack'd his whip with enthusiasm, and repeated his Tallyho with increased effect; for it was immediately answered, and, without waiting for its final close, he found the person from whom it was [409] proceeding to be no other than a Turk, who was precipitately entering one of the rooms, and was as quickly recognized by him to be the Hon. Tom Dashall. The alteration which a Turkish turban and pelisse had effected in his person, would however have operated as an effectual bar to this discovery, had he not seized him in the very moment of vociferation; and although his Cousin had been the chief cause of the adventures he had already met with, he had at the same time kept an eye upon Bob, and been equally instrumental in effecting his release from embarrassment.
This mark of the Lady's favor was not received well by Tallyho, and determined to make his escape, he violently shoved Moll away from him, knocked her and her basket over, sent two of the chimney sweepers tumbling, and then, jumping as if he were leaping over a five-bar gate, hopped over his former companion who was sprawled out among the flue workers. He achieved his goal, much to the amusement of those who, after having a good laugh at him, shifted their laughter to those he left behind. Once free again, he cracked his whip with excitement and called out "Tallyho" with added vigor; it was promptly echoed back, and without waiting for the call to finish, he discovered that the voice he heard belonged to none other than a Turk, who was quickly entering one of the rooms, and was just as quickly recognized by him as the Hon. Tom Dashall. The change brought by the Turkish turban and cloak would have otherwise prevented this recognition, had he not grabbed him right at the moment of shouting; and although his cousin had been the main reason for the adventures he had faced so far, he had also kept an eye on Bob and was equally responsible for helping him out of tight spots.
“Come,” said Tom, “I am for a little gig in the Room—how long have you been here?—I thought I should find you out, very few can disguise themselves from me; we will now be spectators for half an hour, and enjoy the mirth excited by others.”
“Come on,” said Tom, “I’m up for a little fun in the room—how long have you been here?—I figured I’d find you; very few can hide from me. Let’s be spectators for half an hour and enjoy the laughter brought on by others.”
“With all my heart,” rejoined Bob, “for I am almost as tired already as if I had spent a whole day in a fox-chase, and have run as many risks of my neck; so that a cool half hour's observation will be very acceptable.”
“Absolutely,” Bob replied, “because I’m already feeling as worn out as if I’d spent a whole day chasing foxes and risking my neck. So, a nice half-hour to just sit and observe would be really great.”
They had scarcely entered the Room, as a Priscilla Tomboy passed them at full speed with a skipping-rope, for whose accommodation every one made way; and who, having skipped round the room to shew her fine formed ancle and flexibility of limbs, left it for a moment, and returned with a large doll, which she appeared as pleased with as a child of eight or ten years of age. A Jemmy Jumps assured Tom, that his garments were altogether unsuitable to the nation in which he was residing, and recommended that he should not exist another day without that now very fashionable appendage of a Gentleman's dress called stays—An excellent Caleb Quotem, by his smartness of repartee and unceasing volubility of speech in recounting his labours of a day—“a summer's day,” as the poet says, afforded much amusement by his powers of out-talking the fribble of a Staymaker, who, finding himself confused by his eternal clack, fled in search of another customer. A Don Quixote was conferring the honour of knighthood on a clumsy representative of the God of Love, and invoking his aid in return, to accomplish the object of finding his lost Dulcinea. An outlandish fancy-dressed character was making an assignation with a Lady, who, having taken the veil and renounced the sex, kindly consented to forego [410] her vows and meet him again; while a Devil behind her was hooking the cock'd-hat of the gay deceiver to the veil of the Nun, which created considerable laughter, for as they attempted to separate, they were both completely unmasked, and discovered, to the amazement of Tallyho, two well-known faces, little expected there by him—no other than Merrywell as the Dandy Officer, and his friend Mr. Safebind as the Nun. The exposure rather confused them, while Tom and Bob joined the merry Devil in a loud burst of laughter—they however bustled through the room and were quickly lost.
They had barely entered the room when a Priscilla Tomboy sped past them with a skipping rope, and everyone made way for her. After skipping around the room to show off her nicely shaped ankle and flexibility, she temporarily left and returned with a large doll, looking as pleased as an eight or ten-year-old. A Jemmy Jumps told Tom that his clothes were completely inappropriate for the country he was in and suggested he shouldn’t go another day without the now-popular addition to a gentleman's outfit called stays. An excellent Caleb Quotem, known for his quick-witted remarks and nonstop chatter about his day's work—“a summer's day,” as the poet puts it—provided much amusement by out-talking the frustrated Staymaker, who, overwhelmed by his constant chatter, ran off in search of another customer. A Don Quixote was bestowing knighthood on a clumsy version of the God of Love, calling on his help to find his lost Dulcinea. A strangely dressed figure was making plans with a lady who had taken vows and renounced her femininity, but kindly agreed to break her vows and meet him again; meanwhile, a devil behind her was hooking the cocked hat of the flamboyant deceiver to the nun's veil, which caused a lot of laughter. As they tried to separate, both were completely unmasked, revealing to Tallyho two familiar faces he hadn’t expected to see there—none other than Merrywell as the Dandy Officer and his friend Mr. Safebind as the Nun. The revelation threw them off, while Tom and Bob joined the mischievous devil in a loud burst of laughter. They quickly bustled through the room and soon disappeared.
A French Frisseur, without any knowledge of the language of the nation from which he appeared to come, could only answer a question a la Françoise from the accomplished Tom Dashall, by a volume of scented powder from his puff, which being observed by a Chimney-sweeper, was returned by dust of another colour from his soot-bag, till the intermixture of white and black left it difficult to decide which was the Barber and which the Sweep. They were now suddenly attracted by a grotesque dance between a Clown of the Grimaldi school and a fancy Old Woman in a garment of patch-work made in an ancient fashion. A red nose, long rows of beads for ear-rings, and a pair of spectacles surmounted by a high cauled-cap, decorated with ribbons of various hues, rendered her the most conspicuous character in the room: and notwithstanding her high-heeled shoes, she proved herself an excellent partner for the Clown.
A French Frisseur, who didn’t know the language of his supposed homeland, could only respond to a question a la Françoise from the skilled Tom Dashall with a puff of scented powder. This caught the attention of a Chimney-sweeper, who countered with dust of a different color from his soot-bag, creating a mix of white and black that made it hard to tell which one was the Barber and which was the Sweep. They were soon distracted by a bizarre dance between a Clown from the Grimaldi style and a fancy Old Woman dressed in a patchwork garment made in an old-fashioned way. A bright red nose, long strands of beads for earrings, and a pair of glasses perched on a high-crowned cap decorated with ribbons of various colors made her the most eye-catching character in the room. Despite her high-heeled shoes, she was an excellent partner for the Clown.
By this time, Bob, who was anxious to carry his plan into execution, began to be fidgetty, and proposed a walk into the open air again. As they left the room, his ears were attracted by the following song by a Watchman, which he could not help stopping to catch, and which afforded his Cousin an excellent opportunity of giving him the slip:
By this time, Bob, eager to put his plan into action, started to get restless and suggested another walk outside. As they left the room, he heard a Watchman singing a song that he couldn’t resist stopping to listen to, giving his Cousin a perfect chance to slip away:
Turning round with laughter from this character, who had attracted many hearers, he look'd in vain for Dashall, and was not displeased to find he had fled. He therefore hastily withdrew from the scene of merriment, and according to the instructions previously received, and for which he had prepared, quickly changed his dress, and appeared again in the character of a Judge, under the impression hinted by his counsellor, that the gravity of his wig and gown, with a steady countenance,
Turning away with laughter from this character, who had drawn in many listeners, he searched in vain for Dashall and felt relieved to discover that he had escaped. He quickly left the scene of fun, and following the instructions he had received and prepared for, he changed his outfit and reappeared as a Judge, believing what his advisor had suggested—that the seriousness of his wig and gown, along with a composed expression,
[412] would be a quiet and peaceable part to get through, and shield him from the torment of those whom Bob suspected willing to play tricks with him should he be discovered. Here however he again found himself at fait, for he had scarcely entered the Gardens, before a host of depredators were brought before him for trial. The Charleys brought in succession, drunken Fiddlers, Tinkers and Barbers; and appeals were made to his patience in so many voices, and under so many varying circumstances, that Justice was nearly running mad, and poor Tallyho could find no chance of making a reply. An uproar from the approaching crowd, announced some more than ordinary culprit; and, in a moment, who should appear before him but a Don Giovanni, and the hooking Devil, Here was a fine case for decision; the Devil claimed the Don as his property, and addressed the Representative of Justice as follows:—
[412] This would be a calm and serene place to navigate, protecting him from the torment of those Bob suspected were eager to play tricks on him if he got caught. However, he found himself in a tricky situation again, as he had barely stepped into the Gardens before a bunch of offenders were brought before him for judgment. The constables brought in a parade of drunken musicians, tinkers, and barbers; they pleaded for his patience in multiple voices and under various circumstances, driving Justice nearly to madness, and poor Tallyho couldn’t find a moment to respond. A commotion from the approaching crowd signaled the arrival of an especially notorious culprit; and in an instant, who should appear before him but a Don Giovanni and the devil himself. This was a compelling case for a verdict; the devil claimed Don Giovanni as his property and addressed the Representative of Justice as follows:—
“Most learned and puissant Judge!
"Most knowledgeable and powerful Judge!"
“Protect my rights as you would the rights of man; I claim my property, and will have my claim allowed.”
“Protect my rights like you would the rights of any person; I demand my property, and I want my claim recognized.”
“Hold,” replied Bob, “if that is the case, you have no occasion to appeal to me—begone, black wretch, and in thy native shades yell forth thy discordant screams.”
“Wait,” Bob replied, “if that’s the case, you don’t need to come to me—get lost, you wretched creature, and in your own dark corners, scream your ugly cries.”
“Most righteous Judge!—a second Daniel!” cried a bearded Shylock, with his knife and scales, “he shan't escape me—I'll have my bond—so bare his bosom 'next the heart'—let me come near him.”
“Most righteous Judge!—a second Daniel!” shouted a bearded Shylock, holding his knife and scales, “he won't get away from me—I’ll have my bond—so bare his chest 'next to the heart'—let me come closer to him.”
“This is playing the Devil, indeed,” said the Don.
"This is playing with fire, for sure," said the Don.
“By the Powers!” cried a 'Looney Mackwolteb,' “he's jump'd out of the fire into the frying-pan; and, when the Smouchee has done wid him, he may be grill'd in his own fat.”
“By the Powers!” shouted a 'Looney Mackwolteb,' “he's jumped out of the fire into the frying pan; and, when the Smouchee is done with him, he might be grilled in his own fat.”
At this moment, a Leporello, who caught the last words of the Irishman, burst into the presence of the Judge, singing—
At that moment, a Leporello, who overheard the Irishman's last words, rushed into the Judge's presence, singing—
“Zounds, Sir, they'll grill you now, lean or fat, I know what games you were always at, And told you before what harm you would hatch: Now the old Gentleman's found you out, He'll clap us all in the round-about; Let us be off, ere they call for the Watch.”
“Wow, Sir, they’ll put you on the spot now, whether you're skinny or heavy. I know what tricks you’ve always been up to, and I warned you before about the trouble you would cause. Now that the old Gentleman has figured you out, he’ll haul us all in. Let’s get out of here before they call the cops.”
The word Watch was re-echoed in a thousand voices; the vociferations of the callers, the noise of the rattles, [413] and the laughter of those immediately surrounding the judgment-seat, offered so good an opportunity for escape, that Giovanni, determining to have another chance, burst from the grasp of the arch enemy of mankind, to pursue his wonted vagaries, to the no small gratification of Bob, who, without actually acquitting the prisoner, rejoiced at his own escape.
The word "Watch" was echoed by a thousand voices; the shouts of the callers, the sound of the rattles, [413] and the laughter of those gathered around the judgment seat provided such a good opportunity for escape that Giovanni, deciding to take another chance, broke free from the grip of the arch enemy of mankind. He returned to his usual antics, much to Bob's delight, who, while not actually clearing the prisoner, was thrilled with his own escape.
He had however scarcely time to congratulate himself, before he was annoyed by a Postman, in the usual costume, whom he had already seen delivering letters to the company; the contents of which appeared to afford considerable amusement; and who, presenting a letter addressed to The Lord Chief Justice Bunglecause, in a moment disappeared. Breaking open the envelope, he read with astonishment the following lines:—
He barely had time to pat himself on the back before a postman, dressed in his usual outfit, bothered him. He had already seen this guy delivering letters to the group, which seemed to be causing quite a bit of laughter. The postman handed him a letter addressed to The Lord Chief Justice Bunglecause and then disappeared in an instant. Breaking open the envelope, he read with shock the following lines:—
“Go along Bob—Lord Chief Justice Bob in a scratch,” cried a Waterman at his elbow, (who had heard him reading) in a voice loud enough to be heard at some distance.
“Go on, Bob—Lord Chief Justice Bob in a rush,” shouted a Waterman next to him, (who had overheard him reading) in a voice loud enough to be heard from quite a way off.
“There he'll be at home to a hair,” squeaked a little finicking personification of a modern Peruquier, sidling up to him, picking his teeth with a tortoise-shell comb.
“There he'll be at home to a hair,” squeaked a little fussy version of a modern hairdresser, sidling up to him, picking his teeth with a tortoise-shell comb.
Bob, in bursting hastily away, under the reiterated cries of “Go along Bob—Lord Chief Justice Bob,” with the idea of overtaking the Postman, found himself in a moment lock'd in the close embraces of a Meg Merrilies; while a little bandy-legg'd representative of the late Sir Jeffery Dunstan, bawling out, Ould wigs, Ould wigs, made a snatch at the grave appendage of Justice, and completely dismantled the head of its august representative. This delayed him in his progress, but it was merely to witness the wig flying in the air, with as much mirth to the surrounding company as when the greasy night-cap of the Rev. George Harvest was toss'd about the pit at the theatre, each one giving it a swing who could get within reach of it. Thus mutilated in his [414] apparel, and probably conceiving, according to the song,
Bob, rushing away quickly at the repeated shouts of “Come on, Bob—Lord Chief Justice Bob,” hoping to catch up with the Postman, suddenly found himself tightly embraced by a Meg Merrilies. Meanwhile, a short, bandy-legged version of the late Sir Jeffery Dunstan, shouting “Old wigs, Old wigs,” took a grab at the heavy wig of Justice, completely removing it from the head of its dignified owner. This slowed him down, but it was simply to see the wig flying through the air, causing as much laughter among the crowd as when the greasy nightcap of Rev. George Harvest was tossed around the theater pit, with everyone taking a swing at it if they could reach. Thus, disheveled in his [414] attire, and likely thinking, according to the song,
Bob Tallyho took flight into a dressing-room, declaring justice was abroad and propriety not at home. He was however rather at a loss, as in his last character he had not been able to meet with the Turk, but determined to resume the search in a 'Domino. Having therefore equipped himself as a spectator, he again sallied forth with intention to explore the room, and for a time remained comparatively unmolested; but as he could no where find his Cousin, he strolled indiscriminately among the characters, viewing whatever appeared amusing or interesting in his way. The fineness of the weather greatly animated the scene, and gave increased brilliancy and effect to the illuminations, which were disposed in a numerous variety of splendid devices, representing national trophies, stars, wreaths, and crowns of laurel. It was the first moment he had found an opportunity of viewing the place in which he had been acting.
Bob Tallyho burst into a dressing room, proclaiming that justice was out and decency was absent. However, he felt a bit lost since he hadn’t managed to meet the Turk in his last role, but he decided to continue the search in a 'Domino. After getting himself ready as a spectator, he ventured out again, intending to explore the room, and for a while, he went relatively undisturbed; but since he couldn’t find his Cousin anywhere, he wandered randomly among the characters, checking out whatever seemed funny or interesting along the way. The beautiful weather really brought the scene to life and made the lights shine even brighter, which were arranged in a dazzling variety of designs, showcasing national trophies, stars, wreaths, and laurel crowns. It was the first time he had the chance to actually take in the place where he had been performing.
The amusements of the evening were judiciously varied, and protracted by a constant succession of entertainments of various descriptions. Mr. Chalons exhibited many of his most surprising deceptions in the rotunda; where also young Gyngell displayed some capital performances on the slack-wire. In the long room the celebrated fantoccini exhibition, with groupes of quadrille dancers, enlivened the scene. In one walk of the garden, Mr. Gyngell's theatre of arts was erected, where were exhibited balancing, the Ombres Chinoises, gymnastic exercises, and other feats, and Mr. Gyngell performed several airs on the musical glasses; in another, Punchinello delighted the beholders with his antics; in a third a very expert Juggler played a variety of clever tricks and sleight-of-hand deceptions, and a couple of itinerant Italians exhibited their musical and mechanical show-boxes; in another part of the gardens the celebrated Diavolo Antonio went through his truly astonishing evolutions on the corde volante. The Duke of Gloucester's fine military band occupied the grand orchestra; an excellent quadrille band played throughout the night in the long room, while a Scottish reel band in the rotunda, and [415] a Pandean band in the gardens, played alternately reels, waltzes, and country dances.
The evening's entertainment was thoughtfully varied and extended with a steady lineup of different performances. Mr. Chalons showcased many of his most impressive illusions in the rotunda, where young Gyngell also put on some fantastic slack-wire acts. In the long room, the famous puppet show, featuring groups of quadrille dancers, added to the lively atmosphere. In one area of the garden, Mr. Gyngell's theater highlighted balancing acts, Chinese Shadows, gymnastic routines, and other feats, while Mr. Gyngell played several tunes on the musical glasses. In another spot, Punchinello amused the crowd with his antics; nearby, a skilled juggler performed a range of clever tricks and sleight-of-hand illusions, and a couple of traveling Italians showcased their musical and mechanical boxes. Elsewhere in the gardens, the renowned Diavolo Antonio impressed everyone with his unbelievable aerial stunts on the flying rope. The Duke of Gloucester's exceptional military band held the main stage, while a great quadrille band played all night in the long room, with a Scottish reel band in the rotunda and a Pandean band in the gardens alternating between reels, waltzes, and country dances.
This interval of peace was truly acceptable to Bob, and he did not fail to make the most of it, roving like the bee from one delight to another, sipping pleasure as he went, almost regretting he had not taken the last dress first, though he was every now and then importuned by Mendicants and Servant girls, very desirous to obtain places of all work. The introduction of a Dancing Bear, who appeared to possess more Christian qualities than his Leader, attracted his attention; but, in pressing to the scene of action, he received a floorer from a Bruiser in gloves, who mill'd indiscriminately all who came in his way, till the Bear took the shine out of him by a fraternal embrace; and his Leader very politely asked those around which they thought the greater bear of the two. Upon rising, Bob found himself in the hands of two itinerant Quack Doctors, each holding an arm, and each feeling for his pulse. One declared the case was mortal, a dislocation of the neck had taken place, and there was no chance of preserving life except by amputation of the head. The other shook his head, look'd grave, pull'd out his lancet, and prescribed phlebotomy and warm water.
This period of peace was really nice for Bob, and he made the most of it, wandering from one enjoyment to another, savoring each moment, almost wishing he had picked the last dress first. However, he was often approached by beggars and servant girls eager to get various jobs. His attention was caught by a Dancing Bear, who seemed to have more decent qualities than his handler, but as he tried to rush over to see, he was knocked down by a Boxer in gloves, who indiscriminately took out anyone in his path, until the Bear outshined him with a friendly hug; his handler then politely asked those nearby which one they thought was the greater bear. When Bob got up, he found himself being held by two wandering Quack Doctors, each gripping an arm and checking his pulse. One claimed that he was in a critical state, that his neck was dislocated, and that the only way to save him was to amputate his head. The other shook his head, looked serious, pulled out his lancet, and suggested bloodletting and warm water.
Bob, who had received no injury, except a little contusion occasioned by the blow, seized the ignorant practitioners by the throat, and knocking their heads together, exclaimed with a stentorian voice,
Bob, who wasn't hurt except for a minor bruise from the impact, grabbed the clueless practitioners by the throat and banged their heads together, shouting in a loud voice,
“Throw physic to the clogs, I'll none on't.” “Go along Bob,” was repeated again, as loud and as long as before; he however burst from those around him in pursuit of fresh game; nor was he disappointed, for he presently found a dapper young Clergyman in gown and surplice, and who, with book in hand, was fervently engaged in exhortations and endeavours to turn from the evil of their ways a drunken Sailor and a hardened thief, (the Orson of the Iron Chest,) when the group were surrounded by a detachment of the Imps and Devils of Giovanni in London, a truly horrid and diabolical crew, who, by their hideous yells, frantic capers, violent gestures, and the flaring of their torches, scared the affrighted Parson from his task, made his intended penitents their own, and became an almost intolerable [416] nuisance to the rest of the company for the remainder of the evening.
“Forget about the doctor, I don’t want any of it.” “Come on, Bob,” was shouted again, just as loudly and for as long as before; he broke away from the people around him in search of new fun; and he wasn't let down, because he soon found a sharp-dressed young clergyman in gown and surplice, who, with a book in hand, was earnestly trying to persuade a drunken sailor and a hardened thief (the Orson of the Iron Chest) to turn away from their bad ways. Just then, the group was surrounded by a rowdy bunch of Imps and Devils from Giovanni in London, a truly terrifying and wicked gang, who, with their awful screams, wild dances, aggressive gestures, and flaring torches, frightened the terrified clergyman away from his task, claimed his intended repentants for themselves, and became an almost unbearable [416] annoyance to the rest of the group for the rest of the evening.
While he was thus engaged, the supper-boxes were thrown open, and the company appeared to be all on the move towards the more substantial entertainments of the evening. He was next suddenly detained by a Jew Pedlar, who was anxious to shew him his wares.
While he was busy with that, the supper boxes were opened, and everyone seemed to be getting ready for the more filling entertainment of the evening. He was then suddenly stopped by a Jewish peddler who was eager to show him his goods.
“Get out, Smouchee,” said Bob.
“Get out, Smouchee,” Bob said.
“Ant is dat all vat you can say to a poor honesht Jew, what vants to live by his 'trade, for vye you trow my religionsh in my teeth? I'm so honesht vat I never cheats nobody—vill you puy a gould———l Vat you take for your gown? I shall puy or sell, it's all the same to me.
“Is that all you can say to a poor honest Jew, who just wants to make a living by his trade? Why do you throw my religion in my face? I'm so honest that I never cheat anyone—will you buy a gold———l What will you take for your gown? I will buy or sell, it’s all the same to me.”
“Now whatsoever country by chance I travel through, 'Tis all the same to I, so the monies but comes in; Some people call me tief, just because I am a Jew; So to make them tell the truth, vy I tinks there is no sin. So I shows them all mine coots vid a sober, winning grace, And I sometimes picks dere pockets whilst they're smiling in my face.”
“Wherever I happen to travel, it makes no difference to me as long as the money keeps coming in; some people call me a thief just because I'm a Jew; to make them admit the truth, I think there's no harm in that. So I show them all my coins with a calm, charming demeanor, and sometimes I pick their pockets while they smile in my face.”
Bob laugh'd, but declared he'd have nothing to do with him.
Bob laughed, but said he wanted nothing to do with him.
“Then,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “you may go along Bob.”
“Then,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “you can go ahead, Bob.”
“What! is it possible? I have been looking for you these two hours.”
“What! Is that possible? I've been searching for you for the last two hours.”
“I can't eat pork,” said Dashall, resuming his character.
“I can't eat pork,” Dashall said, getting back into character.
“Come along,” said Bob, happy to find his relation; and catching him by the arm, they proceeded to refreshment, and partook of an excellent supper of cold viands plentifully supplied, and accompanied with a profusion of ices and jellies, served up in a style highly creditable to the managers.
“Come on,” said Bob, glad to find his relative; and grabbing him by the arm, they went to get something to eat, enjoying an amazing dinner of cold dishes that were plentiful and paired with a variety of desserts like ice cream and jellies, all presented in a way that really impressed the hosts.
Here they were joined by Mortimer, who had been as frolicsome as any imp in the Gardens, in the character of the Devil, but who had lost sight of the Dandy Officer and the Nun, whom he had so ingeniously hooked together. The wine was good, and after enjoying their repast, Tom and Mortimer enshrined themselves in dominos for the remainder of the evening. The usual masquerade frolics and dancing were afterwards continued, and about five in the morning they left this region of fun, mirth and good humour.[417]
Here they met up with Mortimer, who had been as playful as any mischievous spirit in the Gardens, playing the role of the Devil, but who had lost track of the Dandy Officer and the Nun, whom he had cleverly matched up. The wine was great, and after enjoying their meal, Tom and Mortimer wrapped themselves in dominos for the rest of the evening. The usual masquerade antics and dancing continued, and around five in the morning, they left this place of fun, laughter, and good spirits.[417]
CHAPTER XXVII
THE bustle and merriment of the Masquerade were long remembered in the mind of Bob Tallyho, and furnished frequent conversations between him and his Cousin; and the laughable occurrences of the evening, in which they had been engaged, were re-enjoyed in recollection, notwithstanding the preparations they were making for an excursion of another kind in the country, which though not exactly to the taste of Dashall, was inflexibly persevered in by Tallyho.
THE hustle and fun of the Masquerade stuck in Bob Tallyho's mind for a long time, leading to many conversations with his cousin. They often laughed about the amusing things that happened that evening, even as they were getting ready for a different kind of trip to the countryside. While Tallyho was committed to this plan, it wasn't really Dashall's cup of tea.
Tom tried every effort in his power to prolong the appointed period of departure in A'ain. The heart and mind of his Cousin appeared to be occupied with anticipated delights, which he described in the most glowing colours of imagination. The healthful fields, the enlivening fox chase, and the sportive exercises of a country life, were detailed with ecstacy; and though last, not least, the additional zest for the more attractive scenes (in Tom's idea) that would present themselves for inspection upon a return to the Metropolis. At length it was finally arranged that their country excursion should not exceed [418] one month in duration, and that they would leave London time enough to reach Belville Hall on or before the first day of September.
Tom did everything he could to delay the planned departure for A'ain. His cousin seemed totally focused on the exciting experiences ahead, describing them in the most vibrant terms. He talked about the healthy fields, the thrilling fox hunts, and the fun activities of country life with pure joy; and, last but not least, the added excitement of returning to the Metropolis to see even more appealing sights (according to Tom). Eventually, they agreed that their country trip would last no longer than [418] one month and that they would leave London soon enough to arrive at Belville Hall by or before September 1st.
Dashall, after consenting to this arrangement, finding there was not much time to spare, was anxious to improve it in the pursuit of such lively and interesting amusements as chance and accident might throw in their way. “Come,” said he, a few mornings after the masquerade, “it must not be said that you have been so long in London without viewing as many of its important curiosities as the time would admit; though I am sure we shall not have an opportunity of glancing at all those I could point out, and I am pretty sure that persons from the country frequently see more in a few days residence in the Metropolis, than those who have inhabited it for their whole lives. We will therefore take a stroll out, without any determined line of pursuit, and survey what chance may bring in our way; for the places deserving of particular inspection are so numerous, and lay in so many directions, that it is scarcely possible for us to turn round without finding some objects and subjects yet in store.
Dashall, after agreeing to this plan, realized there wasn't much time left and was eager to make the most of it by seeking out the lively and interesting activities that might come their way. “Come on,” he said a few mornings after the masquerade, “it can't be said that you've been in London for so long without seeing as many of its important sights as we can fit in. I'm sure we won't get to see everything I could show you, and I've noticed that visitors from the countryside often manage to see more in just a few days in the city than those who have lived here their whole lives. So, let's go for a walk without a specific agenda and see what surprises we come across. There are so many places worth checking out in various directions that it’s hard to turn around without finding something new to explore.”
Thus saying, and taking the arm of his Cousin, they walked along Piccadilly in a direction for the City; for as it was a clear morning, Tom, although he had not mentioned the road he meant to take, still had an object in view.
Thus saying, and taking the arm of his cousin, they walked along Piccadilly towards the City; it was a clear morning, and Tom, even though he hadn’t mentioned the route he intended to take, still had a goal in mind.
“It is certainly much to be deplored,” said he, as they were just entering Leicester Square by Sydney's Alley, “that the abominable nuisance of barrows being driven on the pavement cannot be removed; it is a great shame that lusty and able fellows should be wheeling foul linen, hogwash, and other filthy articles along the street, to the annoyance and inconvenience of pedestrians.”
“It’s definitely a shame,” he said, as they were just entering Leicester Square by Sydney's Alley, “that we can’t get rid of the terrible nuisance of carts being pushed on the sidewalk; it’s really unfair that strong and capable guys should be wheeling dirty laundry, garbage, and other disgusting things down the street, causing annoyance and inconvenience for people walking.”
“I am of your opinion,” replied his Cousin; “but during the short time I have been here, I have discovered many other equally objectionable annoyances. There is, for instance, the carrying of milk pails, which, unless great care is taken, are so likely to break people's shins; and in dirty weather the trundling of boys' hoops, to the discomfiture of many a well-dressed Lady.”
“I agree with you,” replied his cousin. “However, in the short time I’ve been here, I’ve noticed many other annoying things. For instance, carrying milk pails, which, if not handled carefully, can easily lead to people getting hurt. And on dirty days, the rolling of boys' hoops can really bother many well-dressed ladies.”
At this moment a butcher was passing with a tray heavily loaded, and Bob narrowly escaped a blow from the projecting corner, which immediately induced him to add that to the number of what he termed street [419] grievances, and almost to overturn both the carrier and his load.
At that moment, a butcher was walking by with a heavily loaded tray, and Bob narrowly dodged a bump from the sticking corner, which made him add that to his list of street [419] grievances, almost knocking over both the carrier and his load.
“A lucky escape,” said Dashall, “for you might have lost an eye by coming in contact with that tray, and I wonder a stop is not put to the probability of such fatal accidents. It is related that a certain City Alderman, whose constitution, it may be presumed, is rather of a combustible nature, by the alarms he spread during his mayoralty, of the intention to burn the City of London, and destroy all its peaceable inhabitants, thrashed a butcher who ran against him in the public street. This it must be admitted was a summary mode of punishment, although it was not likely to remove the nuisance; but there are still many that are not enumerated in your list. Both by day and night in the most frequented streets of the Metropolis and its environs, the unoffending passengers of either sex are frequently obstructed on, or absolutely pushed off the pavement by a trio of arm-in-arm puppies; nay they will sometimes sweep the whole of the space from the wall to the curb stone, by walking four abreast, a practice brutally infringing the laws of civil society in pedestrian excursions through a crowded Metropolis.
“A lucky escape,” said Dashall, “because you could have lost an eye from that tray, and I wonder why there isn't a stop to the chance of such dangerous accidents. It’s said that a certain City Alderman, who probably had a pretty fiery temperament, caused quite a stir during his time as mayor by warning everyone that there was a plan to burn down the City of London and harm its peaceful residents. He ended up thrashing a butcher who bumped into him in the street. I have to admit, that was a pretty quick form of punishment, although it probably didn’t solve the problem; yet there are still many issues that aren’t listed in your account. Both day and night, in the busiest streets of the city and surrounding areas, innocent pedestrians of all kinds often get shoved onto the road or completely off the pavement by a group of arm-in-arm idiots; sometimes they even take up the entire space from the wall to the curb by walking four across, which is a blatant violation of civil behavior during crowded walks in the city.”
“I have however with pleasure, upon some occasions, seen these vile trespassers meet with a just resentment in the unexpected pugilistic exertions of the insulted party; and have almost rejoiced to see them packed into a coach and sent home with bruises, black eyes, and bloody noses, serving, it is to be hoped, as wholesome lessons for their future conduct. In some cases duels have arisen from this violation of decorum in the King's highway, and by this means, scoundrels have been admitted to the undeserved honour of being met on a level by gentlemen.
“I have, however, enjoyed seeing these terrible trespassers face just consequences during some instances, as the insulted party unexpectedly defended themselves; I have almost felt satisfaction watching them being shoved into a coach and sent home with bruises, black eyes, and bloody noses, serving as hopefully valuable lessons for their future behavior. In some cases, duels have resulted from this breach of decorum on the King’s highway, allowing scoundrels to be given the undeserved honor of being treated as equals by gentlemen.”
“These,” continued he, “are the polite encroachers on the pavé.. There are, however, many others, but of a less censurable, though certainly of a finable description; such as journeymen bakers wheeling barrows conveying the staff of life—publicans' boys collecting pewter pots—lady drivers of similar vehicles, containing oysters, inferior or damaged fruit, delicate prog for pug dogs, cats, &c.
“These,” he continued, “are the polite intruders on the pavement. There are, however, many others, but they are less blameworthy, although certainly still subject to fines; such as delivery bakers pushing carts carrying bread—pub staff collecting beer mugs—women drivers of similar vehicles, transporting oysters, subpar or damaged fruit, and fancy food for pugs, cats, etc.
“After all, the most prominent offenders, or at least obstructors of the public way, in my opinion, are those sturdy John Bulls, brewers' servants, by means of ropes [420] and pulleys affixed to their drays, lowering down beer into, or drawing up empty casks from the cellars of public-houses. Now although this may be unavoidable, ask one of these bluff bipeds to let you pass, the consequence frequently will be, instead of rough civility, an insolent reply accompanied with vulgar oaths; in short, a torrent of abuse, if not a shove into the kennel; perhaps a grimy rope thrown against your white stockings. Private, emolument and convenience certainly ought to give way to public accommodation.”
“Honestly, in my view, the biggest offenders, or at least the ones blocking the streets, are those sturdy John Bulls, the brewers' workers, who use ropes [420] and pulleys on their carts to lower beer into or pull empty kegs out of the basements of pubs. While this might be necessary, if you ask one of these burly guys to let you through, you're likely to get a rude response filled with nasty language; basically, a flood of insults or maybe even a shove into the gutter; possibly even a dirty rope tossed at your white socks. Private gain and convenience should definitely take a backseat to the needs of the public.”
“Confound that dustman's bell,” said Bob, as they passed down Wych-street; “it is as bad as any thing we nave mentioned yet; it absolutely deafens one.”
“Curse that dustman’s bell,” said Bob, as they walked down Wych Street; “it’s just as bad as anything we’ve talked about so far; it completely deafens you.”
“Oh, if you call noises nuisances, we may go on with a list from this time to this day month, and scarcely comprehend them. The cries of London are many of them very laughable, and many very lamentable, and by way of contrast to the deafening dustman, take care of the bespatterings from the mud cart. The garlick-eating rogues, the drivers of these inconvenient conveniences, grinning horribly their ghastly smiles, enjoy a most malicious pleasure in the opportunities which chance affords them, of lending a little additional decoration from the contents of their carts, by way of embellishment to a cleanly dressed passenger. Therefore keep, if possible, at such a respectful distance as to avoid the effects of this low envy, and steer clear of the mudlarks.”
“Oh, if you think noises are annoying, we could create a list from now until this time next month, and we’d barely scratch the surface. The sounds of London are often quite funny, and other times very sad, and just to highlight the contrast with the loud dustman, watch out for the splashes from the mud cart. The garlic-loving drivers of these troublesome vehicles, grinning with their creepy smiles, take a wicked pleasure in the chances they get to add some extra decoration from their carts onto a well-dressed passerby. So try to keep a respectful distance to avoid falling victim to this petty envy, and stay away from the mudlarks.”
By this time they had passed through the line of leading thoroughfares, and had St. Paul's in their view, when Tom took occasion to remark, “He was sorry the scaffolding was not removed, or,” continued he, “we would soon have mounted above these petty considerations, and looked down upon the world. However, we can take a tolerable survey of the metropolis from the Monument, and as it is not much farther, we may as well extend our walk to that celebrated pillar, said to be one of the finest in the world, and erected by Sir Christopher Wren in memory of the great fire which in 1666 broke out at a house on the spot, and destroyed the metropolis from Tower Hill to Temple Bar. From this pillar you will have a fine panoramic view of London, Westminster, and Southwark; and as we are about to leave its noise, its bustle, and its inconveniences in a day or two, we may as well take a general survey.”
By this time, they had made their way through the main streets and had St. Paul's in sight when Tom remarked, “I wish the scaffolding was gone, or else we could have climbed above these trivial matters and looked down on the world. Anyway, we can get a decent view of the city from the Monument, and since it's not too far, we might as well extend our walk to that famous pillar, said to be one of the best in the world. It was built by Sir Christopher Wren to commemorate the great fire that broke out in 1666 at a house on this very spot, which devastated the city from Tower Hill to Temple Bar. From this pillar, you'll get an amazing panoramic view of London, Westminster, and Southwark. And since we’re about to leave its noise, hustle, and inconveniences in a day or two, we might as well take a good look around.”
[421] Bob having signified his consent to this proposal, they made the best of their way to the Monument, where having deposited the customary entrance money with the door-keeper, they were allowed to ascend by the winding staircase to the top, when a prospect was presented to the eye of Tallyho, of which he could not have formed any previous conception. The view of the river as far as the eye could reach, each way, the moving of the boats, the bustle and activity of the streets, and the continued hum which arose to their ears, formed altogether a subject of delightful contemplation; while the appearance of being as it were suspended in the air, rendered it awful and terrific. Bob had almost grown giddy in his ascension, and for some time took care to keep a fast hold of the iron railings at top, in order to secure himself from falling; till Dashall drew from his pocket a telescope, and directed his attention to Greenwich Hospital, Shooter's Hill, and the public buildings at a distance, where they were scarcely discernible by the naked eye. Bob was delighted with the view of Greenwich Hospital, and the account which his Cousin gave him of the establishment; and upon descending they took a complete walk round this celebrated pillar, marking its decorations and reading the inscription.
[421] Bob agreed to this proposal, and they made their way to the Monument. After paying the usual entrance fee to the door attendant, they were allowed to climb the spiral staircase to the top. The view that greeted Tallyho was beyond anything he could have imagined. He could see the river stretching as far as the eye could reach in both directions, the boats moving along, the hustle and bustle of the streets, and the constant sound all around them, creating a delightful scene to contemplate. The sensation of being suspended in the air made it both awe-inspiring and a bit scary. Bob almost felt dizzy from the climb and held onto the iron railings at the top to keep himself steady. Then, Dashall pulled out a telescope and pointed out Greenwich Hospital, Shooter's Hill, and other distant public buildings that were barely visible to the naked eye. Bob was thrilled by the sight of Greenwich Hospital and the explanation his cousin provided about the establishment. Afterward, they took a complete walk around this famous monument, admiring its decorations and reading the inscription.
“It is,” said Tom, “a fluted column of the Doric order; the total height is 202 feet, the diameter at the base 15 feet, and the height of the column 120 feet; the cone at the top, with its urn, are 42 feet; the height of the massy pedestal is 40 feet; there are 345 steps inside; but,” continued he, 'it is really a great pity that this beautiful Monument should be in such a confined situation, for in a proper place it would form one of the most striking objects of the kind that architecture is capable of producing.'
“It is,” said Tom, “a fluted column in the Doric style; it stands 202 feet tall, has a base diameter of 15 feet, and the column itself is 120 feet high. The cone and urn at the top add another 42 feet; the heavy pedestal is 40 feet tall; and there are 345 steps inside. But,” he continued, “it’s really a shame that this beautiful monument is in such a cramped location, because in a better spot it would be one of the most impressive architectural features possible.”
“The inscription, it is true,” continued Dashall, “had better be erased, it contains a libel, or more properly a lie, which almost contradicts itself, for no rational being can entertain the notion that the Catholics, or indeed any religious sect, could wilfully have perpetrated so horrible a deed as this pillar was intended to impute to them; nor can so much credit be given to human foresight as for it to be concluded that a fire, which broke out in a single house, could upon this, rather than upon other occasions, have extended its ravages in so extraordinary a manner.—
“The inscription, it’s true,” Dashall continued, “should probably be removed; it’s a slander, or more accurately a lie, that almost contradicts itself. No sensible person could believe that Catholics, or any religious group for that matter, would intentionally commit such a terrible act as this pillar suggests. Furthermore, we can't place too much trust in human foresight to conclude that a fire, which started in just one house, could have spread so destructively this time instead of at other times.”
[422] While we arc on the spot we will take a peep at a curious piece of antiquity; not that I am so great a lover of such curiosities, but it would appear almost unpardonable for you to have been in London without seeing London Stone.”
[422] Since we’re here, let’s take a look at an interesting piece of history; not that I’m particularly fond of these kinds of things, but it would seem almost unacceptable for you to be in London without seeing London Stone.
“I have heard of it,” said Tallyho, “and if we are near, let us have a view.”
“I’ve heard about it,” Tallyho said, “and if we're close, let’s check it out.”
“Come on then,” said Dashall; “This same London Stone is at present fixed close under the south wall of St. Swithin's Church, Cannon Street. It has by some been supposed of British origin, a kind of solemn boundary, or some other object probably of a religious nature, which through every change and convulsion of the State has been preserved with reverential care. But this is the very place,” said he.
“Come on then,” said Dashall; “This London Stone is currently located right under the south wall of St. Swithin's Church on Cannon Street. Some people think it's of British origin, serving as a kind of serious boundary or something else likely related to religion, which has been carefully preserved through all the changes and upheavals of the State. But this is the exact spot,” he said.
Bob stared about him with surprise, to discover this curious and apparently valuable relic, without finding it, till at length his Cousin directed his attention to the spot, which at present is under a pitching-block, or resting-place for persons carrying heavy loads, and almost burst into laughter, for he had raised his Cousin's expectation by the previous description.
Bob looked around in surprise, finally spotting this strange and seemingly valuable relic after searching for a while. His Cousin pointed him to the location, which is currently under a pitching block, or a resting place for people carrying heavy loads, and nearly burst out laughing because he had built up his Cousin's anticipation with his earlier description.
“How!” said Tallyho, “and is this your curiosity?”
“How!” said Tallyho, “is this what you’re curious about?”
“Even so,” replied Tom, “that is the celebrated London Stone; it formerly stood nearer the middle of the street, was placed deep in the ground, and strongly fixed with iron bars. According to account, the first mention of it was in the reign of Ethelstan, king of the West Saxons, and it has been usually viewed by our antiquaries as a military stone, from which the Romans began the computation of their miles, a conjecture which certainly appears very reasonable, not only from the discovery of the Roman road after the year 1666, running directly to this stone from Watling Street, but from the exact coincidence which its distance bears with the neighbouring station, mentioned in Antonine's Itinerary, the principal of whose Journeys either begin or end with London.”
“Still,” Tom replied, “that’s the famous London Stone; it used to sit closer to the center of the street, was buried deep in the ground, and secured with iron bars. According to records, the first mention of it was during the reign of Ethelstan, king of the West Saxons, and it’s typically regarded by historians as a military stone, from which the Romans started measuring their miles. This theory seems quite reasonable, not only because of the discovery of the Roman road after 1666, which runs straight to this stone from Watling Street, but also due to the exact match of its distance with the nearby station listed in Antonine's Itinerary, whose main routes either begin or end in London.”
The sound of a horn interrupted this conversation.
The sound of a horn interrupted this conversation.
“Apropos,” said Tom, “we can take the Post Office in our way, a place of considerable importance; so allons.”
“Apropos,” said Tom, “we can stop by the Post Office on our way, which is pretty important; so let’s go.”
They now pursued their way to Lombard Street.
They now headed towards Lombard Street.
“This collection of buildings,” said Dashall, as they entered, “important as its concerns are to the nation, claims no praise as a building. It stands behind Lombard [423] Street, from which, on the south side of the street, there is a passage leading to it, under an arched gateway.
“This group of buildings,” Dashall said as they walked in, “is significant to the nation, but it doesn't deserve any accolades for its architecture. It’s located behind Lombard [423] Street, accessible from the south side of the street, through a passageway under an arched gateway.
“A plan has, however, been adopted for erecting a building worthy of this great establishment, on the site now called St. Martin's-le-grand, and to improve the access to it by pulling down the east ends of Newgate Street and Paternoster-Row. It is now proceeding rapidly.
“A plan has, however, been adopted for building a structure worthy of this great establishment, on the site now known as St. Martin's-le-grand, and to improve access by tearing down the east ends of Newgate Street and Paternoster-Row. This is currently progressing quickly.”
“The Post-office system is, however, one of the most perfect regulations of finance and convenience existing under any government. It has gradually been brought to its present perfection, being at first in the hands of individuals, and replete with abuses. In its present form it not only supplies the government with a great revenue, but accomplishes that by means highly beneficial to the persons contributing.
“The post office system is, however, one of the most efficient regulations of finance and convenience under any government. It has gradually evolved into its current state of efficiency, having started as a private operation that was full of abuses. In its present form, it not only generates significant revenue for the government but does so in ways that are highly beneficial to those who use it.”
“The Post-office is the most important spot on the surface of the globe. It receives information from all countries; it distributes instructions to the antipodes; it connects together more numerous and distant interests of men than any similar establishment. It is in the highest degree hitherto realized, the seat of terrestrial perception and volition—the brain of the whole earth; and hitherto it has been in a narrow valley, misshapen even to deformity, and scarcely accessible to the few mail coaches which collect there for their nightly freights.
“The post office is the most important place on Earth. It receives information from all countries, sends instructions to the farthest corners of the world, and connects more distant interests of people than any other similar establishment. It truly functions, to the greatest extent so far achieved, as the center of earthly awareness and decision-making—the brain of the whole planet; and until now, it has been located in a narrow valley, shaped even to the point of distortion, and barely accessible to the few mail coaches that gather there for their nightly loads.”
“The present Post-office was erected in 1660; but great additions have been made to it from time to time, though the whole is disjointed and inconvenient.
“The current Post Office was built in 1660; however, significant additions have been made over the years, making the whole structure disjointed and inconvenient.”
“The mode of carrying letters by the General Post was greatly improved a few years since, by a most admirable plan, invented by Mr. Palmer. Previously to its adoption, letters were conveyed by carts, without protection from robbery, and subject to delays. At present they are carried, according to Mr. Palmer's plan, by coaches, distinguished by the name of mail-coaches, provided with a well-armed guard, and forwarded at the rate of eight miles an hour, including stoppages. Government contracts with coach-keepers merely for carrying the mail, the coach-owner making a profitable business besides, of carrying passengers and parcels. It is not easy to imagine a combination of different interests to one purpose, more complete than this. The wretched situation, however, of the horses, on account of the length of the stages which they are frequently driven, is a disgrace to the character [424] of the British nation, and requires the interference of the legislature. No stage should exceed twelve miles in length.
The way letters are delivered by the General Post has been significantly improved in recent years thanks to an excellent plan invented by Mr. Palmer. Before this change, letters were transported by carts that offered no protection from theft and were often delayed. Now, they are carried by coaches known as mail-coaches, which have a well-armed guard and travel at a speed of eight miles per hour, including stops. The government contracts with coach operators solely for mail transport, while the coach owners also profit from carrying passengers and parcels. It’s hard to think of a more perfect combination of different interests working toward a common goal than this. However, the poor treatment of the horses, due to the long distances they are often driven, is a shameful reflection on the character of the British nation and requires action from lawmakers. No stage should be longer than twelve miles.
“The rapidity of this mode of conveyance is unequalled in any country, and the present rate of charge for each passenger is little more than sixpence per mile.
“The speed of this mode of transport is unmatched in any country, and the current fare for each passenger is just over six pence per mile."
“Houses having boxes, for receiving letters before five o'clock, are open in every part of the Metropolis; and after that hour bell-men collect the, letters during another hour, receiving a fee of one 'penny for each letter. But, at the General Post-office, in Lombard Street, letters are received till seven o'clock: after which time, till half an hour after seven, a fee of sixpence must be paid; and from half after seven till a quarter before eight, the postage must also be paid, as well as the fee of sixpence.”
"Houses with mailboxes for receiving letters before five o'clock are found all over the city; after that hour, letter carriers collect the letters for another hour, charging a fee of one penny for each letter. However, at the General Post Office on Lombard Street, letters can be dropped off until seven o'clock. After that, until half past seven, a fee of sixpence is required; and from half past seven until a quarter to eight, both the postage and the sixpence fee must be paid."
“Well,” said Tallyho, “for a place of such public utility and constant resort, I must confess I expected to see a building of the most magnificent kind; but I am also puzzled to conceive how such extensive business can be carried on with so much regularity as it is.”
“Well,” said Tallyho, “for a place that's so useful and often visited, I have to admit I expected to see a really magnificent building; but I’m also baffled by how such a large operation can run so smoothly.”
“Your observation,” replied his Cousin, “exactly coincides with that of many others; but you will some day or other be as much surprised on other subjects, for there are places in London where mercantile and legal business is conducted in situations of obscurity, of which you can have no conception; but as a national establishment, though its internal regulations are good, its external appearance is no recommendation to it. But come, let us proceed towards home, I have a call or two to make on the road, for as we depart quickly for the open fields, and are to bid adieu to London smoke as well as London Stone, we have but little time to spare, so let us post away.”
“Your observation,” replied his cousin, “is exactly in line with what many others have said; but someday you’ll be just as surprised by other topics, because there are places in London where business and legal matters are handled in ways that you can’t even imagine. Although it’s a national institution with good internal rules, its outside appearance doesn’t do it any favors. But come on, let's head home; I need to make a few stops along the way. Since we’re leaving for the countryside soon and saying goodbye to both the London smoke and stone, we don’t have much time to waste, so let’s hurry.”
Bob, alive to this subject, did not require a second hint, but taking the arm of Dashall, they proceeded along Cheapside, made a call at Mortimer's, the Gun-smith's on Ludgate hill, provided themselves with all necessary shooting apparatus; and Tom, ever mindful of the variety which he conceived would be needful to render rusticity agreeable on their way, purchased a pair of boxing gloves, a backgammon board, and other amusing articles, to provide, as he said, against a rainy day.
Bob, aware of the topic, didn't need a second nudge. Taking Dashall's arm, they walked down Cheapside, stopped by Mortimer's, the gun shop on Ludgate Hill, and picked up all the necessary shooting gear. Tom, always considering the variety he thought would make their journey more enjoyable, bought a pair of boxing gloves, a backgammon board, and other fun items, saying they would be good for a rainy day.
On arrival at home, they were presented with a letter from Sparkle, announcing his arrival at his new mansion, and expressing a hope that he should have the pleasure of [425] meeting his friends within a day or two; expatiating with great apparent delight upon the happiness of his own situation, and promising lots of amusement, in detailing to them the events of his peregrinations. This operated as an additional spur to the speed of their departure, and it was agreed that they should start the next morning.
Upon arriving home, they found a letter from Sparkle announcing that he had moved into his new mansion. He expressed his hope to see his friends in the next day or two, going on about how happy he was in his new situation and promising plenty of fun as he shared stories about his travels. This gave them an extra push to leave quickly, and they decided to start their journey the next morning.
“I don't know,” said Bob, “whether I should really like a continued Life in London; I have seen many of its comforts and many of its inconveniences.” “Then,” replied Tom, “you may certainly, by the exercise of your reason, and the decision of your judgment, upon mature reflection, strike the balance; and if you do not give it in favour of the former, I shall entertain doubts upon your sagacity.”
“I don't know,” said Bob, “if I would actually enjoy living in London for long; I’ve experienced a lot of its comforts and its inconveniences.” “Well,” replied Tom, “you can definitely use your reason and judgment to weigh the pros and cons, and after careful consideration, come to a conclusion. If you don’t lean towards the positives, I’m going to question your judgment.”
“Well,” continued Bob, “I shall now have a fine opportunity for drawing out a distinct account, and when done, I will submit the result to your inspection.”
“Well,” Bob continued, “I now have a great chance to get a clear account, and once I'm finished, I'll show you the results.”
Every thing being prepared, they were on the road to Belville Hall at an early hour the next morning.
Everything being ready, they were on their way to Belville Hall early the next morning.
As the occurrences of a Country excursion, or the delineation of a Country Life, form no part of the intended plan of this Work, we shall not enter into any detailed account; but leaving our Heroes in the pursuit of fresh game, under new circumstances, and in somewhat new situations, bear in our minds their intended return, to engage, contemplate, and enjoy a future review of the complicated, yet ever new and ever varying scenes of a Real Life in London, with a determination to meet them on arrival, and not lose sight of them in their future rambles.
As the events of a country trip or the description of country life aren't part of the plan for this work, we won't get into any detailed account. Instead, let's leave our heroes as they chase new experiences in different circumstances and somewhat fresh settings, keeping in mind their eventual return. We look forward to engaging with, reflecting on, and enjoying a future review of the complex, yet always new and ever-changing scenes of real life in London, determined to meet them upon arrival and not lose track of them in their future adventures.
END OF VOL. I.
END OF VOL. I.
REAL LIFE IN LONDON, VOLUME II.
Detailed Contents
CHAPTER I
[1]MATTER and motion, say Philosophers, are inseparable, and the doctrine appears equally applicable to the human mind. Our country Squire, anxious to testify a grateful sense of the attentions paid him during his London visit, had assiduously exerted himself since his return, in contributing to the pleasures and amusements of his visitors; and Belville Hall presented a scene of festive hospitality, at once creditable to its liberal owner, and gratifying to the numerous gentry of the surrounding neighbourhood.
[1]Philosophers say that matter and motion are inseparable, and this idea seems to apply to the human mind as well. Our country squire, eager to show his gratitude for the kindness he received during his time in London, had been working hard since his return to enhance the enjoyment and entertainment of his guests. Belville Hall became a hub of generous hospitality, reflecting well on its generous owner and pleasing the many gentry from the surrounding area.
But however varied and numerous the sports and recreations of rural life, however refined and select the circle of its society, they possessed not the endless round of metropolitan amusement, nor those ever-varying delights produced amid “the busy hum of men,” where every street is replete with incident and character, and every hour fraught with adventure.
But no matter how diverse and plentiful the sports and leisure activities of country life are, or how sophisticated and exclusive its social circle might be, they simply lack the endless array of entertainment found in the city, along with the ever-changing joys created in “the busy hum of men,” where every street is full of stories and personalities, and every hour is packed with excitement.
Satiety had now evidently obtruded itself amid the party, and its attendants, lassitude and restlessness, were not long in bringing up the rear. The impression already made upon the mind of Bob by the cursory view he had taken of Life in London was indelible, and it required little persuasion on the part of his cousin, the Hon. Tom Dashall, to induce him again to return to scenes of so much delight, and which afforded such inexhaustible stores of amusement to an ardent and youthful curiosity.
Satiety had clearly made its presence known at the gathering, and the feelings of tiredness and restlessness weren’t far behind. The impression that Bob had from his brief glimpse of Life in London was unforgettable, and it took little convincing from his cousin, the Hon. Tom Dashall, for him to head back to the places that brought him so much joy and offered endless entertainment for his eager, youthful curiosity.
[2]A return to the Metropolis having therefore been mutually agreed upon, and every previous arrangement being completed, the Squire once more abdicated for a season his paternal domains, and accompanied by his cousin Dashall, and the whole ci-devant party of Belville Hall, arrived safe at the elegant mansion of the latter, where they planned a new system of perambulation, having for its object a further investigation of manners, characters, objects, and incidents, connected with Real Life in London.
[2]Since it was agreed that they would return to the Metropolis, and all previous arrangements were taken care of, the Squire once again stepped away from his family estate for a time. He was joined by his cousin Dashall and the entire former group from Belville Hall, arriving safely at Dashall's stylish home. There, they organized a new plan for exploring, aiming to further investigate the behaviors, personalities, places, and events related to Real Life in London.
“Come,” cried Dashall, one fine morning, starting up immediately after breakfast—
“Come,” shouted Dashall one beautiful morning, jumping up right after breakfast—
“The numerous hotels, bagnios, taverns, inns, coffee-houses, eating-houses, lodging-houses, &c. in endless variety, which meet the eye in all parts of the metropolis, afford an immediate choice of accommodation, as well to the temporary sojourner as the permanent resident; where may be obtained the necessaries and luxuries of life, commensurate with your means of payment, from one shilling to a guinea for a dinner, and from sixpence to thirty shillings a night for a lodging!
The countless hotels, spas, bars, inns, coffee shops, restaurants, guesthouses, etc., in all sorts of styles around the city, provide immediate options for accommodation, whether for short-term visitors or long-term residents; where essentials and luxuries of life can be acquired according to your budget, ranging from one shilling to a guinea for a dinner, and from sixpence to thirty shillings a night for a place to stay!
“The stranger recommended to one of these hotels, who regales himself after the fatigues of a journey with moderate refreshment, and retires to rest, and preparing to depart in the morning, is frequently surprised at the longitudinal appearance and sum total of his bill, wherein every item is individually stated, and at a rate enormously extravagant. Remonstrance is unavailable; the charges are those common to the house, and in failure of payment your luggage is under detention, without the means of redress; ultimately the bill must be paid, and the only consolation left is, that you have acquired a useful, though expensive lesson, how to guard in future against similar exaction and inconvenience."{1}
“The stranger recommended one of these hotels, where a guest can unwind after the stresses of travel with a reasonable meal and then get some rest. However, when preparing to leave in the morning, they are often shocked by the lengthy itemized bill, which lists every charge at an exorbitant rate. Complaining doesn’t help; the prices are standard for that place, and if you don’t pay, your luggage gets held up with no chance for recourse. In the end, the bill has to be settled, and the only consolation left is the expensive lesson learned about how to avoid similar overcharging and trouble in the future.”{1}
[3] These were the observations directed by Dashall to his friend, as they passed, one morning, the Hotel de la Sabloniere in Leicester Square.
[3] These were the observations made by Dashall to his friend as they walked past the Hotel de la Sabloniere in Leicester Square one morning.
“Doubtless,” he continued, “in those places of affluent resort, the accommodations are in the first style of excellence; yet with reference to comfort and sociability, were I a country gentleman in the habit of occasionally visiting London, my temporary domicile should be the snug domesticated Coffee-house, economical in its charges and pleasurable in the variety of its visitors, where I might, at will, extend or abridge my evening intercourse, and in the retirement of my own apartment feel myself more at home than in the vacuum of an hotel.”
“Definitely,” he continued, “in those fancy vacation spots, the accommodations are top-notch; however, when it comes to comfort and social interaction, if I were a country gentleman who occasionally visited London, I would choose a cozy, homey coffee house as my temporary place to stay. It’s affordable and offers a nice mix of visitors, where I could easily extend or cut short my evening conversations, and in the privacy of my own room, I would feel more at home than in the emptiness of a hotel.”
The attention of our perambulators, in passing through the Square, was attracted by a fine boy, apparently about eight years of age, dressed in mourning, who, at the door of Brunet's Hotel, was endeavouring with all his little strength and influence to oppose the egress of a large Newfoundland dog, that, indignant of restraint, seemed desirous in a strange land of introducing himself to [4] canine good fellowship. The boy, whose large dark eyes were full of animation, and his countenance, though bronzed, interestingly expressive, remonstrated with the dog in the French language. “The animal does not understand you,” exclaimed Tallyho, in the vernacular idiom of the youth, “Speak to him in English.” “He must be a clever dog,” answered the boy, “to know English so soon, for neither him nor I have been in England above a week, and for the first time in our lives.”—“And how is it,” asked Tallyho, “that you speak the English language so fluently?” “O,” said the little fellow, “my mother taught it me; she is an English woman, and for that reason I love the English, and am much fonder of talking their language than my own.” There was something extremely captivating in the boy. The dog now struggling for freedom was nearly effecting his release, when the two friends interposed their assistance, and secured the pre-meditating fugitive at the moment when, to inquire the cause of the bustle, the father of the child made his appearance in the person of Field Marshal Count Bertrand. The Count, possessing all the characteristics of a gentleman, acknowledged politely the kind attention of the strangers to his son, while, on the other hand, they returned his obeisance with the due respect excited by his uniform friendship and undeviating attachment to greatness in adversity. The discerning eye of Field Marshal Bertrand justly appreciated the superior rank of the strangers, to whom he observed, that during the short period he had then been in England, he had experienced much courtesy, of which he should always retain a grateful recollection. This accidental interview was creative of reciprocal satisfaction, and the parties separated, not without an invitation on the part of the boy, that his newly found acquaintances would again visit the “friends of the Emperor."{1}[5]
As we strolled through the Square, we noticed a fine boy, probably around eight years old, dressed in black. He was at the door of Brunet's Hotel, doing his best to keep a large Newfoundland dog from getting out. The dog, obviously frustrated by being held back, seemed eager to make friends in this new place. The boy, with his big dark eyes full of energy and a sun-kissed, expressive face, was speaking to the dog in French. “The dog doesn’t understand you,” Tallyho said in the boy's language, “You should talk to him in English.” “He must be a smart dog,” the boy replied, “to know English already, since neither of us has been in England for more than a week—it's our first time here.” “How come you speak English so well?” Tallyho asked. “Oh,” the little guy said, “my mom taught me; she’s English, and that’s why I love the English. I prefer speaking their language over mine.” There was something really charming about the boy. The dog, now almost breaking free, had just about succeeded when our two friends stepped in to help, catching the eager escapee just as the child's father, Field Marshal Count Bertrand, appeared to see what all the commotion was about. The Count, who had all the qualities of a true gentleman, politely acknowledged the kindness shown to his son, and the two friends returned his respects, impressed by his steadfast friendship and loyalty to those in distress. The keen gaze of Field Marshal Bertrand recognized the higher status of the strangers, and he commented that during his short time in England, he had received much kindness, which he would always remember with gratitude. This chance meeting brought mutual pleasure, and they parted ways, with the boy inviting his new friends to visit the "friends of the Emperor."{1}[5]
“The Count,” said Dashall to his Cousin, as they pursued their walk, “remains in England until he obtain [6] permission from the King of France to return to his native country: that such leave will be given, there is little doubt; the meritorious fidelity which the Count has uniformly exemplified to his late unfortunate and exiled Master, has obtained for him universal esteem, and the King of France is too generous to withhold, amidst the general feeling, his approbation.”
“The Count,” Dashall said to his cousin as they continued their walk, “is staying in England until he gets permission from the King of France to go back to his homeland. There’s no doubt that he will get that permission; the loyal service the Count has consistently shown to his late unfortunate and exiled master has earned him widespread respect, and the King of France is too generous to deny him approval given the general sentiment.”
Passing through Long Acre in their progress towards the British Museum, to which national establishment they had cards of admission, the two friends were intercepted in their way by a concourse at a coach-maker's shop, fronting which stood a chariot carefully matted round the body, firmly sewed together, and the wheels enveloped in hay-bands, preparatory to its being sent into the country. Scarcely had these precautionary measures of safety been completed, when a shrill cry, as if by a child inside the vehicle, was heard, loud and continuative, which, after the lapse of some minutes, broke out into the urgent and reiterated exclamation of—“Let me out!—I shall be suffocated!—pray let me out!”
Passing through Long Acre on their way to the British Museum, where they had admission cards, the two friends were stopped by a crowd at a coachmaker's shop. In front of the shop was a chariot carefully matted around the body, tightly sewn together, and the wheels wrapped in hay bands, getting ready to be sent out to the countryside. Just as these safety measures were finished, a sharp cry from inside the vehicle broke out, sounding like a child, loud and persistent. After a few minutes, the cries turned into an urgent and repeated plea of, “Let me out! I’m going to suffocate! Please let me out!”
The workmen, who had packed up the carriage, stared at each other in mute and appalling astonishment; they felt conscious that no child was within the vehicle; and when at last they recovered from the stupor of amazement, they resisted the importunity of the multitude to strip the chariot, and manfully swore, that if any one was inside, it must be the Devil himself, or one of his imps, and no human or visible being whatsoever.
The workers, who had loaded the carriage, looked at each other in silent and shocking disbelief; they realized that no child was in the vehicle. When they finally snapped out of their shock, they pushed back against the crowd's insistence to take apart the chariot, and bravely declared that if anyone was inside, it had to be the Devil himself or one of his demons, and no human or visible being at all.
Some, of the multitude were inclined to a similar opinion. The crowd increased, and the most intense interest was depicted in every countenance, when the cry of “Let me out!—I shall die!—For heaven's sake let me out!” was audibly and vehemently again and again repeated.
Some in the crowd shared a similar opinion. The crowd grew larger, and every face showed intense interest when the shout of “Let me out! I’m going to die! Please, just let me out!” was heard loud and forcefully repeated over and over.
The impatient multitude now began to cut away the matting; when the workmen, apprehensive that the carriage might sustain some damage from the impetuosity of their proceedings, took upon themselves the act of dismantling the mysterious machine; during which operation, the cry of “Let me out!” became more and more clamorously importunate. At last the vehicle was laid bare, and its door thrown open; when, to the utter amazement of the crowd, no child was there—no trace was to be seen of aught, human or super-human! The [7] assemblage gazed on the vacant space from whence the sounds had emanated, in confusion and dismay. During this momentary suspense, in which the country 'Squire participated, a voice from some invisible agent, as if descending the steps of the carriage, exclaimed—“Thank you, my good friends, I am very much obliged to you—I shall now go home, and where my home is you will all know by-and-by!”
The restless crowd started to cut away the matting, causing the workers to worry that the carriage might get damaged due to their eagerness. They decided to dismantle the mysterious machine themselves, during which the cry of “Let me out!” became increasingly urgent. Finally, the vehicle was stripped down, and its door was thrown open; to everyone's shock, there was no child inside—no sign of anyone, human or otherwise! The crowd stared at the empty space where the sounds had come from, confused and dismayed. In this moment of uncertainty, which the local 'Squire was part of, a voice from some unseen source, as if it were coming down the steps of the carriage, said—“Thank you, my good friends, I really appreciate it—I will now go home, and you will all know where my home is soon!”
With the exception of Dashall and Tallyho, the minds of the spectators, previously impressed with the legends of superstition and diablerie, gave way under the dread of the actual presence of his satanic majesty; and the congregated auditors of his ominous denunciation instantaneously dispersed themselves from the scene of witchery, and, re-assembling in groupes on distant parts of the street, cogitated and surmised on the Devil's visit to the Coachmakers of Long Acre!
With the exception of Dashall and Tallyho, the crowd, who had been influenced by tales of superstition and evil, couldn’t help but feel terrified by the actual presence of the devil; the gathered listeners of his ominous warnings quickly scattered from the scene of magic and regrouped in clusters on different parts of the street, pondering and speculating on the Devil's visit to the Coachmakers of Long Acre!
Tallyho now turned an inquisitive eye on his Cousin, who answered the silent and anxious enquiry with an immoderate fit of laughter, declaring that this was the best and most ingenious hoax of any he had ever witnessed, and that he would not have missed, on any consideration whatsoever, the pleasure of enjoying it. “The Devil in Long Acre!—I shall never forget it,” exclaimed the animated Cousin of the staring and discomfited 'Squire.
Tallyho now looked curiously at his cousin, who responded to the silent and anxious question with an uncontrollable fit of laughter. He said it was the best and most clever prank he had ever seen and that he wouldn't have missed the chance to enjoy it for anything in the world. “The Devil in Long Acre!—I’ll never forget it,” exclaimed the lively cousin to the shocked and confused 'Squire.
“Explain, explain,” reiterated the 'Squire, impatiently.
“Explain, explain,” the 'Squire repeated, impatiently.
“You shall have it in one word,"answered Dashall—“Ventriloquism!”{1}
“You'll have it in one word," replied Dashall—“Ventriloquism!”{1}
[8] “And who could have been the artist?” enquired Tallyho.
[8] “And who could have been the artist?” asked Tallyho.
“Nay,” answered his friend, “that is impossible to say; some one in the crowd, but the secret must remain with himself; neither do I think it would have been altogether prudent his revealing it to his alarmed and credulous auditory.”
“Nah,” his friend replied, “that’s impossible to say; someone in the crowd, but the secret must stay with him; I also don’t think it would have been wise for him to reveal it to his anxious and gullible audience.”
“A Ventriloquist,” observed the 'Squire, “is so little known in the country, that I had lost all reminiscence of his surprising powers; however, I shall in future, from the occurrence of to-day, resist the obtrusion of superstition, and in all cases of 'doubtful dilemma' remember the Devil in Long Acre!”{l}
“A ventriloquist,” the 'Squire noted, “is so rare in the country that I had forgotten his amazing skills; however, from today's experience, I will try to avoid falling into superstition, and in all situations of 'doubtful dilemma,' I’ll remember the Devil in Long Acre!”{l}
“Well resolved,” answered Dashall; and in a few minutes they gained Great Russel Street, Bloomsbury, without further incident or interruption.
“Well resolved,” replied Dashall; and a few minutes later, they reached Great Russell Street, Bloomsbury, without any more incidents or interruptions.
[9] Amongst the literary and scientific institutions of the Metropolis, the British Museum, situated in Great Russel Street, Bloomsbury, stands pre-eminent.
[9] Among the literary and scientific institutions of the city, the British Museum, located on Great Russell Street in Bloomsbury, is the most distinguished.
Entering the spacious court, our two friends found a party in waiting for the Conductor. Of the individuals composing this party, the reconnoitering eye of Dashall observed a trio, from whence he anticipated considerable amusement. It was a family triumvirate, formed of an old Bachelor, whose cent per cent ideas predominated over every other, wheresoever situated or howsoever employed; his maiden Sister, prim, starch and antiquated; and their hopeful Nephew, a complete coxcomb, that is, in full possession of the requisite concomitants—ignorance and impudence, and arrayed in the first style of the most exquisite dandyism. This delectable triumviri had emerged from their chaotic recess in Bearbinder-lane; the Exquisite, to exhibit his sweet person along with the other curiosities of the Museum; his maiden Aunt, to see, as she expressed it, the “He-gipsyian munhuments, kivered with kerry-glee-fix;” and her Brother, to ascertain whether, independent of outlandish baubles, gimcracks and gewgaws, there was any thing of substantiality with which to enhance the per contra side in the Account Current between the British Museum and the Public!
Entering the spacious court, our two friends found a group waiting for the Conductor. Among the people in this group, Dashall spotted three individuals from whom he expected a good deal of amusement. It was a family trio made up of an old Bachelor, whose narrow-minded views dominated every situation or task; his unmarried Sister, prim, stiff, and old-fashioned; and their hopeful Nephew, a total dandy, fully equipped with the necessary traits—ignorance and boldness—and dressed in the latest fashion of the most exquisite dandyism. This delightful trio had come out of their chaotic hiding spot on Bearbinder Lane; the Dandy, to showcase his fine self along with the other curiosities of the Museum; his maiden Aunt, to see, as she put it, the “He-gipsyian munhuments, kivered with kerry-glee-fix”; and her Brother, to check whether, aside from foreign trinkets, knickknacks, and baubles, there was anything of real value to balance the Account Current between the British Museum and the Public!
Attaching themselves to this respectable trio, Dashall and Tallyho followed, with the other visitants, the Guide, whose duty it that day was to point out the various curiosities of this great national institution.
Attaching themselves to this respectable trio, Dashall and Tallyho followed, along with the other visitors, the Guide, whose job that day was to point out the various curiosities of this great national institution.
The British Museum was established by act of parliament, in 1753, in pursuance of the will of Sir Hans Sloane, who left his museum to the nation, on condition that Parliament should pay 20,000L. to his Executors, and purchase a house sufficiently commodious for it. The parliament acted with great liberality on the occasion; several other valuable collections were united to that of Sir Hans Sloane, and the whole establishment was completed for the sum of 85,000L. raised by lottery. At the institution of this grand treasury of learning, it was proposed that a competent part of 1800L. the annual sum granted by parliament for the support of the house, should be appropriated for the purchase of new books; but the salaries necessary for the officers, together with the contingent expenses, have always exceeded the allowance; so that the Trustees have been repeatedly [10] obliged to make application to defray the necessary charges.
The British Museum was founded by an act of parliament in 1753, following the will of Sir Hans Sloane, who left his museum to the nation on the condition that Parliament would pay £20,000 to his Executors and buy a sufficiently large house for it. Parliament acted very generously in this matter; several other valuable collections were added to Sir Hans Sloane's, and the entire establishment was completed for £85,000 raised through a lottery. When this great treasury of knowledge was set up, it was suggested that a significant portion of the £1,800 annual grant from parliament for its support should be used to buy new books. However, the salaries needed for the staff, along with other expenses, have always surpassed the funding, which has forced the Trustees to repeatedly seek additional funds to cover necessary costs.
Mr. Timothy Surety, the before mentioned Bearbinder-lane resident, of cent per cent rumination; his accomplished sister, Tabitha; his exquisite nephew, Jasper; and the redoubtable heroes of our eventful history, were now associated in one party, and the remaining visitants were sociably amalgamated in another; and each having its separate Conductor, both proceeded to the inspection of the first and most valuable collection in the universe.
Mr. Timothy Surety, the previously mentioned resident of Bearbinder Lane, who was always deep in thought; his talented sister, Tabitha; his charming nephew, Jasper; and the brave heroes of our memorable history, were now all part of one group, while the other visitors were happily gathered in a second group. Each group had its own leader, and both set out to explore the first and most valuable collection in the universe.
On entering the gate, the first objects which attracted attention were two large sheds, defending from the inclemency of the seasons a collection of Egyptian monuments, the whole of which were taken from the French at Alexandria, in the last war. The most curious of these, perhaps, is the large Sarcophagus beneath the shed to the left, which has been considered as the exterior coffin of Alexander the Great, used at his final interment. It is formed of variegated marble, and, as Mrs. Tabitha Surety observed, was “kivered with Kerry-glee-fix.”
Upon entering the gate, the first things that caught the eye were two big sheds, sheltering a collection of Egyptian artifacts, all of which were taken from the French in Alexandria during the last war. The most interesting of these might be the large sarcophagus beneath the shed on the left, which is thought to be the outer coffin of Alexander the Great, used for his final burial. It’s made of colorful marble, and as Mrs. Tabitha Surety noted, it was “kivered with Kerry-glee-fix.”
“Nephew Jasper,” said his Uncle, “you are better acquainted with the nomenclature, I think you call it, of them there thing-um-bobs than I am—what is the name of this here?”
“Nephew Jasper,” said his Uncle, “you know the jargon, or whatever you call it, of those thing-um-bobs better than I do—what's the name of this one?”
“My dear Sir,” rejoined the Exquisite, “this here is called a Sark o' Fegus, implying the domicile, or rather, the winding-sheet of the dead, as the sark or chemise wound itself round the fair forms of the daughters of O'Fegus, a highland Chieftain, from whom descended Philip of Macedon, father of Alexander the Great; and thence originated the name subsequently given by the highland laird's successors, to the dormitory of the dead, the Sark o' Fegus, or in the corruption of modern orthography, Sarcophagus.”
“My dear Sir,” replied the Exquisite, “this is called a Sark o' Fegus, referring to the home, or rather, the burial shroud of the dead, as the sark or shirt wrapped around the beautiful forms of the daughters of O'Fegus, a Highland chieftain who was an ancestor of Philip of Macedon, father of Alexander the Great; and from this came the name later used by the chieftain's successors for the resting place of the dead, the Sark o' Fegus, or in the corrupted modern spelling, Sarcophagus.”
Timothy Surety cast an approving glance towards his Nephew, and whispering Dashall, “My Nephew, Sir, apparently a puppy, Sir, but well informed, nevertheless—what think you of his definition of that hard word? Is he not, I mean my Nephew Jaz, a most extraordinary young man?”
Timothy Surety gave his Nephew an approving look and whispered to Dashall, “My Nephew, Sir, seems like a bit of a lightweight, Sir, but he’s actually pretty knowledgeable—what do you think of his take on that tough word? Isn’t he, I mean my Nephew Jaz, a remarkable young man?”
“Superlatively so,” answered Dashall, “and I think you are happy in bearing affinity to a young man of such transcendent acquirements.”
“Absolutely,” replied Dashall, “and I believe you’re lucky to be related to a young man with such exceptional abilities.”
[11]"D—n his acquirements!” exclaimed Timothy; “would you think it, they are of no use in the way of trade, and though I have given him many an opportunity of doing well, he knows no more of keeping a set of books by double-entry, than Timothy Surety does of keeping a pack of hounds, who was never twenty miles beyond the hearing of Bow bells in all his lifetime!”
[11]"Damn his skills!” exclaimed Timothy; “can you believe it? They’re useless in business, and even though I've given him plenty of chances to succeed, he doesn't know any more about managing a set of books with double-entry than Timothy Surety knows about handling a pack of hounds, who has never been more than twenty miles away from Bow bells in his whole life!”
This important communication, having been made apart from the recognition of the Aunt and Nephew, passed on their approach, unanswered; and Dashall and his friend remained in doubt whether or not the Nephew, in his late definition of the word Sarcophagus, was in jest or earnest: Tallyho inclined to think that he was hoaxing the old gentleman; on the other hand, his Cousin bethought himself, that the apparent ingenuity of Jaz's definition was attributable entirely to his ignorance.
This important message, delivered without the acknowledgment of the Aunt and Nephew, went unanswered, leaving Dashall and his friend unsure whether the Nephew was joking or serious in his recent definition of the word Sarcophagus. Tallyho leaned towards the idea that he was pulling a prank on the old gentleman; on the other hand, his Cousin considered that the cleverness of Jaz's definition was purely due to his lack of knowledge.
Here also were two statues of Roman workmanship, supposed to be those of Marcus Aurelius and Severus, ancient, but evidently of provincial sculpture.
Here were also two statues made by Roman craftsmen, thought to be of Marcus Aurelius and Severus, old but clearly from regional artists.
Mrs. Tabitha, shading her eyes with her fan, and casting a glance askew at the two naked figures, which exhibited the perfection of symmetry, enquired of her Nephew who they were meant to represent.
Mrs. Tabitha, shielding her eyes with her fan and glancing sideways at the two naked figures, which displayed perfect symmetry, asked her nephew who they were supposed to represent.
His answer was equally eccentric with that accorded to his Uncle on the subject of the Sarcophagus.
His response was just as odd as the one he gave his Uncle about the Sarcophagus.
“My dear Madam!” said Jaz, “these two figures are consanguineous to those of Gog and Magog in Guildhall, being the lineal descendants of these mighty associates of the Livery of London!”
“My dear Madam!” said Jaz, “these two figures are related to those of Gog and Magog in Guildhall, being the direct descendants of these powerful companions of the Livery of London!”
“But, Jaz” rejoined the antique dame, “I always understood that Messieurs Gog and Magog derived their origin from quite a different family.”
“But, Jaz,” replied the old lady, “I always thought that Messieurs Gog and Magog came from a completely different family.”
“Aunt of mine,” responded Jaz, “the lofty rubicunded Civic Baronet shall not be 'shorn of his beams;' he claims the same honour with his brainless brothers before us-he is a scion of the same tree; Sir W*ll**m, the twin brothers of Guildhall, and these two sedate Gentlemen of stone, all boast the honour of the same extraction!”
“Aunt,” Jaz replied, “the grand red-faced Civic Baronet will not be ‘shorn of his beams;’ he claims the same honor as his clueless brothers before us—he’s a descendant of the same lineage; Sir W*ll**m, the twin brothers of Guildhall, and these two serious Gentlemen of stone all take pride in the same heritage!”
Behind them, on the right, was a ram's head of very curious workmanship, from Thebes.
Behind them, on the right, was a ram's head with very unusual craftsmanship from Thebes.
“Perhaps, Sir,” said Mrs. Tabitha, graciously addressing herself to ?Squire Tallyho, “you can inform us what may be the import of this singular exhibition?”
“Maybe, Sir,” said Mrs. Tabitha, politely speaking to Squire Tallyho, “you can tell us what this unusual display means?”
“On my honour, Madam,” answered the 'Squire, “I cannot satisfactorily resolve the enquiry; I am a country [12] gentleman, and though conversant with rains and rams' horns in my own neighbourhood, have no knowledge of them with reference to the connexion of the latter with the Citizens of London or Westminster!”
“Honestly, Madam,” replied the 'Squire, “I can’t really answer your question; I’m just a country gentleman, and while I’m familiar with rain and ram's horns in my own area, I have no idea how they relate to the Citizens of London or Westminster!”
Jaz again assumed the office of expositor.—“My very reverend Aunt,” said Jaz, “I must prolegomenize the required explanation with a simple anecdote:—
Jaz once again took on the role of speaker. "My very respected Aunt," said Jaz, "I need to start the necessary explanation with a quick story:—
“When Charles the Second returned from one of his northern tours, accompanied by the Earl of Rochester, he passed through Shoreditch. On each side the road was a huge pile of rams' horns, for what purpose tradition saith not. 'What is the meaning of all this?' asked the King, pointing towards the symbolics. 'I know not,' rejoined Rochester, 'unless it implies that the Citizens of London have laid their heads together, to welcome your Majesty's return!' In commemoration of this witticism, the ram's head is to the Citizens of London a prominent feature of exhibition in the British Museum.”
“When Charles the Second came back from one of his northern trips, accompanied by the Earl of Rochester, he passed through Shoreditch. On either side of the road were huge piles of rams' horns, for reasons that tradition does not explain. 'What’s all this about?' asked the King, pointing at the horns. 'I have no idea,' replied Rochester, 'unless it means that the people of London are coming together to celebrate your Majesty's return!' In memory of this joke, the ram's head has become a notable display for the people of London at the British Museum.”
This interpretation raised a laugh at the expense of Timothy Surety, who, nevertheless, bore it with great good humour, being a bachelor, and consequently not within the scope of that ridicule on the basis of which was founded the present sarcastic fabric.
This interpretation made everyone laugh at Timothy Surety's expense, but he took it in stride with great humor since he was a bachelor and not really affected by the kind of ridicule that led to this sarcastic setup.
It was now obvious to Dash all and his friend, that this young man, Jasper Surety, was not altogether the ignoramus at first presumed. They had already been entertained by his remarks, and his annotations were of a description to warrant the expectancy of further amusement in the progress of their inspection.
It was now clear to Dash and his friend that this young man, Jasper Surety, wasn’t the clueless person they initially thought. They had already enjoyed his comments, and his notes were the kind that promised more entertainment as they continued their exploration.
From the hall the visitors were led through an iron gateway to the great staircase, opposite the bottom of which is preserved a model in mahogany, exhibiting the method used by Mr. Milne in constructing the works of Blackfriars' Bridge; and beneath it are some curious fragments from the Giant's Causeway in Ireland.
From the hall, the visitors were guided through an iron gate to the grand staircase. At the bottom of the staircase, there's a mahogany model that showcases how Mr. Milne built Blackfriars' Bridge, and below it are some interesting pieces from the Giant's Causeway in Ireland.
These fragments, however highly estimated by the naturalist and the antiquary, were held in derision by the worldly-minded Tim. Surety, who exclaimed against the folly of expending money in the purchase of articles of no intrinsic value, calculated only to gratify the curiosity of those inquisitive idlers who affect their admiration of every uninteresting production of Nature, and neglect the pursuit of the main chance, so necessary in realizing the comforts of life.
These pieces, no matter how valued by the naturalist and the historian, were mocked by the practical Tim. Surety, who criticized the foolishness of spending money on items of no real worth, meant only to satisfy the curiosity of those nosy idlers who pretend to admire every dull creation of Nature while ignoring the chase for opportunities that are essential for achieving life's comforts.
[13] These sordid ideas were opposed by Dashall and the 'Squire, to whom they seemed particularly directed. Mrs. Tabitha smiled a gracious acquiescence in the sentiments of the two strangers, and Jasper expressed his regret that Nuncle was not gifted and fated as Midas of ancient times, who transformed every thing that he touched into gold!
[13] These unpleasant ideas were opposed by Dashall and the 'Squire, who felt they were aimed directly at them. Mrs. Tabitha smiled in agreement with the views of the two strangers, and Jasper expressed his disappointment that Nuncle wasn't blessed and destined like Midas of ancient times, who turned everything he touched into gold!
The Egyptian and Etruscan antiquities next attracted the attention of the visitors. Over a doorway in this room is a fine portrait of Sir William Hamilton, painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds. Dashall and Tallyho remarked with enthusiasm on these beautiful relics of the sculpture of former ages, several of which were mutilated and disfigured by the dilapidations of time and accident. Of the company present, there stood on the left a diminutive elderly gentleman in the act of contemplating the fragment of a statue in a posterior position, and which certainly exhibited somewhat of a ludicrous appearance; on the right, the exquisite Jasper pointed out, with the self-sufficiency of an amateur, the masculine symmetry of a Colossian statue to his Aunt of antiquated virginity, whose maiden purity recoiling from the view of nudation, seemed to say, “Jaz, wrap an apron round him!” while in the foreground stood the rotunditive form of Timothy Surety, who declared, after a cursory and contemptuous glance at the venerable representatives of mythology, “That with the exception of the portrait of Sir William Hamilton, there was not in the room an object worth looking at; and as for them there ancient statutes,” (such was his vernacular idiom and Bearbinder barbarism) “I would not give twopence for the whole of this here collection, if it was never for nothing else than to set them up as scare-crows in the garden of my country house at Edmonton!”
The Egyptian and Etruscan artifacts next caught the visitors' attention. Above a doorway in this room is a beautiful portrait of Sir William Hamilton, painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds. Dashall and Tallyho enthusiastically commented on these amazing relics of ancient sculpture, many of which were damaged and marred by the wear of time and accidents. Among the group present, there was a small elderly man on the left, contemplating the fragment of a statue positioned behind him, which certainly looked somewhat ridiculous; on the right, the exquisite Jasper pointed out, with the self-assurance of an amateur, the masculine proportions of a Colossian statue to his aunt, who seemed to shy away from the sight of nudity and said, “Jaz, wrap an apron around him!” Meanwhile, in the foreground stood the plump figure of Timothy Surety, who declared, after a brief and dismissive look at the ancient representations of mythology, “That aside from the portrait of Sir William Hamilton, there isn't anything in the room worth seeing; and as for those ancient statues,” (such was his casual speech and rough demeanor) “I wouldn't pay two pence for the whole collection, if only to use them as scarecrows in the garden of my country house in Edmonton!”
Jasper whispered his aunt, that nuncks was a vile bore; and the sacrilegious declaration gave great offence to the diminutive gentleman aforesaid, who hesitated not in pronouncing Timothy Surety destitute of taste and vertu; to which accusation Timothy, rearing his squat form to its utmost altitude, indignantly replied, “that there was not an alderman in the City of London of better taste than himself in the qualities of callipash and callipee, and that if the little gemmen presumed again to asperse his vartue, he would bring an action against him tor slander and defamation of character.” The minikin man gave Timothy a glance of ineffable disdain, and left the room. Mrs. [14] Tabitha, in the full consciousness of her superior acquirements, now directed a lecture of edification to her brother, who, however, manfully resisted her interference, and swore, that “where his taste and vartue were called in question he would not submit to any she in the universe.”
Jasper whispered to his aunt that the little man was a complete bore; and that irreverent comment greatly offended the aforementioned gentleman, who promptly declared Timothy Surety to be lacking in taste and virtue. Timothy, lifting his short frame to its full height, indignantly replied, “There isn’t an alderman in the City of London with better taste than I have when it comes to callipash and callipee, and if that little man dares to question my virtue again, I’ll sue him for slander and defamation of character.” The diminutive man shot Timothy a look of utter disdain and left the room. Mrs. [14] Tabitha, fully aware of her superior knowledge, then gave her brother a lecture of moral instruction, but he bravely resisted her interference and declared that “when it comes to my taste and virtue, I won’t submit to any woman in the world.”
Mrs. Tabitha, finding that on the present occasion her usual success would not predominate, suspended, like a skilful manoeuvreist, unavailable attack, and, turning to her nephew, required to know what personage the tall figure before them was meant to represent. Jasper felt not qualified correctly to answer this enquiry, yet unwilling to acknowledge his ignorance, unhesitatingly replied, “One of the ancient race of architects who built the Giant's Causeway in the north of Ireland.” This sapient remark excited a smile from the two friends, who shortly afterwards took an opportunity of withdrawing from further intercourse with the Bearbinder triumviri, and enjoyed with a more congenial party the remaining gratification which this splendid national institution is so well calculated to inspire.
Mrs. Tabitha, realizing that her usual success wasn’t going to happen this time, skillfully held back her response and turned to her nephew, asking what person the tall figure in front of them was supposed to represent. Jasper didn’t feel confident enough to answer correctly, but not wanting to admit his ignorance, he replied, “One of the ancient architects who built the Giant's Causeway in northern Ireland.” This clever remark made the two friends smile, and they soon took the chance to step away from the Bearbinder trio, enjoying the rest of the experience with a more likable crowd that this remarkable national institution is known to inspire.
Extending their observations to the various interesting objects of this magnificent establishment, the two prominent heroes of our eventful history derived a pleasure only known to minds of superior intelligence, to whom the wonders of art and nature impart the acmé of intellectual enjoyment.
Expanding their observations to the various fascinating objects in this amazing establishment, the two key figures of our memorable history found a pleasure unique to those of higher intellect, for whom the marvels of art and nature bring the peak of intellectual enjoyment.
Having been conducted through all the different apartments, the two friends, preparing to depart, the 'Squire tendered a pecuniary compliment to the Guide, in return for his politeness, but which, to the surprise of the donor, was refused; the regulations of the institution strictly prohibiting the acceptance by any of its servants of fee or reward from a visitor, under the penalty of dismissal.{1}
Having been shown around all the different rooms, the two friends, getting ready to leave, the 'Squire offered a monetary tip to the Guide as thanks for his kindness, but to the donor's surprise, it was declined; the rules of the institution clearly forbidding any of its staff from accepting tips or rewards from visitors, with the penalty of being fired. {1}
[15] Issuing from the portals of the Museum, “Apropos,” said Dashall, “we are in the vicinity of Russell-square, the residence of my stock-broker; I have business of a few moments continuance to transact with him—let us proceed to his residence.”
[15] Coming out of the Museum, “By the way,” said Dashall, “we're near Russell Square, where my stockbroker lives; I have a quick business matter to take care of with him—let's head to his place.”
A lackey, whose habiliment, neat but not gaudy, indicated the unostentatious disposition of his master,, answered the summons of the knocker: “Mr. C. was gone to his office at the Royal Exchange.”
A servant, dressed neatly but not flashy, showed the modest nature of his employer, answered the knock: “Mr. C. has gone to his office at the Royal Exchange.”
“The gentleman who occupies this mansion,” observed Dashall to his friend, as they retired from the door, “illustrates by his success in life, the truth of the maxim so frequently impressed on the mind of the school-boy, that perseverance conquers all difficulties. Mr. C, unaided by any other recommendation than that of his own unassuming modest merit, entered the very [16] respectable office of which he is now the distinguished principal, in the situation of a young man who has no other prospect of advancement than such as may accrue from rectitude of conduct, and the consequent approbation and patronage of his employer. By a long exemplary series of diligence and fidelity, he acquired the confidence of, and ultimately became a partner in the firm. His strictly conscientious integrity and uniform gentlemanly urbanity have thus gained him a preference in his profession, and an ample competency is now the well-merited meed of his industry.”
“The guy who lives in this mansion,” Dashall said to his friend as they stepped away from the door, “shows that the idea we often hear as kids—that perseverance beats all challenges—is true. Mr. C, relying solely on his own humble talent, started in the very [16] respectable office where he is now the esteemed head, as a young man with no other chance for advancement than what comes from doing the right thing and earning the approval and support of his boss. Through a long history of hard work and loyalty, he gained his employer's trust and eventually became a partner in the business. His unwavering integrity and consistent good manners have earned him a reputation in his field, and now his hard work has rightly rewarded him with a good income.”
“Combining with its enjoyment,” responded the 'Squire, “the exercise of benevolent propensities.”
“Along with its enjoyment,” replied the 'Squire, “the practice of kind-heartedness.”
“Exactly so much so, that his name appears as an annual subscriber to nearly all the philanthropic institutions of the metropolis, and his private charities besides are numerous and reiterated.”
“He's such a giving person that his name shows up as an annual donor to almost all the charitable organizations in the city, and he also supports many private charities consistently.”
“This, then, is one of the few instances (said the 'Squire) of Real Life in London, where private fortune is so liberally applied in relief of suffering humanity—it is worthy of indelible record.”
“This, then, is one of the few examples (said the 'Squire) of real life in London, where personal wealth is generously used to help those in need—it deserves to be permanently recorded.”
Circumambulating the square, the two observers paused opposite the fine statue of the late Francis Duke of Bedford.
Circumnavigating the square, the two onlookers stopped in front of the impressive statue of the late Francis Duke of Bedford.
The graceful proportion, imposing elevation, and commanding attitude of the figure, together with the happy combination of skill and judgment by the artist, in the display on the pedestal of various agricultural implements, indicating the favourite and useful pursuits of this estimable nobleman, give to the whole an interesting appearance, and strongly excite those feelings of regret which attend the recollection of departed worth and genius. Proceeding down the spacious new street directly facing the statue, our perambulators were presently in Bedford-square, in which is the effigy of the late eminent statesman Charles James Fox: the figure is in à sitting posture, unfavourable to our reminiscences of the first orator of any age or country, and is arrayed in the Roman toga: the face is a striking likeness, but the effect on the whole is not remarkable. The two statues face each other, as if still in friendly recognition; but the sombre reflections of Dashall and his friend were broke in upon by a countryman with, “Beant that Measter Fox, zur?” “His effigy, my [17]friend.” “Aye, aye, but what the dickens ha've they wrapt a blanket round un vor?”
The elegant proportions, impressive height, and commanding presence of the statue, along with the artist's skillful and thoughtful combination of various agricultural tools displayed on the pedestal—which showcase the favored and practical endeavors of this respected nobleman—create an engaging sight and evoke strong feelings of nostalgia for past greatness and talent. As we walked down the wide new street straight in front of the statue, we soon found ourselves in Bedford Square, where there's a statue of the late distinguished statesman Charles James Fox: the figure is seated, which doesn't quite match our memories of the greatest orator of any age or nation, and is dressed in a Roman toga. The likeness is striking, but overall, it doesn't leave a strong impression. The two statues face each other, as if still acknowledging one another in friendship; however, the somber thoughts of Dashall and his companion were interrupted by a local man who said, “Is that Master Fox, sir?” “His statue, my [17]friend.” “Yeah, but what the heck have they wrapped a blanket around him for?”
Proceeding along Charlotte Street, Bloomsbury, the associates in search of Real Life were accosted by a decent looking countryman in a smock-frock, who, approaching them in true clod-hopping style, with a strong provincial accent, detailed an unaffectedly simple, yet deep tale of distress:
Proceeding along Charlotte Street, Bloomsbury, the companions searching for Real Life were approached by a respectable-looking farmer in a smock-frock, who, coming toward them in a genuine clumsy manner, with a strong regional accent, shared a straightforward yet profound story of hardship:
The story which he told was most pathetic, the tears the while coursing each other down his cheeks; and Dashall and his friend were about to administer liberally to his relief, the former observing, “There can be no deception here,” when the applicant was suddenly pounced upon by an officer, as one of the greatest impostors in the Metropolis, who, with the eyes of Argus, could transform themselves into a greater variety of shapes than Proteus, and that he had been only fifty times, if not more, confined in different houses of correction as an incorrigible rogue and vagabond, from one of which he had recently contrived to effect his escape. The officer now bore off his prize in triumph, while Dashall, hitherto “the most observant of all observers,” sustained the laugh of his Cousin at the knowing one deceived, with great good humour, and Dashall, adverting to his opinion so confidently expressed, “There can be no deception here,” declared that in London it was impossible to guard in every instance against fraud, where it is frequently practised with so little appearance of imposition.
The story he told was so sad, with tears streaming down his cheeks the whole time; and Dashall and his friend were just about to help him out, with Dashall saying, “There’s no way this can be a scam,” when suddenly an officer swooped in on him, claiming he was one of the biggest con artists in the city, who could change shapes more than a chameleon and had been locked up at least fifty times in various jails as a hopeless thief and drifter, and had just managed to escape from one of them. The officer took him away triumphantly, while Dashall, who always prided himself on being “the most observant of all observers,” took his cousin’s teasing about being tricked with good humor, and pointed out that despite his earlier confident claim, “There can be no deception here,” it was actually impossible to avoid scams in London, where they often happen without any hint of wrongdoing.
The two friends now bent their course towards Covent Garden, which, reaching without additional incident, they wiled away an hour at Robins's much to their satisfaction. That gentleman, in his professional capacity, generally attracts in an eminent degree the attention of his visitors by his professional politeness, so that he seldom fails to put off an article to advantage; and yet he rarely resorts to the puff direct, and never indulges in the puff figurative, so much practised by his renowned predecessor, the late knight of the hammer, Christie, the elder, who by the superabundancy of his rhetorical [18]flurishes, was accustomed from his elevated rostrum to edify and amuse his admiring auditory.{1}
The two friends changed direction towards Covent Garden, and after getting there without any trouble, they spent an hour at Robins's, enjoying themselves greatly. That gentleman, in his professional role, typically captures the attention of his guests with his exceptional politeness, so he usually manages to sell items quite well. However, he rarely uses straightforward advertising and never resorts to the exaggerated promotional tactics favored by his famous predecessor, the late knight of the hammer, Christie, the elder, who, with his over-the-top rhetorical flourishes, would often enlighten and entertain his impressed audience from his high platform.[18]{1}
Of the immense revenues accruing to his Grace the Duke of Bedford, not the least important is that derived from Covent Garden market. As proprietor of the ground, from every possessor of a shed or stall, and from all who take their station as venders in the market, a rent is payable to his Grace, and collected weekly; considering, therefore, the vast number of occupants, the aggregate rental must be of the first magnitude. His Grace is a humane landlord, and his numerous tenantry of Covent Garden are always ready to join in general eulogium on his private worth, as is the nation at large on the patriotism of his public character.
Of the huge income earned by His Grace the Duke of Bedford, one of the most significant sources comes from Covent Garden market. As the owner of the land, he collects rent weekly from everyone who has a shed or stall and from all those who sell their goods in the market. Given the large number of occupants, the total rent must be substantial. His Grace is a kind landlord, and the many tenants of Covent Garden are always eager to praise his personal qualities, just as the nation as a whole admires his public spirit.
Dashall conducted his friend through every part of the Market, amidst a redundancy of fruit, flowers, roots and vegetables, native and exotic, in variety and profusion, exciting the merited admiration of the Squire, who observed, and perhaps justly, that this celebrated emporium unquestionably is not excelled by any other of a similar description in the universe.
Dashall guided his friend through every section of the Market, surrounded by an abundance of fruits, flowers, roots, and vegetables, both native and exotic, in a wide range and plentiful amount, earning the deserved admiration of the Squire, who noted, and perhaps rightly so, that this famous market truly isn’t surpassed by any other similar place in the world.
[19] Proceeding into Leicester Square, the very extraordinary production of female genius, Miss Linwood's Gallery of Needlework promised a gratification to the Squire exceeding in novelty any thing which he had hitherto witnessed in the Metropolis. The two friends accordingly entered, and the anticipations of Tallyho were superabundantly realized.
[19] As they made their way into Leicester Square, Miss Linwood's Gallery of Needlework, an incredible showcase of women's creativity, promised to impress the Squire with a level of novelty he had never experienced before in the city. The two friends went in, and Tallyho's expectations were more than satisfied.
This exhibition consists of seventy-five exquisite copies in needlework, of the finest pictures of the English and foreign schools, possessing all the correct drawing, just colouring, light and shade of the original pictures from whence they are taken, and to which in point of effect they are in no degree inferior.
This exhibition includes seventy-five beautiful needlework copies of the best paintings from English and foreign schools. Each piece captures the accurate drawing, perfect coloring, and light and shadow of the original artworks, and they are not at all inferior in terms of visual impact.
From the door in Leicester Square the visitants entered the principal room, a fine gallery of excellent proportions, hung with scarlet broad-cloth, gold bullion tassels, and Greek borders. The appearance thus given to the room is pleasing, and indicated to the Squire a still more superior attraction. His Cousin Dashall had frequently inspected this celebrated exhibition, but' to Tallyho it was entirely new.
From the door in Leicester Square, the visitors entered the main room, a large gallery with great proportions, decorated with red fabric, gold tassels, and Greek borders. The look of the room was appealing and suggested an even greater attraction to the Squire. His cousin Dashall had often visited this famous exhibition, but it was completely new to Tallyho.
On one side of this room the pictures are hung, and have a guard in front to keep the company at the requisite distance, and for preserving them.
On one side of this room, the pictures are displayed, and there’s a guard in front to keep people at a safe distance and to protect them.
Turning to the left, a long and obscure passage prepares the mind, and leads to the cell of a prison, on looking into which is seen the beautiful Lady Jane Gray, visited by the Abbot and keeper of the Tower the night before her execution.
Turning to the left, a long and dimly lit passage sets the mood and leads to a prison cell. Inside, we see the beautiful Lady Jane Gray, visited by the Abbot and the keeper of the Tower the night before her execution.
This scene particularly elicited the Squire's admiration; the deception of the whole, he observed, was most beautiful, and not exceeded by any work from the pencil of the painter, that he had ever witnessed. A little farther on is a cottage, the casement of which opens, and the hatch at the door is closed; and, on looking in at either, our visitants perceived a fine and exquisitely finished copy of Gainsborough's Cottage Children standing by the fire, with chimney-piece and cottage furniture compleat. Near to this is Gainsborough's Woodman, exhibited in the same scenic manner.
This scene especially caught the Squire's attention; he noted that the overall illusion was stunning and unmatched by any painting he had ever seen. A little further on, there's a cottage with an open window and a closed door, and when our visitors looked in at either, they saw a beautiful and perfectly crafted replica of Gainsborough's Cottage Children standing by the fireplace, complete with a chimney and cottage furniture. Close by is Gainsborough's Woodman, presented in the same picturesque way.
Having enjoyed an intellectual treat, which perhaps in originality as an exhibition of needlework is no where else to be met with, our perambulators retired, and reached home without the occurrence of any other remarkable incident.[20]
Having experienced an intellectual delight, which is perhaps unique in its originality as a display of needlework, our walkers returned home without any other notable events occurring.[20]
CHAPTER II
TRAVERSING the streets, without having in view any particular object, other than the observance of Real Life in London, such as might occur from fortuitous incident; our two perambulators skirted the Metropolis one fine morning, till finding themselves in the vicinity of Tothill-fields Bridewell, a place of confinement to which the Magistrates of Westminster provisionally commit those who are supposed to be guilty of crimes. Ingress was without much difficulty obtained, and the two friends proceeded to a survey of human nature in its most degraded state, where, amidst the consciousness of infamy and the miseries of privation, apathy seemed the predominant feeling with these outcasts of society, and reflection on the past, or anticipation of the future, was absorbed in the vacuum of insensibility. Reckless of his destiny, here the manacled felon wore, with his gyves, the semblance of the most perfect indifference; and the seriousness of useful retrospection was lost in the levity of frivolous amusement. Apart from the other prisoners was seated a recluse, whose appearance excited the attention of the two visitants; a deep cloud of dejection overshadowed his features, and he seemed studiously to keep aloof from the obstreperous revelry of his fellow-captives. There was in his manner a something inducing a feeling of commiseration which could not be extended to his callous [21] companions in adversity. His decayed habiliment indicated, from its formation and texture, that he had seen better days, and his voluntary seclusion confirmed the idea that he had not been accustomed to his present humiliating intercourse. His intenseness of thought precluded the knowledge of approximation on his privacy, until our two friends stood before him; he immediately rose, made his obeisance, and was about to retire, when Mr. Dashall, with his characteristic benevolence, begged the favour of a few moments conversation.
WALKING through the streets without a specific purpose, other than to observe real life in London as it unfolded through random events, our two friends wandered around the city one lovely morning. They eventually found themselves near Tothill-fields Bridewell, a detention center where the Magistrates of Westminster temporarily send those suspected of crimes. They gained entry without much trouble and began to explore human nature at its most degraded state. Among the awareness of shame and the suffering of hardship, apathy appeared to be the most common emotion among these outcasts. Any thoughts about the past or hopes for the future were lost in a space of numbness. The chained felon, indifferent to his fate, wore his shackles with a complete lack of concern, and any serious reflection was overshadowed by lighthearted distractions. Separated from the other prisoners sat a recluse, whose presence caught the attention of our two visitors. A deep sense of sadness was evident on his face, and he seemed to deliberately avoid the boisterous celebration of his fellow inmates. There was something about him that stirred a feeling of sympathy that couldn't be extended to his unfeeling companions. His tattered clothing indicated that he had once lived better, and his voluntary isolation supported the idea that he wasn't used to such degrading interactions. Deep in thought, he remained unaware of anyone approaching his solitude until our two friends stood right in front of him. He immediately stood up, bowed, and was about to leave when Mr. Dashall, with his usual kindness, asked for a moment of conversation.
“I am gratified,” he observed, “in perceiving one exception to the general torpitude of feeling which seems to pervade this place; and I trust that your case of distress is not of a nature to preclude the influence of hope in sustaining your mind against the pressure of despondency.”
“I’m glad,” he remarked, “to see one exception to the overall numbness that seems to fill this place; and I hope that your situation of distress isn’t so severe as to block the power of hope from helping you cope with the weight of despair.”
“The cause of my confinement,” answered the prisoner, “is originally that of debt, although perverted into crime by an unprincipled, relentless creditor. Destined to the misery of losing a beloved wife and child, and subsequently assailed by the minor calamity of pecuniary embarrassment, I inevitably contracted a few weeks arrears of rent to the rigid occupant of the house wherein I held my humble apartment, when, returned one night to my cheerless domicil, my irascible landlord, in the plenitude of ignorance and malevolence, gave me in charge of a sapient guardian of the night, who, without any enquiry into the nature of my offence, conducted me to the watch-house, where I was presently confronted with my creditor, who accused me of the heinous crime of getting into his debt. The constable very properly refused to take cognizance of a charge so ridiculous; but unluckily observing, that had I been brought there on complaint of an assault, he would in that case have felt warranted in my detention, my persecutor seized on the idea with avidity, and made a declaration to that effect, although evidently no such thought had in the first instance occurred to him, well knowing the accusation to be grossly unfounded. This happened on a Saturday night, and I remained in duresse and without sustenance until the following Monday, when I was held before a Magistrate; the alleged assault was positively sworn to, and, maugre my statement of the suspicious, inconsistent conduct of my prosecutor, I was immured in the lock-up house for the remainder of the day, on the affidavit of [22] perjury, and in the evening placed under the friendly care of the Governor of Tothill-fields Bridewell, to abide the issue at the next Westminster sessions.”
“The reason for my imprisonment,” the prisoner replied, “originally stems from debt, which was twisted into a crime by a ruthless, relentless creditor. After suffering the heartache of losing a beloved wife and child, I eventually faced the smaller disaster of financial trouble. I fell a few weeks behind on my rent to the strict landlord of the modest apartment I lived in. One night, when I returned to my dreary home, my furious landlord, in his ignorance and malice, handed me over to a so-called guardian of the night, who, without bothering to ask about the nature of my supposed crime, took me to the watch-house. There, I was immediately confronted by my creditor, who accused me of the terrible crime of being in debt to him. The constable rightly refused to acknowledge such a ridiculous charge; however, he unfortunately remarked that if I had been brought in for an assault, he would have felt justified in detaining me. My accuser eagerly latched onto this idea and declared as much, even though he clearly hadn’t thought of it himself at first, fully aware that the accusation was completely unfounded. This took place on a Saturday night, and I spent the weekend in confinement without food until the following Monday, when I appeared before a Magistrate. The alleged assault was falsely sworn to, and despite my recounting the suspicious and inconsistent behavior of my accuser, I was locked up for the rest of the day based on the affidavit of [22] perjury and that evening placed under the care of the Governor of Tothill-fields Bridewell, awaiting the outcome at the next Westminster sessions.”
“This is a most extraordinary affair,” said the Squire; “and what do you conjecture may be the result?”
“This is really quite extraordinary,” said the Squire; “what do you think might happen as a result?”
“The pertinacity of my respectable prosecutor,” said the Captive, “might probably induce him to procure the aid of some of his conscientious Israelitish brethren, whom 1 never saw, towards substantiating the aforesaid assault, by manfully swearing to the fact; but as I have no desire of exhibiting myself through the streets, linked to a chain of felons on our way to the Sessions House, I believe I shall contrive to pay the debt due to the perjured scoundrel, which will ensure my enlargement, and let the devil in due season take his own!”
“The stubbornness of my esteemed prosecutor,” said the Captive, “might push him to enlist the help of some of his principled Jewish friends, whom I’ve never met, to back up the claim of that assault by boldly testifying to it; but since I have no interest in parading through the streets, chained to a bunch of criminals on our way to court, I think I’ll figure out a way to settle the score with the lying scoundrel, which will guarantee my release, and let fate deal with him in due time!”
“May we enquire,” said Dashall, “without the imputation of impertinent inquisitiveness, what has been the nature of your pursuits in life?”
“Can we ask,” said Dashall, “without seeming nosy, what your life’s pursuits have been?”
“Multitudinous,” replied the other; “my life has been so replete with adventure and adversity in all its varieties, and in its future prospects so unpropitious of happiness, that existence has long ceased to be desirable; and had I not possessed a more than common portion of philosophic resignation, I must have yielded to despair; but,
“Numerous,” replied the other; “my life has been filled with adventure and challenges in every form, and with future prospects so unlikely to bring happiness, that living has long stopped being appealing; and if I didn’t have an above-average amount of philosophical acceptance, I would have given in to despair; but,
“When all the blandishments of life are gone, The coward sneaks to death,—the brave live on!”
“When all the sweet talk of life is over, The coward creeps to death,—the brave carry on!”
“Thirty years ago I came to London, buoyant of youth and hope, to realize a competency, although I knew not by what means the grand object was to be attained; yet it occurred to me that I might be equally successful with others of my country, who, unaided by recommendation and ungifted with the means of speculation, had accumulated fortunes in this fruitful Metropolis, and of whom, fifteen years ago, one eminently fortunate adventurer from the north filled the civic chair with commensurate political zeal and ability.
“Thirty years ago, I arrived in London full of youth and hope, ready to make a living, even though I had no idea how to achieve that big goal. Still, it seemed to me that I could do just as well as others from my country, who, without any recommendations or the ability to take risks, managed to build fortunes in this thriving city. Fifteen years ago, one particularly lucky newcomer from the north took on the role of mayor with impressive political passion and skill.”
“Some are born great; others achieve greatness, And some have greatness thrust upon them!”
“Some people are born great; others achieve greatness, and some have greatness forced upon them!”
“Well, Sir, what can be said of it? I was without the pale of fortune, although several of my school-mates, who had established themselves in London, acquired, by dint of perseverance, parsimony and servility, affluent [23]circumstances; convinced, however, that I was not destined to acquire wealth and honour, and being unsolaced even with the necessaries of life, I abandoned in London all hope of success, and emigrated to Ireland, where I held for several years the situation of clerk to a respectable Justice of the Quorum. In this situation I lived well, and the perquisites of office, which were regularly productive on the return of every fair and market day, for taking examinations of the peace, and filling up warrants of apprehension against the perpetrators of broken heads and bloody noses, consoled me in my voluntary exile from Real Life in London. I was in all respects regarded as one of the family; had a horse at my command, visited in friendly intimacy the neighbouring gentry; and, above all, enjoyed the eccentricities of the lower Irish; most particularly so when before his honour, detailing, to his great annoyance, a story of an hour long about a tester (sixpence), and if he grew impatient, attributing it to some secret prejudice which he entertained against them.{1}
“Well, Sir, what can I say about it? I was out of luck, while several of my classmates, who had settled in London, gained wealth through hard work, frugality, and a bit of servitude. I believed I wasn’t meant to achieve riches and respect, and lacking even the basics of life, I gave up on success in London and moved to Ireland. There, I spent several years working as a clerk for a respected Justice of the Peace. In this role, I lived comfortably, and the extra income I earned on fair and market days from processing peace examinations and completing arrest warrants for fights and injuries helped ease my chosen exile from real life in London. I was considered part of the family; I had a horse at my disposal, socialized with the local gentry, and especially enjoyed the quirks of the lower Irish. This was particularly true when, in front of his honor, I would recount an annoyingly long tale about a tester (sixpence), and if he grew impatient, I attributed it to some bias he had against them.{1}
[25]But this pleasant life was not decreed much longer to endure, the insurrection broke out, during which an incident occurred that had nearly terminated all my then cares in this life, past, present, and to come.
[25]But this enjoyable life didn’t last much longer; the uprising broke out, during which an event happened that almost ended all my worries in this life—past, present, and future.
“In my capacity as clerk or secretary, I had written one morning for the worthy magistrate, two letters, both containing remittances, the one 150L. and the other 100L. in bank of Ireland bills. We were situated at the distance of fifteen miles from the nearest market town, and as the times were perilous and my employer unwilling to entrust property to the precarious conveyance of subordinate agency, he requested that I would take a morning ride, and with my own hands deliver these letters at the post-office. Accordingly I set out, and had arrived to within three miles of my destination, when my further progress was opposed by two men in green uniform, who, with supported arms and fixed bayonets, were pacing the road to and fro as sentinels, in a very steady and soldier-like manner. On the challenge of one of these fellows, with arms at port demanding the countersign, I answered that I had none to give, that I was travelling on lawful business to the next town, and required to know by what authority he stopt me on the King's highway, “By the powers,” he exclaimed, “this is my authority then,” and immediately brought his musket to the charge against the chest of my horse. I now learnt that the town had been taken possession of that morning by a division of the army of the people, for so the insurgents had styled themselves. “You may turn your nag homewards if you choose,” said the sentry; “but if you persist in going into the town, I must pass you, by the different out-posts, to the officer on duty.” The business in which I was engaged not admitting of delay, I preferred advancing, and was ushered, ultimately, to the notice of the captain of the guard, who very kindly informed me, that his general would certainly order me to be hanged as a spy, unless I could exhibit good proof of the contrary. With this comfortable assurance, I was forthwith introduced into the presence of the rebel general. He was a portly good-looking man, apparently about the age of forty, not more; wore a green uniform, with gold embroidery, and was engaged in signing dispatches, which his secretary successively sealed and superscribed; his staff were in attendance, and a provost-marshal in waiting to perform the office of summary execution on those to whom the general might attach suspicion. The insurgent leader [26]now enquiring, with much austerity, my name, profession, from whence I came, the object of my coming, and lastly, whether or not I was previously aware of the town being in possession of the army of the people, I answered these interrogatories by propounding the question, who the gentleman was to whom I had the honour of addressing myself, and under what authority I was considered amenable to his inquisition. “Answer my enquiries, Sir,” he replied, “without the impertinency of idle circumlocution, otherwise I shall consider you as a spy, and my provost-marshal shall instantly perform on your person the duties of his office!” I now resorted to my letters; I had no other alternative between existence and annihilation. Explaining, therefore, who I was, and by whom employed, “These letters,” I added, “are each in my hand-writing, and both contain remittances; I came to this town for the sole purpose of putting them into the post-office, and I was not aware, until informed by your scouts, that the place was in the occupation of an enemy.” He deigned not a reply farther than pointing to one of the letters, and demanding to know the amount of the bill which it enveloped; I answered, “One hundred and fifty pounds.” He immediately broke the seal, examined the bill, and found that it was correct. “Now, Sir,” he continued, “sit down, and write from my dictation.” He dictated from the letter which he had opened, and when I had finished the copy, compared it next with the original characters, expressed his satisfaction at their identity, and returning the letters, licensed my departure, when and to where I list, observing, that I was fortunate in having had with me those testimonials of business, “Otherwise,” said he, “your appearance, under circumstances of suspicion, might have led to a fatal result.”—“You may be assured, gentlemen,” continued the narrator, “that I did not prolong my stay in the town beyond the shortest requisite period; two mounted dragoons, by order of their general, escorted me past the outposts, and I reached home in safety. These occurrences took place on a Saturday. The triumph of the insurgent troops was of short duration; they were attacked that same night by the King's forces, discomfited, and their daring chieftain taken prisoner. On the Monday following his head, stuck upon a pike, surmounted the market-house of Belfast. The scenes of anarchy and desperation in which that [27] unfortunate country became now involved, rendered it no very desirable residence. I therefore procured a passport, bid adieu to the Emerald Isle, Erin ma vorneen slan leet go bragh! and once more returned to London, to experience a renewal of that misfortune by which I have, with little interval, been hitherto accompanied, during the whole period of my eventful life.”
“In my role as a clerk or secretary, one morning I wrote two letters for the respectable magistrate, both containing payments: one for £150 and the other for £100 in Bank of Ireland bills. We were located fifteen miles away from the nearest market town, and given the precarious times, my employer was reluctant to trust such valuable items to the uncertain delivery methods of junior staff. He asked me to take a morning ride and personally deliver these letters to the post office. So, I set out and made it within three miles of my destination when I was stopped by two men in green uniforms, who were pacing back and forth like sentinels, armed and with fixed bayonets. When one of them challenged me, demanding the countersign, I told him I had none, that I was traveling on legitimate business to the next town, and asked what authority he had to stop me on the King's highway. “By the powers,” he exclaimed, “this is my authority then,” and immediately aimed his musket at my horse’s chest. I soon learned that the town had been taken over earlier that morning by a faction of the army of the people, as the insurgents called themselves. “You can turn your horse around if you want,” said the sentry, “but if you insist on going into town, I have to pass you through the various outposts to the officer on duty.” My urgent business didn’t allow for delays, so I chose to continue, and eventually, I was brought to the attention of the captain of the guard, who kindly informed me that his general would likely have me hanged as a spy unless I could provide good proof otherwise. With this reassuring news, I was quickly introduced to the rebel general. He was a robust, good-looking man, apparently no older than forty, dressed in a green uniform with gold embroidery, signing dispatches while his secretary sealed and addressed them. His staff was present, along with a provost-marshal waiting to carry out summary executions on anyone deemed suspicious. The insurgent leader now sternly asked for my name, profession, where I came from, the purpose of my visit, and whether I knew the town was occupied by the army of the people. I responded to these inquiries by asking who I was speaking to and under what authority I was subject to his questioning. “Answer my questions, Sir,” he replied, “without the impertinence of unnecessary circumlocution, or I will consider you a spy, and my provost-marshal will immediately take action!” I then referred to my letters; I had no choice between life and death. Explaining who I was and who I was working for, “These letters,” I added, “are both in my handwriting and contain payments; I came to this town solely to put them in the post office, and I wasn’t aware, until informed by your scouts, that the place was under enemy control.” He didn’t respond further than pointing to one of the letters and asking for the amount it contained. I answered, “One hundred and fifty pounds.” He immediately broke the seal, checked the bill, and confirmed it was correct. “Now, Sir,” he said, “sit down and write what I dictate.” He dictated from the letter he had just opened, and when I finished the copy, he compared it to the original, expressed his satisfaction with their accuracy, and returned the letters, allowing me to leave whenever and wherever I pleased, noting that I was fortunate to have those documents of authenticity. “Otherwise,” he said, “your presence in these suspicious circumstances could have ended tragically.” “You can be sure, gentlemen,” the narrator continued, “that I didn’t linger in town any longer than necessary; two mounted dragoons escorted me past the outposts as per their general’s orders, and I returned home safely. These events occurred on a Saturday. The insurgents' triumph was short-lived; that same night they were attacked by the King’s forces, defeated, and their bold leader captured. By the following Monday, his head was displayed on a pike atop the market house in Belfast. The chaos and desperation engulfing that unfortunate country made it an undesirable place to live. So, I obtained a passport, said goodbye to the Emerald Isle, Erin ma vorneen slan leet go bragh! and returned once again to London, only to face a resurgence of the misfortune that has shadowed my eventful life thus far.”
The two strangers had listened to the narrative with mingled sensations of compassion and surprise, the one feeling excited by the peculiarity, the other by the pertinacity of his misfortunes, when their cogitations were interrupted by a dissonant clamour amongst the prisoners, who, it appeared, had united in enmity against an unlucky individual, whom they were dragging towards the discipline of the pump with all the eagerness of inflexible vengeance.
The two strangers listened to the story with mixed feelings of compassion and surprise, one feeling intrigued by the unusual situation, the other struck by the persistence of the person's misfortunes, when their thoughts were interrupted by a noisy uproar among the prisoners, who, it seemed, had banded together against an unfortunate individual they were pulling toward the pump for punishment with all the intensity of unwavering revenge.
On enquiry into the origin of this uproar, it was ascertained that one of the prisoners under a charge of slight assault, had been visited by this fellow, who, affecting to commiserate his situation, proposed to arrange matters with his prosecutor for his immediate release, with other offers of gratuitous assistance. This pretended friend was recognised by one of the prisoners as a kidnapper.
On looking into the cause of this commotion, it was found that one of the prisoners, who was accused of a minor assault, had been visited by this guy. Pretending to sympathize with his situation, he suggested working things out with the victim for his quick release, along with other offers of free help. This supposed friend was identified by one of the prisoners as a kidnapper.
A kidnapper, or crimp, is one of those fellows of abandoned principles, who enter into the pay of the East India Company in order to recruit their army, and when a guinea or two is advertised to be given to any person that brings a proper man of five feet eight or nine inches high, lie in wait to entrap men for the money. Some of these gentry assume the character of officers, others of Serjeants, drummers, and recruits, without the least shadow of commission among them. They have many ways of inveigling the artless and unthinking. One or two of these kidnappers, dressed as countrymen, go five or six miles out of town to meet the waggons and stages, and enquire if John Such-a-one is come up, which is answered in the negative, no such person being known; they then enter into discourse with the countrymen, and being perfectly complaisant, engage attention, and by the time they get to London, learn their occupations and business to town; whether they are in search of places, trades, or intend to return home again, which intelligence they in general profit by. Coming to the place of rendezvous, the [28] kidnappers propose a pint of porter, which being agreed on, they enter the house where their companions are in waiting, enjoy themselves over flowing bowls, and exhilirating their spirits with loyal toasts and songs, begin their business by enquiring who is willing to serve His Majesty. The countryman, if inclined thereto, is generally deceived; if his desire is for the guards, or any other particular regiment, there are at hand mock Serjeants and privates, who will swear they belong to the corps, and the dupe is trepanned for the East Indies, hurried on board a ship, or kept in some dismal place of security till a sufficient number is collected, and an opportunity serves to send them away.
A kidnapper, or crimp, is one of those people with no principles who take money from the East India Company to recruit their army. When a reward of a guinea or two is offered for anyone who brings in a suitable man between five feet eight and nine inches tall, they lie in wait to trap men for the cash. Some of these guys pretend to be officers, while others act as sergeants, drummers, or recruits, without any official commission. They have various ways to deceive the unsuspecting. One or two of these kidnappers, dressed as locals, travel five or six miles outside of town to meet the wagons and coaches, asking if a certain John has arrived, which usually gets a negative response since no one knows that person. They then start chatting with the locals, being polite and drawing their attention. By the time they reach London, they learn about their work and why they came to the city—whether they are looking for jobs, trades, or plan to go back home—which they generally use to their advantage. When they arrive at the meeting place, the [28] kidnappers suggest having a pint of porter, and once that’s agreed upon, they enter the house where their accomplices are waiting. They enjoy themselves with drinks, lifting their spirits with loyal toasts and songs, and then start their scheme by asking who is willing to serve His Majesty. If the local is interested, they are usually misled; if they express a desire to join the guards or any specific regiment, there are fake sergeants and privates nearby who will claim they belong to that unit, and the unsuspecting victim is tricked and sent off to the East Indies, hurried onto a ship, or kept in some dreadful place until they have enough people gathered to send them away.
On the other hand, should the countryman be averse to enlisting, and talk of going away, these crimps will swear that he has received a shilling or more of the bounty-money, insisting that they saw him put the money into such and such a pocket; it is in vain that the countryman denies having received it, search is made, money found, and he is compelled to submit or pay the smart.
On the other hand, if the countryman doesn’t want to enlist and talks about leaving, these recruiters will insist that he has already taken a shilling or more of the bounty money, claiming they saw him put the cash into a specific pocket; it doesn’t matter how much the countryman insists that he hasn’t received it, they search him, find money, and he’s forced to comply or face the consequences.
Others again, of these prowlers, frequent the places of confinement, and learning the particular case of some prisoner for small debt or slight assault, kindly otter to mediate with the prosecutor or creditor in effecting liberation. The pretended friend assumes the most disinterested feeling of sympathy, ingratiates himself into confidence, and generally terminates his machinations with success; accomplishes the prisoner's release, and sends him ultimately from temporary duresse to perpetual exile.
Others among these prowlers often hang around jails, and after learning about a specific prisoner, whether for a minor debt or a small assault, they offer to negotiate with the prosecutor or creditor to get them released. This fake friend displays a completely selfless sense of sympathy, wins the prisoner’s trust, and usually wraps up his schemes successfully; he secures the prisoner's release and ultimately sends him from temporary confinement to permanent exile.
Such was the character of the fellow now placed in the ominous guidance of an exasperated multitude; they urged him forward to the place of punishment; but the tumultuary assemblage were disappointed in their anticipated vengeance, by the interposition of the turnkeys, and the pretended friend escaped the meditated castigation.
Such was the nature of the guy now caught in the chaotic control of an annoyed crowd; they pushed him toward the punishment location; however, the unruly group was let down in their expected revenge, thanks to the intervention of the guards, and the fake friend got away from the planned beating.
“Observe, again,” said the narrator, “that dashing young fellow, arrayed in the first style of dandyism.”
“Take a look again,” said the narrator, “at that stylish young guy, dressed in the latest fashion.”
“My good fellow,” interrupted Bob, “he is not, I should think, one of the community; he has, apparently, the manners of the well bred and accomplished gentleman.” “And for that very reason, Sir, is the better qualified to [29] carry on his profession with impunity; he whom you dignify with the appellation of a well bred and accomplished gentleman, is all that you have expressed of him, with the exception of one word, that is, substitute for gentleman, swindler, and the character is justly delineated. This fellow, of desperate enterprize, is one of the numerous practitioners of knavery, who set themselves up for men of property and integrity, the more easily to defraud the unwary and ignorant out of their substance and effects. This Spark, connecting himself with several others of similar pursuit, they took a genteel house in a respectable part of the town, and dividing themselves into classes of masters, clerks, out-riders, shopmen, porters, and servants, and thus making a show of opulence, they easily obtained credit, and laid in goods of every kind, which they sent into the country and sold, or bartered for other commodities; these commodities they brought up to London, and sold for ready money, generally taking in exchange double the quantity, and paying for the same with notes of their own drawing, indorsing, and fabricating, for the purpose of cheating the poor deluded farmer, shopkeeper, and tradesman in the interior of the country. With respect to tradesmen in town, the goods they took of them on trust they disposed of to Jews, and other receivers of stolen goods, at about thirty per cent under value, for ready money, nay, forty per cent rather than not have the cash; and as their stay in one place could not safely exceed five months, on account of their creditors calling in their debts, and their country notes becoming due, they used to make all possible dispatch to dispose of the various articles, and evacuate the premises before detection. This done, they played the same game elsewhere, when, Proteus like, they changed shapes, and disguised themselves so as not to be known, and carried on business in another house, but in a different name; the master became the rider, the rider the master, the clerks descended to footmen and porters, the footmen to porters and clerks, and so on throughout, until they had drained many parts of the town and country, to the ruin of several worthy and honest families. However, the co-partnership is now dissolved, the establishment is broke up, and the different individuals of this nefarious gang of depredators, of whom the well bred and accomplished gentleman, the subject of our remarks, is one of the principals, are consigned to [30] different gaols for further examination and final commitment.”
“My good man,” interrupted Bob, “he is not, I would think, part of the community; he clearly has the manners of a refined and educated gentleman.” “And for that very reason, Sir, he is better equipped to carry on his business without getting caught; the person you refer to as a refined and educated gentleman is precisely everything you've said, except for one word: replace ‘gentleman’ with ‘swindler,’ and the description is accurate. This man, driven by desperate ambition, is one of many con artists who pretend to be people of wealth and integrity, making it easier to trick the unsuspecting and unaware out of their possessions. This guy, teaming up with several others of the same kind, rented a nice place in a respectable part of town and split themselves into roles of various professionals—masters, clerks, drivers, shop employees, porters, and servants. By displaying a facade of wealth, they quickly gained credit and acquired all kinds of goods, which they shipped out to the countryside to sell or trade for other items. They would then bring those items back to London and sell them for cash, often taking in double the quantity in exchange and paying for them with their own forged notes, which they endorsed and created specifically to deceive the poor, tricked farmer, shopkeeper, and tradesman in rural areas. For the tradesmen in town, the goods they took on credit were sold to Jews and other receivers of stolen goods at about thirty percent less than their value for immediate cash, even accepting forty percent less just to have cash on hand; and since they could only safely stay in one place for about five months due to creditors demanding payment and their rural notes coming due, they hurried to sell various items and clear out before being caught. Once that was done, they pulled the same trick elsewhere, changing their identities and disguising themselves so they wouldn’t be recognized, and continued business under a different name; the master would become the driver, the driver would become the master, clerks would turn into footmen and porters, footmen into clerks and porters, and so on, until they had drained numerous parts of the town and countryside, ruining several decent and honest families. However, the partnership is now dissolved, the operation is shut down, and the various members of this wicked gang of thieves, including the refined and educated gentleman, the focus of our discussion, are now assigned to different prisons for further investigation and eventual sentencing.”
Dashall expressed thanks for the interesting communication, and the Squire his astonishment that the credulity of man could warrant the hope of success to such a combination, however systematically arranged; and where so many were concerned (and the distribution of plunder perhaps by no means equalized,) that some dissatisfied individual did not renounce the dangerous connection in the hope of impunity and reward.
Dashall thanked the Squire for the interesting message, and the Squire expressed his surprise that humans could believe in the possibility of success for such a scheme, no matter how well-organized it was; and with so many people involved (and the sharing of the loot likely unequal), that some unhappy person didn't drop out of the risky deal hoping for safety and a reward.
“We know not that there is any subordinate division of spoil,” said the other; “but if such there be, it may in this union of interests be the maxim as with other co-partnership concerns, that he, by whatsoever means, who contributes the most to the general stock, shall participate the most in the general benefit.
“We don’t know if there’s any smaller share of the spoils,” said the other; “but if there is, it might be the same rule as with other partnerships: that whoever contributes the most to the overall effort will benefit the most from it.”
“Swindlers have other means of cheating and tricking the public, such as answering the advertisements of tradesmen who are in want of a sum to make good a payment, and offering, in consideration of a small premium, to get them the money required, on their note of hand, which they premise must be first given, and the money will be immediately advanced; the necessitated person agrees to the terms, and unthinkingly gives his note, which one of the Swindlers carries away, with a promise of a speedy return with the money wanted, but neither Swindler nor note is forthcoming until it becomes due, after having passed through many different hands, some of whom can ascertain giving a valuable consideration for the same, and fix the drawer to the payment, whose consolation for his credulity is, paying the money or going to prison.
“Swindlers have various ways to deceive and trick the public, such as responding to ads from tradespeople who need money to cover a payment, and offering, for a small fee, to provide the necessary funds based on their promissory note, which they insist must be given first, and the money will be released right away. The desperate individual agrees to the terms and naively hands over their note, which one of the swindlers takes away with a promise to quickly return with the needed cash. However, neither the swindler nor the note reappears until it’s due, having changed hands multiple times, some of which can validate giving valuable consideration for it and hold the drawer responsible for payment. The only comfort for the duped individual is that they either pay the money or end up in jail.”
“In case of a stagnation of trade, the Swindlers advertise themselves to borrow or lend upon good security. If they borrow, they have sham deeds, and make false conveyance of estates in nubibus, nobody knows where; if they lend, they artfully inveigle the borrower out of his security, which they take up money upon and convert to their own use, without the deluded person's knowledge; and by absconding, leave him to the mortification of descanting on their roguery, and his own want of foresight.”
“When trade slows down, the Swindlers advertise themselves as lenders or borrowers with good collateral. If they borrow, they create fake documents and falsely claim ownership of properties that are nowhere to be found; if they lend, they cleverly trick the borrower into giving up their collateral, which they then use to get money for themselves without the unsuspecting person's knowledge. By disappearing, they leave their victim to suffer the embarrassment of lamenting their deceit and their own lack of caution.”
[31] The triumvirate were once more interrupted; a newcomer had arrived, and the prisoners hailed his initiation with the first stanza of an old song:—
[31] The three were interrupted again; a newcomer had shown up, and the prisoners greeted his arrival with the first verse of an old song:—
The novitiate, neither surprised at his reception, nor adverse to the custom of the place, seemed quite at home, paid his garnish without hesitation, and entered at once into the vacuum of indifference with his new associates.
The newcomer, not surprised by his welcome and not against the local customs, appeared completely at ease, paid his fee without any hesitation, and immediately joined the sea of indifference with his new peers.
The attention of Dashall and Tallyho was attracted by the clank of fetters, as one of the prisoners squatted himself on the pavement of the yard. Leaning his back against the wall, he commenced darning an old stocking, chanting at same time an old song from the Beggar's Opera, as if predicting his own fate, yet with a manner indicating the most callous indifference—
The sound of chains caught the attention of Dashall and Tallyho as one of the prisoners sat down on the yard pavement. Leaning against the wall, he started mending an old stocking while singing an old tune from the Beggar's Opera, almost as if he were foretelling his own fate, yet his demeanor showed the most unconcerned indifference.
The irreclaimable depravity of this man could not excite any urgent feeling of sympathy in his behalf, and our two friends took no further notice of him.
The man's complete depravity couldn't stir any genuine sympathy for him, and our two friends ignored him from that point on.
[32] Their Intelligencer, who in the meanwhile had gone forth for information, now advancing,—“I thought,” said he, “that I had seen elsewhere this Johnny Newcome; he is a sharper, another precious addition to our respectable community."{1}
[32] Their Intelligencer, who had gone out for information, now stepping forward, said, “I thought I had seen this Johnny Newcome somewhere else; he’s a hustler, just what we need added to our respectable community.”{1}
“Respectable, indeed,” exclaimed Tallyho, as he detected an urchin thief in the act of picking his pocket of his handkerchief. This hopeful imp, though young in years, was experienced in iniquity, had served an active apprenticeship to the art of picking pockets with impunity,
“Respectable, indeed,” exclaimed Tallyho, as he spotted a young thief in the act of stealing his handkerchief from his pocket. This hopeful little rogue, despite his youth, was skilled in wrongdoing, having gone through a hands-on training in the art of pocket-picking without getting caught,
[33]and at last became so great an adept in the profession, that at the early age of thirteen years he was unanimously elected captain of an organized band of juvenile depredators, some much younger, none older than himself, who for a considerable length of time set at defiance the vigilance of the police. These young fry carried on a long protracted successful war of extermination against ladies' reticules. One urchin, watching her approach, would lay himself across the path she must pass, and it frequently happened that she tumbled over him; a grab was then made at the reticule, the watch, and the shawl, with which the young villains generally got clear off. Others, in detachments of two or three, would hover about the door or window of a tradesman's shop, cut out a pane of glass, and abstract some valuable trinket; or watch the retirement of the shopkeeper into his back-room, when one of the most enterprizing would enter on hands and knees, crawl round the counter with the stillness of death, draw out the till with its contents, and bear off the spoil with impunity. One night, however, luckily for the public, the whole gang was made prisoners of, and dispersed to various gaols, each delinquent being ordered a severe flogging and solitary confinement. Availing himself of this indulgence, the Captain had watched the opportunity of approximating towards Tallyho, and was detected, as we said before, in the exercise of his former propensities; so difficult it is to eradicate vice from the human mind, even though in this instance so early implanted. Lenity in this case would have been equally misplaced as unjust, although the Squire humanely pressed his intercession; the incorrigible pilferer was therefore handed over to the custody of one of the turnkeys, until the Governor might award a punishment suitable to the heinousness of the offence.
[33] Eventually, he became so skilled in his trade that by the time he was just thirteen, he was unanimously elected as the leader of a group of young thieves, most of whom were younger than him. For quite a while, they successfully evaded the police. These kids waged a long and effective campaign against ladies' handbags. One kid would lie down in the path of a woman, causing her to trip over him; this would give the others a chance to snatch her bag, watch, and shawl, and then they’d make a quick getaway. Others, working in pairs or small groups, would loiter around shop entrances, break a pane of glass, and steal valuable items, or patiently wait for the shopkeeper to go into the back room. At that point, one of the more daring ones would sneak in on his hands and knees, move quietly around the counter, pull out the cash register with its money, and escape without being noticed. However, one night, the entire gang was caught and sent to different jails, where each of them received a harsh whipping and solitary confinement. Taking advantage of this situation, the Captain tried to get close to Tallyho but was caught, as we mentioned before, engaging in his old habits; it’s tough to get rid of bad behavior, especially when it starts so young. Showing leniency in this case would have been just as wrong as it would have been unfair, even though the Squire kindly requested it. Therefore, the unrepentant thief was turned over to a guard until the Governor could decide on a punishment that fit the severity of the crime.
The two friends had been here above an hour—it was an hour they thought not idly spent. And now leaving a small donation for distribution amongst such as appeared deserving objects, they returned home gratified by the additional knowledge acquired of Real Life in London.[34]
The two friends had been here for over an hour—it was an hour they believed was well spent. And now, leaving a small donation for those they thought deserved it, they headed home feeling satisfied with the extra knowledge they gained about Real Life in London.[34]
CHAPTER III
THE recollection of past enjoyments in the vivacious company of Merry well, could not fail to be revived in the minds of Dashall and his Cousin; and as some persons, with due attention to his safety, had manifested their interest and regard for him by obtaining his admission to the Priory, where he was at this moment pursuing his studies, and could not quite so conveniently call on them, an early visit was determined on.
THE memory of past fun with Merry naturally came back to Dashall and his Cousin. Since some people, caring about his safety, had shown their support by getting him into the Priory, where he was currently focused on his studies and couldn't easily visit them, they decided to plan an early visit.
“We shall,” said Tom, “by a call on Merrywell after six weeks residence among the gay blades that inhabit the walls of the King's Bench, have all the benefit of his previous observation. He will be able to delineate the characters, consciences, and conduct of his neighbours. He will describe all the comforts and advantages of a college life, introduce us to the Bloods and the Blacks, and, in short, there are few persons I know, except Sparkle himself, more able to conduct us through the intricacies of the Building, to point out the beauty and excellence of the establishment, its uses and abuses, than Merrywell.”
“We will,” said Tom, “by visiting Merrywell after six weeks of living among the lively characters that hang out at the King's Bench, get all the insights he's gained. He'll be able to outline the personalities, morals, and behaviors of his neighbors. He'll talk about all the perks and benefits of college life, introduce us to the elite and the shady characters, and really, there are few people I know, except Sparkle himself, who are better at guiding us through the complexities of the place, highlighting the beauty and strengths of the establishment, as well as its flaws, than Merrywell.”
“Do they charge any thing on admittance?"enquired Bob.
“Do they charge anything for admission?” Bob asked.
“O yes,” was the reply, “they charge you, by a public [35] notice in the lobby, not to convey into the interior any spirituous liquors, on pain of being yourself discharged from thence, and confined elsewhere. Bless your soul, why the King's Bench is a little world within itself, a sort of epitome of London; it is in a healthy situation, and the space which it occupies is extensive. There are in all 224 rooms, and they measure each about 14 or 16 feet by 12 or 13; of these, eight are called State-rooms, are much larger than the rest, and more commodious; and a well-breech'd customer may have almost any accommodation. It is the prison most immediately belonging to the Court of King's Bench, and, exclusive of debtors there sued, all persons standing in contempt of that Court, and most of those committed under its sentence, are confined.”
“Oh yes,” came the reply, “they warn you, through a public [35] notice in the lobby, not to bring any alcoholic drinks inside, or you risk being expelled and sent somewhere else. Honestly, the King's Bench is like a small world on its own, a sort of mini version of London; it’s in a nice location, and it covers a large area. There are 224 rooms total, each about 14 or 16 feet by 12 or 13; out of these, eight are called State-rooms, which are much bigger than the others and nicer; and a well-heeled visitor can find almost any comfort they need. This is the prison most closely associated with the Court of King's Bench, and aside from debtors who are being sued there, everyone else held in contempt of that Court, as well as most of those sentenced by it, are kept here.”
“And pretty generally all inhabited?” interrogated Tallyho.
“And is pretty much everything inhabited?” asked Tallyho.
“Yes, and frequently it is difficult to obtain a place to sleep in even as a chum.”
“Yes, and often it’s hard to find a place to sleep, even with a friend.”
Bob found himself at fault, and required an explanation of the word chum.
Bob realized he was in the wrong and needed an explanation of the word "chum."
“The chum,” replied Dashall, “is a partner or bed-fellow, a person who has an equal right to all the comforts and conveniences of a room, previously wholly in the possession of one.”
“The chum,” replied Dashall, “is a partner or roommate, someone who has an equal right to all the comforts and conveniences of a space that was previously entirely owned by one person.”
“I understand,” said Bob; “then when every room has already one occupant, they accommodate him with a companion.”
“I get it,” said Bob; “so when every room already has one person, they pair him up with a roommate.”
“Exactly so, and he may prove friend or foe. This, however, may be avoided, if the student is in possession of the rubbish, by an escape into the Rules, which extend for three miles round the priory. These Rules are purchaseable after the following rate, viz. Ten guineas for the first hundred pounds, and about half that sum for every hundred pounds afterwards; day-rules, of which three may be obtained in every term, may be purchased for 4s. 2d. for the first day, and 3s. 10d. for the rest. Each also must give good security to the Marshal.[36]
"Exactly, and he could end up being either a friend or an enemy. However, this can be avoided if the student has the rubbish, by making an escape into the Rules, which cover three miles around the priory. These Rules can be bought at the following rates: ten guineas for the first hundred pounds, and about half that amount for every hundred pounds after that; day-rules, of which three can be obtained each term, are available for 4s. 2d. for the first day, and 3s. 10d. for the remaining days. Each must also provide good security to the Marshal.[36]
“Thus you have a full, true, and particular, as well as amusing account, of a Day Rule, or what in the cant language of the day is termed hiring a horse, which sometimes proves a bolter.”
“Here you have a complete, accurate, and detailed, as well as entertaining, account of a Day Rule, or what people today refer to as renting a horse, which can sometimes be a bolter.”
“And what is meant by a bolter?”
"And what do you mean by a bolter?"
“He is one,” replied Dashall, “who, having obtained the privilege of a Day Rule, brushes off, and leaves his bondsmen, or the Marshal, to pay his debt; or one who transgresses the bounds; but such a one when retaken, usually undergoes some discipline from the inhabitants of the College, who being all honourable men, set their faces against such ungentleman-like proceedings.”
“He is one,” replied Dashall, “who, having earned the privilege of a Day Rule, brushes it off and leaves his bondsmen, or the Marshal, to settle his debts; or someone who steps out of line. However, when such a person is caught again, they usually face some form of discipline from the inhabitants of the College, who, being all honorable men, are strongly opposed to such un-gentlemanly behavior.”
“Then they do sometimes make an escape?”
“Do they ever manage to escape?”
“Yes, notwithstanding their restrictive arrangements, such things have occurred, and you must recollect that of Lord Cochrane, confined for the memorable Stock Exchange hoax. The means by which it was effected, I believe, have never been discovered; but certain it is, that he was in the House of Commons, while a prisoner in the King's Bench, and on the first night of his subsequent liberation, gave the casting vote against a proposed grant to a certain Duke.”
“Yes, despite their strict rules, such things have happened, and you should remember Lord Cochrane, who was imprisoned for the famous Stock Exchange scam. I believe the method he used has never been figured out; however, it’s certain that he was in the House of Commons while being a prisoner in the King's Bench, and on the first night after his release, he cast the deciding vote against a proposed grant to a certain Duke.”
“I remember it very well, and also remember that the generality of thinking persons considered his Lordship harshly treated.”
"I remember it well, and I also recall that most thoughtful people believed his Lordship was treated unfairly."
[37] “However, he is now bravely fighting the battles of independence, increasing both his fame and fortune, while some of the Ministerial hirelings are subjected to a similar privation. We shall have a view of some of the residents in this renowned place of fashionable resort; the interior of which perhaps exhibits a spectacle far more diversified, and if possible more immoral and vicious, than the exterior. There are quondam gentlemen of fortune, reduced either so low as not to be able to pay for the Rules, or so unprincipled and degraded as to have no friend at command who could with safety become their surety. Shop-keepers, whose knavery having distanced even their extravagance, dread the appearance of ease exhibited in the Rules and the detection of fraud, by producing the reverse of their independence, and who even grudge the expenditure of money, to obtain limited liberty. Uncertificated bankrupts, and unconvicted felons; Jews—gamblers by trade—horse-dealers—money scriveners—bill discounters—annuity procurers—disinterested profligates—unemployed and branded attorneys—scandal mongers and libel writers—Gazetted publicans, and the perhaps less culpable sinners of broken officers—reduced mechanics—starving authors, and cast-off Cyprians.”
[37] “However, he is now bravely fighting for independence, boosting both his fame and wealth, while some of the Ministerial lackeys face similar hardships. We’ll get a glimpse of some of the locals in this well-known spot for the fashionable; the inside might show a scene that's even more varied, and possibly more immoral and corrupt, than the outside. There are former wealthy gentlemen who have fallen so low they can’t even pay for the Rules, or who are so unscrupulous and degraded that they can’t find a friend willing to act as their guarantor. Shopkeepers, whose deceit has outpaced even their extravagance, fear the ease revealed in the Rules and being caught for their fraud, showing the opposite of their independence, and they even resent spending money to gain limited freedom. Uncertified bankrupts and unconvicted criminals; Jews—gamblers by profession—horse traders—money lenders—bill discounters—annuity agents—self-serving debauchers—unemployed and disgraced lawyers—gossip spreaders and libelists—registered tavern owners, and perhaps the less guilty offenders of broken officers—fallen tradespeople—starving writers, and discarded prostitutes.”
“A very comprehensive and animated account truly,” said Tallyho.
“A very detailed and lively explanation, indeed,” said Tallyho.
“And you will find it accurate,” continued Dashall, “for the turn-out of this dwelling of crime and misery, resembles the Piazza de Sant Marco at Venice, in the Carnival time. There are all descriptions and classes in society, all casts and sects, all tribes and associations, all colours, complexions and appearances, not only of human and inhuman beings, but also all shades, features, and conformations of vice. The Spendthrift, or degraded man of fortune, lives by shifts, by schemes, by loans, by sponging on the novice, by subscription, or on commiseration's uncertain aid. He has however in perspective some visionary scheme of emolument and dishonour blended, to put into execution as soon as he obtains his discharge. The uncertificated Bankrupt has many opportunities left yet; he has other dupes, other tricks of trade, other resources in reserve. The Swindler mellows, refines, and sublimates his plan of future operations, and associates in it, perchance, a fallen fair one, or an incipient Greek, [38] put up in the Bench. Horse-dealers, money scriveners, bill doers, attorneys, &c. have either the means of setting up again, or some new system of roguery to be put in practice, in fresh time and place, which may conduct them to the harbour of Fortune, or waft them over the herring pond at the expence of the public purse. The disinterested Profligate here either consumes, corrupts, and festers, under the brandy fever and despair, or is put up by a gambler, who sells his art to his brother debtors, and thus lives in hope of yet turning the honest penny in imitation of those who have gone before him. The Cyprian, still exercising her allurements, lingers and decays until persecution loses the point of its arrow, and drops from the persecutor's hand, grasping more hardly after money, and opening from the clenched attitude of revenge. Then, to conclude the picture, there are youths living upon the open infamy of easy-hearted women, who disgrace and ruin themselves without the walls, in order to pamper the appetite and humour the whims of a favourite within, thus sacrificing one victim to another. Partners carrying on trade in the world, communing with their incarcerated partners in durance vile. Misery and extravagance, rude joy and frantic fear, with more passions than the celebrated Collins ever drew, and with more scenes, adventures, and vicissitudes, than ever Jonathan Wild or any other Jonathan exhibited.”
“And you will find it accurate,” continued Dashall, “because the atmosphere of this place filled with crime and misery is like the Piazza de Sant Marco in Venice during Carnival. It includes every type and class of society, every group and belief, every tribe and association, every color, complexion, and appearance, not just of people but also of all forms and facets of vice. The Spendthrift, or the fallen man of wealth, survives through tricks, schemes, loans, depending on newcomers, subscriptions, or the uncertain help of sympathy. He still has a visionary plan of profit and dishonor to execute as soon as he’s free. The uncertificated Bankrupt still has plenty of chances; he has more victims, more trade tricks, and other resources ready. The Swindler refines and elevates his future plans, possibly involving a fallen woman or a budding Greek, hoping to benefit at the expense of others. Horse traders, loan sharks, bill collectors, attorneys, etc., either have the means to start over again or some new deceitful scheme to carry out in a new time and place that might lead them to wealth or allow them to cross the ocean at the public's expense. The selfish Profligate either drinks himself into despair or is backed by a gambler who offers his skills to fellow debtors, still hoping to make an honest living just like those who came before him. The Cyprian, still working her charms, lingers and deteriorates until oppression loses its force and retreats, grasping more tightly to cash and moving away from revenge. Finally, there are young men living off the public shame of lighthearted women, who ruin themselves to indulge the cravings and whims of someone favored, thus sacrificing one victim for another. Partners continuing their business in the world while communicating with their incarcerated partners in confinement. There’s misery and extravagance, wild joy and frantic fear, with more emotions than the famous Collins ever depicted, and with more scenes, adventures, and twists than Jonathan Wild or any other Jonathan ever showed.”
“Excellent description,” exclaimed Bob.
“Great description,” exclaimed Bob.
“And you shall have ocular demonstration of its absolute existence; nay, this sketch might serve for many other places of confinement, the Fleet, &c. They are like the streets of the Metropolis, constantly varying in their company, according to entrances and exits of their visitors.”
“And you will have a visual proof of its undeniable existence; in fact, this sketch could be used for many other places of confinement, like the Fleet, etc. They are similar to the streets of the city, constantly changing their crowd based on who comes in and who leaves.”
“This, however,” continued the Hon. Tom Dashall, “is rather a mental picture of what we shall presently witness in reality, a sort of introductory sketch by way of passport through the doors of this Panorama of Beal Life, to which you will shortly be introduced; a sort of ideal, or dramatic sketch of its inhabitants en masse, before the drawing up of the curtain.”
“This, however,” continued the Hon. Tom Dashall, “is more of a mental image of what we’re about to see in person, an introductory preview that acts as a ticket through the doors of this Panorama of Real Life, which you’ll soon experience; a kind of ideal or dramatic portrayal of its residents en masse, before the curtain goes up.”
The eagerness of Bob to listen to his Cousin's sketches of London society, on the one hand, and the earnestness with which Dashall had been exercising his imaginary powers, on the other, had led our perambulators to the [39] foot of Blackfriar's Bridge, on their road to the King's Bench, without any particular circumstance exciting their attention; when Bob, suddenly twitching his Cousin by the arm, and directing his eye at the same time to a thin spare figure of a man, without hat or coat, who was rapidly passing towards Fleet market, enquired who it was, and what was his occupation or calling.
Bob was eager to hear his cousin's stories about London society, while Dashall was seriously using his imagination. This had led them to the [39] foot of Blackfriars Bridge on their way to the King's Bench without anything in particular catching their attention. Then, Bob suddenly pulled his cousin's arm and pointed to a thin, gaunt man without a hat or coat who was quickly heading towards Fleet Market, asking who he was and what he did for a living.
“Don't you hear his calling?” was the reply.
“Don't you hear him calling?” was the reply.
“Hot, hot, hot, pudding hot!” was in a moment vociferated in his ears, while the active and industrious mercantile pedestrian, with a swing of his head, which was in continual motion from right to left, gave Bob a wipe in the eye with his tail, which by the velocity of the wearer was kept in full play like the pendulum of a clock, or the tail of Matthews in his admirable delineation of Sir Fretful Plagiary.
“Hot, hot, hot, pudding hot!” suddenly rang out in his ears, while the busy and hard-working pedestrian, swinging his head constantly from side to side, accidentally swiped Bob in the eye with his coat tail, which, due to his speed, moved back and forth like a pendulum or like Matthews' impressive portrayal of Sir Fretful Plagiary.
“Zounds,” cries Bob, “it is true I may hear, but I can't pretend to say I can see; who the devil is he? there is no looking at him, he seems to leave time and space behind him; where is he?”
“Wow,” exclaims Bob, “it’s true I can hear, but I can’t claim to see; who the heck is he? You can’t even look at him; he seems to leave time and space behind him; where is he?”
Tom laughed heartily, while Bob rubbed his eyes in vain to obtain another view.
Tom laughed loudly, while Bob rubbed his eyes in frustration, trying to get another look.
“That,” said Dashall, “is a sort of Commissary, a dealer in stores for the stomach—red hot pudding, all hot, and commonly called the Flying Pieman."{1}[40]
“That's,” said Dashall, “a kind of vendor, a seller of food—steaming hot pudding, all fresh, and usually called the Flying Pieman."{1}[40]
[41]"Then,” said Bob, “he is not like some of the London dealers, who invite their customers to taste and try before they buy, for he scarcely seems to afford a chance of seeing what he sells.”
[41]"Then,” said Bob, “he's not like some of the London dealers who let their customers try things out before they buy, because he barely gives anyone a chance to see what he's selling.”
“You did not try him,” replied Tom, “nor would he have expected you to be a customer. He is a remarkable character, well known all over the Metropolis. Particularly noted for his activity in disposing of his goods; never standing still for a moment, but accosting with extraordinary ease and fluency every person who appears likely to be a purchaser; always ready with an answer to any question, but delivering it with so much volubility, that it is impossible to propose a second enquiry, suiting at the same time his answer to the apparent quality of the querist, though frequently leaving it unfinished in search of a customer, and moving on with so much rapidity, that you may almost find him at the same moment at Tower Hill, Billingsgate, and Spa Fields; at Smithfield, Temple Bar, and Piccadilly; indeed he may be said to be in all quarters of the town in a space of time incredibly short for a man who obtains a livelihood by seeking customers as he moves along.”
“You didn’t give him a chance,” replied Tom, “and he wouldn’t have expected you to be a buyer. He’s an impressive guy, well-known throughout the city. He’s especially recognized for his hustle in selling his products; he never stays still, approaching anyone who looks like they might buy with remarkable confidence and smooth talk. He’s always prepared to answer any question, but he talks so much that you can’t ask a follow-up; he tailors his response to the person asking, often leaving his answers hanging as he searches for another customer, darting from place to place so quickly that you might spot him simultaneously at Tower Hill, Billingsgate, and Spa Fields; at Smithfield, Temple Bar, and Piccadilly; in fact, you could say he’s everywhere in town in a remarkably short time for someone who makes a living by chasing after customers as he goes.”
“Zounds,” cried Bob, “this walking genius, this credible incredible, and visible invisible pedestrian dealer in portable eatables, has almost blinded me.
“Wow,” exclaimed Bob, “this walking genius, this unbelievable yet real, and clearly hidden food seller, has nearly made me blind.”
“Come,” said Tom, “I've no fear of your eye while you can muster a couplet; so let us proceed.”
“Come on,” said Tom, “I’m not worried about your stare as long as you can come up with a couplet; so let’s move forward.”
Crossing Black friars Bridge, and approaching the road, Bob, who had assuaged the pain of which he had previously [42] been complaining, could not help admiring the extensive range of nouses on each side of the way, terminated by a handsome building in the distance.
Crossing Blackfriars Bridge and nearing the road, Bob, who had eased the pain he had been complaining about earlier, couldn't help but admire the wide range of houses on either side of the road, ending with a beautiful building in the distance.
“That Building,” said Dashall, “will be the extent of our journey, for very near to it is the habitation of Merrywell, where I entertain no doubt you will find enough for observation of a useful as well as a humorous nature: for an epitome of men and manners is there to be obtained.”
“That's the building,” said Dashall, “and that’s where our journey ends, because close by is Merrywell’s place, where I'm sure you'll find plenty to observe that's both helpful and funny: it offers a snapshot of people and their behavior.”
“Here are abundance of subjects worthy of inspection in this quarter,” replied Tom, “and we therefore ought not to exhaust too much time on one, so let us proceed: do you see that high wall to the right? That is the Magdalen Hospital,{1} established for the relief and
“Here are plenty of topics worth exploring in this area,” Tom replied, “and we shouldn't spend too much time on just one, so let’s move on: do you see that tall wall to the right? That is the Magdalen Hospital,{1} established for the relief and
reformation of wretched outcasts from society. The principle on which it is founded, entitles it to the countenance and support of the public, and particularly of the female sex, the object being to reclaim and restore to virtue such wanderers in the labyrinths of vice as are not totally depraved."[43]
reformation of miserable outcasts from society. The principle behind it deserves the support and backing of the public, especially women, as its goal is to reclaim and restore to virtue those lost in the complicated paths of vice who are not completely corrupt."[43]
“Admirable intentions indeed,” cried Tallyho, “if they are but as well carried into effect.”
“Great intentions for sure,” shouted Tallyho, “if they are executed just as well.”
“The records of the establishment have proved its advantages to society, or rather, I should say, to its conductors, for they are of a nature which cannot be publicly exposed, without much private injury to the individuals who partake of them. It is, however, not a little remarkable, that till lately, on the very opposite side of the road, the neighbourhood has exhibited scenes of vice, immorality, and indecency, which it is the great object of this Charity if possible to prevent, by an endeavour to reclaim the miserable and deluded wretches from their evil ways. I remember the late John Home Tooke related in the House of Commons a curious anecdote, in allusion to himself and his situation at the time, in which this institution was mentioned, and which excited considerable interest.
“The records of the establishment have shown its benefits to society, or rather, I should say, to its leaders, because they are of a kind that can't be made public without causing a lot of harm to the individuals involved. It’s also quite striking that until recently, right across the street, the area has displayed scenes of vice, immorality, and indecency, which this Charity aims to prevent by trying to help those lost and misguided individuals turn away from their bad habits. I recall the late John Home Tooke sharing an interesting story in the House of Commons about himself and his situation at the time, where he mentioned this institution, which generated a lot of interest.
“It is well known that the late John Home Tooke, of political memory as the reputed tutor of a certain patriotic Baronet of the present day, as well as the author of the Diversions of Purley, and a correspondent of the yet undiscovered Junius, was a reverend divine of the Church of England; and when he became a Member of Parliament, it was objected against him that no person in Holy Orders could hold a seat in the honourable House of Commons. In his reply, he very ingeniously observed, that this objection reminded him of an applicant for admission to the Magdalen, who, upon being exhorted by the Chaplain to forsake her evil ways, replied that she was not aware of his meaning, and upon explanation she was excluded from the Charity, because she was not bad enough to require reforming. 'This,' said Mr. Home Tooke, 'is exactly my case; because I am in Holy Orders I must leave the House, and after committing some act of impropriety to lose my gown, I may yet be eligible for a Member of this Assembly.'”
“It’s well known that the late John Home Tooke, who is remembered politically as the reputed tutor of a certain patriotic Baronet of today, as well as the author of the Diversions of Purley and a correspondent of the still-undiscovered Junius, was a clergyman in the Church of England. When he became a Member of Parliament, it was raised as an objection that no one in Holy Orders could hold a seat in the honorable House of Commons. In his response, he cleverly noted that this objection reminded him of someone applying for admission to the Magdalen, who, when the Chaplain urged her to abandon her bad ways, said she didn’t understand what he meant. Upon explanation, she was excluded from the Charity because she wasn’t bad enough to need reform. 'This,' said Mr. Home Tooke, 'is exactly my situation; because I am in Holy Orders, I must leave the House, and after committing some act of impropriety to lose my gown, I might still be eligible to be a Member of this Assembly.'”
“Pointed enough,” said Bob Tallyho.
"Sharp enough," said Bob Tallyho.
“Yes,” replied Tom; “and having mentioned the name of the man, you may perhaps recollect the order of the day, [44] as well as the curious definition (before the Commissioners of the Income Tax) as to how a man lives who has no income at all. Being interrogated by the Commissioners, as to how he obtained his living, Mr. Home Tooke replied as follows:—'Why, it appears to me, Gentlemen, that there are three modes by which a person may obtain a living; the first is by begging—now this I am too proud to submit to;—the second, by stealing—this I don't choose to resort to;—and the third is by the exercise of the wits—and this, Gentlemen, I presume, you know nothing about.'
“Yes,” replied Tom; “and now that you’ve mentioned that man’s name, you might remember the agenda for the day, [44] as well as the interesting explanation (before the Income Tax Commissioners) about how someone survives without any income at all. When questioned by the Commissioners about how he made a living, Mr. Home Tooke answered: ‘Well, it seems to me, Gentlemen, that there are three ways for a person to earn a living; the first is by begging—something I’m too proud to do; the second is by stealing—something I prefer not to do; and the third is by using one’s wit—and this, Gentlemen, I assume you know nothing about.’”
“Here,” said Dashall, “is the Surrey Theatre, formerly denominated the Royal Circus. I shall, however, dispatch my description of it in a very few words, as we will ere long pay a visit to its interior. It is a neat building, and shews a good front to the road; is fitted up with a considerable degree of elegance, and is a very convenient theatre. It was originally conducted by Hughes and Jones, and its exhibitions were both scenic and equestrian, something in the style of what Astley's Amphitheatre is now; but you must see the one in order to form an idea of the other. Horses are now banished at this place, where, under an annual license from the magistrates of the county, burlettas, melodramas, dancing, and pantomimes are got up, and performed in a style which would not disgrace even the patent theatres. It is at present under the management of Mr. Dibdin, a son of the celebrated writer of so many of our national, patriotic, and characteristic ballads.—Just through the turnpike, the building which gives a sort of finish to the road, is the School for the Indigent Blind; at the back of which is the Philanthropic Institution, calculated to unite the purposes of charity with those of industry and police, to rescue from destruction the offspring of the vicious and criminal; and Bethlem Hospital, for the care and cure of insane persons, well deserving of minute inspection; and to the right, at the corner of a road which leads from Westminster Bridge towards Vauxhall, is an Asylum for Female Orphans, which, as the Magdalen was intended to reclaim prostitutes, was originally intended to prevent prostitution. To the left again is the King's Bench; and as that is our present place of destination, we will forego any further description, till another opportunity.
“Here,” said Dashall, “is the Surrey Theatre, which used to be called the Royal Circus. I’ll keep my description short since we'll soon visit the inside. It's a nice building with a good view from the road; it’s decorated quite elegantly and is a very practical theater. It was originally run by Hughes and Jones, featuring both stage performances and equestrian acts, somewhat like what Astley’s Amphitheatre has today; but you need to see one to get a sense of the other. Horses are now gone from this venue, where, under an annual license from the local magistrates, they put on burlettas, melodramas, dancing, and pantomimes, all performed to a standard that wouldn’t embarrass even the main theaters. Right now, it’s managed by Mr. Dibdin, who is the son of the famous writer of many of our national, patriotic, and characteristic ballads.—Just past the tollgate, the building that ends the road is the School for the Indigent Blind; behind it is the Philanthropic Institution, designed to combine charity with industry and law enforcement, aiming to save the children of the vicious and criminal; and then there’s Bethlem Hospital, which takes care of and treats mentally ill individuals, definitely worth a closer look; to the right, at the corner of a road that leads from Westminster Bridge to Vauxhall, is an Asylum for Female Orphans, which, similar to the Magdalen, was originally meant to prevent prostitution. To the left again is the King’s Bench; and since that’s where we’re headed now, we’ll skip further description until we have another chance.”
“I cannot, however, refrain a few remarks on the [45]situation we are now in, for from this place may be seen the children of penance (the Magdalen); the children of darkness (the School for the Indigent Blind); the insane (New Bethlem); the infatuated and fanatic (the congregations of the Zoar Chapel, and the faithful of mewses, garrets, and wooden tabernacles); the children of Thespis and Terpsichore (the Surrey Theatre), mingled together as it were with the debtor and the captive (the King's Bench): at least, placing ourselves at this obelisk in the centre of the road, the mind's eye can comprehend them within a short distance of each other.”
“I can't help but make a few comments on the [45]situation we're in right now, because from here you can see the children of penance (the Magdalen); the children of darkness (the School for the Indigent Blind); the insane (New Bethlem); the confused and the fanatics (the congregations of the Zoar Chapel, and the faithful living in mews, attics, and makeshift shelters); the children of Thespis and Terpsichore (the Surrey Theatre), all mixed together with the debtor and the captive (the King's Bench): at least, if we stand at this obelisk in the center of the road, our mind can picture them being close to one another.”
“And a curious admixture of the useful and the sweet it certainly is,” exclaimed Tallyho, anxious to give his Cousin a little respite, while they turned to the left on their way to the Bench.
“And it really is a strange mix of the useful and the sweet,” exclaimed Tallyho, eager to give his cousin a quick break as they turned left on their way to the Bench.
“You will find,” continued Tom, “all the before-mentioned infirmities, blindness, infatuation, madness, and profligacy, within the walls that we shall shortly enter, without the repentant spirit of the Sisters within the walls we have just passed. You will also find there is a plenty of self-interest and hypocrisy combined with them; nay, an hospital of incurables is only wanting to complete the scene. It is not till lately that a little reform has been effected in this quarter, for Dover Street and its vicinity, as I before observed, so near to these benevolent charities and to the walls of a prison, have been the sink of female profligacy, of the lowest, most dangerous, and most disgusting kind; and suffered too long to pollute the streams of charity and impede the road to reform. However, at length the nuisance is removed, at least the public appearance of it, though the neighbourhood is not altogether bereft of its private negociations and stolen accommodations. But come, now for an interior view of the. Abbott's Park, its interesting scenery, and its multi-farious characters. There you shall see what you shall see, and Merrywell will tell you more in ten minutes than you might wish to know in your whole life, I mean practically, though it is well to know in theory what ought never to be reduced to experiment."[46]
“You will find,” continued Tom, “all the previously mentioned problems—blindness, obsession, madness, and reckless behavior—inside the walls we are about to enter, lacking the remorseful spirit of the Sisters from the walls we just passed. You’ll also see that there’s a lot of self-interest and hypocrisy mixed in; in fact, an asylum for the hopeless would only complete the picture. It's only recently that some reform has started to happen in this area, because Dover Street and its surroundings, as I mentioned before, so close to these charitable organizations and the prison walls, have been a breeding ground for female immorality of the lowest, most dangerous, and most repulsive kind; it has endured too long, contaminating the waters of charity and blocking the path to reform. However, finally, the eyesore has been cleared, at least its public manifestation, although the neighborhood isn't completely free from its secret dealings and illicit arrangements. But now, let’s take a closer look at Abbott's Park, its captivating scenery, and its diverse characters. There, you’ll see what you will see, and Merrywell will tell you more in ten minutes than you might want to know in your entire life—practically speaking, though it’s good to understand in theory what should never be put to the test.”[46]
CHAPTER IV
THEY had now passed the outer gates of the prison, and entered a court yard surrounded by a wall, which enclosed some good looking houses.
THEY had now passed the outer gates of the prison and entered a courtyard surrounded by a wall, which enclosed some nice-looking houses.
“These houses,” said Dashall, “are occupied by the principal officers of the place, and devoted to purposes of business, or let out by them for the accommodation of those who' have purchased the privilege of the Rules. This door directly opposite the gate, is the only entrance to the Park.”
“These houses,” said Dashall, “are occupied by the main officials of the area and are used for business or rented out to those who have paid for the privilege of the Rules. This door directly across from the gate is the only entrance to the Park.”
They next passed up the steps, and entered a gloomy apartment, where after a few minutes a Turnkey, surveying their persons rather minutely, opened the ponderous door, which admitted them to an inner court of confined dimensions. Bob looked around him with surprise after the description of his Cousin, and began to think he had been vamping up imaginary pictures of what was not to be realized; however, hearing a variety of voices, and perceiving another gate, he quelled his conjectures and [47] followed Dashall, who, upon knocking at the door, was surveyed from a sort of loop-hole by the keeper within, who quickly gave them entrance; and the spacious appearance of the parade, racquet ground, and habitations, and a moving panorama of personages of both sexes, attracted his immediate attention.
They then went up the steps and entered a dark room. After a few minutes, a guard, checking them out closely, opened the heavy door that led them to a small inner courtyard. Bob looked around in surprise after hearing his cousin's description and started to think he had been imagining things that wouldn't match reality. However, after hearing several voices and seeing another gate, he pushed aside his doubts and [47] followed Dashall, who, after knocking at the door, was seen through a small opening by the keeper inside, who quickly let them in. The spacious layout of the courtyard, racquet court, and buildings, along with a lively crowd of people of all kinds, immediately caught his attention.
Gazing with enquiring eyes upon this world-within-walls,{1} they scarcely heeded the variety of salutations with which they were greeted on entering, such as nods, winks, and touches on the shoulder from one who appeared as unconscious of such familiarity as if he had for some time been wholly absorbed in the solution of a mathematical problem, or the horse-laugh of the ignorant and vulgar, by whom they found themselves surrounded. Struggling through the throng, Dashall impelled his Cousin forward, repeating as he proceeded,
Gazing curiously at this world behind the walls,{1} they barely noticed the different greetings they received upon entering, like nods, winks, and light touches on the shoulder from someone who seemed completely unaware of such familiarity, as if he had been deeply focused on solving a math problem, or the loud laughter of the clueless and rude people around them. Pushing through the crowd, Dashall urged his cousin forward, repeating as he went,
“However,” continued he, “I perceive we are quizzed, we will just take a turn round, and probably we may meet Merrywell, if not, we will soon find him out by enquiry. You perceive, they have the accommodation of a butcher's shop, and a baker's, besides green stalls, fish stalls, and chandlers' shops, which give the place the appearance of a public market, while the racquet players and others amusing themselves in various ways, resemble that of a fair.”
“However,” he continued, “I see we’re being mocked. Let’s take a stroll around, and we might run into Merrywell. If not, we can easily find him by asking around. You see, they have a butcher shop and a bakery, along with fruit stands, fish stalls, and general stores, which make the place look like a public market. Meanwhile, the racquet players and others enjoying themselves in different ways give it the vibe of a fair.”
“Indeed,” said Tallyho, “your description is just, for I have as yet seen but few sorrowful faces, every one seems to have some object in view, either of business or pleasure, almost as attractive as those without the walls.”
“Definitely,” said Tallyho, “your description is spot on, because I’ve seen very few sad faces so far; everyone seems to have something in mind, whether it’s work or fun, almost as appealing as what’s outside the walls.”
[48] “And in many instances,” continued Dashall, “of as much, nay, more interest. However, you perceive the
[48] “And in many cases,” continued Dashall, “of equal, if not greater, interest. However, you see the
accommodation of the inmates has been studied by the founders of the College. Water is well supplied from four pumps, and were it not that the walls intercept the views, a man here might almost consider himself in his own habitation, with only one drawback.”
accommodation of the inmates has been studied by the founders of the College. Water is well supplied from four pumps, and if it weren't for the walls blocking the views, a person here might almost feel like they're in their own home, with just one downside.
“And what is that?” enquired Tallyho.
“And what is that?” asked Tallyho.
“Merely, that like the starling, he can't get out.”
“Simply put, just like the starling, he can't escape.”
“How now,” said Merry well, who had espied the entrance of his friends from the window of his apartment, and immediately descended to greet them—touching the Honourable Tom Dashall on the shoulder, while he seized Bob by the opposite arm.
“How’s it going?” said Merry well, who had spotted his friends entering from the window of his apartment and quickly came down to greet them—tapping the Honourable Tom Dashall on the shoulder while grabbing Bob by the opposite arm.
“What are you a'ter, exploring the secrets of the prison-house?”
“What are you after, exploring the secrets of the prison?”
Mutual congratulations having passed, Merrywell welcomed them to his habitation, significantly informing them at the same time, that notwithstanding his powers of entertainment were just then not what he could wish, all was right, the trick was done, that he was arranging for a house in the Rules, pro tempore, and that it would not be long before he should have the honour of meeting them in a way that would be more agreeable to all parties. “However,” continued he, “if you can bear a confined apartment, I promise you shall have nothing else to complain of. Can you put up with pot-luck in a prison?”
Mutual congratulations out of the way, Merrywell welcomed them to his place, letting them know that even though his entertainment skills weren't at their best at the moment, everything was fine, the plan was in motion, and he was arranging for a temporary house in the Rules. He assured them it wouldn't be long before they would meet in a way that would be more enjoyable for everyone. “However,” he continued, “if you can handle a small space, I promise you won’t have anything else to complain about. Can you manage a meal in a prison?”
“Certainly,” was the reply, “our object was to spend a convivial hour with you, to wile away a little of the time, to see and learn, to take a peep at things as they are, and to form our judgments upon their existence.”
“Of course,” was the reply, “our goal was to spend some enjoyable time with you, to pass the time, to see and learn, to get a glimpse of things as they really are, and to form our opinions about their existence.”
“Then,” replied Merrywell, “you have arrived en bon heure, for in this place a volume of information may be obtained, which, if judiciously applied, must prove beneficial; and while dinner is preparing, I can afford you abundance of amusement; so come along, we must move round this way to the gate again, in order to take any thing like an accurate survey, and I can furnish some anecdotes of the paraders, the players, the officers of the Court, and the visitors, which cannot fail to prove interesting. This, however, must be done with caution, for suspicion is ever active, and jealousy constantly awake within these walls; and as I mean to give you sketches of individual characters, rather than a general view of [49] the society with which I am now in association, a little discretion may be well made use of.”
“Then,” replied Merrywell, “you've come at a great time, because in this place you can get a wealth of information that, if used wisely, will definitely be helpful. While dinner is being prepared, I can offer you plenty of entertainment, so let’s head this way to the gate again for a better look around. I can share some stories about the people parading, the performers, the court officials, and the visitors that will surely be interesting. However, we need to be careful, as suspicion is always lurking, and jealousy is constantly present within these walls. Since I plan to give you insights into individual characters rather than a broad overview of [49] the community I'm currently part of, a bit of discretion will be important.”
By this time they had traversed round the open walk of the prison, and on arriving at the place of entrance—
By this time, they had walked around the open pathway of the prison, and when they reached the entrance—
“Do you observe that small building on the right? it is called the State House, and contains the largest and most convenient rooms; it is usually devoted to the accommodation of such as are best enabled to pay; and there are persons residing here, who live as well, and in as dashing a style as those without the walls, or at least pay as much for their living. On the left hand you may also perceive the chapel, for the spiritual wants of those confined are not to be forgotten.”
“Do you see that small building on the right? It's called the State House, and it has the largest and most convenient rooms; it's usually set aside for those who can afford to pay the most. There are people living here who enjoy a lifestyle as nice as those outside the walls, or at least spend just as much on their living. On the left, you can also spot the chapel, because the spiritual needs of those who are confined shouldn’t be overlooked.”
By this time they had reached the door of the Chapel, which, by the various placards pasted against it, fully confirmed the description of Merrywell.
By this point, they had arrived at the Chapel door, which, from the various signs stuck to it, completely confirmed Merrywell's description.
Bob, casting his eyes around him, discovered much for enquiry. “Who are those in the corner in close conversation together?”
Bob looked around and saw a lot to ask about. “Who are those people in the corner having a deep conversation?”
“The farthest from us,” replied Merrywell, “is a Jew attorney, well acquainted with all the shuffling arts of the [50] place; one who can explain the whole game, from raising the wind, down to the White-washing Act, for the knowledge and experience of gentlemen in these days are astonishing. You would scarcely believe it, but such is the fact, there are rakes of quality and of fashion, who are their own farriers, horse dealers, who know every trick upon the cards and dice—cutting, shuffling, slipping, cogging, securing; who have cards and dice always at hand, and ready made to their hand; who, although they are awake to a good thing, know the odds to a nicety, and can give or take according as it may best suit their purpose, yet are not properly initiated in all requisite mysteries, till a sort of finish is given to their education, by a temporary retirement here; where they learn a sufficiency of the law to give information on all the quirks and quibbles of the arrest laws, of bailing, demurring, justifying bail, putting in bail above, of writs of error, county and Marshalsea writs, of letters of licence, the laws against usury, the bankrupt laws, and finally of acts of grace; perhaps the last and only one in their lives bearing that name: but we must walk on, or we may be overheard.”
“The farthest from us,” replied Merrywell, “is a Jewish lawyer, well familiar with all the shady tricks of the [50] place; someone who can explain the entire game, from raising cash to the White-washing Act, because the knowledge and experience of these gentlemen today are truly remarkable. You’d hardly believe it, but it’s true—there are men of quality and style who act as their own farriers and horse traders, who know every trick with cards and dice—shuffling, cutting, slipping, cogging, securing; they always have cards and dice ready to go; and while they’re quick to spot a good deal, they know the odds perfectly and can adjust their bets as it suits them. However, they aren’t fully educated in all the necessary secrets until they get a sort of finishing touch during a short stay here; where they learn enough about the law to inform them on all the tricks and loopholes of arrest laws, bail, demurrers, justifying bail, filing bail above, writs of error, county and Marshalsea writs, letters of license, laws against usury, bankruptcy laws, and finally acts of grace; which might be the last and only one they ever encounter with that name: but we should keep moving, or we might be overheard.”
“Then,” said Dashall, “you are by this time pretty well acquainted with the characters of your companions, and expect to leave the College with more information than you previously possessed.”
“Then,” said Dashall, “you’re probably pretty familiar with the personalities of your companions by now, and you expect to leave the College with more knowledge than you had before.”
“No doubt of it,” was the reply; “but as my case was not desperate, I have not sought desperate remedies. I am at this moment supposed by certain friends of mine to be in the gay city of Paris, enjoying all the luxuries of the Thuilleries, the Louvre, the Palais Royal, and the Elysian Fields; and I doubt not I shall be able to convince an old rich uncle of mine of the fact. And as my expectations chiefly rest on him, and he cannot last long, I shall upon liberation make my approaches to him with a little of the French polish I am preparing while here. This, however, is selfish conversation.”
“No doubt about it,” was the reply; “but since my situation isn't desperate, I haven't looked for desperate solutions. Right now, some of my friends think I'm in the lively city of Paris, enjoying all the luxuries of the Tuileries, the Louvre, the Palais Royal, and the Elysian Fields; and I'm sure I’ll manage to convince my rich old uncle of that. Since my hopes mainly depend on him, and he can't last much longer, once I'm free, I'll approach him with a bit of the French charm I'm picking up while I'm here. But this talk is rather selfish.”
“Yet perfectly in point,” continued Dashall.
“Yet right on target,” continued Dashall.
“And equally interesting too,” said Bob.
“And that's just as interesting,” said Bob.
“Do you see,” said Merrywell, “that young man buttoned up to the chin, in what has been a blue great coat? He is one of the lecturers.”
“Do you see,” said Merrywell, “that young man buttoned up to the chin, in what looks like an old blue overcoat? He’s one of the lecturers.”
“Lecturers?” enquired Tallyho; “what, have you lectures in the College?”
“Lecturers?” asked Tallyho. “Wait, do you have lectures at the College?”
[51] “Undoubtedly we have, on subjects of the utmost importance too. That young man, who began the world with slender property, but who contrived by a strict adherence to ways and means to cut a dashing figure, and live as if he had a large fortune, is in possession of volumes of information, which he is willing to retail to such as require it. What are termed lecturers here, are needy debtors, who put up young men less knowing than themselves, for money or for a dinner; and his experience is great, for when he had worn out all quarters of the town in the way of trick, when the fashionable watering places were teeming with clamorous creditors, when he was expelled from all the clubs in consequence of not paying his subscriptions, nay, when he owed almost all the waiters money, he came to this place nearly pennyless, and now, by singing a good song, telling a tough story, and occasionally giving lectures to his brothers in confinement, he manages to get a good dinner daily, and seldom goes to bed sober.”
[51] “We definitely have, about some really important topics too. That young guy, who started out with very little money but managed to live like he was wealthy through careful planning, has a wealth of knowledge that he’s eager to share with anyone who needs it. The so-called lecturers here are broke debtors who use less knowledgeable young men as a way to make some cash or get a meal; and he has a lot of experience. After exhausting all the tricks he could think of in various parts of town, dealing with aggressive creditors at popular social spots, getting kicked out of every club for not paying his dues, and owing money to almost all the waitstaff, he arrived here nearly broke. Now, by singing a decent song, telling an impressive story, and occasionally giving lectures to his fellow inmates, he manages to have a good dinner every day and rarely goes to bed sober.”
“Then his ways and means are not yet exhausted; he must be a good financier, and might be made very useful to the Minister,” replied Tom; “and it is really a pity such talents are not duly appreciated.”
“Then his methods and resources aren’t used up yet; he must be a good financier, and could be really helpful to the Minister,” replied Tom; “and it’s truly a shame such talents aren’t properly recognized.”
“Who is that little stout man who passed you just now with a nod of the head?” enquired Tallyho.
“Who is that short, stocky guy who just walked by you and nodded his head?” asked Tallyho.
“That,” answered Merrywell, “is Capt. W——, a sort of walking automaton, a kind of medley of incomprehensibles, something like pedants' periods, very inanimate, and as you perceive, very round. He was formerly a button maker, but having a desire to sink the shank, he enlisted under the banners of Cupid, paid his addresses to one of the Queen's maids, carried the fortress by a coup de main, and gained a safe lodgement in the covert way, by taking the oath of allegiance at the altar of Hymen. Spurning buttons, he aspired to the epaulette, and was appointed paymaster to the 7th Hussars. Then he set up a coach to run to and from Maidenhead. This being one iron too many in the fire, soon became too hot for him. He defaulted for a considerable sum, and has been in quod for four years. Here comes a beau of the first order, a Colonel, and a most determined Dandy, even in confinement. Colonel R—— adheres as much to the nicety of dress in this place, as he would for a military appearance on parade. He [52] is Colonel of the New Grenada Horse. I have not yet learned much of his former pursuits or his origin. There is, however, an anecdote of him circulated, which prove the admirable fitness of such a person for such a command. It is said that when he obtained his appointment, he very significantly asked the General, what stocks he should have for his guns, meaning the gun carriages.”
"That," replied Merrywell, "is Capt. W——, kind of a walking robot, a mix of things that don't quite make sense, a bit like pedants' sentences—very stiff, and as you can see, very round. He used to make buttons, but wanting to move on, he signed up under Cupid’s banner, pursued one of the Queen's maids, captured her heart in a surprise attack, and secured his place by taking the oath of loyalty at the altar of marriage. Ignoring buttons, he aimed for the rank of officer and got assigned as the paymaster to the 7th Hussars. Then he started a coach service to and from Maidenhead. However, that turned out to be too much for him to handle and he eventually went into debt for a significant amount and has been in jail for four years. Here comes a top-notch dandy, a Colonel, and quite the fashionista, even in prison. Colonel R—— keeps up his sharp dressing here just as he would for a military parade. He is the Colonel of the New Grenada Horse. I haven’t found out much about his past or where he comes from. However, there’s a story going around that shows how well-suited he is for this position. They say when he got his appointment, he cleverly asked the General what type of stocks he should have for his guns, meaning the gun carriages."
“That's a little too severe,” cried Dashall, laughing at the same time, “it was but a lapsus linguæ, such as might happen to any man.”
“That's a bit too harsh,” laughed Dashall at the same time, “it was just a slip of the tongue, something that could happen to anyone.”
“I claim no merit in the relation,” was the reply; “however, it has raised many a laugh at his expence, and as I had it so you now have it. But we have other game in view, and must not be exhausting our time in criticising immaterial points of propriety.
“I take no credit for the connection,” was the response; “but it has made many people laugh at his expense, and since I had it, now you have it. But we have other targets in sight, and we shouldn't waste our time critiquing trivial matters of propriety.”
“You entertain us with a diversity of mental dishes,” said Tom; “Manacles, Mammon, and Morality, dance through the mazes of your imagination in rapid and admirable succession—I wonder you don't commence Lecturer.”
“You entertain us with a variety of ideas,” said Tom; “Chains, money, and morality dance through the twists of your imagination in a fast and impressive way—I’m surprised you don’t start lecturing.”
“I do not conceive myself qualified, and as I have no real occasion to be a pretender, I leave it to those who have.—O! there goes a curiosity—
“I don’t see myself as qualified, and since I don’t really have a reason to pretend, I’ll leave it to those who do. —Oh! look at that curiosity—
“If you look sharp you'll see the short knee'd breeches, Brown hat and powdered head of stalking P—tch—s.”
“If you pay attention, you’ll notice the short knee-length pants, brown hat, and powdered head of the stalking P—tch—s.”
“He is known here by the title of Don; he has been a long resident within these walls, has seen much of Life, and is still a gay fellow. He was formerly a Member of Parliament, but not being able to overrule the Speaker, he out-run the Constable, and was seized by [53] the Bailiffs. He is, however, a jolly companion, and lives well; but to show his contempt for riches, he has actually seated his inexpressibles with the parchment title deeds of his own estate, with impressions similar to the old song—
“He’s known around here as Don; he’s lived within these walls for a long time, has experienced a lot of life, and still enjoys himself. He used to be a Member of Parliament, but since he couldn’t sway the Speaker, he ended up fleeing from the Constable and got caught by [53] the Bailiffs. Still, he’s a fun companion and lives comfortably; to flaunt his disregard for wealth, he has actually lined his pants with the official title deeds of his own estate, with impressions like in the old song—
“Who is that with the rackets under his arm?” enquired Bob.
“Who’s that with the rackets under his arm?” asked Bob.
“That is Baker, a sort of privileged man, who is allowed the advantages of supplying the inmates with rackets, balls, &c. He lends rackets, sells balls, keeps scores, and occasionally carries on the haberdashery trade.”
“That is Baker, a somewhat privileged guy who has the perks of supplying the inmates with rackets, balls, etc. He lends out rackets, sells balls, keeps score, and sometimes runs the hat and clothing business.”
“Then he is a shop-keeper, I suppose.”
“Then he’s a shopkeeper, I guess.”
“He is a measurer of tape” replied Merry well, “by way of refreshment, or in other words, under safe circumstances, can spin out Old Tom or Blue-ruin.”
“He measures tape,” Merry replied confidently, “for a bit of fun, or in other words, when it’s safe, he can stretch out Old Tom or Blue-ruin.”
“I understand,” said Bob, “a little of the Cratur.”
“I get it,” said Bob, “a bit of the drink.”
“Here,” continued Merry well, “is the coach-maker to the late Christophe, King of Hayti, Mr. H—— of Long Acre notoriety. This gentleman bought a considerable estate, which, with true parental regard, he settled on his daughter, and paying for his purchase by his residence here, whether his intentions will be fulfilled or not, so as to obtain liberation by the Whitewashing Act, no one at present can tell—and Colville is taking his walks—he is one of the Janitors, and Crier of the place. He has a Stentorian voice, which is a part of his business to exercise in calling the prisoners. I know but little of him, and even that is not worth knowing. He, however, has the character of being an informer, and I am not aware that he is in possession of any good qualities. I shall, therefore, rather give a slight sketch of the office he holds, than of the person.[54]
“Here,” continued Merry well, “is the coachmaker for the late Christophe, King of Haiti, Mr. H——, known for his work in Long Acre. This gentleman purchased a significant estate, which, with true parental care, he settled on his daughter. It's unclear whether his intentions will be fulfilled or if he will gain release through the Whitewashing Act, and no one can say for sure right now—and Colville is out for a walk—he's one of the janitors and the crier of the place. He has a booming voice, which is part of his job to use when calling the prisoners. I know little about him, and even that isn’t worth much. However, he is known to be an informer, and I’m not aware of any good traits he possesses. Therefore, I’ll provide a brief overview of the role he holds rather than of the person.[54]
“This is the custom with every new comer, and is productive sometimes of much mirth to some, but of infinite mortification to others, according to the circumstances of the case. As it would occupy some time to describe them, I shall give you a poetical sketch of a morning in the Bench; and by the introduction of a fictitious name, make you acquainted with a general practice. Imagine for a moment,
“This is the custom with every newcomer, and it can bring a lot of laughter to some, but endless embarrassment to others, depending on the situation. Since describing them all would take some time, I’ll provide you with a poetic sketch of a morning in the Bench; and by using a made-up name, I'll give you an idea of a common practice. Imagine for a moment,
“Well,” said Tallyho, “I must confess such scrutiny on the one part, and such observations on the other, would be more than likely to ruffle my temper, and I should be apt to signify my disapprobation, at least of all that was unnecessary.”
“Well,” Tallyho said, “I have to admit that being watched so closely on one side and the comments on the other would probably upset me, and I would likely make it clear that I disapprove, at least of anything that seems unnecessary.”
“In that case,” replied Merry well, “you would only subject yourself to additional torment: you would have songs, epigrams, lampoons, and epitaphs in abundance, which would prove still more irritating; for this is the seat of learning and of wit, of poets, painters, and musicians, who, being enraptured with their own arts, neglect that of book-keeping, till a residence here gives them a leisure opportunity to close their ledgers.
“In that case,” replied Merry well, “you would just be putting yourself through more pain: you’d have plenty of songs, clever sayings, parodies, and memorials, which would end up being even more annoying; because this is the heart of knowledge and creativity, home to poets, artists, and musicians, who, lost in their own crafts, ignore the art of keeping track of their finances, until living here gives them the time to balance their books.”
[55] Speaking on that subject, by the by, we have among us, at this moment, the publishers of the John Bull, whose combined efforts in the way of scurrility have rendered them notorious among the periodicals of present times. There is, however, little of public attraction about them; and although they profess to have a subscription opened, to enable them to pay the fine imposed upon them, it is doubted whether any such is really in existence. Here, however, is a character of another description:
[55] By the way, speaking of that topic, we currently have the publishers of the John Bull with us. Their combined efforts to be scandalous have made them notorious among today’s magazines. However, they don’t seem to draw much public interest, and although they claim to have started a subscription to help them pay their fine, it’s questionable whether that’s actually true. But here’s a character of a different sort:
Captain K—— is still a gay fellow, though I apprehend rather what we call hard up just now. He has had the opportunity of expending a very considerable property in seeing Life, but if report say true, it has been chiefly exhausted among the fair sex, and coffee-house keepers. Seldom much depressed in spirits, let the world wag as it will, he sometimes gives good dinners and enjoys himself with a friend, though I suspect that can, under present circumstances, only be done when he can pitch the gammon to the wine merchant, and induce him to stand the nonsense.”
Captain K—— is still a fun guy, although I think he’s pretty broke right now. He’s had the chance to spend a lot of money on experiencing life, but if the rumors are true, he’s mostly drained it on women and coffeehouse owners. He rarely gets down in the dumps, no matter what’s going on in the world. Sometimes he throws nice dinners and has a good time with a friend, though I suspect that can only happen if he manages to talk the wine merchant into covering the bill.
“And do wine merchants give credit to persons in confinement?” enquired Bob.
“And do wine merchants extend credit to people in jail?” asked Bob.
“Certainly,” was the reply, “for services done or promised to be done, or upon the security of some friend, who perhaps intends soon after to pay his engagements by a similar mode to that of the person whose debt he pretends to secure. No place can be found where the study of ways and means is more closely attended to than this. Of our prisons in general, much the same may be said as of our gaming houses; very few get out of them as they went in. A dupe is the general character of those who first enter; but they seldom fail to acquire that of knave before their departure. The air is infectious, the society fatal to morality and to honesty; few pass through the ordeal with purity, and return uncontaminated to the world; and yet, after all the frauds, tricks, and speculations practised, it is well to be acquainted with them, in order to guard against the recurrence, if a man can but have fortitude enough to avoid practising them himself.[56]
“Definitely,” was the response, “for services rendered or promised, or backed by a friend who might soon repay his debts through a similar method as the person whose debt he claims to secure. You won’t find a place where strategies and finances are watched more closely than here. We can say much the same about our prisons as we do about our gambling houses; very few leave them as they entered. A naive person is the typical profile of those who first walk in; but they rarely leave without becoming deceitful. The environment is toxic, and the company is detrimental to morality and honesty; few emerge from the experience untainted and can return to the outside world in the same state. Yet, despite all the scams, tricks, and manipulations practiced, it’s useful to understand them, in order to protect oneself from falling into the same trap, if one can muster the strength to avoid engaging in them personally.[56]
“Zounds,” cried Dashall, “your pictures have so much light and shade, so much to admire, and so much to condemn, that there is scarcely any possibility of arriving at any conclusion.—Bless me, there is Dick Rakewell!”
“Wow,” exclaimed Dashall, “your paintings have so much light and shadow, so much to appreciate, and so much to criticize, that it's almost impossible to come to any conclusion.—Goodness, there’s Dick Rakewell!”
“Do you know him?” said Merry well.
“Do you know him?” Merry asked.
“What the devil are you doing here?” cried a young man advancing, and at the same time catching the Honourable Tom Dashall by the hand; “Are you initiated, or merely come to take a peep at the curiosities of this menagerie? Have you tipp'd and shewn yourself in due form; or do you still sport a game leg among the gallants of Bond Street?”
“What on earth are you doing here?” shouted a young man approaching, while grabbing the Honourable Tom Dashall by the hand. “Are you part of this, or just here to check out the curiosities of this show? Have you introduced yourself properly, or are you still pretending to be injured among the stylish folks on Bond Street?”
“Fortunately,” said Dashall, “I can still boast of the latter, and have no very strong inclination to aspire to all the honour and happiness of the former.”
“Luckily,” said Dashall, “I can still take pride in the latter, and I don’t have a strong desire to chase all the honor and happiness that comes with the former.”
“Grown serious and sedate; I suppose married, and ca'nt come—pretty wife—lots of children—love and fireside comfort at home—pleasure abroad—cash in hand, and care for nobody. That's the sort—give you joy with all my heart—never were such times.”
“Grown serious and settled; I guess married, and can’t come—nice wife—lots of kids—love and cozy moments at home—fun out and about—cash in hand, and no worries. That’s the type—wishing you all the best—never was a better time.”
“I am glad you find them so,” continued Tom; “but your anticipations are a little too rapid, and your imagination rather too vivid for my proceeding; however, there is no knowing what we may come to; life is a labyrinth full of turnings and windings. But what brought you here?”
“I’m glad you feel that way,” Tom continued. “But your expectations are a bit too quick, and your imagination is a little too vivid for me to follow; still, who knows where we might end up? Life is a maze full of twists and turns. But what brought you here?”
“Driven in by the Philistines,” was the reply; “caught like a harmless dove by the Greeks—clean'd out.—By the cog, I was obliged to fly to this pigeon house, in order to avoid being cut up by my creditors; and, up to a little of the Newmarket logic, I am now crossing and justling though it is doubtful at present who will win the race.”
“Driven in by the Philistines,” was the reply; “caught like a defenseless dove by the Greeks—totally stripped clean.—Honestly, I had to scramble to this pigeon house to avoid being torn apart by my creditors; and, up to a little bit of Newmarket logic, I’m now crossing and pushing through, though it’s uncertain at the moment who will win the race.”
“You have not far to run, however,” replied Dashall, “and it is therefore fair to presume the heat will soon be over.”
“You don’t have much further to run, though,” Dashall replied, “so it’s reasonable to assume the heat will be over soon.”
[57] “As usual,” cried Rakewell, “always something short, but pungent, like a pinch of merry-go-up{1}—satire and sentiment—mirth, morality, and good humour—unmarried and still the same man. These are better subjects of congratulation than the former.”
[57] “As usual,” shouted Rakewell, “always something brief but impactful, like a little dose of joy—satire and sentiment—fun, ethics, and a good laugh—single and still the same guy. These are more deserving of congratulations than the previous ones.”
“We shall dine at half past three,” said Merry well, “and if you are inclined to make one along with us, you will find me at home.”
"We'll have dinner at 3:30," Merry said cheerfully, "and if you’d like to join us, you can find me at home."
“I should have no objection to meet you abroad,” exclaimed Rakewell; “but, however, I'm your man. Half past three, d——nd unfashionable; but never mind,
“I wouldn’t mind meeting you out of town,” Rakewell said excitedly. “But anyway, I'm in. 3:30, totally out of style; but whatever,
I'll pick a bone with you; and spite of dull care and high walls, 'locks, bolts, and bars, we'll defy you;' and my life for it we have a jolly afternoon. Is the cellar well stored, and the kitchen in good repair?”
I'll have a word with you; and despite the boring worries and tall walls, 'locks, bolts, and bars, we'll challenge you;' and I bet we’ll have a great afternoon. Is the cellar well stocked, and is the kitchen in good shape?”
“All right, my boy!” exclaimed Merrywell, “bring your bellows{2} in good order, and don't be afraid of your bread basket.{3} The dibs are in tune.{4} A ball of fire,{s} a dose of daffy, or a blow out of black strap, will set the blue devils at defiance, give a spur to harmony, and set the spirits a jogging.”
“All right, kid!” shouted Merrywell, “bring your bellows in good shape, and don't worry about your lunch. The funds are ready. A ball of fire, a little drink, or a hit of liquor will chase away the blues, boost the vibe, and get everyone moving.”
“Then at half past three I'll have a turn to with you,” continued Rakewell; “so no more at present from your loving Cousin. I am going now to call on Fred. Fearnought; that fellow has deceived me; I thought him a trump, but he's eaten up with hopes and fears, tormented in mind, body, and estate, no more pluck than a dunghill chick. I must stir him up with a long pole, give him a lesson or two, touch him to the quick, and then quickly adjourn to you; so adieu for the present.”
“Then at three-thirty, I’ll meet up with you,” continued Rakewell. “So that’s all for now from your loving cousin. I’m heading over to see Fred. Fearnought; that guy has fooled me. I thought he was great, but he’s consumed with hopes and fears, tortured in mind, body, and finances—he’s got no guts whatsoever. I need to shake him up a bit, teach him a thing or two, hit him where it hurts, and then I’ll head over to you; so goodbye for now.”
Thus saying, he made his escape from his friends, and, passing through one of the entrances to the interior, was quickly out of sight.
Thus saying, he slipped away from his friends and, passing through one of the entrances to the interior, quickly vanished from view.
“That,” said Dashall, addressing his Cousin, “was one of the gayest of the gay in all the leading circles of haut ton.”
"That," said Dashall, speaking to his cousin, "was one of the most fabulous people in all the top social circles."
“And I assure you,” said Merrywell, “he has not lost one atom of his vivacity, notwithstanding the alteration in his circumstances; he is always full of humour, ready for a bit of fun even in confinement; he plays, laughs, sings, drinks, and is about one of the most cheerful companions I know."[58]
“And I promise you,” said Merrywell, “he hasn’t lost a bit of his energy, despite the changes in his situation; he’s always full of humor, up for some fun even while stuck here; he plays, laughs, sings, drinks, and is one of the most cheerful companions I know."[58]
“Then,” rejoined Bob, “he is a philosopher, for he has learned to bear.”
“Then,” Bob replied, “he is a philosopher because he has learned to endure.”
“Yes,” continued Dashall, “but the other, and by far the most important, part of philosophy is to forbear.”
“Yes,” Dashall continued, “but the other, and by far the most important part of philosophy is to practice self-control.”
“That,” said Merry well, “he yet has to learn, and I have my doubts whether he will accomplish that desirable object while here. He has, with a moderate allowance from his father, contrived to drive his four-in-hand at times, to keep seven or more horses on his hunting and Town establishments; has kept some of the most dashing and expensive ladies, expensive male company; indulged in extravagant habits of all sorts, and has twinkled for a while in the highest gambling circles. A run of ill luck has at last sent him here, but not before he had honoured almost all the horse-dealers, coach-makers, and saddlers, gunsmiths and tavern-keepers in Town, with his custom, or rather with his name on their books. His father is a man of considerable property, which must eventually come to him, and he may yet form a conspicuous figure in High Life.”
“That,” Merry said confidently, “is something he still needs to learn, and I’m not sure he’ll achieve that goal while he’s here. With a decent allowance from his dad, he’s managed to drive his four-in-hand sometimes, keep seven or more horses for hunting and his Town activities, entertain some of the most flashy and expensive women, and associate with pricey male friends. He’s indulged in all kinds of extravagant habits and has briefly mingled in the highest gambling circles. A streak of bad luck has finally brought him here, but not before he had given almost all the horse dealers, coach makers, saddlers, gunsmiths, and tavern owners in Town a taste of his business, or at least had his name on their books. His father has considerable wealth that will eventually come to him, and he could still make a notable mark in High Society.”
“What have we here?” said Tallyho, stopping to read a paper displayed in the window of a barber's shop.
“What do we have here?” said Tallyho, pausing to read a notice posted in the window of a barber's shop.
“Seventeen in sixteen—I don't understand this.”
“Seventeen in sixteen—I don't get this.”
“Each of the doors,” said Merry well, “which lead to the apartments is numbered, as is likewise every room in each passage, by which means much facility is afforded to visitors who come to make a call upon their friends. The operator himself is a prisoner, and so are most of those who carry on trades; but opportunities are afforded for any person to come in and supply articles to the inhabitants; and at an early hour in the morning you may hear almost all the cries of London."[59]
“Each of the doors,” Merry said wisely, “that lead to the apartments is numbered, just like every room in each hallway. This makes it much easier for visitors to come and see their friends. The operator is a prisoner, as are most of those who run businesses here, but there are chances for anyone to come in and provide goods to the residents. Early in the morning, you can hear almost all the sounds of London." [59]
“A little further on,” said Merry well, “is the public kitchen, where, for a trifling fee, cooking is performed for the prisoners, and hot water supplied at a penny per kettle. Then there is a coffee-room and a tap-room for general accommodation, according to the circumstances of the inmates; so that in point of fact there is little to be regretted here, but the loss of liberty, and the want of money.”
“A little further on,” Merry said confidently, “is the public kitchen, where, for a small fee, meals are prepared for the prisoners, and hot water is provided for a penny per kettle. There’s also a coffee room and a taproom for everyone’s convenience, depending on the situation of the inmates; so honestly, there’s not much to miss here, except for the loss of freedom and the lack of money.”
“Zounds,” said Bob, “those two articles constitute all that is valuable in life, and in their absence it dwindles into mere existence.
“Wow,” said Bob, “those two things are everything that matters in life, and without them, it just turns into a meaningless existence.
“I admit the justice of the remark, for to become an article of vegetation, were it sure of continuance, would be one of the most irksome, as well as degrading situations to which a man could be reduced. But you should recollect, that the generality of persons who study in this College expect an early termination of their privations, by which hope is kept alive; and when the cherished hope is realized, of escaping from these walls, all recollection of the past is banished; and it is doubtful whether the temporary absence from the possibility of indulging in folly does not increase the possibility as well as the power, when at liberty.”
“I agree with that statement, because becoming a mere plant, even if it were permanent, would be one of the most frustrating and demeaning situations someone could end up in. However, you should remember that most people studying at this College look forward to an end to their hardships, and this hope keeps them going. When they finally get the chance to leave these walls, they forget the past completely; it’s uncertain whether being away from the chance to act foolishly actually makes that possibility, and the temptation to indulge in it, grow stronger when they are free.”
“Who do you call that man with his hands in his pockets?” pointing to a person at a short distance from them at the moment, in slovenly attire, and with a vacant countenance.
“Who do you call that guy with his hands in his pockets?” she said, pointing to a person a short distance away, dressed poorly and looking blank.
“Hush,” replied Merry well, “for we have modest men here as well as elsewhere; men who, though they have rendered themselves famous (a more delicate term than notorious) are not emulous of having their deeds recorded in history, and are indeed very tenacious of satisfying enquiries: his name is F—rr—ter, not quite so vacant as he looks; for it is, generally speaking, not your empty-headed fellows who can arrive at the honour of a residence here, it is rather those of brilliant imagination, of aspiring talent, who have been determined to have money for a time, without heeding the source from which it was derived—who have been up to snuff, till they have reduced themselves to the necessity of resting contented with the marrow-bone stage instead of a phaeton or a [60] curricle, and twopenny in lieu of claret The person you allude to, however, is brother to Cecil F—rr—ter of Court notoriety, and has really been in possession of considerable property. It is said that his principal failing has been too strong an inclination to resort to the law, and that upon the law and lawyers he has expended the bulk of his fortune.”
“Hush,” replied Merry well, “because we have modest people here just like anywhere else; people who, even though they've become famous (which sounds better than infamous), aren't looking to have their actions recorded in history, and are actually quite reluctant to answer questions. His name is F—rr—ter, and he's not as empty-headed as he seems. Generally, it’s not the dim-witted who earn the privilege of living here; instead, it’s those with vivid imaginations and ambitious talents who decided they wanted money for a while, regardless of where it came from—who’ve been living high until they found themselves needing to make do with just the basics instead of a fancy carriage or a [60] curricle, and cheap stuff instead of fine wine. However, the person you're referring to is the brother of Cecil F—rr—ter, who is well-known in court circles, and he has actually owned considerable property. It's said that his main flaw has been a strong tendency to rely on the law, and that he has spent most of his fortune on legal matters and lawyers.”
“He cuts a curious figure now, however,” said Tallyho, “and every view at first sight would take him for a. fortunate youth.”
“He looks like an interesting character now, though,” said Tallyho, “and anyone seeing him for the first time would think he’s a lucky young guy.”
“Do you observe that man in mustachios, now talking with P——s? That is Captain R——n, who bears a more striking resemblance in character to the celebrated youth you mention; he had at one time inspired a belief among those who knew him, that he was a man of property—married with a view to realize it; and upon comparing notes after the nuptial knot was tied, both parties discovered they were taken in; but it is not ascertained whether this mutual disappointment ended with smiles.”
“Do you see that guy with the mustache, talking to P——s? That’s Captain R——n, who actually reminds me a lot of the famous young man you mentioned. He once led those around him to believe he was wealthy—he got married hoping to make that happen; but after they tied the knot, both of them realized they’d been fooled. It’s unclear whether this shared letdown ended with smiles or not.”
“Why, it was no laughing matter,” said Tom; “the lucky hit was all a miss.”
“Seriously, it wasn’t funny,” said Tom; “the lucky break was just a fluke.”
“Yes, there was a Miss taken, and a Biter bit. Love is a lottery as well as life, and the chances two to one against the adventurer,” replied Dashall.
“Yes, there was a mistake, and a Biter got bitten. Love is a gamble just like life, and the odds are two to one against the risk-taker,” replied Dashall.
“It may be so,” said Merrywell; “I am not fly{1} to the subject at present; perhaps Sparkle could by this time unravel some of its mysteries, and give beneficial lessons to us all: however, time is flying, we will just make one more turn, and then to dinner with what appetite we may. Do you observe the pericranium topp'd with a Prussian cap, and the wearer with a pipe in his mouth?”
“It might be,” said Merrywell; “I’m not really in the mood to discuss it right now; maybe Sparkle could figure out some of its mysteries by now and teach us something useful: however, time is passing, so let's just make one more turn, and then we’ll head to dinner with whatever appetite we have. Do you see the head topped with a Prussian cap, and the person wearing it with a pipe in his mouth?”
“I was on the point of enquiry,” said Bob; “Pray who is he?”
“I was just about to ask,” said Bob; “Who is he?”
“That is another Captain.”
“That's another Captain.”
“Who! One would almost think you have the whole army of Martyrs confined here,” said Tallyho; “at all events, your ranks are not deficient of officers.”
“Who! One might almost believe you have the entire army of Martyrs locked up here,” said Tallyho; “in any case, your ranks aren’t lacking in officers.”
“But then,” said Dashall, “they are out of commission and out of practice.”
“But then,” Dashall said, “they're out of action and out of practice.”
“For want of command,” continued Merrywell; “though Capt. S——, although never made a Commander in Chief, has been an exalted character, having once been made [61]inspector of the pavement,{1} or in other words knapp'd the stoop; and, if report says true, he has also figured away in other situations equally honourable—a flash turf man—a naval character, and a smuggler. But come, I have given you a sort of index by which you may read, mark, and learn more, when we are more at leisure. It is now half past three o'clock, and punctuality is always my motto.”
“For lack of leadership,” Merrywell continued, “even though Capt. S—— has never actually been appointed Commander in Chief, he’s held a prominent position. He was once made [61] inspector of the pavement,{1} which is to say, he was in charge of the streets; and if the rumors are true, he’s also been involved in other equally respectable roles—a flashy horse racing guy—a naval officer, and a smuggler. But hey, I’ve given you a kind of guide you can use to read, note, and understand more when we have more time. It’s now half past three, and being on time is always my principle.”
“Humph,” ejaculated Tom; “Cash down, and no grumbling.”
“Humph,” said Tom; “Pay up front, and no complaints.”
“D——n severity,” was the reply; “no more of that, or we cut: touch my honour, and you touch my life.”
“Damn severity,” was the reply; “no more of that, or we’re done: touch my honor, and you touch my life.”
“Dot and go one,” cried Dashall. “Come along, Bob!” and catching his Cousin by the arm, they followed Merrywell in silence to his apartment in the State House.
“Let’s get moving,” shouted Dashall. “Come on, Bob!” He grabbed his cousin by the arm, and they quietly followed Merrywell to his room in the State House.
On arrival, they found the dinner on table; and Hakewell, true to his appointment, arrived before them. The keen air of Surrey, though rather confined, had furnished them with good appetites. Apologies were banished, and to it they went without “let, hinderance, or molestation”—the viands were good, the wines exquisite and plentiful. The cloth being removed, mirth and conviviality were the order of the day.
Upon arriving, they discovered dinner set on the table, and Hakewell, as promised, had arrived before them. The crisp air of Surrey, though somewhat stuffy, had given them hearty appetites. They offered no excuses and dove right in without any interruptions—the food was delicious, and the wines were exceptional and abundant. Once the tablecloth was taken away, laughter and good cheer became the focus of the evening.
Confusion to soft heads and hard hearts!—Parks and pleasure ground s without priories! were drank in bumpers with enthusiastic applause. The merriment and hilarity of Merrywell and his fellow student crowned the afternoon with as much pleasure and delight, as Bob conceived he could have found under unlimited circumstances. The good humour and hospitality of the host was manifested in the perfect satisfaction of those he entertained; and about eight o'clock, when Rakewell began to mangle his mother tongue, our friends, after dropping their mites into the canisters held out for their bounty, repassed the gates, well pleased and highly diverted with the information they had obtained, and the occurrences of the day; and not a little exhilarated by the Bacchanalian juice.
Confusion to soft minds and hard hearts!—Parks and playgrounds without priories! were cheered with enthusiastic applause. The fun and laughter of Merrywell and his classmates made the afternoon as enjoyable and delightful as Bob thought he could find in any situation. The good humor and hospitality of the host were evident in the complete satisfaction of his guests; and around eight o'clock, when Rakewell started to butcher his own language, our friends, after dropping their contributions into the containers held out for their generosity, went back through the gates, very pleased and thoroughly entertained by what they had learned and the events of the day; and somewhat uplifted by the wine.
“Well,” said Tallyho, “this is a scene of Real Life, which I should judge could scarcely be equalled, and would almost induce one to wish for an opportunity of a residence along with the Collegians.”
“Well,” said Tallyho, “this is a scene of Real Life, which I would say is hard to match, and might even make someone wish for a chance to live with the Collegians.”
[62] “Provided always nevertheless with an equal opportunity of leaving it when we please,” said Dashall; “and probably we have only seen one of the best pictures it contains, for although we have been as jolly as Sandboys, there is a large store of misery unseen. But let us proceed. We shall soon be free from College Rules, and a thought strikes me, that we can make a call on our road that will afford another view of society equally amusing and refreshing. I have often observed to you, that in order to see Life, there is no necessity to buz about with court flies, to waste time and money in getting introduced to the tip tops of the West, to join what are termed the fashionable circles, and to end a fashionable career by a whereas or a whitewashing. The true student of Real Life should occasionally mingle with all descriptions of persons, mark the characters and their conduct; and, believe me, there are those in the humblest situations, who enjoy themselves in their own way with as much of heartfelt satisfaction as those in the highest, of which, I think, I shall be able to give you a decided proof before we reach home.”
[62] “Always with the freedom to leave whenever we want,” said Dashall; “and we’ve probably only seen one of the best scenes it has to offer, because even though we’ve been having a great time, there’s a lot of unhappiness we haven’t noticed. But let’s move on. We’ll soon be free from College Rules, and an idea just struck me—we can make a stop on our way that will give us another view of society that will be just as entertaining and refreshing. I’ve often told you that to really see life, you don’t need to hang around with high society, to waste time and money getting introduced to the elites of the West, to join what they call the fashionable circles, and to end a posh life with a boring exit. The true student of Real Life should mix with all kinds of people, observe their characters and behaviors; and, believe me, there are those in the most humble positions who find as much genuine joy in their own way as those at the top, which I think I’ll be able to show you before we get home.”
They now pursued their way along the London Road and over Westminster Bridge, till Tom called a halt at the door of a friend.
They continued along the London Road and crossed Westminster Bridge until Tom stopped at the door of a friend.
“Come, Bob,” said he, “here we must uncase—doff the present toggery, and turn out in new trim for the evening.”
“Come on, Bob,” he said, “we need to get changed—take off these clothes and dress up for the evening.”
“What!” enquired Bob, “another masquerade?”
“What!” asked Bob, “another masquerade?”
“No, no,” was the reply, “a temporary suspension of the dress and character of a gentleman, in order to avoid being tormented and suspected by the company to which I intend to introduce you.”
“No, no,” was the reply, “a temporary break from the dress and persona of a gentleman, to avoid being tormented and suspected by the people I plan to introduce you to.”
Finding his friend at home, they were quickly supplied with tatter'd garments and slouch'd hats, in which they again sallied forth, and about nine o'clock they entered a low public-house in Scotland-yard.
Finding his friend at home, they were quickly given torn clothes and slouchy hats, in which they went out again, and around nine o'clock they entered a small pub in Scotland Yard.
“Fear nothing,” said Tom, as they passed the threshold; “don't be flurried by any thing said to you, 'tis only a heavy-wet party among the coal-heaving coves.”
“Don’t worry about anything,” Tom said as they stepped through the door; “don’t get flustered by anything you hear, it’s just a damp gathering among the coal workers.”
As Bob entered the room, his very first action betrayed him, for, being accustomed to genteel behaviour, he took off his hat, which was in a moment knocked out of his hand by a hard featured fellow near him, whose face indicated the want of water, although so near the river.
As Bob walked into the room, his first action gave him away. Used to polite behavior, he took off his hat, but a rough-looking guy nearby quickly knocked it out of his hand. The man’s face showed signs of neglect, even though he was so close to the river.
[63] “Order, order,” was vociferated in an instant by a jolly good-natured looking man exalted above the rest, who, at the same moment, rapped the table with his knuckles—“This here vay, gentlemen—Bill Muggins, mind you I arn't had your penny in the plate for Backy.”
[63] “Order, order,” shouted a cheerful-looking man elevated above the others, who, at the same time, tapped the table with his knuckles—“This way, gentlemen—Bill Muggins, just so you know, I haven't seen your penny in the plate for tobacco.”
“Vy, that's a lie!” roar'd out a Stentorian voice, “I never takes my seat before I sees my vay clear upon the board. I put a crooked ha' penny.”
“Hey, that’s a lie!” shouted a booming voice, “I never take my seat before I see my way clear on the board. I put in a crooked half penny.”
“Yes, and two bad fardens vhat an't vorth nothing,” said another. “Make him tip” cried a third, “or else stick him in the nitch."{1}
“Yes, and two worthless farthings that aren't worth anything,” said another. “Make him cough it up,” cried a third, “or else shove him in the corner."{1}
Bob having regained his castor, followed his Cousin to the other end of the room, and after each depositing a penny in the plate, they took their seats at the table, where, being supplied with a flowing quart, they began to look around them.
Bob, having got his hat back, followed his cousin to the other side of the room, and after each dropped a penny in the plate, they took their seats at the table, where, after being served a generous quart, they started to look around.
The first thing which struck Tallyho's eye, was “No trust,” printed in large letters at one end of the room; a sort of indication, that a man without money would not be likely to meet with agreeable entertainment: then turning his head the other way, he discovered they were in a house of call for Coal Porters. Before the president (who, by way of distinction, had turned the broad flap of his coal-heaving hat forward in the fashion of a huntsman's cap) was placed a small round table, on which stood a gallon measure of heavy wet. On his right sat a worn-out workman fast asleep, and occasionally affording his friends around him a snoring accompaniment to a roar of laughter.
The first thing that caught Tallyho's eye was “No trust,” printed in large letters at one end of the room; it was a clear sign that a man without money wouldn't find any enjoyable entertainment. Then, turning his head the other way, he realized they were in a place for Coal Porters. In front of the president (who, to stand out, had turned the broad flap of his coal-heaving hat forward like a huntsman's cap) was a small round table, on which sat a gallon measure of heavy wet. To his right sat a worn-out worker fast asleep, occasionally providing his friends around him with a snoring soundtrack to their laughter.
“Silence, silence! vy don't you all be more quieter when I am going to begin?”
“Silence, silence! Why don’t you all be quieter when I'm about to begin?”
“Order, order, chair, chair!” now resounded from every one.
“Order, order, chair, chair!” now echoed from everyone.
“Vell, you know its no use at all for to make me take this here chair, because vy—I an't got no woice.”
“Well, you know it’s no use trying to make me take this chair, because I don’t have a choice.”
“I knows better nor that,” said Bill Muggins, “for, by ——ven you fell overboard the other day you roared like a rum un, and ven I pulled you out you squeaked like a pig, so that are proves vhat you have got two woices, and that's one more than you ought to have. Lord, Lord, if you had but seen him and I get drunk a'ter it, you would ha' laughed—Dick bolted blue ruin till his eyes sparkled just for all the vorld like a vooden spoon against a soot bag.”
“I know better than that,” said Bill Muggins, “because, when you fell overboard the other day, you yelled like a madman, and when I pulled you out, you squeaked like a pig. So that proves you have two voices, and that’s one more than you should have. Goodness, if you had seen him and me get drunk afterward, you would have laughed—Dick downed a ton of liquor until his eyes sparkled like a wooden spoon against a soot bag.”
[64] A general laugh succeeded this sally, which was accompanied by the speaker with a violent blow upon the table, which threatened confusion to the candles, glasses, and porter-pots, with which it was loaded.
[64] A general laugh followed this comment, marked by the speaker slamming his hand on the table, which nearly upset the candles, glasses, and beer mugs that were on it.
“Veil,” continued the chairman, “you know its all my eye, I an't got no sing in me, so if you're a mind to be friendly, vill you heave out.”
“Veil,” continued the chairman, “you know it’s all nonsense, I don’t have any talent, so if you’re willing to be friendly, would you mind leaving?”
“Vy, you know Dick, for the matter o' that are, I never refuses you nothing; nor, vhat's more, I never vont, so here goes.
“Hey, you know Dick, for that matter, I never refuse you anything; and what’s more, I never want to, so here we go.”
The six last lines were repeated as a chorus, till every one appeared to be exhausted, and was succeeded by thunders of approbation, and reiterated cries of “Well done, Bill—go it, Bill—Bill Muggins for ever!” and the still unabated snoring of their companion in the corner.
The last six lines were repeated like a chorus until everyone seemed worn out, followed by thunderous applause and repeated shouts of “Well done, Bill—go for it, Bill—Bill Muggins forever!” along with the persistent snoring of their friend in the corner.
“Bill Muggins a'nt nothing but a good'un, Gemmen,"said the President; “here's his health. Landlord, bring him a bolus of blue ruin. I say, Bill, vhat shall ve say a'ter that are good song?”
“Bill Muggins is nothing but a good guy, gentlemen,” said the President; “here's to his health. Landlord, bring him a drink of strong liquor. I say, Bill, what should we say after that good song?”
“Here's bad luck and no blue ruin to bad masters, and leg o' mutton and turnups for trumps—that's all I got to say, so here goes.”
“Here’s some bad luck and no bad outcomes for terrible bosses, and leg of mutton and turnips for the win—that’s all I have to say, so here we go.”
The toast being drank,
The toast being raised,
“Who is ve to call on now, Bill?”
“Who should I call on now, Bill?”
“Vy, Bob Martlet's the boy to come it strong.”
“Hey, Bob Martlet's the guy to take it seriously.”
Bob Martlet was accordingly called upon, but requested a few minutes to prepare himself, as he was rather hoarse.
Bob Martlet was then called upon, but he asked for a few minutes to get ready, as he was feeling a bit hoarse.
During this interregnum, Dashall slipped out of the room, and gave the landlord an order to place two bowls of punch on the tables, cautioning him at the same time to say nothing of the party who paid for it, but to say that a Gentleman, passing by the door and hearing them all merry, had given an order for it at the bar.
During this break, Dashall quietly left the room and instructed the landlord to put two bowls of punch on the tables. He also warned him not to mention who paid for it, but to say that a gentleman walking by the door, hearing everyone having a good time, had ordered it at the bar.
[65] Upon re-entering the room, Bob Martlet, with one eye bound up and his hat in his hand, was bawling with lungs of leather,
[65] When Bob Martlet walked back into the room, one eye covered and his hat in hand, he was shouting at the top of his lungs,
As this was a song to be sung in character, Bob Martlet determined to profit by the instructions of Shakspeare, “to suit the action to the word, and the word to the action,” and consequently at the word “dance,” he introduced some steps to the great entertainment of the company; but unfortunately jigging to another tune, in which all the broad brims joined, he forgot the connexion of the words, and was compelled to sing it over again, and to give his hornpipe by way of conclusion, which was accompanied by the barking of a dog.
As this was a song meant to be performed in character, Bob Martlet decided to take Shakespeare’s advice to “match the action to the word, and the word to the action.” So, at the word “dance,” he added some dance steps that greatly entertained the audience. Unfortunately, while dancing to a different tune that everyone in the audience joined in, he lost track of the lyrics and had to sing it again, finishing with his hornpipe, which was accompanied by the barking of a dog.
Tallyho laughed heartily at this; the grotesque appearance of the “tender swain,” and the dance in wooden shoes, were admirable, and highly relished by his companions. The room resounded with applauses, and it was some moments before silence could be obtained, when, lo and behold, the landlord entered the room as a peace-breaker with two bowls of punch.
Tallyho laughed loudly at this; the ridiculous look of the “sensitive guy,” and the dance in clunky shoes, were excellent, and greatly enjoyed by his friends. The room echoed with applause, and it took a little while before they could settle down, when suddenly, the landlord walked in like a peacekeeper with two bowls of punch.
Consternation and surprise were visible in every countenance. The confusion of tongues could scarcely equal the enquiries made in a moment; but the landlord, having his cue, made no reply. But there it is, will you drink it? It is all your own—and, to set you a good example, here goes—Success to trade!—and took a hearty swig from the bowl he placed before the President; then, taking the other bowl to the lower end of the room, he evaporated, but soon returned with glasses. Where he came from or how it was obtained, was banished from consideration, and to make more, the remnant of a pot of heavy wet was thrown into the bowl to mellow it, as the President observed, because vy he liked things mellow. The punch was handed about, the song and the toast passed merrily in succession till near twelve, when an unlucky disturber of harmony, with a candle set fire to the whisker of Phill the flue faker so called from his [66]having in his younger days been a chimney-sweeper. Phill, who had slept during the noise of the evening, was, notwithstanding his former trade, not fire-proof, awoke in a flame, and not knowing the real depredator, upset the President, and nearly knock'd him through a window just behind him—mill'd away in all directions, growling with as much melody as he had before snored. During the confusion of this affray, Tom and Bob took their departure from Charley's Crib, which they understood was a nickname given to the place, and, throwing themselves into a rattler, soon arrived in Piccadilly, where we shall for the present leave them to their repose.
Shock and surprise were clear on everyone's faces. The jumble of voices barely matched the questions asked in an instant; however, the landlord, knowing his part, stayed silent. But here it is, will you drink it? It’s all yours—and to set a good example, here I go—Cheers to business!—and took a big gulp from the bowl he placed in front of the President. Then, taking the other bowl to the other end of the room, he disappeared, but soon came back with glasses. Where he had gone or how he got them was forgotten, and to make more, the leftover from a heavy pot was poured into the bowl to smooth it out, as the President noted, because he liked things smooth. The punch circulated, the song and toast flowed joyfully until near midnight, when a careless person with a candle accidentally ignited the whiskers of Phill the flue faker, so called because he had been a chimney sweep in his younger days. Phill, who had been sleeping through the noise of the evening, was, despite his past job, not fireproof; he woke up in flames, and not knowing who was responsible, knocked over the President and nearly pushed him through a window right behind him—rushing around in all directions, growling as melodically as he had previously snored. Amid this chaos, Tom and Bob left Charley's Crib, which they understood was a nickname for the place, and jumped into a taxi, quickly arriving in Piccadilly, where we will leave them for now to relax.
CHAPTER V
[67] “LONDON,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall to his Cousin, “abounds with so much of munificence, that notwithstanding all its intricacies and inconveniences, he who travels through life without visiting it, may justly be said to know nothing; for it is all Life, its remotest corners are full of animation, and although it is difficult to fancy how all live, there are few but could give some satisfactory information if they chose, though I am willing to believe many would rather wish to avoid interrogation. We have already explored some parts of it, but be assured there is still much to admire, much to applaud, and much to deprecate. Our researches, after all, have been rather confined than extensive. It is such an ever varying and never ceasing mine of observation, that it is almost like the wishing cap of Fortunatus, with this exception, that although every wish may be supplied, it requires something more than putting on the cap to obtain the object desired.”
[67] “LONDON,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall to his cousin, “is so generous and full of life that anyone who goes through life without visiting it really doesn’t know much. Every corner is alive with energy, and while it’s hard to imagine how everyone lives, I believe many could share interesting stories if they wanted to, even though some would probably prefer not to be questioned. We’ve already checked out some parts of it, but trust me, there’s still so much to admire, celebrate, and criticize. Our exploration has been more limited than extensive. It's a constantly changing and endless source of observation, almost like Fortunatus's wishing cap, except that while you can have anything you want, you need more than just wearing the cap to get what you desire.”
[68] “From what I have already seen,” replied Tallyho, “I perfectly coincide with you in the latter part of your observation, for I have no doubt but perseverance and integrity, with some portion of ability, is sure to meet reward.”
[68] “Based on what I’ve seen so far,” Tallyho replied, “I completely agree with you regarding the latter part of your observation. I have no doubt that perseverance and integrity, along with some level of skill, are sure to be rewarded.”
“You are right,” continued Tom; “many instances could be pointed out in proof of the justice of that remark: some of the greatest men of the present day have rose from the lowest origin. Shop-boys and porters have become tradesmen and merchants; shoe-blacks have become statesmen, and servants councillors. But on the other hand, many who have been born, as the old saying is, 'with a silver spoon in their mouths,' have 'fallen from their high estates,' and lingered out the latter parts of their lives in prisons or work-houses, laying the blame on fate, rather than attributing failure to their own want of ability, prudence, or active exertion. But come, I perceive the curricle is ready; let us take a spank through the City, and look a little more minutely at the mercantile world.”
“You're right,” Tom continued. “There are many examples that prove that point: some of the greatest people today have come from the lowest backgrounds. Shop workers and porters have become businesspeople and merchants; shoe shiners have become politicians, and servants have become advisors. But on the flip side, many who were born, as the saying goes, 'with a silver spoon in their mouths,' have 'fallen from their high positions' and spent the later parts of their lives in prisons or workhouses, blaming fate instead of recognizing their own lack of skill, wisdom, or effort. But come on, I see the carriage is ready; let’s take a quick ride through the City and take a closer look at the business world.”
This call was instantly obeyed by Tallyho, who never doubted but his Cousin had some object in view, though he frequently started from Piccadilly without being previously acquainted with it.
This call was immediately followed by Tallyho, who never doubted that his cousin had a purpose in mind, even though he often left Piccadilly without knowing what it was.
Passing out at Hyde Park Corner, Bon remarked that he thought the City lay the other way.
Passing out at Hyde Park Corner, Bon commented that he thought the City was in the opposite direction.
“Never mind,” replied Dashall, “we shall come to the point without doubt. Why, man, there are more ways than one, and I am not particularly partial to being blocked up in the public streets, amidst knowing jarveys and cramp carmen, sugar hogsheads, molasses, and slush carts, which is so frequently the case, when by a slight deviation from the direct way, we can give the tits a rattler on a good road without obstruction, and pocket a handful of time into the bargain.”
“Don't worry,” Dashall replied, “we'll get to the point for sure. Look, there are several ways to go about this, and I really don't like getting stuck in the streets, surrounded by smart cab drivers and cramped cart drivers, sugar barrels, molasses, and trash carts, which happens way too often. But if we take a small detour from the main route, we can give the horses a break on a clear road without any hassle, and save a bit of time while we're at it.”
He now turned into the road which leads directly to Vauxhall Bridge; on arriving at which, Tallyho was much delighted with an extensive view of the Thames.
He now turned onto the road that leads straight to Vauxhall Bridge; upon arriving there, Tallyho was very pleased with the wide view of the Thames.
“This,” said Dashall, “will bring us to a favourite place of amusement, where you have already cut a conspicuous figure.”
“This,” said Dashall, “will take us to a popular spot for fun, where you’ve already made quite an impression.”
“What do you mean?” enquired his Cousin.
“What do you mean?” asked his cousin.
“A masquerade,” replied he significantly. “Go along Bob.”
“A masquerade,” he replied with meaning. “Go on, Bob.”
[69] Passing gently over the Bridge, “Do you observe,” continued he, “that extensive building? That is called the Penitentiary. It is a building designed for the punishment, employment, and reformation of offenders of secondary turpitude, usually punished by transportation for a term of years. It has been conceived since the commencement of the disputes which terminated in the separation of the American States. The plan of it is known to be partly that of Mr. Jeremy Bentham. The culprits are confined in circular buildings, the windows of which are so constructed, that the overseer from his room in the centre may be able to view every one of their rooms. The external wall encloses no less than eighteen acres of ground, within which are six of these circular buildings, each capable of lodging and employing from 150 to 200 prisoners, with a chapel, infirmary, and other conveniences. Its situation is called Millbank.”
[69] As they crossed the bridge, he said, “Do you see that large building over there? That’s the Penitentiary. It's designed for the punishment, work, and rehabilitation of offenders who commit more serious crimes, typically punished by being sent away for several years. It was designed following the start of the conflicts that led to the separation of the American States. The design is partly based on a concept by Mr. Jeremy Bentham. The prisoners are held in circular buildings, and the windows are set up so that the overseer in the center can see each individual room. The outer wall surrounds at least eighteen acres of land, which contains six of these circular buildings, each housing and providing work for 150 to 200 inmates, along with a chapel, infirmary, and other facilities. This place is known as Millbank.”
“It looks,” said Bob, “like a castle, or tower, of impregnable strength.”
“It looks,” said Bob, “like a castle or a tower that’s impossible to break into.”
“It is, however,” continued Tom, “a useful institution, since it supersedes that indiscriminate transportation so long practised, and which, as applied to definite periods, was cruel and unjust, since the wretched objects were precluded from the power of ever returning to their native land, however short the intended period of their banishment. This part of the world is much improved of late years. The Bridge we are now passing, is an admirable light and elegant structure, but recently erected, according to the plan of Mr. J. Walker, and connects, as you perceive, by a straight line of road with Hyde Park Corner. The road before us leads to Newington Cross, and thence by various ways to the City. The Bridge consists of nine arches, of equal span, in squares of cast iron, on piers of rusticated stone formed of fragments, united by means of Parker's cement. Its width is 809 feet, the span of the arches 78 feet, the height 29 feet, and the clear breadth of the road way is 36 feet. It cost above 300,000L. But we shall shortly cross another bridge, far surpassing it in point of magnificence.”
“It is, however,” continued Tom, “a useful institution because it replaces the random transportation that used to happen, which was cruel and unjust when applied to specific time periods. The unfortunate individuals affected were never able to return to their homeland, no matter how short their intended banishment was. This part of the world has improved a lot in recent years. The bridge we're passing now is a beautiful and elegant structure, recently built according to Mr. J. Walker's design, and it connects directly to Hyde Park Corner. The road ahead leads to Newington Cross, and from there to the City through various routes. The bridge has nine arches of equal span, made of cast iron on rustic stone piers made from fragments, bonded together using Parker's cement. It's 809 feet wide, with arches spanning 78 feet, a height of 29 feet, and a clear width of the roadway of 36 feet. It cost over £300,000. But soon we’ll cross another bridge that is far more magnificent.”
“It is wonderful indeed,” said Bob, “that in a country complaining of a starving population, such serious sums of money should be expended in the erection of splendid mansions and magnificent bridges.”
“It is truly amazing,” said Bob, “that in a country complaining about a starving population, such large amounts of money are spent on building beautiful mansions and impressive bridges.”
[70] “Not at all,” was the reply, “for perhaps it is one of the best ways of expending, as it gives employment to thousands who would otherwise have become beggars on private charity, or paupers on public bounty, either of which is revolting to the mind of an Englishman: besides, if your observation applied at all, it would cut at every improvement of the day; and you should recollect, that, whether upon true foundations or not, every generation think the age they live in is the most enlightened: so it may be with respect to the preceding, and indeed, so much so, that the succeeding will rather decline than improve upon it, but it would be difficult to convince them of the fact. It is certain, however, that scarcely a day passes but some new invention or improvement is offered to public notice. The perusal of the newspapers is an evidence of my assertion; and as London is the centre of attraction, so it is the seat of knowledge, of science and information.”
[70] “Not at all,” was the reply, “because it’s actually one of the best ways to spend resources since it provides jobs for thousands who would otherwise become dependent on private charity or public assistance, both of which are upsetting to an Englishman’s mindset. Besides, if your observation had any validity, it would undermine every advancement of our time. You should remember that, whether based on reality or not, each generation believes it lives in the most enlightened era. This could also be true for past generations, and actually, the next will likely decline rather than improve upon it, though it would be hard to convince them of that. What is certain, however, is that hardly a day goes by without some new invention or improvement emerging. Reading the newspapers proves my point; and since London is the hub of attraction, it’s also the center of knowledge, science, and information.”
“I should judge, that if a person who had lived some two hundred years ago, even in this wild place, were to rise up amongst us, his surprise and astonishment would be strongly excited,” said Bob, endeavouring to draw forth more of his observations as they bowled along the road.
“I would guess that if someone who lived around two hundred years ago, even in this remote area, suddenly appeared among us, they'd be very surprised and astonished,” said Bob, trying to encourage more of his thoughts as they rolled down the road.
“There can be no question on that subject,” said Tom, “for how would the high ideas he entertained of the ingenuity of the age in which he had lived, dwindle into nothing! Nay, should he appear in the country first, what would he think of the various implements of husbandry, for ploughing, and preparing the land; the different machines for sowing the corn, for threshing, grinding, and dressing it; and in numerous instances (though perhaps not quite so much now as it has been, on account of the present agricultural distresses) he would find something else too which he might not consider an improvement: instead of meeting the honest homely farmer, assisting personally in the gathering in his crops, and his daughter following the cart with a rake, he would find the former mounted on his Prad following the hounds, and the latter at boarding school. Instead of the farmer's son bringing home his cows of an evening, and his sister going out to meet him at the sound of his well known voice, with her milk-white pail, he would find the one poring over Latin and Greek, and the other running her fingers over the chords of a harp or piano-forte.”
“There’s no doubt about it,” said Tom, “because how could the high ideals he had about the ingenuity of his time just fade away? If he were to show up in the country now, what would he think of all the tools for farming—plowing and preparing the land; the different machines for planting, threshing, grinding, and processing the grain? And while he might find some changes not entirely positive—though perhaps less so now due to the current agricultural struggles—he’d definitely notice other things that wouldn’t impress him. Instead of meeting the hardworking farmer personally involved in harvesting his crops, he would see the farmer riding his horse following the hounds, and his daughter away at boarding school. Rather than the farmer’s son coming home with the cows in the evening and his sister rushing out to greet him with her milk-white pail at the sound of his familiar voice, he’d find the son buried in his Latin and Greek books, and the sister tinkling away on a harp or piano.”
[71] “These,” said Bob, “are refinements in manners at least.”
[71] “These,” said Bob, “are improvements in etiquette, at least.”
“Then, should he take a peep at London, as we are now doing, he would be struck dumb with admiration. But here we are on the Waterloo Road. That building on the right is the Coburg Theatre, so named in compliment to the Prince of Saxe Coburg, who married the unfortunate Princess Charlotte of Wales, the much regretted daughter of our present King. Before us is Waterloo Bridge, which leads to the Strand, and was originally denominated the Strand Bridge; it is acknowledged to be one of the most majestic structures of the kind, perhaps, in the known world, and was built under the direction of the late Mr. Rennie, to whose memory it is said a monument is intended to be erected. The Bridge consists of nine equal arches, and like the bridges of the ancients, is perfectly flat, which you perceive the road we are now travelling is not, for in some instances you may look over the wall upon another world below, as we are above the tops of the houses. Its being level is a circumstance highly favourable to the draught of carriages across it, and without any apparent subtraction from its beauty. We will alight here and walk leisurely across, taking time for remark.”
“Then, if he were to take a look at London, like we are now, he would be speechless with admiration. But here we are on Waterloo Road. That building on the right is the Coburg Theatre, named in honor of the Prince of Saxe Coburg, who married the tragic Princess Charlotte of Wales, the dearly missed daughter of our current King. Ahead of us is Waterloo Bridge, which leads to the Strand, and was originally called the Strand Bridge; it’s recognized as one of the most impressive structures of its kind in the world, built under the guidance of the late Mr. Rennie, to whose memory a monument is planned. The bridge features nine equal arches and, like the bridges of ancient times, is completely flat, unlike the road we’re currently on, which isn’t, because in some places you can look over the wall and see another world below, as we are above the rooftops. Its level surface greatly benefits the movement of carriages across it without taking away from its beauty. Let’s get off here and walk leisurely across, taking our time to appreciate it.”
The servants now took charge of the curricle, with orders to wait at the corner of the Strand, while our heroes, having each deposited his penny at the toll-house, strolled forward.
The servants now took control of the curricle, instructed to wait at the corner of the Strand, while our heroes, each having paid their penny at the toll-house, strolled ahead.
Tallyho appeared delighted with the views around him: In the front, a fine prospect of one of the finest cities in the world, and behind an equally pleasing sight over the Surrey Hills. The day being fine, and the sun darting his refulgent beams on the bosom of the Thames, contributed to form, altogether, one of the most enraptured sights he had ever beheld. The passing and repassing of boats and barges below; and carriages, horsemen, and pedestrians, crossing the bridge, alternately attracted his attention.
Tallyho seemed thrilled by the views around him: in front, a stunning view of one of the greatest cities in the world, and behind, an equally beautiful sight of the Surrey Hills. With the weather being clear and the sun casting its bright rays on the Thames, it created one of the most breathtaking scenes he had ever seen. The boats and barges moving to and fro below, along with carriages, horseback riders, and pedestrians crossing the bridge, kept drawing his attention.
“Each arch of this bridge,” said Dashall, “is 120 feet span; the piers 20 feet thick, with Tuscan columns; the width between the parapets 42 feet; these footpaths are seven feet each, and the road-way is 28 feet. The cost has been immense, and it is not likely that the original subscribers will ever realize the capital expended.”
“Each arch of this bridge,” said Dashall, “spans 120 feet; the piers are 20 feet thick, featuring Tuscan columns; the space between the parapets is 42 feet; each footpath is seven feet wide, and the roadway is 28 feet. The cost has been enormous, and it’s unlikely that the original investors will ever see a return on the capital spent.”
[72] At this moment the sound of music attracted the ears of Tallyho.
[72] At that moment, the sound of music caught Tallyho's attention.
“What have we here?” said he, thrusting his head through the balustrades, by which he found himself almost suffocated with smoke, which stopped further enquiry.
“What’s going on here?” he said, pushing his head through the railing, where he found himself almost overwhelmed by the smoke, which cut off any further investigation.
“Behold,” said Tom, “another improvement of the age; that is the Richmond Steam Boat, proceeding with a cargo of live stock to that celebrated place of public resort, and, in spite of wind and weather, will return in the evening. They always have a band of music on board, for the amusement of their passengers.”
“Look,” said Tom, “here’s another advancement of our time; that’s the Richmond Steam Boat, heading out with a load of live animals to that famous spot for the public, and, regardless of wind and weather, it will be back this evening. They always have a band on board to entertain the passengers.”
“Zounds,” said Bob, “they ought to have a smoke-consumer.”
“Wow,” said Bob, “they should have a smoke-eater.”
“They had one just now,” replied Tom; “for I apprehend you assisted them in some degree, though not voluntarily.”
“They just had one,” Tom replied, “because I think you helped them a bit, even if you didn’t mean to.”
“You are smoking me,” said Bob.
"You are getting on my nerves," said Bob.
“Never mind, you have only been puffing a cloud.”
“Never mind, you’ve just been blowing smoke.”
“However, as the mist is dispelled,” said Tallyho, “and we have, a clear sky before us again, let us make use of our senses.”
“However, as the fog clears,” said Tallyho, “and we have a clear sky ahead of us again, let’s use our senses.”
“To the right you perceive Blackfriars' Bridge, and beyond that the Southwark Bridge. By the way, we were speaking of the alterations to be witnessed in a country life. We will now pursue the subject, and suppose for a moment our two-thousand-years-ago friend, after his visit among the Swains, inclined to transfer his observations to the Great Town. The first question would be, How shall I get there? Oh, there are plenty of night coaches, and day coaches too, Sir. Well, then “fancy him seated in a night coach, and having supped on the road, on resuming his corner of the vehicle, he falls into a sound sleep. Guess what must be his surprise on waking in the morning, to find himself in the bustle and apparent confusion of the streets of the Metropolis. But how altered! Wide streets and upright houses, instead of narrow lanes with houses meeting each other at the tops. Then what elegant shops!—He would exclaim, rubbing his eyes, 'Why, this is all a dream
“To the right, you can see Blackfriars Bridge, and beyond it is Southwark Bridge. We were talking about the changes in country life. Let’s continue with that idea and imagine our friend from two thousand years ago, after visiting the countryside, deciding to take his observations to the big city. His first question would be, 'How do I get there?' Oh, there are plenty of night coaches and day coaches, Sir. So, picture him settling into a night coach, having had dinner on the way, and once he resumes his spot, he falls into a deep sleep. Imagine his surprise when he wakes up in the morning to find himself in the hustle and bustle of the city streets. But how different it is! Wide streets and tall buildings, instead of narrow lanes with houses leaning over each other. And just look at those elegant shops!—He would exclaim, rubbing his eyes, 'Wow, this is all a dream!'”
“Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain!”
“Moving from the heat-pressured mind!”
[73] 'It cannot be reality!'—However, he swallows a hasty breakfast, and sallies out again to look about him. From London Bridge he espies the one I have just mentioned, the Southwark Bridge.—'What have we here?'—'Oh, Sir, that is the cast-iron bridge, with three arches, over the Thames.' He hastens to it, and when upon it, what must be his astonishment, at the power of the human mind to form, and of the human body to bring together, such immense pieces of iron? To connect Queen Street, Cheapside, with the Kent and Surrey Roads by three arches, the centre of which is 240 feet span, and the side ones 210 feet each, the arches all composed of cast iron, the piers and abutments of stone. 'Zounds,' he would exclaim, 'if the race of man dwindle in stature, they grow daily more stupendous in intellect! 'But we will suppose, like you, with an anxiety to see all that can be seen, he perceives a machine sailing down the river with astonishing velocity; ?Why, formerly,' said he, 'wind and tide against a vessel were insurmountable obstacles in its passage, but now they seem to add to its swiftness; how is this to be accounted for? '—'Easily enough,' replies a bye-stander; 'Lord bless you, it's all done by steam. Hot water and smoke do every thing now-a-days! Why there are a great number of machines, which formerly required from two to forty or more horses each to put and keep in motion, entirely worked by the steam arising from boiling water.'—' Prodigious! Steam do all that! Astonishing!'”
[73] 'This can't be real!'—Still, he quickly eats breakfast and heads out again to explore. From London Bridge, he spots the Southwark Bridge I just mentioned. —'What’s that?'—'Oh, sir, that’s the cast-iron bridge with three arches over the Thames.' He rushes over to it, and once on it, he's amazed by the power of the human mind to design and the human body to assemble such massive pieces of iron. Connecting Queen Street and Cheapside with the Kent and Surrey Roads through three arches, with the center spanning 240 feet and the side arches 210 feet each, all made of cast iron, while the piers and abutments are stone. 'Wow,' he would exclaim, 'if humanity is getting smaller physically, our intellect is growing larger every day!' But let's say, like you, driven by curiosity to see everything, he notices a machine speeding down the river at an incredible pace; 'Why, in the past,' he says, 'wind and tide were major hurdles for boats, but now they seem to actually make them faster; how can this be?'—'It's simple,' replies a bystander, 'It's all steam power. Hot water and smoke do everything these days! There are many machines that used to need two to forty horses to operate, now entirely run by the steam from boiling water.'—'Incredible! Steam does all that! Amazing!'”
“And truly,” replied Bob, “notwithstanding I have witnessed many improvements, I confess I am astonished at the various uses to which this discovery has already been devoted, and the extraordinary powers it possesses.
“And honestly,” replied Bob, “even though I’ve seen many advancements, I have to admit I’m amazed at the different ways this discovery has already been used, and the incredible capabilities it has.”
“Well, we will pursue the train of thought a little further: Suppose, perambulating the streets till he is quite tired, and seeing alterations and changes out of number, he enters a Coffee House, eats a hearty meal, and taking a glass or two of wine, he falls into a musing train of ideas of the wonders he has been witnessing, from which he is not disturbed, till the hoarse voice of a Charley sounds in his ear, 'Past ten o'clock, and a cloudy night,' at which he hastily starts up, discharges his bill, and prepares, by buttoning up close and securing his trusty stick, for (as he would naturally expect) a dull dreary walk. He sallies out thus equipped, and, to his utter astonishment, finds the streets as busy as in the middle of the day, and almost as light. He steps up to one of the lights to [74] examine it—'What can this be? It is not oil, there is no vessel to contain it; surely this can't be steam also! But what can it be?'—'Gas, Sir,' says a passenger, who overhears the question, 'Gas; it is produced from coals set on fire and confined in a furnace, the subtle vapour from which is conveyed by means of pipes, and, light applied to it, immediately bursts into a flame.' His astonishment would now be complete, and if he did sleep after, it would be difficult to persuade him it was not all a dream.”
“Well, let’s follow this thought a bit further: Imagine he’s wandering the streets until he’s pretty tired, seeing countless changes along the way. He steps into a coffee house, enjoys a hearty meal, and after having a glass or two of wine, he starts to reflect on the amazing things he’s witnessed. He’s lost in his thoughts until he hears the raspy voice of a street guard in his ear, 'It’s past ten o'clock on a cloudy night,' which makes him quickly jump up, settle his bill, and prepare for what he expects to be a dull, dreary walk, buttoning up his coat and grabbing his trusty stick. He heads out, fully equipped, and to his absolute surprise, finds the streets as lively as during the middle of the day and almost as bright. He approaches one of the streetlights to [74] take a closer look—'What could this be? It’s not oil, there’s no container for it; surely this can’t be steam as well! But what is it?'—'It’s gas, sir,' says a passerby who hears the question, 'Gas; it comes from coal that’s burned and kept in a furnace, and the subtle vapor from it is carried through pipes. When you apply light to it, it instantly ignites.' His astonishment would now be total, and if he did manage to sleep afterward, it would be hard to convince him it wasn't all just a dream.”
By this time they had crossed the Bridge, and having regained the curricle, the Hon. Tom Dashall tickled the tits in prime style along the Strand, in the road to the City. Soon after passing Temple Bar, they were attracted by a vast concourse of persons surrounding the shop of Mr. Carlile,{1} from whence upon enquiry they learnt the
By this time, they had crossed the Bridge, and after getting back to the curricle, Hon. Tom Dashall was showing off in style along the Strand, heading towards the City. Shortly after passing Temple Bar, they noticed a huge crowd gathered around Mr. Carlile's shop, where, upon asking, they learned the
[76] officers of the Police had just taken one of the shopmen in custody, for vending an alleged seditious or treasonable publication, upon the information of a Yeoman in the pay of the Bridge Street Gang. The crowd of persons induced our friends to make a little further enquiry into the cause, who were soon informed, that in consequence of the repeated attempts to stop the issue of books and pamphlets sold, at what is denominated the Temple of Reason, a part of the shop had been boarded off, so as completely to screen the venders of any publication from the eye of the purchaser, and by this means to render abortive all future attempts to identify any supposed offender.
[76] Police officers had just taken one of the shop workers into custody for selling what was claimed to be a seditious or treasonous publication, based on information from a Yeoman who worked for the Bridge Street Gang. The crowd encouraged our friends to investigate further, and they quickly learned that due to ongoing efforts to stop the distribution of books and pamphlets sold at what was called the Temple of Reason, part of the shop had been boarded up to completely hide the sellers of any publication from the view of buyers. This was done to prevent any future attempts to identify any alleged offender.
“Why,” said Dashall, “it is an old saying, and I believe a very true one, If you tread upon a worm it will turn. Such appears to be exemplified in the case of this man. You have also heard me remark, that in London it signifies little by what means a man obtains popularity, and here is a case exactly in point. An extensive body of rich men have combined their efforts to crush an individual of little importance in the world, and who perhaps would before this have been forgotten, but for their indiscreet interference with his pursuits. They are now not only foiled in their endeavours to obtain fresh exercise for their Yeomen, and more work for their Lawyers, but, in consequence of their determined opposition, the world is likely to be deluged with every obnoxious publication, without any chance of detecting the sellers.”
“Why,” said Dashall, “there's an old saying that I think is very true: if you step on a worm, it will turn. This seems to apply to this man’s situation. You've heard me say that in London, it doesn't matter much how a person gains popularity, and here’s a perfect example. A large group of wealthy individuals has teamed up to crush someone who isn’t very significant in the grand scheme, someone who might have been overlooked if it weren’t for their foolish interference with his endeavors. Now, not only have they failed in getting more work for their servants and lawyers, but because of their stubborn opposition, the world is likely to be flooded with every objectionable publication, and there’s no way to catch the sellers.”
“It is a curious manouvre,” said Tallyho.
“It’s an interesting move,” said Tallyho.
“Yes, and it appears to have the desired effect with the Carliles and their adherents. They carry on the war in ambuscade, and are selling, without fear, books and [77] pamphlets, of which but for the Constitutional Committee, as they call themselves, perhaps half the world would have known nothing. Such, however, is frequently the effect of intemperate zeal, and these Gentlemen have blown into notoriety that which they intended to suppress, whether upon the substantial grounds of reason or propriety, I leave others to decide.”
“Yes, and it seems to be working as they hoped with the Carliles and their supporters. They’re fighting a covert battle and are selling books and [77] pamphlets without any worries, which without the Constitutional Committee, as they call themselves, probably half the world wouldn't even know about. However, that’s often the result of extreme passion, and these gentlemen have brought attention to something they meant to hide; I’ll let others figure out whether that’s reasonable or appropriate.”
Becoming now entangled in a double row of carriages, with little prospect of making further progress for some time, our friends resigned the curricle to the care of the servant, and proceeded on foot to the City Coffee House, Ludgate Hill, for refreshment.{1}
Becoming now caught in a line of carriages, with no chance of moving anytime soon, our friends left the curricle in the care of the servant and walked to the City Coffee House on Ludgate Hill for a break.{1}
This Coffee House is much resorted to, and, in point of comfortable accommodation, is perhaps not surpassed by any in London.
This coffee house is very popular, and when it comes to comfortable seating, it might be unmatched by any other in London.
Having regaled themselves, and looked over the leading papers of the day, they proceeded to inspect the interior of that noble edifice, the pride of the British empire, St. Paul's Cathedral.
Having enjoyed themselves and reviewed the major news articles of the day, they went on to explore the interior of that magnificent building, the pride of the British Empire, St. Paul's Cathedral.
“According to vulgar tradition,” said Dashall, “this church occupies the site of a Roman temple, which was consecrated to Diana; but the son of Sir Christopher Wren, in his Parentalia, controverts this opinion, and contends, that the first cathedral of the Episcopal see of London was built in the area, the seat of the Roman Prætorian camp, the precise spot on which the present church stands. It is supposed to have been destroyed in the general persecution under the emperor Dioclesian, to have been re-edified under Constantine, to have been demolished by the Pagan Saxons, and to have been restored in the seventh century, when the Saxons embraced [78] Christianity. From this period it has been four times rebuilt, and at the great fire of London was totally destroyed.”
“According to popular belief,” Dashall said, “this church is located on the site of a Roman temple dedicated to Diana; however, Sir Christopher Wren's son, in his Parentalia, challenges this view and argues that the first cathedral of the Episcopal see of London was built here, on the grounds of the Roman Prætorian camp, the exact spot where the current church stands. It is thought to have been destroyed during the widespread persecution under Emperor Diocletian, rebuilt under Constantine, torn down by the Pagan Saxons, and then restored in the seventh century when the Saxons converted to Christianity. Since that time, it has been rebuilt four times and was completely destroyed in the Great Fire of London.”
These remarks premised by Dashall for the information of his friend, they proceeded to view the several statues and funeral monuments, displayed with uniformity and executed with considerable taste, by which the interior of the church has been much improved in appearance.{1}
These comments made by Dashall for his friend's benefit, they went on to look at the various statues and funeral monuments, arranged uniformly and crafted with great taste, which have significantly enhanced the appearance of the church's interior.{1}
After having examined these stately and expressive mementos of mortality, the two visitors were asked by their attendant, whether they would pass to the stone and iron galleries outside of the church; but this, having so lately enjoyed the extensive prospect from the Monument, they declined, and proceeded at once to the Library, the first object to be seen in the ascent.
After looking at these impressive and meaningful reminders of mortality, the two visitors were asked by their guide if they wanted to go to the stone and iron galleries outside the church. However, since they had just enjoyed the wide view from the Monument, they declined and went straight to the Library, the first thing to see on the way up.
Our two visitors were very much pleased with this handsome room, which in its dimensions is about fifty feet by forty, having shelves of books to the top, with a gallery
Our two visitors were really impressed with this beautiful room, which is about fifty feet by forty, featuring shelves of books all the way to the top, with a gallery
[79]running along the sides. The floor is of oak, consisting of 2376 small square pieces, and is not only curious for its being inlaid, without a nail or a peg to fasten the parts, but is very neat in the workmanship, and beautiful in its appearance. The principal things pointed out to a stranger, are several carved stone pillars, some Latin manuscripts, written by Monks 800 years ago, and an English manuscript illuminated, containing rules for the government of a convent, written in old English, about 500 years since, all in fine preservation.
[79]running along the sides. The floor is made of oak, consisting of 2,376 small square pieces, and is notable not only for being inlaid without any nails or pegs to hold the parts together, but also for its neat craftsmanship and beautiful appearance. The main things pointed out to visitors are several carved stone pillars, some Latin manuscripts written by monks 800 years ago, and an English illuminated manuscript containing rules for governing a convent, written in old English about 500 years ago, all in excellent condition.
The clock-work and the great bell were the next curiosities that attracted the attention of our visitants. On the latter, weighing 11,470lbs. the hammer of the clock strikes the hours. It was now noon, and the ponderous hammer put itself into motion, and slowly, yet with astounding impetus, struck the bell, and the reverberation tingled on the auricular organs of the two strangers with painful and stunning effect throughout the long protracted intimation of the hour; nor was it until a considerable time had elapsed, that their hearing recovered from the clanging agitation.{1}
The clock mechanism and the big bell were the next things that caught the attention of our visitors. The bell, which weighs 11,470 pounds, is struck by the hammer of the clock to mark the hours. It was noon, and the heavy hammer began to move, slowly but powerfully, striking the bell. The sound reverberated painfully and stunningly in the ears of the two strangers as they endured the long ringing of the hour. It took quite a while for their hearing to recover from the loud clanging.
They were now ushered into the Whispering Gallery, which is constructed on the very simple principle of an unbroken communication. It is 140 yards in circumference, and a stone seat runs round the gallery along the foot of the wall. On the side directly opposite to the entrance door, Dashall and his friend seated themselves, when the person who shewed the gallery whispered close to the door, at the distance of 140 feet, and yet they heard his voice seemingly at their ear. The shutting of the door resembled a clap of thunder. From this gallery, round the inner circle of which is an iron balustrade, the marble pavement of the church exhibits a beautiful appearance, and the paintings of the dome, which have [80] greatly suffered by time, are thence seen to the greatest advantage.
They were now led into the Whispering Gallery, which is based on the simple idea of uninterrupted communication. It is 140 yards around, and there's a stone bench that goes all the way around the gallery along the wall. Dashall and his friend sat down on the side directly opposite the entrance door, and when the guide whispered near the door, 140 feet away, they could hear his voice as if he were right next to them. The sound of the door closing was like a clap of thunder. From this gallery, where there's an iron railing around the inside, the marble floor of the church looks stunning, and the paintings on the dome, which have [80] significantly deteriorated over time, are best viewed from here.
The ascent to the ball is attended by some difficulty, and is not encountered by many. Our two visitants therefore declined its inspection. The interior diameter of the ball is six feet two inches, and will contain twelve persons.{1}
The climb to the ball is a bit challenging, and not many people attempt it. So, our two guests decided not to check it out. The inside diameter of the ball is six feet two inches, and it can fit twelve people.{1}
The best view of the metropolis is obtained, in a clear day, from the gallery at the foot of the lantern. The diminutive appearance of the passengers and other objects beneath is extremely amusing, and resembles the Elfin Panorama of the capital of Lilliput.
The best view of the city is found on a clear day from the gallery at the base of the lantern. The tiny appearance of the people and other things below is very amusing and reminds one of the Elfin Panorama of the capital of Lilliput.
The calm serenity of the interior, the awful grandeur of the structure itself, and the reflections arising from the contemplation of monuments erected to the memory of departed worth, with the splendid achievements of heroic minds, formed a strange contrast to the scene which presented itself to their view on leaving this magnificent pile. The hurry, bustle, and confusion of the street, the noisy vociferations of coachmen, carmen, &c. burst upon their senses at a moment when the mind had been soothed by reflection, and the eye gratified with a sight which led imagination into futurity, before which the past and the present had appeared to evaporate. The Hon. Tom Dashall, however, was quickly recalled by observing his curricle so completely hemmed in between contending parties to obtain liberation at the corner of Paul's chain, as to afford but little chance of escape from its intricate situation for some time.
The peaceful calm of the interior, the impressive grandeur of the building itself, and the thoughts sparked by the monuments honoring those who have passed—along with the remarkable achievements of great minds—created a striking contrast to the scene they faced when leaving this magnificent structure. The rush, chaos, and confusion of the street, the loud shouts of drivers, cartmen, etc., hit them just as their minds had been calmed by reflection and their eyes pleased by sights that sparked their imagination about the future, making the past and present seem to fade away. However, the Hon. Tom Dashall was quickly brought back to reality when he saw his curricle completely trapped between competing parties trying to get through at the corner of Paul's chain, leaving little chance of escape from its tangled situation for a while.
“Zounds,” said Tom, “we had better return and take a seat among the worthies within, for I have no idea of mounting the curricle, to sit and be quizzed.”
“Wow,” said Tom, “we should go back and find a seat among the important people inside, because I have no intention of getting into the carriage just to be made fun of.”
“Any chance,” said Bob, “is better than that; but at all events your man is able to take care of the carriage and cattle, and we are competent to the care of ourselves.”
“Any chance,” Bob said, “is better than that; but in any case, your guy can handle the carriage and the horses, and we can take care of ourselves.”
“Well hinted,” replied Tom, “and it shall be acted upon.”
"Good suggestion," replied Tom, "and I will make it happen."
[81] Thus saying, he made his way through the throng, and gave orders for the curricle to proceed home as soon as it could be extricated from its present confinement. Then returning to his Cousin,
[81] After saying this, he navigated through the crowd and instructed that the curricle should head home as soon as it could be freed from its current predicament. He then went back to his cousin,
“It is not the first time I have been disappointed; I had made up my mind to proceed much farther; but the very scenes we have been inspecting are proofs of the inability of man to perform all his wishes, although equally' a proof of the splendid talents and determined valour of our renowned and deservedly remembered countrymen, and are well calculated to inspire us with patience, fortitude, and forbearance. At the other door we can escape from the bustle of this side; and perhaps the best thing we can do under existing circumstances, will be to speed homewards, and after dinner relax a little from our toils, in order to recruit for further activity.”
“It’s not the first time I’ve been let down; I had planned to go much further, but the very scenes we’ve been looking at show how limited humans are in fulfilling all their desires. However, they also highlight the amazing skills and brave spirit of our esteemed and unforgettable countrymen, which should inspire us to have patience, strength, and restraint. At the other door, we can escape the chaos on this side; and maybe the best thing we can do right now is to head home, and after dinner, take a break from our efforts to recharge for more activity.”
“Have with you,” said Bob; “we have enjoyed the first part of the day on a variety of interesting subjects, and after a cheerful and refreshing ride, have at last arrived at the threshold of eternity. We may as well escape for this time if we can, and cheat the grim tyrant of mankind. Although our ride has been a long one, our walk back is but short, so let us lose no time.”
“Let’s go,” said Bob; “we’ve had a great first part of the day chatting about various interesting topics, and after a fun and refreshing ride, we’ve finally arrived at the edge of eternity. We might as well take this chance to escape, if we can, and outsmart the grim reaper. Even though our ride was long, our walk back is short, so let’s not waste any time.”
In accordance with this recommendation, he caught hold of Dashall's arm, proceeded through the Cathedral, and arrived at Piccadilly without any thing remarkable or particular to record, where we shall for the present leave them to their enjoyments among the able writers with which Tom's bookcase was well stored.
In line with this suggestion, he grabbed Dashall's arm, walked through the Cathedral, and reached Piccadilly without anything notable or specific to mention. For now, we’ll leave them to enjoy the excellent authors that Tom's bookcase was well stocked with.
CHAPTER VI
IN a perambulation westward, our friends shortly reached the precinct of Westminster Abbey, or the collegiate Church of Saint Peter; the most ancient religious structure in the metropolis.
IN a walk westward, our friends soon reached the area of Westminster Abbey, or the collegiate Church of Saint Peter; the oldest religious building in the city.
Divested of fabulous narration, its history is briefly as follows. Its name is obviously derived from its situation, in the west, and from its original destination as the church of a monastery. It was founded by Sebert, king of the East Saxons; was destroyed afterwards by the Danes; was subsequently re-built by king Edgar in 958; the church was again re-built by Edward the Confessor in 1065; and by Pope Nicholas II. it was constituted a place of inauguration of the English Monarchs. Henry III. re-built it from the ground, and Henry VII. added a magnificent chapel at the east end of it. The monastery was surrendered by the abbot and monks to Henry VIII. who first converted it into a college of secular canons, and afterwards into a cathedral, of which the county of Middlesex was the see. His successor, Edward VI. dissolved the see, and restored the college, which was again converted by Mary into an abbey. That institution was dissolved by Elizabeth in 1560; she founded the present establishment, which is a college consisting of a dean, 12 secular canons, and 30 petty canons; to which is attached a school of 40 boys, denominated the Queen's or King's scholars, with a master and usher; and also twelve alms-men, an organist, and choristers.
Divested of elaborate storytelling, its history is briefly as follows. Its name clearly comes from its location in the west and its original purpose as the church of a monastery. It was founded by Sebert, king of the East Saxons; later destroyed by the Danes; then rebuilt by King Edgar in 958; the church was rebuilt again by Edward the Confessor in 1065; and by Pope Nicholas II, it was designated as the place for the coronation of English Monarchs. Henry III rebuilt it from the ground up, and Henry VII added a stunning chapel at the east end. The monastery was surrendered by the abbot and monks to Henry VIII, who first transformed it into a college for secular canons and then into a cathedral, making the county of Middlesex its see. His successor, Edward VI, dissolved the see and restored the college, which was again turned into an abbey by Mary. That institution was dissolved by Elizabeth in 1560; she established the current institution, which is a college made up of a dean, 12 secular canons, and 30 petty canons; it is also associated with a school of 40 boys, known as the Queen's or King's scholars, along with a master and usher; and also twelve alms-men, an organist, and choristers.
Its greatest length is 489 feet; the breadth of the west front 66 feet; the length of the cross aisle 189 feet; and the height of the roof 92 feet; the west end is adorned with two towers, which were built by Sir Christopher Wren. The nave and cross aisles are supported by two rows of arches, of Sussex marble, one above the other, each of the pillars of which is a union of one massy round pillar, and tour others of a similar form, but slender. These aisles are lofty, and each of the small pillars being extended from the base to the roof, they produce an idea at once sublime and awful. Besides the cross aisle there are two side aisles, which are lower than the nave; and, being in a just proportion, they unite with the other parts of the edifice to produce a harmonious effect. The choir, from which there is an ascent by several steps to a magnificent altar-piece of white marble, is divided from the western part of the great aisle by two iron gates, and is perhaps the most beautiful choir in Europe: its roof was materially injured by fire, occasioned by the carelessness of the plumbers who were repairing it in 1803, but it has since been completely restored, at an expence of upwards of £4000. In this choir is performed the coronation of the Kings and Queens of England.
Its greatest length is 489 feet; the width of the west front is 66 feet; the length of the cross aisle is 189 feet; and the height of the roof is 92 feet. The west end features two towers built by Sir Christopher Wren. The nave and cross aisles are supported by two rows of arches made of Sussex marble, stacked one above the other. Each pillar combines one massive round pillar with four other similar but slimmer pillars. These aisles are tall, and each of the small pillars stretches from the base to the roof, creating a sublime and awe-inspiring atmosphere. In addition to the cross aisle, there are two lower side aisles that match the proportions of the nave, blending harmoniously with the rest of the building. The choir, which is accessed by several steps leading to a magnificent altar piece of white marble, is separated from the western part of the main aisle by two iron gates, and it may be the most beautiful choir in Europe. Its roof suffered significant damage from a fire caused by careless plumbers who were repairing it in 1803, but it has since been completely restored at a cost of over £4000. The coronation of the Kings and Queens of England takes place in this choir.
This succinct account will not prove unacceptable, we hope, to our readers.
This brief summary will hopefully be acceptable to our readers.
The attractive spot at the southern extremity of the cross aisle was now entered by the two friends. “This,” said Dashall, “is called Poet's Corner, and never could a place be named with more propriety.”
The nice spot at the southern end of the cross aisle was now entered by the two friends. “This,” said Dashall, “is called Poet's Corner, and no place could be named more appropriately.”
Tallyho cast an eye of intense observation on these sacred records of departed excellence. Here he found the names of Chaucer, Spenser, Shakespeare, Johnson, Milton, Dryden, Butler, Thomson, Gay, Goldsmith, &c. There also, as though the spot were dedicated to genius of the highest rank, are the tombs of Handel and Garrick. The Squire in his admiration of the British Poets, now gave full scope to the ardency of his feelings, and surrounded by the sculptured images of the bards of former days, he seemed as if environed by a re-animated constellation of genius, and wrapt in the delirium of its inspiritive influence.
Tallyho took a close look at these cherished records of past greatness. Here, he found the names of Chaucer, Spenser, Shakespeare, Johnson, Milton, Dryden, Butler, Thomson, Gay, Goldsmith, etc. There, too, as if the place were dedicated to the highest genius, are the tombs of Handel and Garrick. The Squire, filled with admiration for the British Poets, let his feelings flow freely, and surrounded by the carved images of the poets from earlier times, he seemed to be surrounded by a reawakened constellation of brilliance, lost in the excitement of its inspiring power.
[84] Westminster Abbey contains a great number of monuments of kings, statesmen, heroes, poets, and persons distinguished by genius, learning, and science; but many of these monuments can be regarded as little better than so many disfigurements of the buildings. Some however are to be spoken of with praise, and the best are the productions of Reubilliac and Bacon.
[84] Westminster Abbey has many monuments dedicated to kings, statesmen, heroes, poets, and people celebrated for their talent, knowledge, and scientific contributions; however, a lot of these monuments can hardly be seen as anything more than unsightly additions to the structure. Some, though, deserve recognition, and the finest are the works of Reubilliac and Bacon.
The curiosities of Westminster Abbey consist chiefly of twelve chapels, the principal of which were visited by Dashall and his cousin; but to the chapel of Henry VII. their chief attention was directed. This chapel is contiguous to the eastern extremity of the church, and opens into it: it is dedicated to the Virgin Mary, and is one of the finest specimens of Gothic antiquity in the world. On its site formerly stood a chapel dedicated to the Virgin Mary, and also a tavern, distinguished by the sign of the White Rose: Henry resolving to erect a superb mausoleum for himself and his family, pulled down the old chapel and tavern, and on the 11th of February in the year 1503, the first stone of the new structure was laid by Abbot Islip, at the King's command. It cost £14,000, an immense sum for that period, particularly considering the rapacious temper of the king. The exterior of the chapel is distinguished by the richness and variety of its form, occasioned chiefly by 14 towers, elegantly proportioned to the body of the edifice, and projecting in different angles from the outer-most wall: the inside is approached by the area at the back of the chapels of Edward the Confessor and Henry v. The floor of this chapel is elevated above that of the area, and the ascent is by a flight of marble steps: the entrance is ornamented with a handsome gothic portico of stone, within which are three large gates of gilt brass, of curious open workmanship, every pannel being enriched with a rose and a portcullis alternately. The chapel consists of the nave and two small aisles: the centre is 99 feet in length, 66 in breadth, and 54 in height, terminating at the east in a curve, and having five deep recesses of a similar form: the entrance to these recesses is by open arches, and they add greatly to the relief and beauty of the building: it is not improbable that they were originally so many smaller chapels, destined to various uses. The side aisles are in a just proportion to the centre, with which they communicate by four arches, turned on gothic pillars; each of them is relieved by four recesses, a window, with minute and curious [85]divisions, running the whole height of each recess. The upper part of the nave has four windows on each side, and ten in the eastern extremity, five above and five below. The whole of the roof of the chapel, including the side aisles and the curve at the end, is of wrought stone, in the gothic style, and of exquisite beauty. An altar-tomb erected by Henry, at the cost of £1000, to receive his last remains, stands in the centre of the chapel. It is of basaltic stone, ornamented and surrounded with a magnificent railing of gilt brass. This monument was constructed by Peter Torregiano, a Florentine artist, and possesses extraordinary merit. Six devices in bas-relief, and four statues, all of gilt brass, adorn the tomb.
The curiosities of Westminster Abbey mainly include twelve chapels, with Dashall and his cousin primarily visiting the chapel of Henry VII. This chapel is next to the eastern end of the church and opens into it; it’s dedicated to the Virgin Mary and is one of the finest examples of Gothic architecture in the world. Previously, a chapel dedicated to the Virgin Mary and a tavern known as the White Rose stood on this site. Henry decided to build a grand mausoleum for himself and his family, so he demolished the old chapel and tavern. On February 11, 1503, the first stone of the new structure was laid by Abbot Islip at the King's request. It cost £14,000, a huge amount for that time, especially considering the king's greedy nature. The outside of the chapel is marked by the richness and variety of its design, mainly due to 14 towers that are elegantly proportioned to the main building, projecting at different angles from the outer wall. You reach the inside by the area behind the chapels of Edward the Confessor and Henry V. The floor of this chapel is higher than that of the area, and you ascend by a flight of marble steps. The entrance features a beautiful Gothic stone portico, within which are three large gates of gilt brass with intricate open work, each panel decorated alternately with a rose and a portcullis. The chapel has a nave and two small aisles: the center is 99 feet long, 66 feet wide, and 54 feet high, ending in a curve with five deep recesses of the same shape. You enter these recesses through open arches, which greatly enhance the beauty of the building. It’s likely they were originally smaller chapels meant for various purposes. The side aisles are proportionate to the center, connecting with it through four arches supported by Gothic pillars. Each aisle features four recesses and a window with intricate and delicate [85]divisions running the full height of each recess. The upper part of the nave has four windows on each side and ten at the eastern end, with five above and five below. The entire roof of the chapel, including the side aisles and the curve at the end, is made of carved stone in the Gothic style and is exquisitely beautiful. An altar tomb built by Henry, costing £1,000 to house his remains, stands in the center of the chapel. It is made of basaltic stone, adorned and surrounded by a magnificent gilt brass railing. This monument was created by Peter Torregiano, a Florentine artist, and is of remarkable quality. The tomb is decorated with six relief devices and four statues, all made of gilt brass.
In addition to these venerable antiquities, which all deserve to be seen, a variety of figures in wax, and in cases with glazed doors, are shewn as curiosities to the stranger; but they ought to be removed, as disgraceful to the grandeur and solemnity of the other parts of the scene, and as a satire on the national taste, which can scarcely be excused, when such things are exhibited in a room for children's amusement.
In addition to these respected antiques, which all deserve to be seen, a variety of wax figures are displayed as curiosities for visitors in glass cases. However, they should be taken away, as they detract from the grandeur and seriousness of the other parts of the exhibit, and reflect poorly on national taste—something that’s hard to excuse when such items are showcased in a room meant for children's entertainment.
Every lover of the arts must lament that this beautiful relic of gothic taste is falling rapidly to decay; notwithstanding, within the last twenty-four years, the Dean and Chapter of Westminster have expended the sum of £28,749 in general repairs of the abbey. Parliament, however, has at last granted the requisite aid, and the sum of £20,000 has been voted to commence the repairs, which are now going on. It has been estimated that the necessary repairs of Henry the VIIth's chapel will cost about £14,800 and the ornamental repairs about £10,400.
Every art lover has to mourn the fact that this beautiful piece of Gothic architecture is quickly falling apart; however, in the last twenty-four years, the Dean and Chapter of Westminster have spent £28,749 on general repairs for the abbey. Parliament has finally provided the necessary support, and £20,000 has been approved to start the repairs, which are currently underway. It is estimated that the essential repairs for Henry VII's chapel will cost around £14,800, with decorative repairs costing about £10,400.
The prospect from the western tower of the abbey is more beautiful and picturesque, though less extensive, than that from St. Paul's. The west end of the town and its environs, the Banquetting-house at Whitehall, St. James's park, the gardens of the Queen's palace, the extremity of Piccadilly and Hyde-park, with the Serpentine River, and the distant groves of Kensington Gardens, present a varied and magnificent view towards the west. On the other hand, the bridges of Westminster, Waterloo, and Blackfriars, with the broad expanse of the Thames, and Somerset-house on its banks, and St. Paul's towering pile, together with the light Gothic steeple of St. Dunstan's in the East, present a most noble and [86] interesting prospect. From this tower the exterior form of St. Paul's, when the sun falls upon it, is distinctly seen, and here its exquisite beauty will be more fully comprehended than in any part of the city, for a sufficient area to take in the entire outline is not to be found there.
The view from the western tower of the abbey is more beautiful and picturesque, although less expansive, than the one from St. Paul's. The western part of the town and its surroundings, the Banqueting House at Whitehall, St. James's Park, the gardens of the Queen's palace, the far end of Piccadilly and Hyde Park, with the Serpentine River, and the distant trees of Kensington Gardens, create a varied and stunning view toward the west. On the other hand, the bridges of Westminster, Waterloo, and Blackfriars, along with the wide stretch of the Thames and Somerset House on its banks, and the towering structure of St. Paul's, together with the light Gothic steeple of St. Dunstan's in the East, offer a very impressive and engaging sight. From this tower, the shape of St. Paul's is clearly visible when the sun shines on it, and its incredible beauty can be better appreciated here than anywhere else in the city, as there's not enough space in other areas to capture the entire silhouette.
This prolixity of description will not, we presume, be considered by our readers, as a tedious digression from the main subject.—Real Life in London cannot be better elucidated, than by uniting incident with appropriate anecdote, and amidst the perambulations of our respectable associates, which led them to the ancient and interesting edifice of Westminster Abbey, it necessarily followed that we should illustrate the subject, by a brief, yet accurate and interesting account of the antiquity, et cetera, of the object under consideration.
This lengthy description, we hope, won't be seen by our readers as a boring detour from the main topic.—Real Life in London can be better explained by combining events with relevant stories, and during the walks of our esteemed companions that took them to the historic and fascinating building of Westminster Abbey, it naturally made sense to provide a short but detailed and engaging summary of the history, etc., of the subject we are discussing.
Having gratified their wishes by a cursory inspection of what their guides were pleased to denominate “Curiosities,” our two heroes were on the eve of departure from the Abbey, when Bob begged that the guide would repeat the terms of admission to view these repositories of mortality.
Having satisfied their curiosity with a quick look at what their guides called "Curiosities," our two heroes were about to leave the Abbey when Bob asked the guide to go over the admission terms for viewing these collections of remains.
“The tombs,” said the conductor, “at the east end of the church, with the chapel of Henry VIIth, the price of admission to view these, sir, is six-pence; the models three-pence; the tombs at the northern part of the cross aisle three-pence; and the west end and tower of the abbey six-pence.”
“The tombs,” said the conductor, “at the east end of the church, along with the chapel of Henry VII, the admission fee to see these, sir, is six pence; the models are three pence; the tombs at the northern part of the cross aisle are three pence; and the west end and tower of the abbey cost six pence.”
Tallyho expressed his surprise that the house of God and the depository of the dead, should be so shamefully assigned over to the influence of Mammon, and a price of admission as into a place of public amusement, exacted by those to whose mercenary government the ancient structure of Westminster Abbey had devolved. “Was it thus, always,” asked he, “from the time of Henry IIId?” To this enquiry, the guide replied merely by a shrug of his shoulders, rather indicative of contempt than otherways, and to a further question of “Who is the receiver general of these exactions, and to what purpose are they applied?” he preserved a sullen taciturnity.
Tallyho expressed his surprise that the house of God and the resting place for the dead should be so shamefully subjected to the influence of money, with an admission fee like that of a public amusement venue, demanded by those whose greedy management had taken over the historic structure of Westminster Abbey. "Has it always been this way," he asked, "since the time of Henry III?" In response, the guide simply shrugged his shoulders, which showed more contempt than anything else, and when asked, "Who collects this money and what is it used for?" he remained sullenly silent.
From the south aisle of the abbey there are two entrances into the cloisters, which are entire, and consist of four arched walks on the sides of an open quadrangle. There are many monuments in these walks, but four of them, beneath which are the remains of four of the abbots [87]of Westminster, at the east end of the south walk, are all which merit particular attention.—
From the south aisle of the abbey, there are two entrances to the cloisters, which are complete and consist of four arched walkways on the sides of an open courtyard. There are many monuments in these walkways, but four of them, under which rest the remains of four abbots [87] of Westminster, located at the east end of the south walkway, are the only ones that deserve special attention.—
Amongst the ancient records deposited here, the two friends were gratified with a sight of those of the Court of Star-chamber, and of the original Domesday-book, which is still as legible as the first hour it was written.
Among the ancient records stored here, the two friends were pleased to see those from the Court of Star Chamber and the original Domesday Book, which is still as clear as the first hour it was written.
Against the south-west part of the west front of the abbey, is the north front of the Jerusalem chamber, remarkable for being the place where king Henry IV. breathed his last.{1}
Against the south-west part of the west front of the abbey is the north front of the Jerusalem chamber, noteworthy for being where King Henry IV breathed his last.{1}
North from the abbey stood the Sanctuary, the place of refuge allowed in old times, to criminals of a certain description; and, on the south side, was the eleemosynary or almonry, where the alms of the abbot were distributed.—This place is remarkable for being the spot in which the first printing-press ever used in England was set up; and here, in 1474, Caxton printed the Game and Play of Chesse, the first book ever printed in England.—A new Court House is now built on the site of the sanctuary.
North of the abbey stood the Sanctuary, a refuge once allowed for certain types of criminals; and to the south was the almonry, where the abbot's alms were distributed. This location is notable for being where the first printing press used in England was established; in 1474, Caxton printed the Game and Play of Chesse here, the first book ever printed in England. A new courthouse has now been built on the site of the sanctuary.
Having seen in the Abbey every curiosity of note, its two visitants directed their course into Westminster Hall, the great national seat of justice.—This together with the House of Lords, and the House of Commons, are the remains of the palace of Westminster, built by Edward the Confessor, the situation of which was close to the river Thames, and the stairs leading from it still retain the name of palace stairs. The hall itself is the largest room in Europe, except the theatre at Oxford, unsupported by columns. It is 275 feet in length, 74 in breadth, and 90 in height, the roof being of oak, of curious gothic architecture. It was originally used as a place of festivity, and Richard IId entertained 10,000 guests within its walls. In this hall Charles I.. was tried and condemned; and at present it is occasionally fitted up for the trial of peers or of any person impeached by the Commons.
Having explored all the noteworthy curiosities in the Abbey, the two visitors made their way to Westminster Hall, the major national seat of justice. This, along with the House of Lords and the House of Commons, are the remnants of the Palace of Westminster, built by Edward the Confessor, located near the River Thames. The stairs leading from it still carry the name of palace stairs. The hall itself is the largest room in Europe, aside from the theater at Oxford, and it has no supporting columns. It measures 275 feet long, 74 feet wide, and 90 feet high, with an oak roof featuring intricate Gothic architecture. It was originally used for festivities, and Richard II entertained 10,000 guests within its walls. In this hall, Charles I was tried and condemned; today, it is occasionally set up for the trial of peers or anyone impeached by the Commons.
Our heroes now relinquishing the contemplation of the olden times for the enjoyment of the passing scenes of the modern, turned their steps in the direction of Whitehall; passing through which, and facing the Banquetting-House,{2} their observation was attracted to a gentleman on
Our heroes, leaving behind thoughts of the past to enjoy the current sights, headed towards Whitehall. As they walked through it and faced the Banquetting-House,{2} they noticed a gentleman who
[88]horseback, followed by a number of people, by whom he was frequently and warmly cheered; and en passant was recognized with other popular feeling of regard and respect. Dashall stept forward to reconnoitre, and ascertained that the favourite was no other than the worthy representative of the borough of Southwark, Sir Robert Wilson, Knt. lately deprived of his rank as a General, “for,” continued Dashall, “nobody knows what, unless the enormous crime of paying his last tribute of respect to the memory of an “injured Queen;” and endeavouring, in the temperate language of remonstrance, to prevent the effusion of human blood! His character however, is too firmly rooted to sustain injury from the breath of slander; and the malignity of his enemies has recoiled on themselves: thanks to a brave, just, and generous people, who are ever prone to save whom persecution aims to destroy.”
[88] On horseback, followed by a crowd of people, who often cheered him warmly, he was recognized with other expressions of popular admiration and respect. Dashall stepped forward to take a look and confirmed that the favorite was none other than the honorable representative of the borough of Southwark, Sir Robert Wilson, Knt., who had recently lost his rank as a General, “because,” Dashall continued, “nobody knows why, unless it’s the serious offense of paying his last respects to the memory of an ‘injured Queen,’ and trying, with calm words of protest, to stop the shedding of innocent blood! However, his character is too solid to be harmed by rumors; the spite of his enemies has backfired on them: thanks to a brave, fair, and generous people, who are always ready to protect those whom persecution tries to destroy.”
Dashall seemed warm in defending the cause of this gallant officer, and the Squire listened with correspondent satisfaction.
Dashall appeared passionate in defending this courageous officer, and the Squire listened with equal satisfaction.
“The allied Sovereigns,” observed Dashall, “in General Sir Robert Wilson, found all the essential requisites of a good soldier: of skill to plan, and of valour to execute. They were chiefly indebted to his judgment and intrepidity for the victory of Leipsic; to which ample testimony was given by the Emperors of Russia and Austria; the latter of whom, during the intensity and perils of the engagement, he extricated from the imminent hazard of captivity. His services have not been of less importance in the armies of his own country, as acknowledged by the Commander in Chief, who has now rewarded him by recommending his dismissal, at the instance, no doubt, of Ministers; anxious by this procedure to annihilate his independent feelings, and render them more subservient to the doctrine of non-resistance and of passive obedience to the existing authorities!”{1}
“The allied rulers,” said Dashall, “found all the key qualities of a good soldier in General Sir Robert Wilson: the ability to plan and the courage to act. They largely owe the victory at Leipsic to his judgment and bravery, which was acknowledged by the Emperors of Russia and Austria; the latter of whom he saved from the risk of capture during the heat of battle. His contributions have been equally significant in his own country’s army, as recognized by the Commander in Chief, who has now recommended his dismissal, likely at the request of the Ministers; eager to suppress his independent spirit and make him more compliant with the principles of non-resistance and passive obedience to the current authorities!”{1}
[89]Pursuing their course along the Strand, and ruminating on the alarming increase of juvenile depravity, Tallyho could not avoid remarking on the numerous temptations held out to the vicious and necessitous in this wide-spreading and wealthy metropolis—“For instance,” making a full halt, with his friend, against the spacious and unlatticed window of a jeweller's shop, Dashall admitted the truth of his companion's observation. Here on promiscuous display were seen most valuable articles of jewelry, stretching multitudinously from one extremity to the other of the window, consisting of gold and silver watches, elegant and richly wrought seals, musical snuff-boxes, diamond rings, diamond pins, &c. embracing, in vast variety, a property of immense value, divided from the street by “thin and undefended squares of glass only; and that the lure might prove still more attractive, each article marked at its price, some 25, some 50, 75, 100, and 200 guineas each! A dash and a grab might secure to the depredator possession of wealth; and while such temptations are held out, the surprise is, not that so many street robberies are, but that a great many more are not committed. The many thousands in London out of employment, and of these perhaps the greatest number unhoused and famishing, would it be much to be wondered at if some of these sons of misery, goaded onwards to crime by the extremity of human suffering, were to attempt the possession of spoil, so carelessly exposed, and apparently so easily obtainable?{1}
[89]As they walked along the Strand, contemplating the worrying rise in young people's wrongdoings, Tallyho couldn’t help but notice the many temptations presented to the desperate and immoral in this sprawling and affluent city—“For example,” stopping completely with his friend in front of a jeweler's shop with large, bare windows, Dashall acknowledged his friend’s point. The window showcased a wide range of valuable jewelry, displaying everything from gold and silver watches to beautifully crafted seals, musical snuff boxes, diamond rings, diamondpins, etc. It offered an enormous wealth of items, separated from the street by only “thin and unprotected sheets of glass;” and to make the temptation even greater, each item was labeled with its price, some costing 25, some 50, 75, 100, and up to 200 guineas each! A quick grab could give a thief access to riches; and given such temptations exist, it’s surprising that so many street robberies happen, yet even more surprising that so many don’t happen. With the thousands of unemployed in London, many of whom are homeless and starving, would it really be shocking if some of these people, driven to crime by the extreme suffering they face, attempted to take what is carelessly displayed and seemingly easy to grab?{1}
[90]"Here conies silly Tom and staggering Bob,” exclaimed a fellow, as he approached towards our pedestrians. Tallyho had grasped more firmly his oaken sprig, with the intention of trying the crankness of the observer's pericranium, when Dashall perceived that the obnoxious remark was directed to a simple looking old man, dejectedly leading a horse “done up,” and apparently destined for the slaughter-house.
[90]"Here comes silly Tom and staggering Bob,” shouted a guy as he walked toward our pedestrians. Tallyho tightened his grip on his wooden stick, planning to test the observer's brainpower, when Dashall noticed that the rude comment was aimed at a simple-looking old man, sadly leading a worn-out horse that seemed headed for the slaughterhouse.
“Where now, Tommy,” continued the querist, “with thy decayed bit of blood?”
“Where to now, Tommy,” the questioner continued, “with your faded bit of blood?”
“Aye, aye,” answered Tommy, despondingly, “even to the naggers,{1}—'tis what we must all come to.”
“Aye, aye,” answered Tommy, sadly, “even to the naggers,{1}—it’s what we all have to face.”
“And so thy master has passed the doom of death against his old servant Bob, on whose back he has been safely borne, in the chase, “many a time and oft,” as the song says, “o'er hedges, gaps, ditches and gates; and fleet of foot as thou wert,” patting the animal with feelings of commiseration,” and often as thou hast replenished thy master's purse, thou art now going to the slaughter-house!”
“And so your master has sentenced his old servant Bob to die, on whose back he has been safely carried, “many a time and often,” as the song goes, “over hedges, gaps, ditches, and gates; and as fast as you were,” patting the animal with feelings of pity, “and as often as you have filled your master's wallet, you are now going to the slaughterhouse!”
“Even so—the faithful servant, now no longer useful, is discarded.”
“Still, the loyal servant, no longer needed, is thrown away.”
“And put to death!—Why man, thy master is a d——d unfeeling, ungrateful scoundrel, else he would have turned this poor nag at large on the green sward, to roam as he list in summer, with a warm stable in winter, and have left him to die the death of nature.”
“And put to death!—Why man, your master is a damn unfeeling, ungrateful jerk, otherwise he would have let this poor horse roam free on the green grass in summer, with a warm stable in winter, and would have let him die a natural death.”
An assemblage of passengers had now collected round the doom'd horse and his sympathizing friend, whose vehemence of expression had attracted much attention. The feelings of his auditory were in full unison with his own, and as the throng increased, with inquisitive curiosity, the advocate in the cause of humanity repeated the following lines:
An audience of passengers had now gathered around the doomed horse and his sympathetic friend, whose passionate expression had drawn a lot of attention. The feelings of those listening matched his completely, and as the crowd grew, filled with curious interest, the advocate for humanity repeated the following lines:
[91]The spectators were evidently affected. He next sung the stanza of an old song, extemporaneously produced (with the exception of the first two lines)
[91]The audience was clearly moved. He then sang the verse of an old song, created on the spot (except for the first two lines).
The Squire having occasion to call at a banker's in Fleet Street, the two friends entered at the moment when a countryman with a most rueful expression of countenance, stood transfixed to the floor, like the statue of Despair, incapable either of speech or motion. After an absorption of mental faculty of several minutes duration, he burst out into the incoherent exclamations of
The Squire needed to stop by a bank in Fleet Street, and the two friends walked in just as a countryman with a very distressed look was frozen to the floor, like a statue of Despair, unable to speak or move. After several minutes of deep thought, he suddenly exploded into a jumble of exclamations of
“Murrian take un, zay I!—Icod, I'ze in a voine pickle! I ha brought my pigs to market wi a vengeance! O luord! O luord! whoa would ha thought en't?”
“Murrian, take that, I say!—Goodness, I'm in quite a pickle! I've brought my pigs to market with a vengeance! Oh dear! Oh dear! Who would have thought it?”
He then began exercising his feet by stamping each alternately on the floor, with a violence that shook the room to its foundation; and this vehement thunder he accompanied by correspondent energy of gesticulation; distorting his visage, and casting about his arms with the action of an infuriated maniac. The place was thrown into alarm, and business was suspended. Dashall now addressing himself to the presumed lunatic, begged him to compose himself, and endeavour briefly to state what had happened, that if he had sustained an injury, redress might be obtained.
He then started exercising his feet by stomping them alternately on the floor with enough force to shake the room to its core; he punctuated this loud noise with wild gestures, contorting his face and flailing his arms like a raging maniac. The scene caused panic, and all activities stopped. Dashall then turned to the supposed madman, asking him to calm down and try to explain what had happened, so that if he had been harmed, he could seek help.
After several fruitless attempts at narration, he at length told his story; and that it may lose nothing of its originality, we shall give it in the first person.
After several unsuccessful tries at telling his story, he finally shared it; and to keep its originality intact, we’ll present it in the first person.
“I'ze cuom zur, frae Zumersetzshire to Lunnon, first time o' my loife, by coach, where it putt en at a pleace called the two Gooses necks, and zo having a cheque on this house for Fifty Pounds, and not knowing the way, I axed a vera civil gentleman whom I met wi' hovering about Inn-yard; and telling him my business, Pze go with you, zaid he, vera kindly, and help thee to take care o! thy money, vor there be a desperate set o' sharp fellows in Lunnon ready to take every advantage of a stranger; [92] and zoa we came along, and just avore we gotten into house here, he said to I, zays he, I'ze take thy money and zee that all's right, vor there be a vast many bad sovereigns about.—Well, zur, zoa he did; and just as I wur looking about, it seems he had taen himself off wi'the money, vor when I looked round he wur no where to be zeen; and zoa zur, I have lost Fifty good Pounds to my sorrow. Who would ha thought it!—I wish the murrian had ha hold on me avore I had come to this wicked world o' Lunnon!”
“I traveled from Somerset to London for the first time in my life by coach, where I was dropped off at a place called the Two Goose Necks. I had a check for Fifty Pounds for this place, and not knowing the way, I asked a very polite gentleman I met loitering in the inn yard. After telling him my business, he kindly said, 'I'll go with you and help you take care of your money, because there are some really shady characters in London who are ready to take advantage of a stranger.' So we made our way, and just before we got to the house, he said to me, 'I'll take your money and make sure everything's right, since there are a lot of bad sovereigns floating around.'—Well, sir, that’s what he did; and just as I was looking around, it seems he had taken off with the money, because when I looked back, he was nowhere to be seen. So, sir, I have lost Fifty good Pounds to my sorrow. Who would have thought it!—I wish I had been taken out before I came to this wicked world of London!”
Here the countryman concluded his narrative, exciting the amusement of some and the sympathy of others of his auditory.—The banker dispatched one of his clerks with the unlucky wight to one of the Public Offices, for the purpose of describing the depredator, altho' with very small chance of recovering the property.{1}
Here the countryman finished his story, making some people laugh and drawing sympathy from others in the audience.—The banker sent one of his clerks along with the unfortunate guy to one of the Public Offices to describe the thief, even though there was very little chance of recovering the stolen items.{1}
Eliminating on the folly of this credulous countryman, our perambulators now proceeded down Fleet Street, where casting a look into Bolt Court—“Here,” said Dashall, “lived and died the colossus of English literature, Doctor Samuel Johnson,{2} a man whose like the world may
Eliminating the foolishness of this gullible countryman, our walkers continued down Fleet Street, where, glancing into Bolt Court, Dashall said, “Here lived and died the giant of English literature, Doctor Samuel Johnson,{2} a man whose equal the world may
[93]perhaps never see again; yet with all his vast erudition he had his prejudices and superstitions; he believed in apparitions, and he despised all countries save his own.—The Scotch and Irish he affected particularly to dislike.—In his poem of “London,” in imitation of Juvenal, he says,—
[93]perhaps never see again; yet with all his extensive knowledge, he had his biases and superstitions; he believed in ghosts and looked down on all countries except his own.—He particularly claimed to dislike the Scots and the Irish.—In his poem "London," imitating Juvenal, he writes,—
But, with all his foibles, (and who is there without human infirmity?) Doctor Samuel Johnson was the most highly talented writer of any age or nation.”
But, despite all his flaws (and who doesn’t have their own weaknesses?), Doctor Samuel Johnson was the most gifted writer of any time or country.
Facing the Obelisk, “let us stroll down the market,” said Dashall, “considered the cheapest in London.—Flesh, fish and fowl, fruits, roots and vegetables, are here abundantly attainable, and at moderate prices.”
Facing the Obelisk, “let's walk through the market,” said Dashall, “which is known as the cheapest in London. You can find plenty of meat, fish and poultry, fruits, roots, and vegetables here, all at reasonable prices.”
Amongst the various venders, our two observers passed on, unmolestedly, excepting the annoyance and importunity of “What d'ye buy? what d'ye buy, buy, buy?” from” barking butchers, who instinctively reiterated the phrase as the casual passenger approached, like so many parrots, unconscious of its import being unproductive in effect; for who would be induced to purchase by the clamorous invitation universally in use by these vociferous butchers of the metropolis?—“My fine fellow,” observed Tallyho to one who annoyed him, “good wine, they say, needs no bush, neither does good meat require a barker.”
Among the various vendors, our two observers moved through without any trouble, aside from the irritation and persistence of “What do you want to buy? What do you want to buy, buy, buy?” from the shouting butchers, who mindlessly repeated the phrase as a passerby approached, like a bunch of parrots, unaware that their words were pointless; after all, who would be tempted to make a purchase by the loud calls that these boisterous butchers of the city used? “My good man,” Tallyho remarked to one who bothered him, “good wine, they say, needs no sign, and good meat doesn’t need a salesperson.”
“Bad luck to my mother's own daughter, and that is myself, sure,” exclaimed a retail venderess of vegetables, to her opponent in trade, “if I wouldn't for the value of a tester, or for the value of nothing at all at all, give you freely just what you ask for my jewel.—Arrah now, is it law that you want of me! Faith and troth then you shall have it, club-law, when and where you plase, my darling!”
“Bad luck to my mother's own daughter, and that's me, for sure,” exclaimed a vegetable seller to her trade rival. “If I wouldn't give you just what you ask for my jewel, not even for the value of a penny or for nothing at all, I'd be crazy. Now, is it the law you want from me? Well then, you'll get it, club-law, whenever and wherever you like, my darling!”
“Dirty end,” rejoined the other lady, “to the girl who fear* you!—Here am I, Kate, of the Maclusky's of Ballymena, in the county of Antrim, long life to it! and it would be a hard case, and a shameful one to boot, if a well educated northern lass should suffer her own self to be disgraced by a Munster-woman.”
“Dirty end,” replied the other woman, “to the girl who fears you!—Here I am, Kate, from the Maclusky's of Ballymena, in County Antrim, long may it live! And it would be a tough situation, and a shameful one too, if a well-educated northern girl allowed herself to be shamed by a woman from Munster.”
[94] “The devil fly away with Ballymena, and the Macluskys along with it!” retorted the other; “and is it Munster and heddication that you are bothering about? Whillaloe graraachree! my sweet one! and did you begin your larning in Ballymena, and come to finish it in Fleet-market? By my conscience, Kate Maclusky, if you are not very much belied, you know more than you ought to do.”
[94] “To hell with Ballymena and the Macluskys too!” the other shot back; “and is it Munster and education you’re getting worked up about? Whillaloe graraachree! my dear! Did you start your learning in Ballymena and come to finish it at Fleet Market? I swear, Kate Maclusky, if you’re not being heavily misjudged, you know more than you should.”
“And what would you 'sinuate by that?” demanded Kate;—“What do you ?sinuate by that, Ma'am?—I acknowledge that I'm both a whore and a thief—what then? Bating that I defy you to say, black is the white of my eye!”
“And what do you mean by that?” Kate demanded. “What do you mean by that, Ma'am? I admit that I'm both a whore and a thief—so what? Aside from that, I dare you to say that black is the white of my eye!”
Here Mrs. Maclusky with arms a-kimbo, and a visage strongly expressing exasperation and defiance, advanced towards the Munster-woman.
Here Mrs. Maclusky, with her hands on her hips and a face that clearly showed frustration and stubbornness, walked toward the Munster woman.
“Let us step aside,” said Dashall, “hostilities are about to commence.”
“Let’s step aside,” said Dashall, “the fighting is about to start.”
He was right; a few more irritable preliminaries, and the heroines came in contact, in due order of battle.
He was right; a few more annoying preliminaries, and the heroines finally met, ready for action.
“Two to one on the Munster-woman.” “Done! Ulster for ever! go it Kate!—handle your dawdles, my girl;—shiver her ivory;—darken her skylights;—flatten her sneizer;—foul, foul,—ah you Munster b——ch!”
“Two to one on the Munster woman.” “Deal! Ulster forever! Go for it, Kate!—work your magic, girl;—break her spirit;—block her vision;—take her down;—foul play, foul play,—ah you Munster b****!”
“Fair, fair;—arrah, now for the honor of Munster;—dig away;—mind your hits;—rattle her bread basket;—set her claret-spout a-going;—stand firm on your pegs;—what, down!”
“Fair, fair;—come on now for the honor of Munster;—dig in;—watch your hits;—shake her up;—get that wine flowing;—stand strong on your feet;—what, down!”
Thus ended round the first; the amazons had, in the fray, reduced each other from the waist upwards to nearly a state of nudity. On either side the partisans were numerous, the combatants eager to renew the fight, and the spectators, the majority of whom were of Irish distraction, anxious for the result, when the officious interposition of official authority, terminated the “tug of war,” and the honor of the two provinces remained undecided.—
Thus ended the first round; the Amazons had, in the fight, stripped each other from the waist up to almost total nudity. On both sides, the supporters were many, the fighters eager to continue the battle, and the spectators, most of whom were Irish onlookers, were anxious for the outcome, when the overly eager involvement of official authority brought the “tug of war” to a halt, leaving the honor of the two provinces unresolved.
“Success to the land that gave Patrick his birth.” Tranquillity thus restored, a new scene in the drama of Fleet-market attracted the attention of the two visitants.
“Success to the land that gave Patrick his birth.” With peace restored, a new scene in the drama of Fleet-market captured the attention of the two visitors.
A rabbit pole-woman passing through the market, was accosted by a lady, who enquiring the price of the Rabbits, purchased a couple, in front of the shop of a similar exhibitant.—This was considered by the rabbit-dealers of the market, a gross breach of privilege, more particularly as the obnoxious female had presumed to undersell them, even with a superior article. Not willing, however, from [95]prudential reasons, to appear in avowed personal hostility against the object of their vengeance, and that, too, a woman, who had inadvertently incurred the displeasure of their high mightinesses, the subordinate agency of boys was deputed for the purpose of wrecking summary retribution; and the juvenile deputation quickly overthrew in the apparent wantonness of mischief, the whole of the poor girl's day-property, and scrambling for the spoil, disseminated themselves in different directions, leaving not the vestige of a rabbit behind!
A rabbit seller passing through the market was approached by a woman who asked about the price of the rabbits and bought a couple right in front of a competing seller. The rabbit dealers in the market saw this as a serious violation, especially since the woman had managed to sell them for less, even though her rabbits were of better quality. However, not wanting to directly confront her and make an enemy of a woman who had unintentionally angered them, they sent a group of boys to take care of their revenge. The kids quickly knocked over all of the girl’s merchandise in a fit of mischief, grabbed the rabbits, and scattered in different directions, leaving no trace of her rabbits behind!
A torrent of tears, feelingly shewed the anguish of her mind. She was ruined beyond hope of redemption; the rabbits she had every morning on credit, she plied the streets in selling them, through many a wearisome hour in the day, happy if next morning, having realized a very moderate profit by her laborious vocation, she could settle accounts with the wholesale dealer, and take a fresh cargo with which to commence another day's adventure.—But now, wringing her hands in an agony of grief, “It is all over with me!” she exclaimed,—” my means of subsistence is gone,—my credit is lost,—and God's will be done,—I must go home and starve!”{1}
A flood of tears clearly showed the pain she was feeling. She was completely ruined with no hope of getting back on her feet; every morning, she would take rabbits on credit to sell in the streets, spending many exhausting hours during the day, glad if the next morning she could manage a small profit from her hard work to settle up with the wholesaler and get another batch to start another day’s hustle. —But now, in her anguish, she cried, “It’s all over for me! My way to make a living is gone—my credit is lost—and whatever happens, happens. I have to go home and starve!”{1}
Ever prone to relieve distress, Dashall and Tallyho sympathized most sincerely with this unfortunate girl; there was an indescribable something of extreme interest about her, which was well calculated to excite a feeling of generous commiseration.
Always eager to help those in need, Dashall and Tallyho genuinely sympathized with this unfortunate girl; there was an intriguing quality about her that easily sparked feelings of compassion.
Shall we now say the two philanthropists? for such they proved themselves. Each then, in the same moment, expanded his purse, and together more than compensated the delighted and astonished girl for her loss, who, blessing her benefactors, went home rejoicing.
Shall we now mention the two philanthropists? For that's what they turned out to be. Each of them, at that very moment, opened their wallets, and together they more than made up for the thrilled and surprised girl’s loss, who, grateful to her benefactors, went home feeling joyful.
Gaining the extremity of the market, at the bottom of Skinner-street, the two friends rounded the corner, and verged towards Ludgate-hill by the Fleet Prison. Here a fresh claim, though of lesser magnitude, obtruded itself on their benevolence. “Pity the poor debtors, having no [96] allowance!” exclaimed an emaciated being, gazing with an eye of wistful expectancy, through the thrice-grated window of a small apartment on a level nearly with the street; “Pity the poor debtors;” The supplicating tone of deep distress in which these words were uttered spoke irresistibly to the heart, and the blessing of Heaven was once more invoked on the donors.
Reaching the edge of the market at the bottom of Skinner Street, the two friends turned the corner and headed toward Ludgate Hill by the Fleet Prison. Here, a new appeal for help, though not as urgent, caught their attention. “Have pity on the poor debtors, who have no [96] support!” cried a thin figure, looking with hopeful eyes through the heavily barred window of a small room just above street level; “Have pity on the poor debtors.” The pleading tone of deep distress in these words tugged at their hearts, and once again, the blessing of Heaven was sought for the givers.
“And this is the prison,” observed the Squire, “where a presumed scion of the Royal branch, a few days ago surrendered to her bail, as a prisoner for debt.”—“The same,” rejoined his Cousin, “and the Princess is now most unroyally domiciled at a private-house within the rules of the Fleet, on Ludgate-hill.—Sic transit gloria mundi!”
“And this is the prison,” said the Squire, “where a supposed descendant of the Royal family recently surrendered to her bail, as a debtor.” — “That’s right,” replied his Cousin, “and the Princess is currently living in a private house within the limits of the Fleet, on Ludgate Hill. — Sic transit gloria mundi!”
“Certainly,” said the Squire, “this London produces extraordinary sights, and not less extraordinary occurrences;—but of all the scenes of Real Life which has hitherto come within the scope of our observation, the most singular is that of the presumed legitimate cousin of the King of England, recently in a Spunging-house, and now confined for a debt of a few hundred pounds to the rules of the Fleet."{1}
“Sure,” said the Squire, “London really has some amazing sights, and even more amazing events;—but of all the real-life situations we’ve seen so far, the most unusual one is that of the supposed legitimate cousin of the King of England, who was recently in a debtor's prison, and is now stuck there for a debt of a few hundred pounds according to the rules of the Fleet."{1}
[97]"Some Kings are not partial to female cousins; and the legitimacy (said Dashall,) of this pretended Princess of Cumberland does not appear sufficiently tangible to admit of recognition, otherwise, without doubt, she would have been provided for!”
[97]"Some kings don’t favor female cousins; and the legitimacy (said Dashall) of this so-called Princess of Cumberland doesn’t seem solid enough to warrant recognition. Otherwise, she would have been taken care of!"
“Her case, however, wears not much the semblance of imposition,” said the Squire. “The circumstances which she so minutely states, with reference to living characters, strongly imply that her pretensions are not ill-founded.”
“Her situation, however, doesn’t really seem like a burden,” said the Squire. “The details she provides, concerning real people, strongly suggest that her claims are not baseless.”
They had now reached Ludgate-hill; a crowd was collected opposite the residence of the Princess of Cumberland, when the captive heroine condescended to shew herself at the window.—She is of matronly appearance, and was well dressed.—The mobility received her with due respect; the lady made her obeisance, and the assemblage retired, on terms apparently of reciprocal satisfaction.—
They had now arrived at Ludgate Hill; a crowd had gathered in front of the Princess of Cumberland's residence when the captive heroine graciously appeared at the window. She looked matronly and was well dressed. The crowd greeted her with appropriate respect; the lady acknowledged them with a nod, and the gathering dispersed, seemingly satisfied on both sides.
Strolling onwards until they gained the centre of Blackfriars Bridge, the two friends paused in admiration of the interesting scene before them.
Strolling on until they reached the center of Blackfriars Bridge, the two friends stopped to admire the interesting scene in front of them.
Amidst the spires and turrets of the metropolis, Saint Paul's, close at hand, rose in the proud pre-eminence of stupendous grandeur, like a mighty monarch surrounded [98] by tributary kings, rendering him the homage of vassalage.
Amidst the skyscrapers and towers of the city, Saint Paul's stood nearby, towering with incredible grandeur, like a powerful king surrounded [98] by loyal subjects, paying him the respect of servitude.
—Emerging from the dense mass of buildings on the line from the Tower to Westminster Abbey, appeared a continued succession of prominent public edifices; on the river Thames the scene was diversified by numerous wherries, gliding pleasurably on the rippling wave; some shooting under the arches of the elegant Waterloo, and others under the spacious span of the lofty iron bridge of Southwark,—while on either side the river, Labour was on the alert, and the busy and ceaseless hum of Industry resounded far and near.
—Emerging from the thick cluster of buildings along the route from the Tower to Westminster Abbey was a series of notable public structures; on the River Thames, the scene was brightened by various boats leisurely cruising on the gently rippling water; some gliding beneath the arches of the graceful Waterloo Bridge, and others under the wide expanse of the towering iron Southwark Bridge—while on both sides of the river, workers were active, and the constant buzz of industry echoed far and wide.
?Twas low water, and the mud-larks now intent on their several vocations, engaged the eye of the Squire.—“What are those people about?” he asked, “What are they in search of?”
It was low tide, and the mud-larks now focused on their various tasks caught the Squire's attention. “What are those people doing?” he asked. “What are they looking for?”
“These are mud-larks,” answered his friend, “in search of what chance may throw in their way; all's fish that comes to net! You have much to learn yet of Real Life in London, and must prolong your stay accordingly.—Willing to eat the bread of honesty, these poor people are in the daily practice of frequenting the shores of the Thames, to literally pick up a living. Nothing comes amiss; all that is portable, however insignificant in value, goes into the general repository. The mud-lark returns home, when his labours are ended, sorts the indiscriminate heterogeneous “mass of matter,” and disposes of it as well as he can."{1}
“These are mud-larks,” his friend replied, “searching for whatever chance throws their way; all’s fair game! You still have a lot to learn about Real Life in London, and you should stay longer for that. These poor folks, willing to earn an honest living, regularly scour the shores of the Thames to literally pick up their livelihood. Nothing is too small; everything that can be carried, no matter how insignificant, goes into the collection. The mud-lark heads home when their work is done, sorts through the random mixed “pile of stuff,” and sells it off as best as they can."{1}
[99] “Thus it is that the Mud-lark earns a precarious and scanty subsistence, and in many other instances in this metropolis, Ingenuity and Perseverance overcome difficulties that in the country would prove insurmountable.”
[99] “This is how the Mud-lark manages to scrape by, and in many other cases in this city, creativity and determination tackle challenges that would be impossible to handle in the countryside.”
Retracing their steps to Ludgate-hill, the associates passed into the Old Bailey, where the Squire seemed struck with surprise at the simple bill of fare of an eating-house, not inscribed on paper and exhibited against the window, but deeply engraven on brass, and conspicuously fixed by the side of the door, expressed in four syllables only, “The boil'd-beef house.”—“Compendious enough,” exclaimed his Cousin. “Multum in parvo,” rejoined the Squire; and immediately walking in, they were ushered into a snug room partly occupied by guests of apparent respectability, each actively employed in the demolition of buttock or flank with great seeming satisfaction. The two strangers intimating a desire to follow so laudable an example, the waiter submissively put the question, “Which would you please to have, gentlemen, buttock or flank, or a plate of both?” That the quality of each might be ascertained, plates of both were ordered, and presently brought in, piping hot, and in the first style of culinary perfection.{1}
Retracing their steps to Ludgate Hill, the friends entered the Old Bailey, where the Squire looked surprised by the simple menu of a restaurant— not printed on paper and displayed in the window, but deeply engraved on brass and prominently fixed beside the door, expressed in just four words: “The Boiled Beef House.” “Short and sweet,” his cousin exclaimed. “A lot in a little,” the Squire replied; and as they walked in, they were shown to a cozy room partly filled with respectable-looking guests, each happily focused on eating their portion of beef. The two newcomers indicated they wanted to join in, and the waiter politely asked, “Which would you like, gentlemen—beef from the buttock or the flank, or a plate of both?” To determine the quality of each, they ordered plates of both, which were soon brought in, steaming hot, and perfectly cooked.
[100] It was amusing to observe the characteristic features of the different guests.
[100] It was funny to notice the unique traits of the various guests.
The young man hurrying over his meal, and frequently casting a look on the dial, indicated a tradesman's book-keeper, desirous of enjoying his pipe and pint ere the allotted dinner hour expired, when he must return to his desk.
The young man rushed through his meal, frequently glancing at the clock, showing he was a bookkeeper eager to enjoy his pipe and pint before his designated lunch break ended, after which he would have to return to his desk.
Another, of meagre and cadaverous appearance, had his plate replenished, thrice repeated, and each time dispatched the contents with astonishing celerity. This man without doubt, was either a poet or a bookseller's hack, who, probably had not for sometime enjoyed the novelty of a dinner, and was thus making atonement to appetite accordingly.
Another man, who looked thin and ghostly, had his plate refilled three times, and each time he devoured the food at an incredible speed. This man was undoubtedly either a poet or a struggling writer, who probably hadn't experienced the joy of a decent meal in a while, and was now making up for it by eating like this.
One gentleman fashionably attired kept mincing his meat, and at long intervals supplying masticates that seemed not at all alert in the performance of their office.—His attention was given rather to the company than to his plate, and was particularly directed to Dashall and Tallyho, on whom it alternately settled with fixed and favourite regard.—This very polite personage was assiduously eager by every possible courtesy to ingratiate himself into the notice of our two friends; but Dashall was a knowing fish, so the bait wouldn't take; and the Squire happening to ejaculate the word Spunger, the stranger prudently took the hint, and withdrew.{2}
One well-dressed gentleman kept cutting his meat, and every now and then he offered pieces to the people around him, who didn’t seem very enthusiastic about the task. He was more focused on the company than his food, particularly fixating on Dashall and Tallyho, his gaze alternating between them with a steady and fond interest. This very polite man was trying hard to gain the notice of our two friends through every possible courtesy; however, Dashall was sharp and saw right through him, so his attempts didn’t work. When the Squire happened to exclaim the word "Spunger," the stranger wisely took the hint and left.
[101] Having done satisfactory justice to the buttock and flank, and further refreshed themselves with a draught of Whitbread's Entire; our pedestrians, leaving the “Boil'd Beef House,” recommenced their excursion by proceeding up the Old Bailey, when Dashall remarking on the number of Eating Houses with which that street abounds, observed, that it seemed a favorite seat of consolidation for the professors of the culinary art, like Cloth-fair for Woollen-drapers, Paternoster-Row for Booksellers, and Clerkenwell for Watch-makers, &c. “This,” said Dashall, “is His Majesty's Gaol of Newgate, and from this door ascend the numerous victims to the fatal scaffold, in immolation to the offended laws of their country. Let us enter this temporary abode of crime and wretchedness. It has been much meliorated by the humane and indefatigable attentions of an excellent lady, Mrs. Elizabeth Fry, and I am desirous of seeing the result of her philanthropic exertions.” The gentlemanly appearance and demeanour of the two strangers facilitated their admission, and they entered the prison preceded by one of the turnkeys, who courteously had proffered his services in shewing the place, and giving every required information.
[101] After enjoying the food and drinks at the "Boiled Beef House," our travelers continued their journey by walking up the Old Bailey. Dashall noted the many eating establishments lining the street and remarked that it resembled a hub for culinary experts, much like Cloth Fair is for clothiers, Paternoster Row for booksellers, and Clerkenwell for watchmakers, etc. “This,” said Dashall, “is His Majesty's Gaol of Newgate, and from this door, countless prisoners go up to the grim scaffold as sacrifices to the laws of their country. Let's take a look inside this temporary home of crime and misery. It has been greatly improved by the caring and tireless efforts of an amazing woman, Mrs. Elizabeth Fry, and I want to see the impact of her humanitarian work.” The well-dressed appearance and demeanor of the two visitors made it easy for them to get in, and they were led into the prison by one of the turnkeys, who kindly offered to show them around and provide any information they needed.
Newgate, on the eastern side of the Old Bailey, has been rebuilt, its walls or shell excepted, since it was destroyed by the rioters, in the year 1780. A broad yard divides Newgate from the Sessions House, a very handsome stone and brick building. Another edifice, where that lately stood, commonly called Surgeon's Hall, has been erected; it is arched underneath, and supported upon pillars, and is used as a place of accommodation for witnesses and other persons, while waiting for the trials during session time.
Newgate, on the east side of the Old Bailey, has been completely rebuilt, except for its outer walls, since it was destroyed by rioters in 1780. A large yard separates Newgate from the Sessions House, which is a very impressive stone and brick building. Another structure, where the old Surgeon's Hall used to stand, has been constructed; it has arches underneath and is supported by pillars, serving as a waiting area for witnesses and others during trial sessions.
[102] This prison, until within these few years back, was a place of confinement as well for debtors as felons, but by late arrangements, and the erection of the new gaol in Whitecross-street, Newgate has now become the receptacle of felons only.{1}
[102] This prison, until just a few years ago, was a place where both debtors and criminals were held, but due to recent changes and the construction of the new jail on Whitecross Street, Newgate has now become a facility exclusively for criminals.{1}
In the Old Bailey stood Sydney-house, known by the white front, and the recess in which it is concealed; and here Jonathan Wild is said to have lived the greatest part of his time. The north side of Newgate consists of two court-yards, which are far too circumscribed for the numerous inhabitants, this prison always exhibiting a multitudinous calendar of human depravity. The men's court is only 49 feet 6 inches, by 31 feet 6, and the women's of the same length, and about half the width. The whole square is entirely surrounded by the wards, [103] which rise three stories above the pavement. The women's yard is separated from the men's by a wall. In the south and south-east yards, felons for trial are confined, and four other yards are similarly occupied. The yard assigned to female felons is a wretched place, containing three wards, in which are sometimes kept upwards of one hundred women. In the north-east corner, next Newgate-street, is the condemned yard, in which are kept persons under sentence of death. The yards and all the wards are repeatedly lime-washed, and by these and other excellent regulations of the Sheriffs of London, Newgate is changed from a loathsome prison, dangerous to the health of the metropolis, to a state which may be quoted as a model for all similar places. Water is plentiful, ventilators are introduced into every window, and a general system of cleanliness prevails throughout the whole prison. The morals of its inmates have been improved, and their condition greatly meliorated by Mrs. Elizabeth Fry, who like her predecessor in the exercise of philanthropy, the celebrated Howard, delights in reducing the sum of human misery. The feelings of the two visitors having been amply gratified by demonstration of the happy result, from superior management, accruing to the prisoners, they departed, not forgetting the poor box, put up for general benefit, inviting the contributions of charitable strangers.
In the Old Bailey stood Sydney House, recognizable by its white facade and the hidden recess where it's located; here, it's said that Jonathan Wild spent most of his time. The north side of Newgate has two courtyards that are way too small for the many inmates, as this prison always reflects a vast calendar of human wrongdoing. The men's courtyard is only 49 feet 6 inches by 31 feet 6 inches, and the women's is the same length but about half the width. The entire square is completely surrounded by the wards, [103] which rise three stories above the ground. The women's yard is separated from the men's by a wall. In the south and southeast yards, felons awaiting trial are held, and four other yards are similarly used. The yard assigned to female felons is a dismal place, containing three wards that sometimes hold more than one hundred women. In the northeast corner, next to Newgate Street, is the condemned yard, where people under death sentences are kept. The yards and all the wards are regularly lime-washed, and through these and other great regulations by the Sheriffs of London, Newgate has transformed from a filthy prison, harmful to the health of the city, into a state that could serve as a model for similar facilities. Water is abundant, every window has ventilators, and a general system of cleanliness is maintained throughout the entire prison. The behavior of its inmates has improved, and their situation has significantly bettered thanks to Mrs. Elizabeth Fry, who, like her predecessor in philanthropy, the famous Howard, takes joy in reducing human suffering. The feelings of the two visitors were thoroughly satisfied by the visible benefits resulting from effective management for the prisoners, and they left, not forgetting the poor box set up for the general good, inviting donations from charitable strangers.
Continuing their route, our perambulators proceeded down Skinner street into Holborn, and traversed its extended line without any remarkable occurrence, until they reached Broad Street, St. Giles's. “We are now,” said Dashall, “in the Holy Land.”
Continuing on their path, our walkers went down Skinner Street into Holborn and walked along its long stretch without anything noteworthy happening, until they got to Broad Street, St. Giles's. “We are now,” said Dashall, “in the Holy Land.”
“Long life to your honors,” exclaimed a ragged professor of mendicity: “give a poor fellow the price of a shake down, and may you never be without the comforts of an upright!”
“Long life to you all,” shouted a scruffy professor of begging: “give a poor guy the price of a shake down, and may you always have the comforts of an upright!”
“What mean you,” asked the Squire, “by a shake down and an upright?”
“What do you mean,” asked the Squire, “by a shake down and an upright?”
“Not the worse luck that you don't know that self same thing now; but sure enough a shake-down is a two-penny layer of straw, and saving the tatters on my back, not a covering at all at all; may the son of my father never have a worse birth any how.”
“It's not the worst luck that you don't know that same thing now; but really, a shake-down is just a cheap layer of straw, and besides the rags on my back, it’s not a covering at all; may my father's son never have a worse start in life anyway.”
“And an upright?”
"And a straight?"
[104] “Is it an upright your honor's spaking about?—fait and troth, as to that same, may the devil fly away with Thady O'Flannagan, and that is myself sure, if he knows much about it at all at all, seeing as how he has not rested his old bones on such a thing, arrah, these many long years; but sure enough it is four stumps, with boards across, a good flock-bed, a blanket below and a sheet above, with a decent coverlet pieced and patched in a hundred places to boot;—may you never want the like of it, any how!”
[104] “Are you talking about a bed, your honor?—Honestly, I wouldn’t wish Thady O'Flannagan, which is me, any harm if I knew much about it, especially since I haven't had the chance to rest my old bones on one of those for many years; but it is just four legs, with boards on top, a nice wool mattress, a blanket underneath, and a sheet on top, plus a decent patchwork coverlet pieced together in a hundred spots to boot;—may you never be without something like it, anyway!”
“Thanks for your good wishes, my friend,” said Dashall; “and this for the information which you have given us.”
“Thanks for your good wishes, my friend,” said Dashall; “and this for the information you’ve shared with us.”
“By the powers of good luck!” exclaimed the itinerant philosopher, “a tirteener!—Now an Irishman's blessing upon you for two good-hearted gentlemen; may you live all the days of your lives in peace and prosperity both here and hereafter!”{1}
“By the powers of good luck!” exclaimed the traveling philosopher, “a runner!—Now may an Irishman's blessing be upon you two kind-hearted gentlemen; may you live in peace and prosperity all the days of your lives, both now and in the afterlife!”{1}
Palestine in London, or the Holy Land, includes that portion of the parish of St. Giles, Bloomsbury, inhabited by the lower Irish, with whom it seems a favorite place of residence. The Squire having expressed to his friend a desire of perambulating these boundaries, they proceeded, by the way of George street, to explore the sanctified labyrinths, the scenes of diurnal clamour, and hebdomadary conflict.
Palestine in London, or the Holy Land, refers to the part of the St. Giles parish in Bloomsbury that is home to the lower Irish, who seem to favor living there. The Squire, having told his friend that he wanted to walk around this area, they set off along George Street to explore the sacred maze, the places of daily noise, and weekly conflicts.
“Arrah now,” exclaimed a voice of maternity, in the person of a legitimate daughter of Erin,—“Arrah now, you brat of the devil's own begetting, be after bowling along to your fader: bad luck to him, and be sure that you bring him home wid you, by the token that the murphies are cracking, the salt-herrings scalding, and the apple-dumplings tumbling about the pot,—d'ye mind me, you tief of the world, tell him that his dinner waits upon him.”—“I'll be after doing that same, moder;” and forth from the ground floor of a mean looking house in Buckeridge-street, sprang an urchin without hat, shoe or stocking, and the scanty tattered habiliment he wore, fluttering in [105]various hues, like pennants in the wind, with such heedless velocity, urged no doubt by the anticipated delicacies of the dinner-pot, that he came in furious, unexpected, and irresistible contact with Squire Tallyho, who borne forward by the shock, was precipitated into a stagnant collection of mud and water, to the total disfigurement of his Boots, which had that morning received the “matchlessly brilliant polish of Warren's inestimable Jet blacking.” Not like many others in London, who will run you down and leave you to your fate, the heir of his fader's whimsicalities stopped short in the inauspicious set-out of his rapid career; and “dirty end,” he exclaimed, “to the scavenger that didn't think of the gentleman's boots!” And at the same time the mother of this hopeful representative of the Mac Dermott family, made her appearance with the genuine warmth of Irish hospitality; and inviting the two strangers to walk in, consoled the bespattered Squire with the prospect of speedy and effectual reparation, for “fait and troth, (said she) his dinner is all of a heap in the pot there, praaties, salt-herrings, and apple-dumplings,{1} and that is my husband Thady Mac Dermott, who is neither more nor less than a bricklayer's laborer, is after amusing himself and obliging his neighbours, at a small outlay, of a Sunday morning, by claning their boots and shoes; so it is an ill wind that blows nobody good, they say.” The accommodating hostess then producing a bottle of blacking, with the requisite brushing implements, applied herself assiduously to the operation of claning the Squire's boots, and restored them, in a few minutes, to the splendour of their pristine brilliancy.
“Now listen,” shouted a motherly voice from a true daughter of Ireland, “Now listen, you little brat born of the devil himself, go along to your father: bad luck to him, and make sure you bring him home with you, since the potatoes are cooking, the salt-herrings are scalding, and the apple dumplings are tumbling around in the pot—do you hear me, you little thief of the world, tell him that his dinner is waiting for him.” “I’ll do that, mother,” and out from the ground floor of a shabby house on Buckeridge Street rushed a child without a hat, shoes, or stockings, his ragged clothes flapping in various colors like flags in the wind, moving so fast, no doubt driven by thoughts of the delicious dinner, that he crashed unexpectedly into Squire Tallyho, who, caught off guard by the impact, was sent tumbling into a puddle of mud and water, completely ruining his boots, which had just that morning gotten the “matchlessly brilliant polish of Warren's priceless Jet blacking.” Unlike many others in London who might run you over and leave you to deal with it, the heir of his father’s whims stopped short in the unfortunate beginning of his speedy journey and exclaimed, “Dirty end to the scavenger who didn’t think of the gentleman’s boots!” At the same time, the mother of this promising representative of the Mac Dermott family appeared with the genuine warmth of Irish hospitality; she welcomed the two strangers inside and reassured the mud-splattered Squire with the promise of quick and effective repair, saying, “Indeed, his dinner is all ready in the pot, potatoes, salt-herrings, and apple dumplings, and that’s my husband Thady Mac Dermott, who is just a bricklayer's laborer, having a bit of fun and helping out his neighbors on a Sunday morning by cleaning their boots and shoes; so it’s an ill wind that blows nobody good, they say.” The accommodating hostess then pulled out a bottle of blacking and the necessary brushes, and diligently set to work cleaning the Squire’s boots, restoring them in just a few minutes to the shine of their original brilliance.
Scarcely had this important operation been performed, when entered Thady Mac Dermott and his son, the origin of the accident. “The devil burn your trampers, you imp of the Mac Dermotts,” cried the father: “couldn't you run against the gentleman without dirtying his boots? Never mind it at all at all; I'll be after giving you a walloping for it, any how.”
Scarcely had this important operation been performed when Thady Mac Dermott and his son, the cause of the accident, entered. “The devil take your clumsiness, you troublemaker from the Mac Dermotts,” shouted the father. “Couldn’t you bump into the gentleman without getting his boots dirty? Forget it for now; I’m going to give you a beating for this, anyway.”
[106] The first instrument of attack that comes to hand is an Irishman's weapon.—Thady brandished in terrorem a red hot poker, and his son with the agility of a cat took sanctuary under the bed, but at the intercession of the Squire was allowed to emerge with impunity, and admitted to a participation of the salt-herrings and apple-dumplings. The two friends declining an invitation to taste of these dainties, now departed, Tallyho not forgetting the “outlay, and the ill-wind that blows nobody good.”
[106] The first weapon at hand was an Irishman's choice. Thady swung a red-hot poker threateningly, and his son, quick as a cat, took refuge under the bed. However, thanks to the Squire's pleas, he was allowed to come out without punishment and joined in the feast of salt-herrings and apple dumplings. The two friends declined the invitation to try these treats and left, Tallyho remembering the “expense and the bad luck that doesn’t benefit anyone.”
Winding the mazes of the holy land, which may not unaptly be considered a colony of Irish emigrants, our perambulators without further occurrence worthy of notice, threaded their way through streets, lanes, and alleys, until they emerged at the bottom of Tottenham-court Road, close by the extensive brewery of Read and Co. Entering the premises, they were gratified with a view of every thing interesting in the establishment; and the Squire, to whom the spectacle was entirely new, stood wrapt in wonder at the vast magnitude of its immense vats and boilers, containing, as he observed, of the fluid of Sir John Barleycorn, a sufficiency to inundate the whole neighbourhood! “Such a circumstance,” said the attendant, “actually occurred a few years ago, when the vat burst, and an ocean of beer rushed forth, with such impetuous force as to bear down, in its resistless progress, the side of a house, and fill, to the imminent hazard of drowning the astonished and alarmed occupants, all the cellars in the vicinity."{1}
Winding through the maze of the holy land, which could easily be seen as a colony of Irish immigrants, our travelers, without any other noteworthy events, made their way through streets, lanes, and alleys until they reached the bottom of Tottenham Court Road, right by the large brewery of Read and Co. When they entered the premises, they were delighted to see everything interesting about the establishment. The Squire, who was completely new to this experience, stood in awe of the enormous size of its massive vats and boilers, noting that there was enough of the fluid from Sir John Barleycorn to flood the whole neighborhood! “Something like that actually happened a few years ago,” said the attendant, “when one of the vats burst, and an ocean of beer poured out with such force that it knocked down the side of a house and filled, almost drowning the shocked and frightened residents, all the cellars nearby.”{1}
Having seen all that is remarkable in this spacious concern, the two associates turned into Oxford Street, where their attention was directed to a gay female in an elegant equipage, pair in hand, dashing along, in the manner of royal celerity.
Having seen everything impressive in this large establishment, the two partners headed onto Oxford Street, where they noticed a stylish woman in a fancy carriage, a pair of horses in hand, speeding by with royal flair.
“Observe that lady,” said Dashall, “She is the celebrated Mrs. C*r*y, the favourite sultana of a certain Commander in Chief, and I shall give you her history in a few words.”
“Look at that lady,” said Dashall, “She is the famous Mrs. C*r*y, the favorite sultana of a particular Commander in Chief, and I’ll tell you her story in a few words.”
[107] “Sutherland, a bombadier at Woolwich, obtained a commission, but was less successful in securing the fidelity of his wife, who eloped with an officer to Gibraltar; the produce of this intercourse was the amoroso whom we observed en passant; in process of time she married C*r*y, an officer in a veteran battalion, but shortly afterwards getting tired of the connection, she adopted the laudable example set by her respectable mamma, deserted her husband and came to England, under the protection of a surgeon in the army, whose embraces she relinquished for those of her present illustrious possessor. How long she may keep him in captivation, is a surmise of rather equivocal import; however ardent at present, his attachment, Mrs. C*r*y must be aware of the versatile propensities of his R*y*l H*ghn*ss of Y**k, and sans doubt like her predecessor, Mary Ann C***ke, will make the most of a favourable opportunity.”
[107] “Sutherland, a bombardier at Woolwich, got a commission, but was less successful in keeping his wife faithful, who ran off with an officer to Gibraltar; the result of this affair was the young lady we saw en passant; eventually, she married C*r*y, an officer in a veteran battalion, but soon got bored with the marriage and followed the good example set by her respectable mother, leaving her husband and returning to England under the protection of an army surgeon, whose embraces she traded for those of her current prominent partner. How long she might keep him captivated is anyone's guess; however passionate his feelings may be right now, Mrs. C*r*y must be aware of the changing nature of his R*y*l H*ghn*ss of Y**k, and no doubt, like her predecessor, Mary Ann C***ke, will take full advantage of any favorable opportunity.”
“London exhibits Real Life in all its forms and gradations, from the hireling of royalty in a curricle, to the passive spouse of all the town, on the pavement; from the splendour of affluence to the miseries of penury; even Mendicity itself has its shades of variety, its success being less frequently derived from the acuteness of distress than the caprice of Nature, in having gifted the mendicant with some peculiar eccentricity of person or character, to attract attention and sympathy. He who is without these endowments passes unnoticed; but the diminutive and deformed creature, seated on a child's cart, who with the help of crutches shoves himself along the street, and whose whole height, including his machine, does not exceed two feet; this minikin, ecce homo, is gazed at by the casual passenger as a prodigy, and seldom fails to benefit by the excitation of curiosity.”—
“London shows Real Life in all its forms and variations, from the worker of royalty in a carriage to the passive spouse of the city on the sidewalk; from the splendor of wealth to the suffering of poverty; even begging has its different shades, often relying more on the quirks of fate than on the intensity of hardship, as some beggars possess unique characteristics that draw attention and sympathy. Those who lack these traits go unnoticed, while the small and deformed person sitting in a child's cart, who uses crutches to move along the street and whose entire height, crutches included, doesn't reach two feet; this little person, ecce homo, is stared at by passersby as a marvel and often manages to gain from the curiosity they inspire.”
Approaching the tiny personage alluded to,—“Well, Mr. Andrew Whiston,” said Dashall, “what important business brings you so far westward? I thought that your migrations from Bankside had never extended beyond the precincts of Temple-bar.”
Approaching the little person mentioned, Dashall said, “Well, Mr. Andrew Whiston, what important business brings you so far west? I thought you never traveled beyond the Temple Bar area from Bankside.”
“I wot weel, your honor, that I have strayed far frae hame, and to little purpose,—better fortune has not lit on me this wearisome day, than meeting wi' your honor, for God bless you many a time has the poor dwarfish body tasted your bounty.”
“I know well, your honor, that I have strayed far from home, and for no good reason—better luck hasn’t come my way this tiring day than running into you, for God bless you, many times has the poor little guy enjoyed your kindness.”
During this colloquy, Tallyho gazed on the poor dwarfish body with commiseration, intermixed with no small portion of surprise, at this fresh display of general knowledge by his intelligent and amusing coz, to whom all of interest and curiosity in the metropolis, animate and inanimate, seemed perfectly familiar.
During this conversation, Tallyho looked at the unfortunate short body with sympathy, mixed with quite a bit of surprise at this new display of general knowledge from his clever and entertaining cousin, who seemed perfectly familiar with everything interesting and curious in the city, both living and non-living.
[108] “And whither away now, Master Whiston; do you mean to look in at the rendezvous to night?"{1}
[108] “So where are you off to now, Master Whiston; are you planning to stop by the meetup tonight?"{1}
“Faith no, sir,—I got a fright there some few years since, and I shall be very cautious of getting into the like disaster a second time.”
“Honestly, no, sir—I got really scared a few years ago, and I’ll be very careful not to get into that kind of situation again.”
The conversation had so far proceeded, to the entertainment of congregated passengers, when the auditory getting rather inconveniently numerous, the two friends left each his mite of benevolence with Maister Andrew Whiston, gaining home without further incident or interruption.{2}
The conversation had been quite entertaining for the gathered passengers when, with the crowd becoming a bit too large, the two friends each left a little something for Maister Andrew Whiston and headed home without any more incidents or interruptions.{2}
CHAPTER VII
[109] DASHALL, during a stroll with his relation round the neighbourhood of Covent Garden, learning that several of his friends had formed a select party to dine at the Shakespear that day, sent in the names of himself and Coz, and they were received by the social and convivial assemblage with acclamation.
[109] DASHALL, while walking with his relative around the Covent Garden area, found out that some of his friends had arranged a special gathering for dinner at the Shakespear that day. He submitted their names, and both he and his cousin were welcomed by the friendly and cheerful group with enthusiasm.
The Dinner-party comprised Sir Felix O'Grady, an Irish baronet just imported from the province of Munster; the honorable Frederick Fitzroy, a luminary in the constellation of Fashion; Colonel Mc. Can, a distinguished Scotch Officer; an amateur Poet; a member of the Corps Dramatique; and our old friends Sparkle and Mortimer, with the augmentation of Dashall and Tallyho, as already mentioned.
The dinner party included Sir Felix O'Grady, an Irish baronet just brought over from the province of Munster; the honorable Frederick Fitzroy, a standout in the world of fashion; Colonel Mc. Can, a notable Scottish officer; an amateur poet; a member of the drama club; and our old friends Sparkle and Mortimer, along with Dashall and Tallyho, as previously mentioned.
The viands were excellent, and the wines of the first quality. Conviviality was the order of the evening, and its whimsicalities were commenced during the repast, by the player, who, taking up a goblet of wine, and assuming the attitude of Macbeth in the banquet scene, exclaimed—
The food was amazing, and the wines were top-notch. The atmosphere was lively, and the fun started during dinner, when the performer picked up a goblet of wine and posed like Macbeth in the banquet scene, exclaiming—
[110]The bottle was now put into quick circulation; harmony and hilarity prevailed; and the poet, availing himself of the moments of inspiration, gave the following chant, extempore.—
[110]The bottle was quickly passed around; everyone was cheerful and having a good time; and the poet, seizing the moment of inspiration, delivered the following spontaneous chant, extempore.—
This complimentary bag-a-telle was well received, and Sir Felix, shaking the amateur cordially by the hand, observed, that amongst other attainments before he left London, he meant to acquire the art of making verses, when he should give the poet a Rowland for his Oliver!
This free bag-a-telle was well received, and Sir Felix, warmly shaking the amateur's hand, mentioned that among other skills he planned to learn before leaving London, he intended to master the art of poetry, so he could give the poet a run for his money!
The player having but recently returned to Town, after completing his engagements with some of the Irish provincial theatres, proceeded to amuse his auditory, the baronet excepted, with accounts of the manner of posting in the sister kingdom.—
The player, having just returned to town after finishing his performances at some of the Irish regional theaters, began to entertain his audience, except for the baronet, with stories about how things are done in the neighboring kingdom.
“Travelling,” said he, “in the province of Munster, having got into a chaise, I was surprised to hear the driver knocking at each side of the carriage.—“What are you doing?”—“A'n't I nailing your honor?”—“Why do you nail me up? I don't wish to be nailed up.”—“Augh! would your honor have the doors fly off the hinges?” When we came to the end of the stage, I begged the man to unfasten the doors.—“Ogh! what would I be taking out the nails for, to be racking the doors?”—“How shall I get out then?”—“Can't your honor get out of the window like any other jontleman?” I then began the operation; but having forced my head and shoulders out, could get no farther, and called again to the postillion.—“Augh! did any one ever see any one get out of a chay head foremost? Can't your honor put out your feet first, like a Christian?”
“Traveling,” he said, “in the province of Munster, I got into a carriage and was surprised to hear the driver knocking on each side of it. —“What are you doing?” —“Aren't I securing your honor?” —“Why are you securing me? I don't want to be secured.” —“Oh! would your honor want the doors to fly off the hinges?” When we reached the end of the journey, I asked the man to undo the doors. —“Oh! why would I take out the nails to strain the doors?” —“How am I supposed to get out then?” —“Can’t your honor get out of the window like any other gentleman?” I then started the process, but after pushing my head and shoulders out, I couldn't go any further and called to the driver again. —“Oh! has anyone ever seen someone get out of a carriage head first? Can't your honor put your feet out first, like a regular person?”
Here the baronet manifested considerable impatience, and was about to interrupt the narrator, when the latter requesting permission, continued:
Here, the baronet showed significant impatience and was about to interrupt the storyteller, when the latter asked for permission and continued:
“Next day four horses were attached to the crazy vehicle;—one, unfortunately, lost a shoe; and as I refused to go on until the poor animal was shod, my two postillions commenced, in my hearing, a colloquy.—“Paddy, where will I get a shoe, and no smith nigh hand?”—“Why don't you see yon jontleman's horse in the field; can't you go and unshoe him?”—“True for ye,” said Jem, “but that horse's shoe will never fit him.” “Augh! you can but try it,” said Paddy. So the gentleman's horse was actually unshod, and his shoe put upon the posting hack; and fit or not fit, Paddy went off with it.
“Next day, four horses were hitched to the crazy vehicle; one, unfortunately, lost a shoe, and since I refused to continue until the poor animal was shod, my two postillions started a conversation within my hearing. “Paddy, where will I get a shoe, with no blacksmith nearby?” “Why don't you see that gentleman's horse in the field? Can't you go and take its shoe off?” “That's true,” said Jem, “but that horse’s shoe won’t fit him.” “Oh! you can only try it,” replied Paddy. So, the gentleman's horse was actually unshod, and its shoe was put on the posting hack; and whether it fit or not, Paddy went off with it.”
[112] “Same day, during a violent storm of wind and rain, 1 found that two of the windows were broken, and two could not, by force or art of man, be pulled up. I ventured to complain to Paddy of the inconvenience I suffered from the storm pelting in my face. His consolation was, “Augh! God bless your honour, and can't you get out and set behind the carriage, and you'll not get a drop at all, I'll engage!”
[112] “On the same day, during a violent storm of wind and rain, I discovered that two of the windows were broken, and two couldn't be opened by any force or skill. I decided to mention to Paddy how uncomfortable it was to have the storm hitting my face. His response was, ‘Oh! God bless you, sir. Why don’t you just step out and sit behind the carriage? You won’t get a drop on you, I promise!’”
The player having thus closed his narrative, and the laughter of the company having subsided, the baronet very candidly admitted, that the sister kingdom in many parts, was miserably deficient in the requisites of travelling, and other conveniences to which the English were accustomed. But in process of time (he continued) we shall get more civilized. Nevertheless, we have still an advantage over you; we have more hospitality, and more honesty. Nay, by the powers! but it is so, my good friends. However much we unhappily may quarrel with each other, we respect the stranger who comes to sojourn amongst us; and long would he reside, even in the province of Munster, before a dirty spalpeen would rob him of his great coat and umbrella, and be after doing that same thing when he was at a friend's house too, from which they were taken, along with nearly all the great coats, cloaks, shawls, pelisses, hats and umbrellas, belonging to the company."{1}
The player wrapped up his story, and as the laughter died down, the baronet honestly admitted that the sister kingdom, in many areas, was sadly lacking in the necessities of travel and other comforts that the English were used to. "But over time," he continued, "we'll become more civilized. Still, we have an edge over you; we have more hospitality and honesty. Honestly, it's true, my good friends. No matter how much we might argue with each other, we respect the stranger who comes to stay with us. It would take a long time for someone in Munster to steal your coat and umbrella, even from a friend's house, where the thieves took nearly all the coats, cloaks, shawls, pelisses, hats, and umbrellas belonging to the group."
Extraordinary Robbery. On Thursday night, whilst a large party of young folks were assembled at the house of Mr. Gregory, in Hertford Street, Fitzroy Square, to supper, a young man was let in by a servant, who said he had brought a cloak for his young mistress, as the night was cold. The servant left him in the hall, and went up stairs; when shortly after, a second arrived with a hackney coach, and on his being questioned by the servant, he said he brought the coach to take his master and mistress home. The servant was not acquainted with the names of half the company, and therefore credited what was told her. The two strangers were suffered to stand at the stairs head, to listen to the music and singing, with which they appeared highly delighted, and also had their supper and plenty to drink. But while festive hilarity prevailed above, the villains began to exercise their calling below, and the supper table in a trice they unloaded of four silver table spoons, a silver sauce-boat, knives and forks, &c. and from off the pegs and banisters they stole eight top-coats, several cloaks, shawls, pelisses and hats, besides a number of umbrellas, muffs, tippets, and other articles, all of which they carried off in the coach which was in waiting. To complete the farce, the watchman shut the coach door, and wished “their honours” good night. The robbery was not discovered until the company was breaking up. No trace of the thieves can be found.
Extraordinary Robbery. On Thursday night, while a large group of young people were gathered at Mr. Gregory's house on Hertford Street, Fitzroy Square, for supper, a young man was let in by a servant, who said he had brought a cloak for his young mistress since it was cold outside. The servant left him in the hall and went upstairs; shortly after, a second man arrived with a hackney coach. When questioned by the servant, he said he had brought the coach to take his master and mistress home. The servant didn't know the names of half the guests, so she accepted what he said. The two strangers were allowed to stand at the top of the stairs, enjoying the music and singing, which they seemed to love, and they also had supper and plenty to drink. But while everyone was having a great time upstairs, the thieves started doing their work downstairs, quickly taking four silver tablespoons, a silver sauce-boat, knives and forks, etc., from the supper table, and stealing eight topcoats, several cloaks, shawls, pelisses, and hats from the pegs and banisters, along with numerous umbrellas, muffs, tippets, and other items, all of which they loaded onto the waiting coach. To top it all off, the watchman shut the coach door and wished "their honors" goodnight. The robbery wasn't discovered until the guests were leaving. No trace of the thieves has been found.
[113] There was certainly somewhat of an Irishism in the baronet's remark.—Of eight great coats stolen, the thieves could not discriminate who were the respective owners, and if it had been possible that they could have discriminated, it is not likely that any regard for the laws of hospitality would have induced them to make an exception of Sir Felix O'Grady's property amidst the general depredation.
[113] There was definitely a bit of an Irishism in the baronet's comment. Out of eight greatcoats that were stolen, the thieves couldn't tell who owned which one. Even if they could have figured it out, it's unlikely that any respect for the rules of hospitality would have made them spare Sir Felix O'Grady's coat in the midst of all the theft.
The company, although secretly amused by the baronet's remarks, condoled with him on the loss he had sustained; and the player protesting that in stating the facts of Irish posting, he had no intention of giving the baronet the least offence, unanimity was restored, and the conviviality of the evening proceeded without further interruption.
The company, while secretly amused by the baronet's comments, expressed their sympathy for the loss he had experienced; and the performer insisted that in sharing the facts about Irish posting, he meant no offense to the baronet. With that, everyone was back on the same page, and the enjoyable atmosphere of the evening continued without further disruption.
Sir Felix made Irish bulls, and gave Irish anecdotes; the amateur occasionally gave a song or a stanza impromptu; the player spouted, recited, and took off several of his brother performers, by exhibiting their defects in close imitations,—
Sir Felix made Irish blunders and shared Irish stories; the amateur occasionally sang a song or a few lines on the spot; the actor performed, recited, and impersonated several of his fellow performers by showcasing their flaws in close imitations,—
and united with the remaining company in an attentive hearing to a conversation which the honorable Frederick Fitzroy had just commenced with his friend Dashall.—
and joined the rest of the group in listening closely to a conversation that the honorable Frederick Fitzroy had just started with his friend Dashall.—
“You have now,” said the honourable Frederick Fitzroy, addressing himself to Dashall, “You have now become a retired, steady, contemplative young man; a peripatetic philosopher; tired with the scenes of ton, and deriving pleasure only from the investigation of Real Life in London, accompanied in your wanderings, by your respectable relative of Belville-Hall; and yet while you were one of us, you shone like a star of the first magnitude, and participated in all the follies of fashion with a zest of enjoyment that forbid the presage of satiety or decline.”
“You have now,” said the honorable Frederick Fitzroy, addressing Dashall, “You have now become a retired, steady, thoughtful young man; a wandering philosopher; tired of the scenes of high society, and finding joy only in exploring Real Life in London, accompanied in your travels by your respectable relative from Belville-Hall; and yet while you were one of us, you shone like a star of the first magnitude, and took part in all the craziness of fashion with such enthusiasm that it showed no signs of weariness or decline.”
“Neither,” answered Dashall, “have I now altogether relinquished those pleasures, but by frequent repetition they become irksome; the mind is thus relieved by opposite pursuits, and the line of observation which I have latterly chosen has certainly afforded me much substantial information and rational amusement.”
“Neither,” Dashall replied, “have I completely given up those pleasures, but doing them often can get boring; the mind is refreshed by different activities, and the path I’ve taken recently has definitely given me a lot of useful knowledge and thoughtful enjoyment.”
[114] “Some such pursuit I too must think of adopting,” replied Fitzroy, “else I shall sink into the gulph of ennuit to the verge of which I am fast approaching. Independent of the frequent ruinous consequences of the gaming-table, I have taken a dislike to its associates, and therefore abandoned their society; nor will you be surprised at my having adopted this resolution, when I inform you, that at my last sitting in one of these nefarious haunts of dissipation, I was minus to the extent, in a few hours, of several thousand pounds, the prize of unprincipled adventurers, of swindlers, black-legs, and pigeon-fanciers!”{1}
[114] “I really need to think about taking up some hobby,” Fitzroy said, “or else I’m going to slip into a deep boredom that I'm already close to. Apart from the frequent disastrous outcomes of gambling, I’ve grown tired of the people involved with it, so I’ve decided to cut them out of my life. You won’t be surprised by my decision once I tell you that during my last visit to one of these shady places, I lost several thousand pounds in just a few hours, thanks to unscrupulous gamblers, con artists, and cheats!”{1}
Dashall congratulated Fitzroy on his resolution, in having cut the dangerous connexion, and expressed a hope that in due process of time he would emancipate himself from the trammels of dissipation generally.
Dashall congratulated Fitzroy on his decision to cut off the dangerous connection and expressed hope that, in time, he would free himself from the constraints of indulgence overall.
[115] “That,” rejoined Fitzroy, “is already in a considerable degree effected.”
[115] “That,” Fitzroy replied, “has already been largely accomplished.”
“In the higher and middle classes of society,” says a celebrated writer, “it is a melancholy and distressing sight to observe, not unfrequently, a man of a noble and ingenuous disposition, once feelingly alive to a sense of honor and integrity, gradually sinking under the pressure of his circumstances, making his excuses at first with a blush of conscious shame, afraid to see the faces of his friends from whom he may have borrowed money, reduced to the meanest tricks and subterfuges to delay or avoid the payment of his just debts, till ultimately grown familiar with falsehood, and at enmity with the world, he loses all the grace and dignity of man.”—
“In the upper and middle classes of society,” says a well-known writer, “it's a sad and upsetting sight to often see a man of noble and honest character, once deeply aware of honor and integrity, slowly falling under the weight of his circumstances. He starts by making excuses with a blush of shame, avoiding the gaze of his friends from whom he might have borrowed money. He becomes reduced to petty tricks and lies to delay or escape paying his rightful debts until, ultimately, he grows accustomed to lying and becomes adversarial with the world, losing all the grace and dignity of a man.”
“Such,” continued Fitzroy, “was the acmé of degradation to which I was rapidly advancing, when an incident occurred to arrest the progress of dissipation, and give a stimulus to more worthy pursuits.
“Such,” continued Fitzroy, “was the peak of degradation I was quickly heading towards, when an incident happened that halted my slide into excess and motivated me to pursue more meaningful endeavors.”
“One morning having visited a certain nunnery in the precincts of Pall-Mail, the Lady Abbess introduced me to a young noviciate, a beautiful girl of sixteen.
“One morning, after visiting a nunnery near Pall-Mail, the Lady Abbess introduced me to a young novice, a beautiful girl of sixteen.
“When we were left alone, she dropped on her knees, and in attitude and voice of the most urgent supplication, implored me to save her from infamy!”
“When we were alone, she dropped to her knees and, with a tone and posture filled with desperation, pleaded with me to save her from disgrace!”
“I am in your power,” she exclaimed, “but I feel confident that you will not use it to my dishonor.—I am yet innocent;—restore me to my parents,—pure and unsullied,—and the benediction of Heaven will reward you!”—
“I’m at your mercy,” she said, “but I believe you won’t use it to shame me. I’m still innocent; bring me back to my parents—pure and untainted—and you will receive the blessing of Heaven as your reward!”
She then told me a most lamentable tale of distress;—that her father was in prison for a small debt; and that her mother, her brothers and sisters, were starving at home.—Under these disastrous circumstances she had sought service, and was inveighd into that of mother W. from whence she had no hope of extrication, unless through my generous assistance! She concluded her pathetic appeal, by observing, that if the honorable Frederick Fitzroy had listened to the call of humanity, and paid a debt of long standing, her father would not now be breaking his heart in prison, her family famishing, nor herself subject to destruction.
She then shared a truly heartbreaking story of distress—her father was in jail for a small debt, and her mother, brothers, and sisters were at home starving. Given these terrible circumstances, she had sought work and found herself in the service of mother W., from which she saw no way out unless I generously helped her. She ended her emotional plea by noting that if the honorable Frederick Fitzroy had heeded the call of humanity and paid off an old debt, her father wouldn’t be suffering in prison, her family wouldn’t be starving, and she wouldn’t be facing ruin.
“And I am the Author of all!” I exclaimed, “I am the dis-honorable Frederick Fitzroy, who in the vortex of dissipation, forgot the exercise of common justice, and involved a worthy man and his suffering family in misery! But I thank heaven, the injury is not irreparable!”
“And I am the Author of all!” I exclaimed, “I am the dishonorable Frederick Fitzroy, who in the whirlwind of indulgence, forgot to practice basic justice and dragged a decent man and his suffering family into misery! But I thank heaven, the damage is not irreversible!”
[116] “I immediately explained to Mother W. the peculiarly distressing situation of this poor girl, rescued her from meditated perdition,—restored the husband to his family, with improved circumstances,—and by a continuance of my support, I trust, in some degree to atone for past transgression.”
[116] “I quickly told Mother W. about the really upsetting situation of this poor girl, saved her from planned destruction,—brought the husband back to his family, in better circumstances,—and by continuing to support them, I hope to make up for my past mistakes.”
This narrative excited much interest, and the approval, by the company, of Fitzroy's munificence was expressive and unanimous.
This story generated a lot of interest, and the company's approval of Fitzroy's generosity was clear and unanimous.
The conviviality of the evening was renewed, and sustained until an early hour, when the party broke up; having enjoyed “the feast of reason, and the flow of soul,” with temperate hilarity.
The friendliness of the evening was revived and lasted until an early hour, when the party ended; having enjoyed “the feast of reason, and the flow of soul,” with cheerful moderation.
Dashall, his Cousin, and Fitzroy, proceeding under the piazzas of Covent Garden, the latter suggested an hour's amusement in the Cellars underneath the Hotel, a proposition which was immediately acceded to by his companions, and the trio descended into the lower regions.
Dashall, his cousin, and Fitzroy, walking under the porches of Covent Garden, suggested spending an hour having fun in the cellars beneath the hotel. His companions immediately agreed, and the three of them headed down to the lower levels.
The descent however bore not any resemblance to that of Telemachus into Hell. A brilliant light irradiated their passage, and the grim shadows of the infernal abode were, if present, without the ken of ocular observation. In place of the palace of Pandemonium, our triumvirate beheld the temple of Bacchus, where were assembled a number of Votaries, sacrificing to the jolly Deity of the Ancients, in frequent and powerful libations.
The descent, however, was nothing like Telemachus's into Hell. A bright light lit their way, and any dark shadows of the underworld, if they were there, were out of sight. Instead of the palace of Pandemonium, our trio saw the temple of Bacchus, where a group of followers gathered, offering frequent and strong drinks to the joyful God of the Ancients.
By some unaccountable means the daemon of discord, however, gained admission and ascendancy.
By some mysterious way, the spirit of conflict managed to gain entry and control.
A scene now took place which baffles every attempt at description.—The row became general; decanters, glasses, and other fragile missiles, were resorted to,—their fragments strewed the floor,—and the terrified attendants hastened to require the interposition of the guardians of the night, in restoring order and tranquillity.
A chaotic scene unfolded that defies any attempt at description. The fight escalated; decanters, glasses, and other breakable objects were thrown—fragments littered the floor—while the scared staff rushed to call for the night guards to help restore order and calm.
Amidst the ravage and dissonance of war, our trio preserved a strict neutrality, and before the arrival of the mediating powers, had regained their position in the piazzas, where they waited the result of the conflict.
Amid the destruction and chaos of war, our three friends maintained a strict neutrality, and before the mediating powers arrived, they secured their place in the piazzas, where they waited for the outcome of the conflict.
Negotiations of peace having been unavailingly attempted, the refractory combatants were taken into custody, after an obstinate resistance, and conducted to “duress vile,” in the Watch-house.
Negotiations for peace had been unsuccessfully attempted, and the stubborn fighters were taken into custody after a strong resistance and brought to “vile confinement” in the Watch-house.
[117] The tragi-comedy was dacently wound up by one of the performers, a native of the Emerald Isle, who thinking it necessary that the neighbourhood should have an intimation of the proceedings, announced the hour of “past three,” with the accompaniment of “a bloody MORNING!”{1}
[117] The tragicomedy was nicely wrapped up by one of the performers, a local from Ireland, who felt it was important for the neighborhood to know what was happening. He announced it was “a little after three,” along with “a bloody MORNING!”{1}
The neutrals now proceeded to their respective homes, and our two associates reached their domicile, without the occurrence of further incident.
The neutral parties then headed to their homes, and our two friends arrived at their place without any further incidents.
Next morning the indicative double rit-tat of the postman induced the Squire from the breakfast-parlor to the hall. The servant had opened the door, and received the letters; when an itinerant dealer in genuine articles obtruded himself on the threshold, and doffing his castor after the manner of a knowing one, enquired whether his honor was pleased to be spoke with. Tallyho desired him to step in, and required to know his business. The fellow with a significant wink, and many prelusive apologies for the liberty he was about to take, stated that he had accidentally come into possession of some contraband goods, chiefly Hollands, Geneva, and India silk handkerchiefs, of prime and indisputable excellence; which he could part with at unparalleled low prices;—that he had already, in this private way, disposed of the greatest portion, and that if his honor was inclined to become a purchaser, he now had the opportunity of blending economy with superlative excellence, in an almost incredible degree, and unequalled in any part of the three kingdoms.
The next morning, the unmistakable sound of the postman’s rhythmic knock prompted the Squire to leave the breakfast room and head to the hall. The servant had opened the door and collected the letters when a traveling salesman selling authentic goods barged onto the doorstep. Taking off his hat like a seasoned pro, he asked if the Squire was willing to have a word. Tallyho invited him inside and asked what he wanted. With a knowing wink and a lot of preemptive apologies for the interruption, the man claimed he had come across some stolen goods, mainly gin, French brandy, and high-quality silk handkerchiefs from India, which he could sell at unbelievably low prices. He mentioned that he had already sold most of it privately and if the Squire was interested, he had a chance to combine great savings with top-notch quality, in a way that was almost unbelievable and unmatched anywhere in the three kingdoms.
This flourish the Squire answered with becoming indignity; expressed his surprise at the consummate assurance of any trickster who would dare to offer him a contraband article, to the prejudice of His Majesty's revenue; and ordered the servant to turn the “scoundrel” out of doors.{2}
This showiness made the Squire respond with appropriate indignation; he expressed his surprise at the complete audacity of any con artist who would dare to offer him an illegal item, harming His Majesty's revenue; and he ordered the servant to throw the “scoundrel” out.
This command was obeyed with alacrity, and as promptly acceded to by the discomfited intruder, who, however, retrieved, without doubt, in the credulity of others, the disappointment he had sustained by the pertinacity of the Squire.
This command was followed quickly, and the frustrated intruder agreed without hesitation. However, he undoubtedly gained back, through the naivety of others, the disappointment he experienced due to the Squire's stubbornness.
[120] The morning was unfavourable to pedestrian excursion. The library was well stored with literature in choice variety. To this antidote of ennui the Squire resorted, while Dashall wrote cards of invitation to a few select friends, whom he knew would, sans cerémonie honor his table to take bachelor's fare with him in the evening.
[120] The morning wasn't great for a walk. The library was filled with a great selection of literature. To deal with his boredom, the Squire turned to this collection while Dashall wrote invitation cards to a few close friends, knowing they would casually drop by to share a simple bachelor's dinner with him in the evening.
“I pity the man in a rainy day,” says a writer, “who cannot find amusement in reading.” This was not the case with the two associates;—the intellectual treat afforded by the library was fully enjoyed; and the moments glided on, imperceptibly, until verging on the hour of dinner.
“I feel sorry for the guy on a rainy day,” says a writer, “who can’t find joy in reading.” This wasn’t true for the two friends; they enjoyed the intellectual delight offered by the library, and the time passed by unnoticed as they approached dinner time.
The friends to whom Dashall had sent round, one and all accepted his invitation, and the remainder of the day was devoted to that refined hilarity, of which his hospitable board was always the chief characteristic.
The friends whom Dashall had invited all accepted his invitation, and the rest of the day was spent in the kind of classy fun that his welcoming table always offered.
CHAPTER VIII
[122] THE following morning presented the exhilarating aspect of an unclouded sky, and the two friends were anticipating, at the breakfast-table, the enjoyment of a fine day,—when
[122] The next morning showed the exciting sight of a clear sky, and the two friends were looking forward, at the breakfast table, to enjoying a beautiful day,—when
“My good fellow,” said the stranger, “will you be after representing my obeisance and all that, to the Honorable Mr. Dashall, and I beg to know whether he is at home?”
“My good man,” said the stranger, “could you please convey my respects to the Honorable Mr. Dashall? Also, may I ask if he is home?”
“Your name, sir?”
"What's your name, sir?"
“Augh, what does it signify?—Tell him an old friend with a new face,—arrah, not so,—tell him, that a new friend with no face at all at all, would be glad to wait upon him.—Sir Felix O'Grady, the Munster baronet, d'ye mind me?”
“Ugh, what does it mean?—Tell him it's an old friend with a new look,—wait, not that,—tell him that a new friend with no face at all would be happy to serve him.—Sir Felix O'Grady, the Munster baronet, do you get me?”
This was an unexpected visit, and the more kindly received by Dashall and Tallyho, who promised themselves considerable amusement in the acquisition of the baronet's society, which was readily conceded for the day, to their request.
This was an unexpected visit, and Dashall and Tallyho welcomed it warmly, anticipating a lot of fun from spending time with the baronet, who readily agreed to their request for the day.
[123] “Have you breakfasted?” asked Dashall. “Whether or not,” answered Sir Felix, “I'll take a cup of taa with you, any how.”
[123] “Have you had breakfast?” asked Dashall. “Regardless,” replied Sir Felix, “I'll have a cup of tea with you, anyway.”
When the repast was finished, the triumvirate set out on their pedestrian excursion; interrupted however, in their progress, by a temporary shower, they took refuge in a Coffee-house, where Sir Felix taking up a Newspaper, read from amongst the numerous advertisements, the following selected article of information,—“Convenient accommodations for ladies who are desirous of privately lying in, and their infants carefully put out to nurse.” “Well now, after all,” observed the baronet, “this same London is a very convanient place, where a lady may gratify her pleasurable propensities, and at same time preserve an unblemished reputation. It is only going into the country, sure, for the benefit of her health; that is to say, she retires to one of the villages in the neighbourhood of London, pays her way without name given or questions asked, and in a few months, returns to Town improved in health, but more slender in person, all her acquaintance exclaiming, “La! my dear, how vastly thin you have grown!”—
After the meal was done, the trio set out on their walking adventure; however, their journey was interrupted by a brief rain shower, prompting them to seek shelter in a coffeehouse. While there, Sir Felix picked up a newspaper and read from among the many ads, the following noteworthy piece of information: “Comfortable accommodations for ladies who wish to privately give birth, with their infants carefully placed with wet-nurses.” “Well now, after all,” commented the baronet, “this London is quite a convenient place, where a lady can indulge her desires while still maintaining a spotless reputation. It’s just a trip to the countryside for her health, you see; she retreats to one of the villages near London, pays her way without revealing her name or answering any questions, and a few months later, she returns to the city looking healthier but much slimmer, with all her friends exclaiming, ‘Oh my dear, how incredibly thin you’ve become!’”
“There are in London and its neighbourhood,” said Dashall, “numerous such convenient asylums; but I cannot acquiesce in their utility.—I am rather of opinion that they have a demoralizing tendency, as accelerating by concealment, the progress of licentiousness.—Human failings will still predominate, and the indulgence of illicit intercourse is less frequently prevented by an innate principle of virtue than the dread of shame. When facility of concealment is therefore given to the result, these connexions will still become more prevalent.”
“There are a lot of convenient places in London and its surroundings,” said Dashall, “but I can't agree that they’re useful. I actually think they have a negative effect because they help hide the rise of immorality. People’s flaws will always exist, and the indulgence in forbidden relationships is often more about the fear of shame than a natural sense of right and wrong. When it becomes easier to hide these actions, these connections will only become more common.”
“By the Powers,” exclaimed Sir Felix, “but I think Morality ought to feel particularly benefited by these convanient asylums; they preserve reputation, and in some instances have prevented suicide and murder. I know of two cases wherein both crimes were perpetrated through a sense of shame and dread of discovery, which probably would not have happened could the unfortunates have resorted to “convanient accommodations.”—Well, here's good luck to the fair sex, the dear cratures! and may they, every one of them, die on a Christmas day, any how!”{1}
“By the Powers,” exclaimed Sir Felix, “but I think Morality should really benefit from these convenient asylums; they protect reputation and, in some cases, have stopped suicide and murder. I know of two instances where both crimes happened because of shame and fear of being discovered, which probably wouldn’t have occurred if the unfortunate people had been able to use these ‘convenient accommodations.’—Well, here’s to the fair sex, those dear creatures! May each of them pass away on a Christmas day, anyway!”{1}
[124] This eccentric wish elicited a look of surprise from the Squire, which Sir Felix observing,—
[124] This unusual wish surprised the Squire, and Sir Felix noticed it,—
“My rason is,” said he, “that the gates of heaven being open all that day long, a body may slip in unknownst, as it is to be hoped that you, Mr. Dashall, and I may do, some day shortly without any interruption at all, at all.”
“My reason is,” he said, “that with the gates of heaven open all day long, someone might slip in unnoticed, which I hope that you, Mr. Dashall, and I can do someday soon without any interruptions at all.”
This ludicrous finis excited the laughter of the company—
This ridiculous ending made everyone in the group laugh—
and the united observers of Real Life hailing the favorable presage, resumed their perambulation.—
and the united observers of Real Life celebrating the positive sign, continued their walk.—
Advancing along Piccadilly towards Hyde Park, they reached the splendid mansion of the hero of Waterloo; the gates were open, and a travelling carriage with four horses was in waiting for his Grace, who was then about setting off to inspect the fortifications of the Netherlands.{2} Neither Sir Felix nor Tallyho having ever seen the Duke, the triumvirate paused at the entrance of the Court-yard, until the carriage came forth, when they saluted the gallant warrior with the tribute of respect due to distinguished services and exalted genius, which his Grace very courteously returned.
Advancing along Piccadilly toward Hyde Park, they reached the impressive mansion of the hero of Waterloo; the gates were open, and a traveling carriage with four horses was waiting for his Grace, who was just about to leave to check on the fortifications in the Netherlands.{2} Since neither Sir Felix nor Tallyho had ever seen the Duke, the trio paused at the entrance of the courtyard until the carriage came out, at which point they honored the brave warrior with the respect deserved for his remarkable achievements and talent, which his Grace graciously acknowledged.
[125] The Squire observed, that the brilliant victories of his Grace, although acknowledged and rewarded by all the Potentates of Europe, had not procured him much popularity at home. The remark was confessed by Dashall to be correct, but whence the public indifference originated, he could not presume to explain.
[125] The Squire noted that the impressive victories of his Grace, while recognized and celebrated by all the powerful leaders in Europe, hadn’t earned him much popularity at home. Dashall agreed that the observation was accurate, but he couldn’t explain the reason behind the public's indifference.
Crossing Hyde Park, which a celebrated physician denominated the lungs of the Metropolis, our pedestrians made their egress into Oxford-road. This fine street, with longitudinal reference the first in London, excited the admiration of the baronet; the long line of perspective indeterminable to the view, stretching from Hyde Park corner to St. Giles's, the general uniformity of the buildings, the neatness, and in many instances the splendor of the tradesmen's shops, together with the comfortable manner of their perambulation, unjostled and unimpeded by the hurry, throng and bustle of passengers, with which [126] many other parts of the Town are annoyed, gave an additional zest of enjoyment to the trio in their excursion, while the Squire observed, that he felt in this part of the Town, always as if he had been suddenly removed to some other region of the world, far remote from the city of London, its dissonant uproar, and crowded inconveniences.
Crossing Hyde Park, which a famous doctor called the lungs of the Metropolis, our walkers made their way onto Oxford Road. This impressive street, considered the best in London, amazed the baronet; the long line stretching from Hyde Park Corner to St. Giles's was endless to the eye, the buildings were uniformly styled, and many of the shops were neat and even grand. The way they strolled comfortably, without being jostled or bothered by the rush and crowd that disturbed many other areas of the city, made the outing even more enjoyable for the trio. The Squire remarked that he always felt as if he had been suddenly transported to another part of the world, far away from London, its noisy chaos, and crowded inconveniences.
Turning into Blenheim street, Dashall apprized his companions, that if they felt inclined to take a peep into the Theatre of Anatomy, he could procure their admission.
Turning onto Blenheim Street, Dashall informed his companions that if they were interested in checking out the Theatre of Anatomy, he could get them in.
The Squire seemed to recoil from so disgusting an exhibition; while on the other hand the baronet expressed a great desire to enter the theatre. “I have been used to murder and mutilation!” said he.
The Squire seemed to pull back from such a disgusting display; meanwhile, the baronet eagerly wanted to go into the theater. "I'm used to murder and mutilation!" he said.
“The devil you have!” ejaculated the Squire, “where, how?”
“The devil you have!” exclaimed the Squire, “where, how?”
“Where else should it be but in Ireland?” replied the baronet:—“and as to the how, was it not, sure, after the manner of my profession, while I was a member of a Corps of Yeoman Cavalry, during the rebellion, when we whipped, hanged, beheaded, and mutilated men, every day, by dozens! So you may guess, my good [127]friend, that cutting up a human carcase is nothing new to me. Only now, I should like to see if there is any difference in the mangling of human bodies by the anatomical artists of London from the ci-devant military professors, “The Loyal Troop of Doneraile.”
“Where else would it be but in Ireland?” replied the baronet. “And as for how, well, it was definitely in line with my profession back when I was part of a Corps of Yeoman Cavalry during the rebellion, when we whipped, hanged, beheaded, and mutilated men every day, by the dozens! So you can imagine, my good [127] friend, that dissecting a human body isn't anything new to me. I just want to see if there's any difference in how human bodies are cut up by the anatomy experts in London compared to the former military instructors of 'The Loyal Troop of Doneraile.'”
The hesitation manifested by the Squire yielded, ultimately, to the importunity of the baronet, and they entered the human shambles, where the cutters up were at work upon a subject, securing to themselves the advantage of personal experience, in the process of dissection; the abdomen had been already cleared out, and the corpse was portioned out to the different students of anatomy for the purpose of illustration; the arms to one class, the legs to another, the head to a third, &c. so that in less than a quarter of an hour, decapitation and dismemberment were completely effected; and the trunk was deserted, as an uninteresting object, from which there could not be derived any information of importance, further than that which the students had already obtained!!!
The Squire's hesitation eventually gave way to the persistent urging of the baronet, and they entered the grim scene, where the dissection team was at work on a body, gaining firsthand experience in the process. The abdomen had already been emptied, and the corpse was divided among the anatomy students for instructional purposes; the arms went to one group, the legs to another, the head to a third, and so on. In less than fifteen minutes, the decapitation and dismemberment were fully completed, leaving the trunk behind as an unremarkable object, which offered no additional valuable information beyond what the students had already learned!
Sir Felix whispered his friends, that these adepts in human mutilation far exceeded in apathy of feeling and adroitness of execution, even the ci-devant Loyal Troop of Doneraile!—But when one of the young artists brought forward in his hands smeared with gore, a human heart for the operation of the dissecting knife, Tallyho declaring that he could bear it no longer, rushed out of the theatre, and was followed by his two companions, all disgusted with this spoliation of the dead, however conducive it might prove to the interests of the living.{1}
Sir Felix whispered to his friends that these experts in human mutilation were far more indifferent and skilled in execution than even the former Loyal Troop of Doneraile!—But when one of the young artists held out a bloody human heart for the dissection, Tallyho, unable to take it any longer, rushed out of the theater, followed by his two companions, all disgusted by this violation of the dead, no matter how beneficial it might be for the living.{1}
[128]
[128]
Proceeding along Oxford Street, Sir Felix enquired for the Holy Land, informing his friends, at same time, that his servant, whom he had entrusted the preceding day with a cheque on his banker, had not been at home all night, and the probability was, that he had got amongst his Munster friends in Palestine. Sir Felix was therefore desirous of ascertaining, if possible, the sanctuary of the fugitive; and with that view requested his friends to accompany him in a perambulation of discovery, through (to him) these hitherto unexplored regions.—This application was readily assented to, and the triumvirate passed onwards to the place of destination.
As they walked along Oxford Street, Sir Felix asked about the Holy Land, telling his friends that his servant, whom he had given a check the day before, hadn’t been home all night. It seemed likely he had gone to join his friends in Munster, Palestine. Sir Felix wanted to find out where his missing servant might be, so he asked his friends to join him on a journey of discovery through these areas that were unfamiliar to him. His friends quickly agreed, and the three of them continued on to their destination.
They had now reached the Church of St. Giles in the Fields, situated in Broad Street, St. Giles's; and their attention was immediately directed to that fine piece of sculpture over the iron gateway, leading into the Church-yard, representing the Resurrection and Last Judgment. The figures are in basso relievo, and although diminutive, are admirably grouped, and the expression of each gives to the whole a finished and impressive effect.
They had now arrived at the Church of St. Giles in the Fields, located on Broad Street, St. Giles's; and their attention was immediately drawn to the beautiful sculpture above the iron gateway leading into the churchyard, depicting the Resurrection and Last Judgment. The figures are in basso relievo, and although small, are beautifully arranged, with each expression contributing to a polished and striking overall effect.
Two minutes more, and the three friends were on the boundaries of the Holy Land, namely, George Street, or, as formerly cognomened, Dyott Street, Bloomsbury.
Two more minutes, and the three friends were at the edge of the Holy Land, which is George Street, or as it used to be called, Dyott Street, Bloomsbury.
At the end of this street, next to St. Giles's, were several of the Lower Irish, of both gender, who, clustering together, seemed to hold a close confabulation, casting occasionally, an inquisitive eye on Sir Felix O'Grady.
At the end of this street, next to St. Giles's, were several Lower Irish people, both men and women, who gathered together and appeared to be having a private conversation, occasionally glancing curiously at Sir Felix O'Grady.
“By the soul of the priest!” at last exclaimed one of the Munster emigrees, “but it is him, and I would take my davy on it;—but sure enough, I will ax the jontleman himself now, whether he knows who he is, or if he is any body at all, at all!”
“By the soul of the priest!” one of the Munster emigrants finally exclaimed, “but it’s him, and I’d bet my life on it;—but sure enough, I’ll ask the gentleman himself now, whether he knows who he is, or if he’s anybody at all!”
This real representative of the tag-rag and bob-tail of the Emerald Isle, was arrayed in the appropriate costume of his class and country. A nameless something that had once been a hat, covered a shock head of hair; the redundancy of which protuberated sideways and perpendicularly, [129]from the ci-devant castor, in many a knotty combination, impervious to wind and weather. The fragments of a loose great coat decorated his tall athletic form, which scarcely reaching his knees, exposed fully to observation his nether habiliment,—
This true representative of the tag-rag and bob-tail of the Emerald Isle was dressed in the typical outfit of his class and country. A nameless thing that used to be a hat sat on a wild head of hair, which stuck out sideways and straight up, [129] from the former hat, in many tangled combinations, resistant to wind and weather. The scraps of a loose greatcoat draped over his tall, athletic build, barely reaching his knees, fully exposing his lower garments,—
His brawny legs were partially cased in worsted hose, the dilapidations of wear and tear ingeniously repaired with cloth, pieced and patched, and comprising all the prismatic colours of the rainbow; his toes, disdaining the trammels of duress, peeped through his brogues, as if anxious for freedom; and to complete the singularity of this strange figure, his vacant face was incrusted with filth, his bristly beard unshorn,—
His muscular legs were partly covered in woolen stockings, cleverly fixed with various pieces of cloth in all the colors of the rainbow from wear and tear; his toes, refusing to be confined, poked out from his shoes, as if eager for freedom; and to add to the uniqueness of this odd figure, his empty face was caked with dirt, and his bristly beard was unshaven,—
This apparition stalking onwards to our admiring triumvirate,—“May be,” said he, “your honor can be after telling me,—will your honor be Sir Felix O'Grady of Munster, that is, long life to it?”—“The same, by the powers of my father who begot me!” exclaimed the baronet: “sure enough I am Sir Felix O'Grady that is, not that will be!” “Erin ma vorneen!” rejoined the enquirer,—“the pot of Saint Patrick be upon you, and may your honor live all the days of your life, and many years longer, if that's all!—Arrah, but I'm plased to my heart's content to meet wid your honor in a strange land!”
This figure moving toward our impressed trio said, “Maybe you can tell me—are you Sir Felix O'Grady of Munster, that is, long life to it?” “That’s right, by my father who created me!” shouted the baronet. “I am definitely Sir Felix O'Grady, not just someone who will be!” “Erin ma vorneen!” responded the questioner—“may the pot of Saint Patrick be on you, and may you live all the days of your life, and many more if that’s all!—Oh, but I’m so glad to meet you in a strange land!”
The congregated expectants now approached, and respectfully united their congratulations with those of their respectable deputy.—“The pot of Saint Patrick be upon you, and may your reverence live for ever and a day afterwards!” It was in vain that Sir Felix offered them money. “No, the devil a drap would they taste, unless it was wid his honor's own self, by the holy poker!”
The gathered crowd now stepped forward and respectfully joined their congratulations with those of their esteemed representative. “May St. Patrick bless you, and may you live forever and a day afterwards!” It was pointless for Sir Felix to offer them money. “No, they wouldn't touch a penny unless it came from his honor himself, I swear!”
There was no remedy; so Sir Felix, with his friends Dash all and Tallyho, who were much amused by this [130]unsophisticated manifestation of Irish recognition, accompanied the motley groupe to the blue-ruin shop.{1}
There was no solution; so Sir Felix, along with his friends Dashall and Tallyho, who found this straightforward display of Irish acknowledgment quite entertaining, joined the diverse group to the rundown shop.
Entering then, the neighbouring den, of a licensed retailer of destruction, the first object on whom the scrutinizing eye of the baronet cast a glance, was his servant, regaling himself and his blowen with a glass of the “right sort.” The indignant Sir Felix raised his cane, and was about to inflict a well-merited chastisement, when the transgressor, deprecating the wrath of his master, produced the full amount of the cheque in mitigation of punishment, expressing his obligations to mother Cummings for the preservation of the property.
Entering the nearby bar owned by a licensed dealer of destruction, the first person Sir Felix noticed was his servant, enjoying a drink with his companion. The outraged Sir Felix raised his cane, ready to give him a deserved punishment, when the servant, trying to calm his master’s anger, pulled out the full amount of the check as a way to lessen the consequences, thanking Mother Cummings for keeping the place safe.
“And who, in the devil's name,” asked the baronet, “is mother Cummings?"{2}
“And who, in the world,” asked the baronet, “is mother Cummings?"{2}
“Och! a good sowl,” said the valet, “for all that, she keeps convanient lodgings. And so your honor, just having got a drap too much of the cratur last night, this girl and I took up our lodgings at mother Cummings's: good luck to her any how! And if your honor will but forgive me this once, I will, as in duty bound, serve you faithfully by night and by day, in any or in no way at all at all, and never will be guilty of the like again as long as I live, gra.”
“Wow! A good soul,” said the valet, “for all that, she keeps convenient lodgings. And so, your honor, just having had a little too much to drink last night, this girl and I stayed at Mother Cummings's place: good luck to her anyway! And if you’ll just forgive me this once, I promise, as I should, to serve you faithfully day and night, in any way or no way at all, and I’ll never make this mistake again for as long as I live, got it?”
[131] Circumstances considered, and as this had been his first offence, the servant, at the intercession of Dashall, was let off with a reprimand only, and ordered home, a mandate which he instantly and with many expressions of gratitude obeyed.
[131] Given the circumstances and that this was his first offense, the servant was let off with just a warning, thanks to Dashall's plea. He immediately and gratefully followed the order to go home.
The baronet having adjusted this business to his satisfaction, directed his attention to his newly acquired Munster friends, whom he not only treated with a liberal potation of aqua vitæ, but in the warmth of his kindly feelings, actually drank with them, a condescension infinitely more acceptable to the generous nature of these poor-people, than was the more solid proof which he left them of his munificence; and of which, until absolutely forced upon them, they long and pertinaciously resisted the acceptance.
The baronet, having settled this matter to his liking, turned his attention to his new friends from Munster. He not only treated them to a generous drink of spirits but, out of the warmth of his kind feelings, actually joined them in drinking. This friendly gesture was far more appreciated by these kind-hearted people than the more substantial gift he eventually gave them, which they stubbornly resisted accepting until they were absolutely compelled to take it.
Our party pursuing their route, entered Holborn, and ordered refreshment at the George and Blue Boar Coffee-House; a place of excellent accommodation, and convenient for persons coming from the West of England.
Our group continued on their way and entered Holborn, where they ordered refreshments at the George and Blue Boar Coffee-House, a place with great accommodations and convenient for people coming from the West of England.
Here, while our perambulators amused themselves in conversation on the occurrences of the morning, a chaise and four drove rapidly into the yard, the postillions decorated with white ribbons, “denoting,” said Dashall, “the successful denouement, perhaps, of a trip to Gretna Green.” His conjecture was correct; the happy pair just arrived, had been rivetted in the ties of matrimony by the far-famed blacksmith of Gretna.{1}
Here, as our friends enjoyed chatting about the morning's events, a four-horse carriage came swiftly into the yard, the drivers adorned with white ribbons, "indicating," said Dashall, "the likely happy ending of a trip to Gretna Green." His guess was right; the joyful couple that had just arrived had been bound in marriage by the legendary blacksmith of Gretna.{1}
[135] Sir Felix O'Grady was all a-gog to learn from the postillions the names of the party, but nothing satisfactory could be elicited.
[135] Sir Felix O'Grady was eager to find out the names of the group from the postillions, but he couldn't get any useful information.
Our trio now directed their progress along Holborn, in which route they had advanced but a few minutes when their attention was arrested by a concourse of people assembled at the door of a Linen-draper, who it seems had detected a thief in the person of a pregnant woman. This information excited the sympathy of our three friends, and they accordingly entered the Shop. Tallyho entreated of the Linen-draper, that he would be merciful to the unfortunate woman, in consideration of her being so far in a family way.
Our trio was now heading down Holborn when, after just a few minutes, they noticed a crowd gathered outside a linen store. It turned out the store owner had caught a thief, who happened to be a pregnant woman. This news stirred their sympathy, and they decided to go into the shop. Tallyho pleaded with the store owner to show mercy to the unfortunate woman because she was so far along in her pregnancy.
“And yet, sir,” answered the Shopkeeper, “I fancy we shall be able to relieve the lady without the assistance of a midwife.” The woman was then taken into a back room and searched by two of her own sex. The result [136]of this investigation was soon made known.—The pregnancy was assumed, the better to evade suspicion; her under garments were completely lined with hooks, to which were suspended, in vast variety, articles of stolen property, including not only those of light weight, viz. handkerchiefs, shawls, stockings, &c. but several of less portable description, amongst which were two pieces of Irish linen. These articles she had conveyed through an aperture in her upper habiliment of sufficient dimensions to admit an easy access to the general repository. The ingenuity of this invention created much surprise, and as it greatly facilitated concealment and evaded detection, there is no doubt of its having frequently produced a rich harvest. This female adept was now committed to the charge of an officer, the Shopkeeper having identified upon her person several articles of stolen property.
“And yet, sir,” replied the Shopkeeper, “I think we’ll be able to help the lady without a midwife.” The woman was then taken into a back room and searched by two other women. The outcome of this search was quickly revealed. The pregnancy was pretended to avoid suspicion; her underwear was completely lined with hooks, to which various stolen items were attached, including not only light items like handkerchiefs, shawls, stockings, etc., but also some larger items, including two pieces of Irish linen. She had managed to get these items through an opening in her outer clothing that was large enough for easy access to the stash. The cleverness of this method surprised everyone, and since it greatly helped in hiding the items and avoiding detection, it likely resulted in a substantial gain. This skilled woman was now placed in the custody of an officer, as the Shopkeeper had identified several stolen items on her.
CHAPTER IX
[137] CONTINUING their route down Holborn, the adventure in the Linen-draper's shop became the theme of conversation.—“It is not alone,” said Dashall, “to the lower orders and necessitous that this system of Shop-lifting is confined; many recent instances have occurred of similar depredation, by women above the mediocrity of rank, who, however, frequently contrive to compromise prosecution, while the delinquent of poverty is visited by the utmost rigor of the law!—Of the two, certainly the thief from habit is more culpable than the thief from necessity.”
[137] AS they continued their walk down Holborn, the incident in the Linen-draper's shop became the main topic of conversation. “It's not just the lower classes and those in need who are involved in shoplifting,” Dashall said. “There have been many recent cases of similar thefts by women of a higher social status, who often manage to avoid prosecution, while a poor person caught stealing faces the full force of the law!—Between the two, it's clear that a habitual thief is more at fault than one who steals out of necessity.”
Sir Felix and the Squire entirely agreed with their friend in opinion.—“Shop-lifters,” continued Dashall, “are as pernicious to the trading part of the community as any of the cheats of London; there is not, on a moderate calculation, less than 5000 of these artful thieves in the metropolis, and the prejudice they do to the industrious tradesman is incalculable.”
Sir Felix and the Squire completely agreed with their friend. “Shoplifters,” continued Dashall, “are just as harmful to the business community as any of the con artists in London; there are at least 5,000 of these clever thieves in the city, and the damage they cause to hardworking merchants is immeasurable.”
“By the powers of safety, then,” exclaimed the baronet “the honest dealer should consider every stranger a thief until further acquaintance.”
“By the powers of safety, then,” exclaimed the baronet, “the honest dealer should view every stranger as a thief until proven otherwise.”
“Not exactly so; however, it is necessary that the London tradesman should be upon his guard, and keep [138] a sharp look out upon his customers, not knowing, by their appearance, whether they are honest or otherwise."{1}
“Not exactly; however, it’s important for the London shopkeeper to be vigilant and keep [138] a close watch on his customers, as he can’t tell by their appearance whether they are honest or not.”{1}
Turning from Holborn into Chancery Lane, our pedestrians were encountered by a very handsome chariot, in which were two elegantly dressed and beautiful women, who, ordering the carriage to stop, saluted Dashall and the Squire in the most fascinating terms of friendly recognition.
Turning from Holborn into Chancery Lane, our pedestrians were approached by a very stylish carriage, in which sat two elegantly dressed and attractive women, who, instructing the driver to stop, greeted Dashall and the Squire with the most charming expressions of friendly acknowledgment.
“Your Ladyships render me,” said Dashall, “infinite happiness; this is a most unexpected pleasure!”
“Your Ladyships bring me,” said Dashall, “so much happiness; this is a totally unexpected pleasure!”
“You are a gallant cavalier,” observed one of the lovely inmates, “another gentleman would probably have used the word honor instead of happiness, but you are fertile in felicitous expression.”
“You're quite the gallant knight,” noted one of the lovely residents, “another gentleman might have chosen the word honor instead of happiness, but you have a knack for finding the right words.”
“Not more felicitous than appropriate; but whither away, my fair captivators?”
“Not more joyful than suitable; but where are you going, my lovely captors?”
“We are on a shopping expedition,” replied one of the ladies, “you and your friend of Belville-hall, are observers of Life in London generally;—ours is a mere circumscribed sphere of action; we go to view Life in a Mercer's shop.—When the Squire and you are not more pleasantly engaged, give us a call, and perhaps we may grant you the honor of an interview.—We would ask the Unknown,” said she, in a whisper, “who is he?”
“We're out shopping,” one of the women replied, “you and your friend from Belville Hall are watchers of life in London overall; ours is just a limited space of activity; we’re here to see life in a mercer's shop. When the Squire and you are not otherwise occupied, feel free to come by, and maybe we’ll allow you the privilege of a meeting. We’d like to ask about the Unknown,” she said quietly, “who is he?”
[139] “Sir Felix O'Grady, Madam,” answered Dashall, “an Irish baronet, of recent acquaintance; like every other gentleman of the Emerald Isle, combining, with characteristic eccentricity, a sound head and a warm heart.”
[139] “Sir Felix O'Grady, Ma'am,” replied Dashall, “an Irish baronet I recently met; like every other gentleman from the Emerald Isle, he combines a unique eccentricity with a sharp mind and a kind heart.”
“Then, of all things, bring him with you.” “So,” waving gracefully her hand, “adieu!” the trio responded, by respectfully raising their hats, “Allons donc,” she exclaimed, and the carriage drove off.
“Then, of all things, bring him with you.” “So,” she said, waving her hand gracefully, “goodbye!” The trio replied by respectfully tipping their hats, “Let’s go,” she exclaimed, and the carriage drove away.
“There go,” exclaimed Dashall, “two of the most lovely and accomplished women in London, and perhaps the least tinctured with fashionable folly.”
“There they go,” exclaimed Dashall, “two of the most beautiful and skilled women in London, and maybe the least influenced by trendy nonsense.”
“With the exception,” observed the Squire, “of shopping, that is, I presume, making the morning tour of tradesmen's shops, tumbling over their goods, giving them every possible trouble, and ultimately making no purchase."{1}
“Unless I'm mistaken,” said the Squire, “shopping means making the rounds of stores, rummaging through their products, causing them all sorts of hassle, and in the end, not buying anything.”{1}
Dashall admitted the correctness of the Squire's observation, as generally applicable, but claimed an exemption for the ladies in question.
Dashall agreed with the Squire's observation, saying it was generally true, but argued that the ladies in question were an exception.
On the left, proceeding down Chancery Lane, Dashall pointed to a respectable house as the occasional residence of a lady in the first class of literature, whose writings have given universal satisfaction, and will continue to be read with increased avidity, as conveying the most admirable lessons of morality, told in a manner alike impressive and pathetic;—Mrs. Op*e; the widow of the late celebrated artist. This excellent woman is endeared to the circle of her numerous acquaintance by a pre-eminent
On the left, as we walked down Chancery Lane, Dashall pointed to a respectable house that serves as the occasional home of a well-known woman in the literary world. Her writings have brought joy to many and will continue to be eagerly read for the invaluable moral lessons they provide, delivered in a way that is both powerful and touching—Mrs. Op*e, the widow of the renowned artist. This wonderful woman is cherished by her many friends for her outstanding qualities.
[140] suavity of disposition, blended with superior mental endowments; to the unfortunate by her benevolent heart, to which the appeal of distress is never made in vain; and to the public generally, by her invaluable works, the uniform tendency of which is the advancement of virtue and the inculcation of the benign feelings of humanity.{1}
[140] A smooth personality, combined with exceptional intelligence; to those in need through her kind heart, which never turns away from a cry for help; and to the public at large, through her invaluable works, all of which aim to promote virtue and inspire the kind feelings of humanity.{1}
[141] Facing the entrance to the Royal Wax Works, Sir Felix made a full stop;—“That fellow,” said he, alluding to the whole length figure of the Centinel, “stands as motionless as a statue; by the powers, but half-a-dozen peep-o-day boys in his rear would be after putting life and mettle in his heels!—Shoulder and carry your arms, you spalpeen; and is this the way that you show the position of a soldier?” at same time enforcing his admonition with a smart stroke of his cane over the arm of the inanimated military representative. The attendant, a young man in the costume of the Yeomen of the Guards, remonstrated; Dashall and Tallyho laughed most immoderately; and the baronet, equally enjoying the joke, persisted in affecting to believe, that he was addressing himself to a living object, greatly to the amusement of the now congregating street passengers.
[141] Facing the entrance to the Royal Wax Works, Sir Felix came to a complete stop. “That guy,” he said, referring to the life-sized figure of the Centinel, “is as still as a statue; honestly, if half a dozen young kids were behind him, they’d really get him moving!—Shoulder your arms, you slacker; is this how you show you’re a soldier?” At the same time, he emphasized his point with a sharp tap of his cane on the arm of the lifeless military figure. The attendant, a young man dressed as a Yeoman of the Guards, protested; Dashall and Tallyho laughed uncontrollably; and the baronet, equally enjoying the joke, continued to pretend he was talking to a real person, much to the amusement of the onlookers gathering on the street.
“Begging your pardon, ray jewel,” continued Sir Felix, “long life and good luck to you, in your stationary quarters, and may His Majesty never find a more active enemy than yourself!—By the soul of my grandmother, it would be well for poor Ireland, who has taken leave of her senses, if her bog-trotting marauders were as peaceably inclined as you are.—Fait and troth, but you're a fine looking lad after all, and with the assistance of your master, and a touch of Prometheus, we might raise a regiment of braver fellows than the King's Guards, without bounty or beat of drum, in the twinkling of an eye, honey; but with your leave, and saving yourself unnecessary trouble, we'll be after paying a visit to the company above stairs; “and the party proceeded to the exhibition room.—
“Excuse me, my jewel,” Sir Felix continued, “wishing you a long life and good luck in your stationary place, and may His Majesty never find a more active enemy than you!—By my grandmother’s soul, it would be good for poor Ireland, who has lost her mind, if her bog-trotting bandits were as peaceful as you are.—Honestly, you’re quite a handsome young man after all, and with your master’s help, along with a bit of Prometheus, we could raise a regiment braver than the King’s Guards, without any payment or drumbeats, in no time, dear; but if you don’t mind, and to save us some trouble, we’ll go visit the company upstairs.” And the party proceeded to the exhibition room.
Here were representatives of the living and mementos of the dead! Kings and Queens, Princes and Princesses,
Here were representatives of the living and reminders of the dead! Kings and Queens, Princes and Princesses,
[142] warriors, statesmen, poets, and philosophers, in social communion: not forgetting the lady who had three hundred and sixty-five children at a birth!!{1}
[142] warriors, politicians, poets, and philosophers, all together in social interaction: and let's not forget the woman who had three hundred sixty-five children at once!!{1}
The baronet made many congees to the great and inferior personages by whom he was surrounded, admired the heterogeneity of the group, and regretted that their imperfect creation precluded the possibility of converse.
The baronet greeted the important and less important people around him, appreciated the variety in the group, and wished that their flawed nature allowed for conversation.
One of the figures, by an unobserved excitement of the attendant, now inclined its head to Sir Felix, who, nothing daunted, immediately assumed the attitude of Macbeth in the banquet scene, and exclaimed,
One of the figures, due to an unnoticed excitement from the attendant, now tilted its head toward Sir Felix, who, completely unfazed, immediately took on the stance of Macbeth in the banquet scene and exclaimed,
“Nay, if thou canst nod, speak too! if our graves And charnel houses give those we bury back, Our monuments shall be the maws of kites.”
“Nay, if you can nod, speak too! If our graves and funeral homes bring back those we bury, our monuments will be the bellies of vultures.”
The company present pronounced the baronet a player, and a lady, to whom the manly and athletic form of the supposed tragedian had given apparent pleasure, assured him she had never heard the passage more impressively delivered, and that certainly, in the character of the Scottish Usurper, there was no doubt of his becoming to Mr. Kran a very formidable rival!
The company present declared the baronet a performer, and a lady, who seemed pleased by the manly and athletic figure of the supposed tragedian, told him she had never heard the lines delivered so impressively. She also mentioned that, in the role of the Scottish Usurper, there was no question that Mr. Kran would have a very tough competitor!
Sir Felix sustained his part admirably, expressing his high acknowledgment of the lady's favorable opinion; but the enquiry when and in which theatre, he meant to make his first appearance, had so nearly deranged his gravity and that of his two friends, as to induce them to hasten their retreat.
Sir Felix handled his role excellently, showing his appreciation for the lady's positive opinion; however, the question of when and at which theater he planned to make his first appearance almost disrupted his composure and that of his two friends, prompting them to quickly make their exit.
Dashall and Tallyho congratulated the baronet on his promising dramatic talent, and advised him still further to court the favors of the tragic Muse.
Dashall and Tallyho congratulated the baronet on his promising acting talent and advised him to continue seeking the attention of the tragic Muse.
“May the devil burn the tragic Muse!” he exclaimed;
“May the devil burn the tragic Muse!” he shouted;
[143] “Arrah, give me the favors of that sweet pretty crature, the comical Muse at the Wax-works, who took me for a player,—Och! the fascination of her smile and the witchery of her eye before all the Muses that ever fuddled the brain of a garreteer!”
[143] “Arrah, let me enjoy the charms of that sweet, pretty creature, the funny Muse at the Waxworks, who thought I was an actor,—Oh! the charm of her smile and the magic of her eyes, better than all the Muses that ever perplexed a struggling artist's mind!”
“Why baronet,” said the Squire, “you are love-struck,—deeply lurched,—taken in by the knowing one!”
“Why, baronet,” said the Squire, “you’re love-struck—totally smitten—hoodwinked by the clever one!”
“Taken in, that is as it may hereafter happen, but an Irishman, my jewel, is never so desperately in love with one girl but he can spare a bit of affection for another.
“Taken in, that might happen in the future, but an Irishman, my dear, is never so hopelessly in love with one girl that he can’t share a little affection for another.”
The three friends had now rounded the corner at the bottom of Fleet-street, in the direction of Blackfriars, when Dashall claimed the attention of his associates.—
The three friends had now turned the corner at the bottom of Fleet Street, heading towards Blackfriars, when Dashall captured the attention of his companions.—
“This is the domicil,” said he, “of the patriotic Alderman, who, during so many years has uniformly and ably opposed the civic hirelings of Corruption, advocated the cause of Freedom, and acquired the well-earned meed of high estimation by all the respectable and independent portion of his fellow-citizens.
“This is the home,” he said, “of the patriotic Alderman, who, for so many years, has consistently and skillfully opposed the civic agents of Corruption, supported the cause of Freedom, and earned the well-deserved respect of all the respectable and independent members of his community.
“Firm in principle, and resolute in difficulty, the conscientious discharge of his duty has ever been his prominent object. But perhaps in no instance has he so greatly endeared himself to humanity, than in that of the long protracted inquest on the bodies of the two unfortunate men, Honey and Francis, the victims of military outrage; his constant attendance and indefatigable exertions on that occasion, were the means of eliciting many particulars which otherways might not have been known, and which ultimately led the Jury to record the atrociousness of the crime by the several verdicts of murder and manslaughter.
“Steadfast in his principles and determined in tough situations, fulfilling his duty has always been his main focus. However, he perhaps became most beloved by people during the lengthy investigation into the deaths of the two unfortunate men, Honey and Francis, who were victims of military violence. His consistent presence and tireless efforts during that time helped uncover many details that might not have otherwise come to light, ultimately leading the Jury to acknowledge the heinous nature of the crime with their verdicts of murder and manslaughter.”
“Again, on the memorable day of the funeral of these two immolated men, Mr. W. in his capacity of Sheriff, supported with becoming dignity, his high station, and undaunted amidst imminent danger, enforced obedience even from the military, and saved the effusion of human blood.”
“Once more, on the memorable day of the funeral for these two burned men, Mr. W., in his role as Sheriff, upheld his position with fitting dignity, and, undeterred by the looming danger, demanded obedience even from the military, preventing the spilling of human blood.”
London exhibits, daily, a series of depravity perhaps unparalleled in any other part of the British Empire.—
London shows, every day, a level of depravity that might be unmatched anywhere else in the British Empire.—
[144] Dashall had just finished his eulogium on the worthy Alderman, in which his friends heartily coincided, when the attention of the triumvirate was attracted by the appalling appearance of five men rivetted together, and conducted along the street by officers of justice. Tallyho enquired into the nature of their crimes, and was informed that they were in custody under suspicion of house-breaking in the night-time, and that two of them, particularly, had been taken in the house which they had plundered, regaling themselves, in perfect ease, with cold meat, wine, and liquors, and the stolen property tied up in a bag, with which, on the moment of alarm, they attempted an escape, but were intercepted in their retreat, and taken in charge by the officers after a desperate resistance, in which shots and hurts were received both by the victors and the vanquished. It is almost beyond belief, that men engaged in an enterprise wherein ignominious death awaits discovery, would sit down to regale themselves after having secured their booty, with as much composure, as if in their own homes; yet so it is; such is the daring callousness of mind attached to long confirmed and successful habits of guilt.{1}
[144] Dashall had just finished his praise of the honorable Alderman, which his friends fully agreed with, when the attention of the trio was drawn to the shocking sight of five men chained together, being led down the street by law enforcement officers. Tallyho asked about their crimes and was told that they were in custody on suspicion of breaking into homes at night. Specifically, two of them had been caught inside the house they had robbed, casually enjoying cold meat, wine, and drinks, with their stolen goods packed in a bag. When they were alerted to the situation, they tried to escape but were stopped by the officers after a fierce struggle, resulting in injuries and gunfire on both sides. It’s hard to believe that people involved in an act where a shameful death is the consequence would sit down to enjoy themselves after getting their loot, as if they were in the comfort of their own homes; yet, that’s exactly what happened; such is the bold indifference that comes from a long history of successful wrongdoing.{1}
[145] It sometimes happens that even juvenile depredators who have imbibed a propensity for liquor, have been caught in the snare thus laid by themselves. Of this fact Dashall gave the following very curious illustration.—“A few evenings ago,” said he, “the family of my next door neighbour retired to rest, leaving every thing, as they imagined, in a state of perfect security. On the servant however, coming down stairs in the morning, he was surprised to find a new and unexpected inmate, fast asleep in the kitchen, a quantity of plate packed up lay by his side, and before him were a bottle of brandy and another of wine. He was a lad not more than sixteen years of age, who had ingeniously contrived, in the nighttime, to get access to the house, and having secured his spoil, had resorted to the pantry and wine-cellar for refreshment. Of the stores from the latter receptacle, he had partaken so liberally that he was thrown into a deep slumber, from which he was roused by the unwelcome voice of the Officer who had been sent for to take him into custody.”
[145] Sometimes, even young thieves who have taken to drinking end up getting caught in a trap they set for themselves. Dashall shared a very interesting story about this. “A few nights ago,” he said, “my neighbor next door went to bed, thinking everything was completely secure. However, when the servant came downstairs in the morning, he was surprised to find a new and unexpected guest fast asleep in the kitchen, with a pile of stolen plates next to him, and a bottle of brandy and another of wine in front of him. He was a kid no older than sixteen, who cleverly managed to get into the house at night. After securing his loot, he headed to the pantry and wine cellar for a drink. He had indulged so much from the latter that he fell into a deep sleep, from which he was awakened by the unwelcome arrival of the officer who had been called to arrest him.”
Our perambulators had now passed along the bridge, and advanced a short distance on Blackfriar's road, when they observed a spacious travelling caravan, stationary by the side of the high way, intimating that there was to be seen within, the great northern bear, known by the name of “Autocrat of All the Russias,” while a fellow with a speaking tube invited in the most alluring terms of itinerant oratory, the gaping multitude to walk in,—“Walk in, ladies and gentlemen, and behold this most wonderous of all wonders that ever was wondered at in this wonderful world,—the Ursa major,—that gives its name to one of the constellations, and was taken by a ruse de guerre in one of the hitherto undiscovered deserts of the remotest Siberia! This stupendous animal was sent from these unknown regions as a present to a certain great personage in this country, who having a superabundancy of native bears already prowling about him, was pleased to order the dismission of this northern stranger, without a pension; and thus it came into the possession of its present exhibiter!”
Our group had just crossed the bridge and moved a little way down Blackfriar's Road when they spotted a large traveling caravan parked on the side of the road, claiming to have the great northern bear inside, known as the "Autocrat of All the Russias." A guy with a loudspeaker was enticing the curious crowd to come in, saying, “Step right up, ladies and gentlemen, and see the most incredible marvel that has ever been seen in this amazing world—the Ursa Major,—which is named after one of the constellations and was captured using a clever trick in one of the undiscovered deserts of remote Siberia! This astonishing creature was sent from those unknown lands as a gift to a certain important person in this country, who, already having plenty of local bears roaming around, decided to send this northern stranger away without a pension; and that’s how it ended up in the hands of its current exhibitor!”
[146] This irresistible invitation was accepted by several of the auditory, including the baronet, Dashall, and the Squire, who were gratified beyond their anticipations, with a sight of the great polar bear, the desolate inhabitant of a frigid and dismal clime, where Nature has forbid the vegetative, and stinted the growth of the animal creation, with the exception of the shaggy wanderer of the desert and the floundering leviathan of the ocean. The animal was perfectly tractable; and its exhibition well compensated both for time and gratuity.
[146] This tempting invitation was accepted by several people in the audience, including the baronet, Dashall, and the Squire, who were thrilled beyond their expectations at the sight of the great polar bear, the lonely resident of a cold and bleak environment, where nature has restricted plant life and limited the growth of animals, except for the shaggy wanderer of the wilderness and the massive creature of the sea. The animal was completely manageable, and the show was well worth both the time and the tip.
The proprietor, however, in answer to an enquiry apart by Dashall, acknowledged that his Ursine companion had never been attached to the household of any great personage; although a northern quadruped of lesser interest was under the protection of one of the Royal Dukes and frequently played its mischievous gambols in the environs of Kensington Palace.{1}
The owner, however, in response to a question from Dashall, admitted that his bear friend had never been part of any prominent household; although a less notable northern animal was under the care of one of the Royal Dukes and often played its playful tricks around Kensington Palace.{1}
CHAPTER X
[147] THE rapid succession of novelty in a Life in London where the scenes like those of a Pantomime are constantly changing
[147] The quick turnover of new experiences in a life in London, where the scenes are always shifting like those in a pantomime.
scarcely required those attentions which the Hon. Tom Dashall continued to enjoy on the score of arrangements for the gratification and information of his cousin. He was ever watchful of opportunities to furnish new views of Real Life and character to Tallyho, and who never failed to profit by his observations upon Men and manners: for Tom, notwithstanding the gaiety of his disposition, was an acute and discerning companion, who having mingled in all ranks and degrees of Society, was able to associate himself with the high or the low, as circumstances might require, and to form tolerably accurate estimates of those by whom he was surrounded.
scarcely required the attention that the Hon. Tom Dashall continued to receive for making arrangements to please and inform his cousin. He was always on the lookout for chances to share fresh insights into real life and personalities with Tallyho, who never missed the chance to benefit from his observations about people and behavior. Despite his cheerful nature, Tom was a sharp and perceptive companion, having mingled in all levels of society. He could relate to both the upper and lower classes as the situation demanded, and he was able to make fairly accurate judgments about those around him.
It was, therefore, with his usual view to the accomplishment of his cousin as a votary of Real Life in London, that he had proposed a visit to a fancy dress Ball at Almack's, and preparations had accordingly been made between them.
It was, therefore, with his usual aim to support his cousin as a follower of Real Life in London, that he suggested going to a costume party at Almack's, and arrangements had been made accordingly between them.
“A Fancy dress Ball,” said Tom, in order to give his cousin an idea of the entertainment he was to partake, “bears some similitude to a Masquerade, with two important exceptions: first, Masks are not general; and second, [148] No practical Jokes are expected or admitted. Dress however, is left wholly to the taste or inclination of the visitors, and the amusements consist principally of dancing and cards. The Rooms are of the most splendid description, and the company generally of the first order; combining all that is elegant and fashionable in what is termed the higher ranks of society,—'Tis said
“A Fancy Dress Ball,” Tom said, to give his cousin an idea of the entertainment he was about to enjoy, “is kind of like a Masquerade, but with two key differences: first, masks aren’t really worn; and second, no practical jokes are expected or allowed. However, the dress code is completely up to the visitors’ taste or preference, and the main activities are dancing and playing cards. The rooms are absolutely magnificent, and the guests are usually high-class, showcasing everything elegant and stylish from what’s known as the upper echelons of society; it’s said...
“Zounds,” said Dashall, “I am happy to see the Rooms so well attended this evening, and particularly to find Mr. Maitland and his two lovely sisters. Do you observe,” continued he, “that Gentleman in Regimentals on the opposite side?”
“Wow,” said Dashall, “I’m really glad to see the Rooms so crowded tonight, especially to see Mr. Maitland and his two lovely sisters. Do you notice,” he continued, “that guy in uniform over on the other side?”
“I do, and is he in the Army?” enquired Bob “No,” replied Tom, “that is only an assumed character for the Evening, but I must introduce you to them, though the Ladies are considered to be sharp shooters with their eyes, therefore it will be necessary for you to be on your guard.”
“I do, and is he in the Army?” asked Bob. “No,” replied Tom, “that's just a role for the evening, but I need to introduce you to them. The ladies are known to have a keen eye, so you’ll need to be on your guard.”
The elegant and tasteful illuminations of the Room, the sprightly sound of the music by a well selected band, and the gay movements of the well dressed circles, were attractive in the mind of Tallyho, and alternately rivetted his attention, while his cousin was as frequently addressed and congratulated by his friends.
The elegant and tasteful lights in the room, the lively music from a well-chosen band, and the cheerful movements of the stylishly dressed guests caught Tallyho's attention, while his cousin was frequently greeted and congratulated by his friends.
“My Dear Tom,” said Maitland, who was lounging round the Room with his two sisters, and who seemed to consider himself the rose of the party by the affected levity of a military character, “I am glad to see you—'pon Honor—just going to make up a quadrille—know you are a good dancer—list you in my Corps with Misa Maitland's permission—but can't be denied 'pon Honor.”
“My dear Tom,” said Maitland, who was lounging around the room with his two sisters and seemed to think of himself as the standout of the group due to his pretentious easygoing military vibe, “I’m glad to see you—honestly—just about to start a quadrille—I know you’re a good dancer—I’d like to include you in my group with Misa Maitland’s permission—but it can’t be denied, honestly.”
“That is very gallant, truly,” replied a lovely and interesting girl, his eldest sister. “With my permission, and yet he won't be denied.”
“That’s really brave of him,” replied a beautiful and fascinating girl, his oldest sister. “He has my blessing, but he still won’t take no for an answer.”
“If Miss Maitland were to command,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “denial were impossible, disobedience were disgrace and dishonor.”—bowing politely to the Ladies.
“If Miss Maitland were to give an order,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “refusing would be out of the question, and disobeying would bring shame and dishonor.” —bowing politely to the ladies.
“Vastly pretty indeed Mr. Dashall, and to speak the truth I am very glad to find you here; for you know my brother is but a nobody, except when he shews himself off in Regimentals:” replied Miss Maitland.
“Really pretty indeed, Mr. Dashall, and to be honest, I'm really glad to see you here; you know my brother is just a nobody, except when he shows himself off in his uniform,” replied Miss Maitland.
[150] “Aye, and we want somebody to talk to,” continued her sister.
[150] “Yeah, and we need someone to talk to,” her sister continued.
“'Pon my word, this is strange ill usage,” said Maitland.-“I shall desert.”
“Honestly, this is really strange treatment,” said Maitland. “I’m going to leave.”
“Nay,” said Tom, “there is no need of that: but if you do, the ladies shall not be deserted while I have a hand at their service, and I believe I may venture to offer additional protection on the part of my Cousin.”
“Nah,” said Tom, “there's no need for that: but if you do, the ladies won't be left alone while I can help them, and I think I can offer some extra protection from my cousin.”
Bob nodded assent, and assured the party he was proud of the honor of the introduction; while Maitland eyed him from top to toe, and was heartily laughed at by his sisters, which not a little mortified him.
Bob nodded in agreement and told the group he was proud to be introduced; meanwhile, Maitland looked him up and down, and his sisters laughed at him, which embarrassed him quite a bit.
“If that's the case,” said he, taking out his quizzing-glass, and staring each of them in the face in succession, “why I've nothing more to say upon it, so come along, I am anxious for a dance.” The music just at the moment striking off, a Quadrille was formed, but the younger sister having declined dancing, Bob, who had no great inclination to “trip it on the light fantastic toe,” had a good opportunity of following her example, and during the dance they amused themselves with observations on the dresses and manners of the company before them, in the course of which he discovered that Maitland was something of the fashionable insipid, and not very high in the general estimation of the Ladies, and the contrast between the easy and graceful movements of the Hon. Tom Dashall, with those of Maitland braced up in military uniform, and dancing with the stiffness of a Halbert, afforded them high amusement, it brought to Tallyho's recollection a French Dancing Master in the country, who, upon the occasion of his annual Ball, perceiving a gentleman and lady in person and figure perfectly contrasted, the latter being short and stout, and the former tall and thin, addressed the Gentleman in the following complimentary stile, as well as his broken English would admit, “Ma dear sare—bien obligé—ah! ma goot sare—you vill do me the honneur to lead off de next dance—you do dance as de Poker, and your Lady she do dance as de Butter fierke”—(meaning a butter firkin.) The allusions were exactly in point, and the company within hearing, did not suffer the sarcasm to escape unnoticed. How far the observations were well timed by the dancing master, or well received by the loving couple, is not our business here to enquire.
“If that’s the case,” he said, pulling out his monocle and looking each of them in the eye one after the other, “then I have nothing more to add, so let’s go, I’m eager for a dance.” Just as the music started, a Quadrille was formed, but since the younger sister opted out of dancing, Bob, who wasn’t really keen on “tripping the light fantastic,” had a good excuse to follow her lead. During the dance, they entertained themselves by commenting on the outfits and behaviors of the people around them. In the process, he realized that Maitland was a bit of a fashionable bore and wasn’t particularly well-regarded by the ladies. The difference between the smooth, graceful movements of Hon. Tom Dashall and Maitland, who was stiffly dancing in military uniform like a halberd, provided them with great amusement. It reminded Tallyho of a French dance instructor in the countryside who, during his annual ball, saw a couple perfectly contrasting in shape: the lady was short and plump, while the gentleman was tall and thin. The instructor addressed the gentleman as best as his broken English allowed, “My dear sir—thank you—ah! my good sir—you will do me the honor of leading the next dance—you dance like a Poker, and your lady dances like a Butter firkin”—(referring to a butter barrel). The jokes hit the mark, and those within earshot didn’t let the sarcasm go unnoticed. Whether the dance instructor’s remarks were well-timed or appreciated by the couple in question isn’t our concern here.
[151] Miss Caroline Maitland was about 20 years of age, of a most prepossessing and engaging form, fond of dress and full of vivacity with no mean conception of her own wit or captivating powers, her attire was elegant and shewy, almost approaching to the gaudy, rather than the selection of refined Taste and Judgment.
[151] Miss Caroline Maitland was around 20 years old, with a very appealing and charming appearance, fond of fashion and bursting with energy, with a high opinion of her own wit and charm. Her outfit was elegant and flashy, almost bordering on gaudy, rather than reflecting a refined sense of taste and judgment.
Miss Amelia was about 19 with features calculated to make conquest certain where the attack was not made on hearts of stone, the simple modesty of her wardrobe seemed rather to indicate the thoughtful and contemplative mind, rich in its own resources, and requiring no foil to render conspicuous its real value, her auburn locks parted in the front, discovered a fine well arched forehead, from under which darted glances from her beautiful dark eyes, that when purposely directed for observation, spoke volumes to the heart. Unadorned by the feathers which waved in majestic splendor over the temples of her sister as she threaded through the mazy windings of the dance, she attracted the attention of the company in a much greater degree than the dress-delighted Caroline. Her figure was neither well nor ill formed, but the open and animated expression of her countenance, together with the graces of her mind, would in the opinion of all judicious thinkers, have been considered as a compensation for the absence of beautiful form. Her whole appearance however, was not only pleasing, it was prepossessing, while her manners and conversation were captivating. Bob gazed and admired, listened and was charmed.
Miss Amelia was about 19, with features that were likely to win hearts unless they were made of stone. The simple modesty of her wardrobe suggested a thoughtful and introspective personality, rich in its own qualities, needing no embellishments to highlight its true worth. Her auburn hair was parted at the front, revealing a beautifully arched forehead, from which her stunning dark eyes shone. When she directed her gaze intentionally, it conveyed deep emotions to the heart. Unlike her sister Caroline, who dazzled the crowd with her extravagant attire as she danced, Amelia drew far more attention with her natural charm. Her figure was neither exceptionally attractive nor unattractive, but the openness and liveliness of her expression, along with her mental grace, would have been seen by any discerning observer as a balance to any lack of traditional beauty. Overall, her appearance was not just pleasing; it was captivating, and her demeanor and conversation enchanted those around her. Bob watched, amazed and charmed, as he listened intently.
The Hon. Tom Dashall was at the same time fully occupied in his attentions to the other sister, but could not occasionally help a sly glance at Bob, indicative of the pleasure he derived from seeing his cousin thus engaged.
The Hon. Tom Dashall was also busy giving his attention to the other sister but couldn't help stealing a glance at Bob now and then, showing the enjoyment he felt from seeing his cousin so engaged.
The Quadrille being over, “Come,” said Col. Maitland, “we must go and have a peep at the Card Tables, and enquire how the cash moves, for you know if your aunt is losing her money, she will be as cross as the——”
The Quadrille was done, “Come on,” said Col. Maitland, “we should go check out the card tables and see how the money is flowing because you know if your aunt is losing her money, she’ll be as grumpy as the——”
“Silence Charles,” said his sister, “remember you have no occasion to make such observations here, why you might almost as well entertain us with a pedigree of the family, as expose the tempers and dispositions of your relations; besides I am sure the party alluded to would feel herself very much offended to hear such conversation in a Ball room. It is neither a fit time or place;”—and with [152] this, each of his sisters seizing an arm, led him towards the Card Room, alternately schooling him as they passed along, and leaving our Heroes to draw their own conclusions from what had occurred.
“Be quiet, Charles,” his sister said, “you really shouldn’t make comments like that here. You might as well entertain us with our family tree as talk about the personalities of our relatives. Besides, I’m sure the person you mentioned would be very upset to hear such talk in a ballroom. This isn’t the right time or place.” With that, each of his sisters took an arm and led him toward the Card Room, lecturing him as they walked, leaving our heroes to draw their own conclusions from what had just happened.
“Thus it is,” said Tom, “that a Commander in the field is obliged to be an obedient in the Ball Room, he is however a very poor creature at the best of times, and depends more upon the abilities of others than his own for the appearance he makes in the world, and is rather to be looked at than admired and esteemed. Here,” continued he, “I shall have an opportunity of introducing you to a character of another kind, here is my friend Dick Distich, a logger of Rhyme, a poet and a contemplative philosopher, he is recently married, but appears to be without his rib.”
“That's how it is,” said Tom, “a Commander in the field has to play nice in the ballroom. But honestly, he's not much of a man most of the time and relies more on the skills of others than his own to make a good impression in the world. He's more for show than truly admired or respected. Here,” he continued, “I can introduce you to someone quite different. Meet my friend Dick Distich, a wordsmith, a poet, and a thoughtful philosopher. He’s recently married but seems to be without his other half.”
“My dear friend Dashall,” exclaimed a tall thin man advancing and catching him by the hand, “I am glad to see you, for I am bewildered and lost.”
“My dear friend Dashall,” said a tall, thin man approaching and grabbing his hand, “I’m so glad to see you because I’m confused and feeling lost.”
“Good,” replied Tom, “then I am very glad to have found you, what is the Reward—are you advertised—are your manuscripts stolen, or is your Library on Fire? Has the good woman brought forth twins or disappointed your hopes?”
“Good,” replied Tom, “then I’m really glad to have found you. What’s the reward—are you in the news—are your manuscripts missing, or is your library on fire? Did the good woman have twins or let you down?”
“Walk this way,” replied the other, “you are a happy fellow, always gamesome and gay, but I know you have a fellow feeling for all mankind, and will pour the balm of pity into a wounded heart.”
“Walk this way,” replied the other, “you’re a cheerful guy, always playful and lighthearted, but I know you care about everyone and will offer comfort to a hurting heart.”
“Zounds,” said Tom, “you attack a body with a mouthful of pity, and a heart full of wounds at a strange time, for the introduction of such subjects. What can you mean, probably you appear here as the knight of ?the woeful countenance, with a determination to support the character to the end of the chapter. Why you look as melancholy as a mute, and one would almost fancy you were making a funeral visit, instead of attending a Mask'd
“Wow,” said Tom, “you come at a person with a mouth full of pity and a heart full of hurt at a strange moment to bring up such subjects. What are you trying to say? You probably look like the knight of the sad face, determined to keep that up until the end of the chapter. You look as gloomy as someone who can’t speak, and one would almost think you were on a visit to a funeral instead of joining a masked ball.”
“I have enough to make me so,” was the reply, “I shall be brief in my narrative, in order that I may not interfere with your enjoyments, and you know that mine are of another kind. I am routed from home.”—
“I have enough to make me feel that way,” was the reply, “so I’ll keep my story short so I don’t interrupt your enjoyment, which you know is different from mine. I’ve been driven away from home.”
“How do you mean?”
"What's that supposed to mean?"
“Thus it is then, you know I am a plain man, a quiet man, a civil and humble man. I hate Balls and Routs, but my wife and I differ in taste. She has determined [153] on having a Rout at home, and it proves no misnomer with me, for Heaven knows they rout me from Study to Drawing Room, from Drawing Room to Chamber, and all because truly my little woman must have her party.”
“So it is, you know I'm an ordinary guy, a laid-back guy, a polite and humble guy. I can't stand parties and gatherings, but my wife and I have different tastes. She's decided [153] to host a gathering at home, and it's no misnomer for me, because goodness knows they drag me from the Study to the Living Room, from the Living Room to the Bedroom, all because my little lady just has to have her party.”
“And why not?” enquired Tom.
“And why not?” asked Tom.
“Why man for this reason, you must know I had myself the sweetest little sanctuary in the world. I had gothicised my Study, its walls were painted in imitation of oak, my books were arranged with the most unauthor-like neatness, my prints hung, my casts and models all bracketed, and all have vanished like the
“Why, for this reason you must know, I had the sweetest little sanctuary in the world. I had turned my Study into a gothic space; its walls were painted to look like oak, my books were organized with the most uncharacteristic neatness, my prints hung perfectly, and my casts and models were all displayed on brackets, but now all have vanished like the
“And is this your misery,” said Tom, “upon my soul I began to think you had lost your wife; but it seems you have only lost your wits. What the devil did you expect when you joined issue—to live as you have done like a hermit in a cell? Well if this is all I do pity you indeed.”
"And is this your misery," said Tom, "I swear I was starting to think you lost your wife; but it looks like you've just lost your mind. What did you expect when you took a stand—living like a hermit in a cell? If this is it, then I truly feel sorry for you."
“But you have not heard half yet. The whole house is transformed.”
“But you haven't heard the whole story yet. The entire house has changed.”
“And I think you ought to be reformed,” continued Tom.
“And I think you should change for the better,” continued Tom.
Notwithstanding the lightness and satire with which our Hero appeared to treat the subject, poor Distich was not to be stayed in his course.
Notwithstanding the lightness and satire with which our Hero seemed to handle the subject, poor Distich was not to be stopped in his path.
“Ah!” said he, with a sigh, “In vain did Cicero strain his neck to peep over Burke on the Sublime and Beautiful—Shakespeare beard Blair's Sermons and Humphrey Glinkert or Milton's sightless balls gleam over Sir Walter Scott's Epics—all, all, is chaos and misrule. Even my greenhouse over my head which held three ci-devant pots of mignonette, one decayed mirtle, a soi-disant geranium and other exotics, which are to spring out afresh in the summer—my shrubs are clapped under my couch, and my evergreens stuck over the kitchen fire place, are doomed to this unpropitious hot-bed, in order to make room for pattens, clogs, cloaks, and shawls, for all the old maids in Town.”
“Ah!” he said with a sigh, “Cicero's efforts to look over Burke on the Sublime and Beautiful were in vain—Shakespeare overshadowed Blair's Sermons, and Milton's sightless eyes gazed down on Sir Walter Scott's Epics—all of it is chaos and disorder. Even my greenhouse above me, which used to hold three old pots of mignonette, one decayed myrtle, a so-called geranium, and other exotic plants that are supposed to come back in the summer—my shrubs are crammed under my couch, and my evergreens are stuck over the kitchen fireplace, all to give space for pattens, clogs, cloaks, and shawls for all the old maids in town.”
Tom bit his lip to stifle a laugh, and treading lightly on the toe of his cousin, had so strongly excited Tallyho's risibility, that it was with difficulty he resisted the momentary impulse.
Tom bit his lip to hold back a laugh, and lightly stepping on his cousin's toe, had so strongly tickled Tallyho's funny bone that he struggled to resist the urge to laugh out loud.
The routed Benedict continued—“Our Drawing Room, [154]which conveniently holds ten persons, is to be the black hole for thirty—My study, dear beloved retreat, where sonnets have been composed and novels written—this spot which just holds me and my cat, is to be the scene of bagatelle, commerce, or any thing else that a parcel of giggling girls may chuse to act in it,—my statues are converted—Diabolus is made to hold a spermaceti candle, while the Medicean nymph, my Apollo Belvidere, and my dancing fawn, being too bulky to move, are adorned with aprons of green silk, because forsooth Betty says they are vastly undecent with nothing on them, and my wife is quite certain “that no one will visit us, unless we do as other people do.” Alas! until the success of my last poem, we never cared about other people, and I am now absolutely turned out, to make room for them, and advised to come here to-night in order to prepare myself for the approaching festivity.”
The routed Benedict continued—“Our Drawing Room, [154]which conveniently fits ten people, is set to become a crowded space for thirty—My study, dear beloved retreat, where sonnets have been written and novels created—this space that barely accommodates me and my cat, is to be the venue for games, business, or whatever a bunch of giggling girls might choose to do in it—my statues are being repurposed—Diabolus is now holding a spermaceti candle, while the Medicean nymph, my Apollo Belvidere, and my dancing fawn, too big to move, are dressed in green silk aprons because, as Betty insists, they look terribly inappropriate without anything on them, and my wife is quite sure “that no one will come to visit us unless we do what everyone else does.” Alas! until the success of my last poem, we never cared about others, and now I’m completely kicked out to make space for them, and I’ve been advised to come here tonight to prepare myself for the upcoming celebration.”
Dashall was unable to contain himself longer, and Bob, who had been for some time stuffing his white cambric handkerchief into his mouth, could no longer resist the laugh he had been trying to avoid. They look'd alternately at each other, and then at the doleful complainant, who with unaltered features sat for a moment between his laughing companions, till perceiving the ridiculous situation he was in, he rose from his seat and hastily left the room.
Dashall couldn't hold back any longer, and Bob, who had been stuffing his white handkerchief into his mouth for a while, finally burst into laughter. They looked back and forth at each other, then at the miserable person complaining, who sat there for a moment between his laughing friends. Once he realized how ridiculous the situation was, he got up from his seat and quickly left the room.
Our friends then took a further survey of the company without making any additional remark except upon the view of the various elegant and tasteful dresses exhibited, the grace and agility of the dancers, and the brilliance of the decorations, when supper was announced.
Our friends then took another look at the crowd without saying anything more except to comment on the variety of stylish and chic outfits on display, the grace and agility of the dancers, and the stunning decorations, when supper was announced.
Moving onward to the Supper Room, they again encountered poor Distich, who although he had no relish for the generality of the amusements, declared he would not quit till he had supped: after which, Tom determined if possible to drive away the blue devils, who seemed to have occupied his brain. For this purpose he listened to his additional complaints, and filling his glass at every pause, became lively and agreeable, as the toast was circulated, till the invigorating effects of the bottle sunk him again, and at length putting him into a hackney coach, they dispatched him in good order to his Rib; after which they took their departure towards Piccadilly.[155]
Moving on to the Supper Room, they ran into poor Distich again, who, although he wasn't really into the usual entertainment, insisted he wouldn't leave until he had eaten. After that, Tom decided to try and shake off the blues that seemed to have settled in his mind. To do this, he listened to Distich’s complaints and, refilling his glass at each pause, became cheerful and entertaining as they passed around toasts. However, the effects of the drinks soon got to him again, and eventually, they put him in a cab and sent him home safely to his place. After that, they made their way towards Piccadilly.[155]
CHAPTER XI
IT was half past eleven o'clock before our friends approaching the breakfast parlour, had an opportunity of congratulating each other on the amusements of the previous evening, when the Hon. Tom Dashall ever upon the active look-out for the most pleasureable amusements to occupy the mind and attention of his cousin, observing it was a very tine morning, proposed a ride to Greenwich, and with this object in view all being prepared, it was not long before they were seated in the curricle.
It was half past eleven when our friends, entering the breakfast room, had a chance to congratulate each other on the fun they had the night before. The Hon. Tom Dashall, always on the lookout for enjoyable activities to engage his cousin, noticed it was a beautiful morning and suggested a ride to Greenwich. With that plan in mind, everyone got ready quickly, and it wasn't long before they were seated in the carriage.
“Greenwich,” said Tom, “is not a very long journey, nor do I know, speaking of the town itself, independent of its surrounding attractions, particularly to be admired, though it is a neat town, about five miles from London Bridge, in the county of Kent, with a market on Wednesdays and Saturdays. It is however, famous for an hospital for decayed Seamen, the brave defenders of their native soil, who have fought and bled for their king and country; thought to be the finest structure of the kind in the world, and for an observatory built by Charles II. on the summit of a hill, called Flamstead Hill, from the great astronomer of that name, who was here the first astronomer Royal: and we compute the longitude from the meridian of this place. It is also a place of great resort at holiday time, for being so near London. The Lads and Lasses move off in groups to Greenwich fair, and the amusements at those times are of so varying a kind as almost to defy description.
“Greenwich,” Tom said, “isn’t a long trip, and honestly, when it comes to the town itself, aside from its nearby attractions, there’s not much to rave about. It’s a tidy little town, about five miles from London Bridge, in Kent, with a market on Wednesdays and Saturdays. However, it’s famous for a hospital for aging seamen, the brave defenders of our land, who have fought and sacrificed for their king and country; it’s said to be the finest structure of its kind in the world. There’s also an observatory built by Charles II on a hill called Flamstead Hill, named after the great astronomer who was the first astronomer royal. We measure longitude from the meridian here. It’s also a popular spot during holidays, being so close to London. The boys and girls head out in groups to the Greenwich fair, and the activities at those times are so varied that they’re hard to describe.”
[156]And there are but few who have had an opportunity, but have occasionally enjoyed a roll down this hill. The roads leading to the sporting spot are to be seen clogged with coaches, carts, and waggons, decorated with laurel, and filled with company, singing their way down or up to participate in the frolics of Greenwich fair. It is however, much more celebrated for its once having been a Royal Palace, in which Edward VI. died, and Queen Mary and Queen Elizabeth were born. On a part of the site of it, now stands the house belonging to the Ranger of the Park at Greenwich, also a College called the Duke of Norfolk's College, for the maintenance of 20 decayed Housekeepers, and another called Queen Elizabeth's, as well as a Royal Naval asylum for the orphans of Sailors and Marines; and although we are going down when there is no fair to attract multitudes to the spot, I can still promise you more solid entertainment in a review of these truly splendid and useful national establishments, besides which, the town affords plenty of good accommodation for refreshment and comfort.”
[156]There are only a few who have had the chance but have occasionally enjoyed rolling down this hill. The roads leading to the fun spot are clogged with coaches, carts, and wagons, decorated with laurel, and filled with people singing their way to and from the festivities of Greenwich fair. However, it is much more famous for having been a Royal Palace where Edward VI died and where Queen Mary and Queen Elizabeth were born. On part of its former site now stands the house of the Ranger of the Park at Greenwich, as well as a college called the Duke of Norfolk's College for supporting 20 retired housekeepers, another called Queen Elizabeth's, and a Royal Naval asylum for the orphans of sailors and marines. Although we’re going down when there’s no fair to draw crowds, I can still promise you more substantial entertainment with a look at these truly impressive and useful national institutions. Plus, the town offers plenty of great options for refreshments and comfort.
By this time they had passed Westminster Bridge on their road. Bob thanked his cousin for the information he had imparted, but as the objects and subjects directly under his eye generally engrossed his immediate attention, he could not resist the impulse of the moment, as they turned the corner of the asylum wall, to remark that he had witnessed in many instances before, a practice which appeared in and about London, of chalking the walls, and perceiving in large letters “Dr. Eady 32 Dean Street Soho,” enquired what was meant by it.
By this point, they had crossed Westminster Bridge on their way. Bob thanked his cousin for the information he had shared, but since the things he could see usually captured his immediate focus, he couldn't help but mention, as they rounded the corner of the asylum wall, that he had noticed many times before a trend in and around London where walls were chalked with large letters saying “Dr. Eady 32 Dean Street Soho.” He asked what it meant.
“That,” replied his cousin, “is one of the most ingenious modes of advertising, hit upon in the Metropolis, and the Doctor at all events deserves credit for the industry and perseverance he has manifested in making his name known. It is not altogether new, for it has been successfully practiced in popular elections. Men are sent out at night to chalk the names of Candidates on walls and other places, to keep their interest alive; but in all probability no one has ever before carried the system to so great a length as this Doctor Eady, for it is scarcely possible to travel ten miles round the metropolis without meeting with his name, which naturally excites enquiry into the object and pretensions of the chalked up Hero. You will also find in many cases that the proprietor of the Bonassus has [157]lately adopted the same system. It is a species of puffing which can hardly fail of producing notoriety, and I have before observed, it matters but little to the parties themselves by what means this is produced save and except the avoidance of expence.”
“That,” his cousin replied, “is one of the most clever ways of advertising that's been discovered in the city, and the Doctor definitely deserves credit for the hard work and determination he's put into getting his name out there. It's not entirely new; it has been used successfully in political campaigns. People are sent out at night to write the names of candidates on walls and other places to keep their support alive. But probably no one has ever taken this approach as far as Doctor Eady has, because it's hard to travel ten miles around the city without encountering his name, which naturally raises questions about this chalked-up Hero's purpose and claims. You’ll also notice that the owner of the Bonassus has [157]recently started using the same tactic. It’s a form of promotion that is bound to create some buzz, and as I mentioned before, it doesn’t really matter to the parties involved how this attention is generated as long as it doesn't cost them much.”
“It is a curious scheme however,” replied Bob, “and I have two or three times before intended to enquire its meaning.”
“It’s an interesting plan, though,” replied Bob, “and I’ve tried to ask about its meaning a couple of times before.”
“There are numerous instances,” returned Tom, “in which the eccentricities of an individual have blown him into notice, and puff'd fortune into his pocket. Packwood of Gracechurch street, had many whims and fancies, and acted upon the idea, that when a man's name is once up, he may go to bed, or take a nod elsewhere. By making razor strops and a certain paste for sharpening razors, he pasted his name on public credulity, and pocketed the proceeds. His advertisements were frequently laughable, and he caught his customers in their risible moments, wisely taking care never to laugh himself, 'till he had realized the possibles. I remember in the year 1807, he published a book, price “Two good Tower shillings,” containing his advertisements, entitled “Packwood's whim, Packwoodiana, or the Goldfinches nest, or the way to get money and be happy.” And to make the publication worth the money, and that there might be no grumbling, An half crown was according to the title-page, placed between the leaves.”
“There are plenty of examples,” Tom replied, “where a person's eccentricities have brought them into the spotlight and filled their pockets with fortune. Packwood of Gracechurch Street had many quirks and believed that once someone’s name is well-known, they could relax or take a break elsewhere. By making razor strops and a specific paste for sharpening razors, he got his name out there and reaped the rewards. His ads were often humorous, and he drew in customers during their lighter moments, carefully ensuring he didn’t laugh until he had made his profits. I remember in 1807, he published a book priced at 'Two good Tower shillings,' which contained his advertisements, titled 'Packwood's whim, Packwoodiana, or the Goldfinches nest, or the way to get money and be happy.' To make the publication worth the price and avoid any complaints, a half crown was, according to the title page, placed between the pages.”
“That was no laughing matter, however,” said Bob, “he could not have got rich by such means.”
"That was no joke, though," Bob said, "there's no way he could have gotten rich that way."
“You must not trust the title-pages of books,” replied Tom, “no more than the advertisements of Quacks, or the looks of persons. The half crown was not visible, or at least not tangible. It proved to be an anecdote related in the work. He however managed to circulate many copies, and it is generally understood, gained considerable money by his pursuits. He has left the benefit of his invention to his daughter, who now lives in Bride Lane, Fleet Street. But a more prominent character of recent times was the late celebrated Martin Van Butchell, whose name and fame are well known to Newspaper readers, and whose personal appearance at all times, excited in London the attention of the spectators. He was rather a tall man with a very long beard, and used to ride a short pony sometimes, spotted all over with a variety of colours.”
“You shouldn’t trust the title pages of books,” Tom replied, “any more than you’d trust the ads from frauds or the appearances of people. The half crown wasn’t visible, or at least not something you could touch. It turned out to be a story mentioned in the book. Nonetheless, he managed to distribute many copies and it’s commonly believed that he made quite a bit of money from his efforts. He left the benefits of his invention to his daughter, who now lives on Bride Lane, Fleet Street. But a more well-known figure of recent times was the famous Martin Van Butchell, whose name and fame are familiar to newspaper readers, and whose appearance always grabbed attention in London. He was a tall man with a very long beard, and he sometimes rode a small pony covered in all kinds of colors.”
[158] “He must have cut a curious figure,” said Bob, “certainly, but what building have we here?”
[158] “He must have looked pretty interesting,” said Bob, “for sure, but what building is this?”
“That,” replied his communicative cousin, “is The New Bethlem for the care and cure of lunatics. Bethlem was formerly situated on the South side of Moorfields, but as that building was hastening to decay, this elegant receptacle for its inmates has been prepared. It is not a little curious to remark, that it now occupies a part of that ground which was formerly devoted to mirth and revelry, The Dog and Duck Tea Gardens, the scene of many a frolic. The structure was designed by Mr. Lewis, and executed at an expence of £95,000. It is 580 feet in length, and capable of receiving in this front 200 patients. Another line of building extending to the South, is designed to admit an equal number, as well as 60 lunatics, the charge of which latter department, exclusively belongs to Government. The ground around it, occupying twelve acres, is devoted to the exercise of the patients.”
“That,” replied his talkative cousin, “is The New Bethlem for the care and treatment of people with mental illness. Bethlem used to be located on the south side of Moorfields, but since that building was falling apart, this stylish facility for its residents has been set up. It's quite interesting to note that it now sits on land that was once dedicated to fun and festivities, The Dog and Duck Tea Gardens, where many a good time was had. The building was designed by Mr. Lewis and cost £95,000 to construct. It is 580 feet long and can accommodate 200 patients in this section. Another building extending to the south is designed to house an equal number, as well as 60 individuals, whose care is fully funded by the Government. The surrounding grounds, covering twelve acres, are reserved for the patients' exercise.”
They were now dashing along the road towards the Elephant and Castle, when Bob was attracted by the appearance of the Philanthropic Chapel and School, which his cousin dismissed in a few words, by observing it was the school of reform, which he had alluded to, when last in the vicinity of Blackfriars, and which deserved more attention than he could just then give it. So touching up the tits in prime twig, they pushed on to the originally proposed place of destination.
They were now speedily making their way down the road toward the Elephant and Castle when Bob noticed the Philanthropic Chapel and School. His cousin quickly dismissed it, saying it was the reform school he had mentioned the last time they were near Blackfriars and that it deserved more attention than he could give at that moment. So, giving the horses a little nudge, they continued on to their originally intended destination.
Having arrived at Greenwich, and partaken of some refreshment, our heroes proceeded immediately to the Hospital; the magnificent appearance of which had an evident effect upon Tallyho, as he gazed upon its exterior, and some of its venerable inhabitants taking their peaceable walks before it, while others were seated on accommodating benches, viewing the vessels passing up and down the river.
Having arrived at Greenwich and had some refreshments, our heroes headed straight to the Hospital. The impressive appearance of the building clearly impacted Tallyho as he looked at its exterior, noticing some of its elderly residents taking peaceful walks in front of it, while others sat on convenient benches watching the boats go by on the river.
“Why,” said Bob, “this Hospital is more like a Palace.”
“Why,” said Bob, “this hospital feels more like a palace.”
“It is,” replied Tom, “a noble monument of National gratitude to its defenders, who deserve to be protected and assisted when disabled for service. Here the lame, the wounded, and the aged, are enabled to spin out the thread of a useful existence, in comfortable retirement. It was founded by William and Mary for invalid seamen, and many an old Commodore and gallant hardy Tar is [159] preserved in this establishment, after being doused from his pins, to puff old sorrow away and sing,
“It is,” replied Tom, “a great tribute of national appreciation to its defenders, who should be supported and helped when they can no longer serve. Here, the injured, the disabled, and the elderly are able to live out a meaningful life in comfort. It was established by William and Mary for injured sailors, and many an old Commodore and brave sailor is [159] cared for in this place, after being knocked down, to shake off old grief and sing,
“You perceive,” continued he, “that the costume of the place is a suit of blue, with proper distinctions of rank and station allotted to each.”
“You see,” he continued, “that the dress here is a blue suit, with appropriate distinctions of rank and position assigned to each.”
“But,” inquired Bob, “some of them appear to have their coats turned inside out; is that according to choice?”—“Not so,” replied Tosi, “that is a mark of disgrace, by way of punishment, for some errors or improprieties of which they have been guilty; and there are some, in spite of misfortune, who cannot forget former times, and occasionally verify the words of the song—
“But,” asked Bob, “some of them seem to have their jackets inside out; is that a choice?”—“Not at all,” Tosi answered, “that’s a sign of shame, used as punishment for mistakes or wrongdoings they’ve committed; and there are some who, despite their bad luck, can’t let go of the past and sometimes prove the words of the song—
And although used to severe discipline on board a ship, they do sometimes forget what they are subject to here, and “slip the cable upon an ocean of grog,” grow dizzy over the binnacle, unship the rudder, lose their calculations, and stand too far out to sea to reach the intended Port; but more of this presently. You perceive this magnificent structure consists of four grand buildings, completely separated from each other; yet forming a very entire and most beautiful plan—especially viewed from the river, which runs in the front of it. Here the comforts and [160] conveniences of the hardy veterans, who have faced the enemies of their country in many fearful encounters, are studied, when they can no longer give the word of command, or answer it in such active services. The four different buildings you now see, contain accommodations for bed and board for about 2600 persons of different ranks and stations; and you may perceive by those you have before you, that the ranks they have formerly held in his Majesty's employ are still visible in their outward habiliments.”
And even though they're used to strict discipline on a ship, they occasionally forget what they're supposed to follow here, and “drink too much grog,” get dizzy by the compass, mess up the steering, lose their calculations, and drift too far out to sea to reach their intended port; but more on that later. You can see that this impressive structure is made up of four distinct buildings, completely separate from one another; yet they form a cohesive and beautiful design—especially when viewed from the river that runs in front of it. Here, the comforts and [160] conveniences for the brave veterans, who have faced their country’s enemies in many fierce battles, are prioritized, now that they can no longer give or follow orders in such active duty. The four different buildings you see now provide accommodations for around 2600 people of various ranks and positions; and you can tell from those in front of you that the ranks they once held in His Majesty's service are still evident in their outer clothing.
They were now in the centre of the building, approaching the edge of the Thames, on whose bosom were seen sundry small vessels, gliding in majestic pride; and perceiving a seat capable of holding four or five persons, in the corner of which sat an old weather-beaten tar, in a gold-laced hat and coat, with a wooden leg, who was watching with apparent delight one of the larger vessels, with all her sails set to catch the breeze; they took a seat alongside of him.
They were now in the center of the building, getting close to the edge of the Thames, where several small boats were drifting gracefully; and noticing a bench that could fit four or five people, in the corner sat an old, weathered sailor, wearing a gold-laced hat and coat, with a wooden leg, who was watching with clear enjoyment one of the larger boats, fully rigged to catch the wind; they took a seat next to him.
“Come,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “we may here at «ase survey the exertions of such as still retain the power, and contemplate the comforts of those who no longer have powers to exert.” The Pensioner remained in mute attention to the moving scene on the river, occasionally smiling and squirting from his jaws the accumulating essence of his quid, seeming at the same time to enjoy in retrospection scenes similar to what he had formerly been engaged in, but without bestowing one look on our Heroes. “There is a fine fresh breeze down the river,” continued Tom, addressing the wooden legged warrior; and then a pause ensued—but no reply.
“Come,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “let's take a moment here to observe those who still have power and reflect on the comforts of those who no longer do.” The Pensioner stayed silently focused on the scene unfolding on the river, occasionally smiling and spitting out the accumulated juice from his chew, seemingly lost in memories of similar moments he had once experienced, without glancing at our Heroes. “There’s a nice fresh breeze coming down the river,” Tom said, turning to the warrior with the wooden leg; then there was a pause—but no response.
“It is a beautiful situation for retirement in old age,” said Bob. “I should think, Sir,” said he, “that you must be very comfortable under this protecting roof,” determined, if possible, to elicit something from the hardy old Pensioner, approaching a little closer to him, and at the same time to take his attention, respectfully moving his hat.
“It’s a lovely spot to retire in your old age,” said Bob. “I imagine, Sir,” he continued, “that you must feel very at ease under this protective roof,” trying to get a response from the tough old Pensioner, stepping a bit closer and respectfully tipping his hat to get his attention.
Tins address, however, was received with nearly the same effect as the previous observations, except that the veteran moved his hat in return. “He is a churlish old blade,” said Tom; thinking by this remark to rouse and animate the blood of their taciturn companion.—“There seems to be no intelligence in him. Pray, Sir,” continued he, “may I be so bold as to inquire, laying his hand upon [161] his knee, what is the name of that vessel on which you appear to bestow so many anxious looks?”
Tins' address, however, had almost the same effect as the previous comments, except that the veteran tipped his hat in response. “He’s a grumpy old man,” said Tom, thinking this would stir some life into their quiet companion. “There doesn’t seem to be much going on in his head. Please, sir,” he continued, placing his hand on [161] his knee, “can I be bold enough to ask what the name of that ship is that you keep looking at so intently?”
Roused by the touch, he darted a hasty look at Tom, and then at Bob, started hastily from his seat, held up his stick, as they supposed, in a menacing attitude, then shouldering it, he marched, or rather hobbled, on his wooden pin some paces from them, and, with an air of commanding authority, returned in front of them, took off his hat, and began to describe two lines on the gravel, but which was to them perfectly unintelligible.
Roused by the touch, he quickly glanced at Tom and then at Bob, jumped up from his seat, raised his stick, which they thought was in a threatening way, then slung it over his shoulder and walked, or rather limped, a few steps away from them. With an air of authority, he returned in front of them, took off his hat, and started drawing two lines on the gravel, but it was completely unintelligible to them.
However, in a few minutes, the arrival of a younger Pensioner, with one arm and a wooden stump, in breathless haste, informed them that the old gentleman was deaf and dumb.
However, in a few minutes, the arrival of a younger Pensioner, with one arm and a wooden stump, in breathless haste, informed them that the old gentleman was deaf and mute.
“God bless you, my worthy masters,” said the interpreter, who first paid his respects to the old Commodore, “you have started my revered commander on his high ropes; he is as deaf as the top-lights, and as dumb as a stantion: two and twenty years ago, your Honors, he and I were both capsized together on board; the shot that took off his leg splintered my arm, and the doctor kindly took it off for me afterwards.”
“God bless you, my esteemed masters,” said the interpreter, who first acknowledged the old Commodore, “you’ve sent my respected commander on his way; he’s as deaf as a post and as mute as a statue: twenty-two years ago, your Honors, he and I were both thrown overboard together; the bullet that injured his leg shattered my arm, and the doctor kindly amputated it for me afterward.”
“That was a lamentable day for you,” said Tom. “Why aye, for the matter of that there, d'ye see, it disabled us from sarvice, but then we both of us had some consolation, for we have never been separated since: besides, we were better off than poor Wattie the cook, who had his head taken off by a chain-shot, and was made food for sharks, while we are enabled to stump about the world with the use of our remaining limbs, and that there's a comfort, you know.”
“That was a tough day for you,” said Tom. “Yeah, that really put us out of action, but at least we’ve never been separated since then. Plus, we’re better off than poor Wattie the cook, who got his head taken off by a chain shot and ended up as shark food, while we can still wander around the world using our remaining limbs, and that’s some comfort, you know.”
During this introductory conversation, the old Commodore was intent upon the work he had began, which, upon inquiry, was a sort of practical description of the situation in which the ships were placed at the period when he lost his limb. “He is now pouring in a broadside, and in imagination enjoying a part of his life over again. It is a sorry sight, my worthy Sirs, and yet upon the whole it is a cheerful one, to see an old man live his time over again; now he is physicing them with
During this introductory conversation, the old Commodore was focused on the work he had started, which, when asked about, was a practical description of the situation the ships were in when he lost his limb. “He is now unleashing a broadside and, in his mind, reliving a part of his life. It’s a sad sight, my good Sirs, but overall it's a happy one to see an old man reliving his experiences; now he is treating them with
grape-shot—Bang—Bang—like hail—my eyes how she took it—Go it again, my boys, said the old Commodore—Ditto repeated, as the Doctor used to say. D——m the Doctor; the words were scarcely out of his mouth, when down he [162] went; and as I stood alongside him, ready to attend to his orders, I was very near being sent down the hatchway stairs without assistance; for the same shot that doused my old master, carried away my arm just here.—” D——me,” said the old man, to his brave crew, as they carried us down to the cockpit—“I shall never forget it as long as I live—That was a pepperer—Once more, my boys, and the day's your own.—My eyes, he had hardly said the words, before—Bang, bang, went our bull dogs—and sure enough it was all over. They cried Piccavi, and went to the Doctor; but after that I know no more about the matter—we were a long while before we got the better of our wounds; and as for him, he has never spoken since—and as to hearing, I believe he never wished to hear any more, than that the enemies of his country had got a good drubbing.”
grape-shot—Bang—Bang—like hail—my eyes, how she took it—“Go for it again, my boys,” said the old Commodore—“Ditto,” as the Doctor used to say. Damn the Doctor; the words were barely out of his mouth when down he went; and as I stood beside him, ready to follow his orders, I almost got sent down the hatchway stairs without help; because the same shot that took out my old master knocked my arm off right here.—“Damn it,” said the old man to his brave crew, as they carried us down to the cockpit—“I’ll never forget this as long as I live—That was a doozy—Once more, my boys, and the day is yours.—My goodness, he had hardly finished speaking before—Bang, bang, went our bulldogs—and sure enough it was all over. They shouted Piccavi and went to the Doctor; but after that, I don’t remember anything else—we took a long time to recover from our wounds; and as for him, he hasn’t spoken since—and as for hearing, I believe he never wanted to hear anything more than that the enemies of his country got a good beating.”
By this time the old gentleman having gone through his manouvres, with perhaps as much accuracy as my Uncle Toby did the siege of Dendermond—having blown up the enemy with a flourish of his stick, made a profound bow, and hobbled away.—“Thank you, my friend,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “for your information; we should never have understood him without your assistance, for which accept of this, and our best wishes—giving him a couple of half-crowns, with which, after thanking the donors, he made the best of his way in search of the old Commodore, who put our heroes forcibly in mind of the following lines:
By this point, the old gentleman had completed his maneuvers, perhaps with as much precision as my Uncle Toby did during the siege of Dendermond—having dramatically defeated the enemy with a flourish of his stick, made a deep bow, and hobbled away. “Thank you, my friend,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “for your help; we would never have understood him without your assistance, so please accept this and our best wishes,” as he handed over a couple of half-crowns. After thanking them, the old gentleman hurried off in search of the old Commodore, who reminded our heroes of the following lines:
“Thus you see,” said Dashall, “how our habits become rooted in us: the old Commodore, though unable to give the word of command, or to hear the thunder of the cannon, still lives in the midst of the battle, becomes warmed and animated by the imaginary heat of the engagement, and
“Thus you see,” said Dashall, “how our habits become ingrained in us: the old Commodore, even though he can’t give the command or hear the roar of the cannons, still lives in the thick of the battle, feeling energized and excited by the imagined intensity of the fight, and
“But come, we will now proceed to a view of the Chapel, the Painted Hall, and the other curiosities of the [163] interior; which done, we will take our refreshment at the Crown, and pursue our way home.”
“But come on, let’s go check out the Chapel, the Painted Hall, and the other interesting features of the [163] interior; once we’re done, we’ll grab a bite to eat at the Crown and head home.”
They now took another cursory survey of this magnificent pile of buildings, the grandeur and effect of which is scarcely to be imagined; the beauty and variety being heightened by the grand square, and the area beyond terminating with a view of the Observatory, which stands on a hill in Greenwich Park.
They now took another quick look at this magnificent group of buildings, whose grandeur and impact are hard to imagine; the beauty and diversity are enhanced by the large square, and the area beyond ends with a view of the Observatory, which sits on a hill in Greenwich Park.
Tallyho was next delighted with a view of the Chapel, which is 111 feet long, and 52 broad, and capable of conveniently accommodating 1000 Pensioners, nurses, and boys, exclusive of pews for the Directors, the several officers of the establishment, &c—The altar-piece, painted by West, representing The escape of St. Paul from Shipwreck on the Island of Malta, and the paintings between the cornice and the ceiling of the Ascension, by the same artist, claimed particular attention. The splendid decorations of the Great Hall, with its variety of paintings and statues, were also objects of peculiar admiration, the effect of which must be seen to be duly appreciated. After these gratifications, according to the proposal of Dashall, they retired, to the Crown, where having partaken of à good dinner, and a glass of wine, they returned to town, fully satisfied with their excursion, and arrived in Piccadilly without any occurrence worthy of further remark.
Tallyho was thrilled to see the Chapel, which is 111 feet long and 52 feet wide, and can comfortably hold 1,000 Pensioners, nurses, and boys, not counting the pews for the Directors and various officers of the establishment, etc. The altar piece, painted by West, shows the escape of St. Paul from shipwreck on the Island of Malta, and the paintings between the cornice and the ceiling of the Ascension, also by West, drew particular attention. The impressive decorations of the Great Hall, with its array of paintings and statues, were also highly admired; the impact of which must be seen to be truly appreciated. After these delights, as Dashall suggested, they went to the Crown, where they enjoyed a nice dinner and a glass of wine, then returned to town, completely satisfied with their trip, and arrived in Piccadilly without anything worth mentioning happening.
CHAPTER XII
[164] IT was in one of those inviting mornings, mild and temperate, that Dashall and Tallyho, lounged along Piccadilly, observant of passing events, and anticipating those of more interest which might occur in the course of another day devoted to the investigation of Real Life in London.
[164] It was one of those lovely mornings, warm and pleasant, when Dashall and Tallyho strolled along Piccadilly, watching the things happening around them and looking forward to more interesting events that might take place during another day spent exploring Real Life in London.
The street already exhibited its usual bustle. The early coaches were rattling along on their way to their respective inns, loaded with passengers, inside and out, from the western parts of the country; the ponderous waggon, the brewer's dray, and not less stunning din of the lighter and more rapid vehicles, from the splendid chariot to the humble tax-cart, combined to annoy the auricular organs of the contemplative perambulator, and together with the incessant discord of the dust-bell, accompanied by the hoarse stentorian voice of its athletic artist, induced Squire Tallyho to accelerate his pace, in order to escape, as he said, “this conspiration of villainous sounds,” more dissonant than that of his hounds at fault, and followed by his friend Dashall, slackened not his speed, until he reached the quietude of the new street leading to the King's Palace, in Pall Mall.
The street was already buzzing with activity. The early coaches were rattling along on their way to their respective inns, packed with passengers from the western parts of the country. The heavy wagon, the brewer's cart, and the loud noise of lighter and faster vehicles, from fancy chariots to simple tax-carts, combined to irritate the ears of the thoughtful walker. Along with the constant racket of the dustman, whose voice boomed like thunder, this chaos pushed Squire Tallyho to pick up his pace to escape what he called “this conspiracy of terrible sounds,” which was even more discordant than his hounds on a bad scent. His friend Dashall didn’t slow down until they reached the calm of the new street leading to the King's Palace in Pall Mall.
In Regent Place (at the extremity of this fine street) the two friends paused in admiration of the noble pile of buildings, which had on this new interesting spot so rapidly risen, as if by the direction of that necromantic and nocturnal architect, the Genius of the Wonderful Lamp.
In Regent Place (at the end of this beautiful street), the two friends stopped to admire the impressive group of buildings that had quickly emerged in this new and interesting area, as if guided by that magical and nighttime architect, the Genius of the Wonderful Lamp.
[165] “Until lately, Carlton House, or more properly, now the King's Palace, was hid from observation, and the Royal view, in front of his princely mansion, was bounded to the opposite side of the way, the distance of a few yards only; now the eye enjoys a perspective glance of a spacious and magnificent street, terminating in a handsome public edifice, and yet terminating in appearance only, for here the new improvements sweep shortly to the left, and our attention is attracted to a superb circus, or quadrant, from whence without further deviation, Regent Street continues in lengthened magnificence, until it unites itself in affinity of grandeur with Great Portland Place.”
[165] "Until recently, Carlton House, or more accurately, now the King's Palace, was hidden from view, and the Royal perspective from his grand residence was limited to the opposite side of the road, just a few yards away; now, the eye enjoys a sweeping view of a spacious and magnificent street, ending at an impressive public building. However, it only appears to end there, because the new developments curve to the left, drawing our attention to a stunning circus or quadrant, from where Regent Street continues its grand stretch until it connects in splendor with Great Portland Place."
Thus far had Dashall proceeded, when the Squire expressed his surprise that the new street had not been so planned as to lead, in one direct and uninterrupted line, from Pall Mall to its ultimate termination.
Thus far had Dashall proceeded, when the Squire expressed his surprise that the new street had not been designed to lead in a straight and uninterrupted line from Pall Mall to its final destination.
“Then indeed,” answered his friend, “it would have been one of the finest streets in the world.” “Here too,” continued the Squire, “is a manifest deficiency in Regent Place, there is a vacuum, it ought to be supplied with something, be it what it may, for the eye to rest on.”
“Then for sure,” replied his friend, “it would have been one of the best streets in the world.” “Here as well,” the Squire added, “there’s a clear lack in Regent Place; there’s an emptiness that needs to be filled with something, whatever it might be, for the eye to land on.”
“True, and your idea has been anticipated. One of the most interesting amongst the antiquities of Egypt, the column known as Cleopatra's Needle{1} is destined to raise
“True, and your idea has already been thought of. One of the most fascinating artifacts from ancient Egypt, the column known as Cleopatra's Needle{1}, is set to elevate
[166] its lofty summit in Regent Place, and the western will shortly outrival the eastern wonder of the metropolis.{1}
[166] its high peak in Regent Place, and the west will soon overshadow the eastern marvel of the city. {1}
“By the bye, let us once more extend our excursion to the Monument, the day is delightful, and the atmosphere unclouded. We will approximate the skies, and take a bird's-eye view of the metropolis.” In conformity with this suggestion the Squire submitted himself to the guidance of his friend, and an aquatic trip being agreed on, they directed their progress to Spring Garden Gate, and thence across the Park, towards Westminster Bridge.
“By the way, let’s extend our outing to the Monument again; the day is gorgeous, and the sky is clear. We’ll get close to the clouds and enjoy a bird's-eye view of the city.” Following this suggestion, the Squire agreed to let his friend lead the way, and with an aquatic trip planned, they made their way to Spring Garden Gate, and then across the Park toward Westminster Bridge.
“A boat, a boat, your honour,” vociferated several clamorous watermen, all in a breath; of whose invitation Dashall took not any notice; “I hate importunity,” he observed to his friend. Passing towards the stairs he was silently but respectfully saluted by a modest looking young man, without the obtrusive offer of service.—“Trim your boat, my lad,” this was the business of a moment; “now pull away and land us at the Shades—'of Elysium,'” said the Squire, terminating the instructions rather abruptly, of the amphibious conveyancer. “I am rather at a loss to know,” said the waterman, “where that place is, but if your honors incline to the Shades at London Bridge, I'll row you there in the twirling of a mop-stick.” “The very spot,” said Dashall, and the waterman doffing his jacket, and encouraged to freedom by the familiar manner of the two strangers, [167] plied his oars lustily, humming, in cadence, the old song:
“A boat, a boat, your honor,” shouted several loud watermen all at once, but Dashall ignored their invitation. “I can’t stand being pestered,” he said to his friend. As they walked toward the stairs, a modest-looking young man respectfully greeted him without pushing any services. “Get your boat ready, kid,” which took just a moment; “now pull away and take us to the Shades—‘of Elysium,’” said the Squire, cutting off the instructions a bit abruptly. “I’m a bit unsure about where that is,” replied the waterman, “but if you gentlemen want to go to the Shades at London Bridge, I can row you there in no time.” “That’s exactly where we want to go,” said Dashall, and as the waterman took off his jacket, feeling more at ease due to the friendly attitude of the two strangers, [167] he began to row energetically, humming the old song in time.
They now glided pleasantly on the serene bosom of the Thames, and enjoyed, in mute admiration, the beauties of a variegated prospect, which, if equalled, is at least not excelled by any other in the universe. On either side of this noble river, a dense mass of buildings presented itself to the eye, and as the buoyant vehicle proceeded, the interest of the varying scene increased in progressive proportion. Thousands of barges skirted the margin of the lordly stream, and seemed like dependant vassals, whose creation and existence were derived from and sustained by the fiat of old father Thames; and imagination might well pourtray the figure of the venerable parent of this magnificent stream regulating its rippling wave, and riding, in the triumph of regal sway, over his spacious domains. The grandeur of the public edifices on the left, the numerous indications of art on the right, the active industry on both sides, and the fairy-like boats of pleasurable conveyance gliding to and fro', and shooting, in the distance, through one or other of the lofty arches of Waterloo Bridge, produced an effect imposingly grand, and was dwelt upon by our hero of Belville Hall, particularly with mingled sensations of surprise, admiration, and delight.
They were now smoothly cruising on the calm surface of the Thames and quietly appreciating the beautiful and diverse view, which, if not unmatched, is certainly one of the finest in the world. On both sides of this grand river, a thick array of buildings caught the eye, and as the lively boat moved forward, the interest of the changing scene grew even more captivating. Thousands of barges lined the edge of the impressive river, resembling loyal servants whose creation and survival depended on the will of old father Thames; one could easily imagine the figure of the venerable father of this magnificent river controlling its gentle waves, reigning over his vast territory with regal pride. The splendor of the public buildings on the left, the many signs of art on the right, the bustling activity on both sides, and the whimsical pleasure boats gliding back and forth, passing through the lofty arches of Waterloo Bridge in the distance, created a strikingly grand effect that particularly captivated our hero from Belville Hall, who experienced a mix of surprise, admiration, and delight.
Silence had prevailed for some time, with the exception of the waterman, who now and then carroll'd a stanza responsive to the stroke of the oar, when the attention of his fare was drawn towards him.
Silence had lasted for a while, except for the waterman, who occasionally sang a verse that matched the rhythm of the rower’s stroke, whenever his passenger paid attention to him.
“You seem to enjoy a merry life, my good friend,” said the Squire.
“You seem to be having a great time, my good friend,” said the Squire.
“Ay, ay, your honour, God bless you, why should not I? At my poor home, and your honour knows that the cottage of the peasant is equally dear to him as is the Palace to the Prince, there is my old woman, with her five little ones, all looking forward to the happiness of seeing me in the evening, after the labours of the day; and to feel that one is cared for by somebody, is a sweet consolation, amidst all our toils,—besides, your honour, the old times are partly come round again; half-a-crown will go farther, aye, thrice-told, now, than it did a few [168]years ago;—then hang sorrow, I am a contented waterman, your honour; so d——n the Pope, long life to King George the Fourth, and success to the land that we live in!” “Here,” said Dashall, “is an heterogeneous mixture of prejudice, simplicity and good nature.”
“Ay, ay, Your Honor, God bless you, why shouldn’t I? In my humble home, and you know that a peasant's cottage is just as dear to him as a palace is to a prince, my old lady is there with our five little ones, all looking forward to the joy of seeing me in the evening after a long day’s work; and knowing that someone cares for you is a sweet comfort amid all our struggles—plus, Your Honor, the good old days are kind of back again; a half-crown goes a lot further now than it did a few [168] years ago;—so forget sorrow, I’m a happy waterman, Your Honor; so damn the Pope, long live King George the Fourth, and cheers to the land we live in!” “Here,” said Dashall, “we have a strange mix of prejudice, simplicity, and good nature.”
“You are but a young man, and cannot long have followed your present profession.—Is it from choice that you continue it.”
“You're just a young man and probably haven’t been in your current job for long. Is this what you really want to do?”
“Why, your honour, I served an apprenticeship to it, am not long out of my time, and continue it as well from choice as necessity; the first because I like it, and lastly, as our parson says, because in any other situation I could serve neither my neighbour nor myself.”
“Honestly, your honor, I trained for it, I’m not long finished with my training, and I keep doing it out of both choice and necessity; I do it because I enjoy it, and as our preacher says, because in any other job I wouldn’t be able to help either my neighbor or myself.”
By this time the tiny bark had shot the centre arch of Waterloo; and new scenes of interest presented themselves, in ever-varying succession, as they proceeded towards Blackfriars. Somerset House wore, particularly, an aspect of great and imposing effect, and not less, as they ploughed the liquid element, was the interest excited, and the reminiscence of the Squire brought into action by the appearance of the Temple Gardens.—The simple, yet neatly laid out green-sward, reminded him of the verdant slope on part of his domains at Belville Hall, but here the resemblance finished; a diminutive, although pure and limpid rivulet only, passed the slope alluded to, and here was a world of waters, into which the influx of ten thousand such rivulets would produce no apparent increase. Amidst these cogitations by the Squire, and others of an unknown description by Dashall, the boat passed underneath Blackfriars' Bridge, and the lofty doom of St. Paul burst upon the view of the two associates, with gigantic majesty, and withdrew from their minds every impression save that of the towering object in view, superseding the consideration of all else, either present or retrospective.
By this time, the small boat had passed through the center arch of Waterloo, and new scenes of interest unfolded in a constantly changing sequence as they moved towards Blackfriars. Somerset House, in particular, had a grand and impressive appearance, and as they navigated the water, they felt a wave of interest and memories of the Squire stirred by the sight of the Temple Gardens. The neat, simple green area reminded him of the lush slope of his estate at Belville Hall, but that was where the similarities ended; a tiny, pure, and clear stream flowed past the mentioned slope, whereas here was a vast expanse of water where the addition of thousands of such streams would hardly make a difference. Amid these thoughts from the Squire, and others of an unknown nature from Dashall, the boat went under Blackfriars' Bridge, and the towering dome of St. Paul’s came into view, imposing and majestic, pushing all other thoughts out of their minds, leaving only the awe of that magnificent sight.
“Rest on your oars,” was the order now given by the two friends, and while the waterman implicitly obeyed the mandate, they gazed with enthusiasm, on the stupendous edifice, seen perhaps, to better advantage from the river than from any other station, and felt proud in their affinity to a country and countryman, capable, the former of instituting, and the latter of carrying into effect so august an undertaking.{1}
“Stop rowing,” was the order now given by the two friends, and while the boatman quickly followed their command, they gazed enthusiastically at
[169] Again proceeding on their way, they arrived in a few minutes, at another amongst the many in the metropolis, of those surprising works of public utility which reflect the highest honor on the laudable enterprize of the present times,—the Iron Bridge, known as Southwark Bridge, leading from the bottom of Queen Street, Cheapside to the Borough. It is constructed of cast-iron, and, from the river particularly, presents an appearance of elegance and magnificence; consisting of three arches only, the spacious span of each, stretching across the Thames in towering majesty, affords an aquatic vista equally novel and interesting.
[169] As they continued on their journey, they soon reached another one of the many impressive public works in the city, the Iron Bridge, known as Southwark Bridge, which connects the bottom of Queen Street in Cheapside to the Borough. It's made of cast iron and looks elegant and magnificent, especially from the river. With only three arches, each one has a wide span that stretches across the Thames with impressive grandeur, providing a fresh and captivating view of the water.
Gliding on the pacific wave, the “trim-built wherry” now passed under the lofty elevation of the centre arch; and our observers were struck with the contrast between the object of their admiration and its ancient neighbour, London Bridge, that “nameless, shapeless bulk of stone and lime,” with its irregular narrow arches, through which the pent-up stream rushes with such dangerous velocity.
Gliding on the Pacific wave, the “trim-built wherry” now passed under the tall center arch; and our observers were struck by the contrast between the object of their admiration and its ancient neighbor, London Bridge, that “nameless, shapeless mass of stone and lime,” with its uneven narrow arches, through which the trapped water rushes with such dangerous speed.
“This gothic hulk,” said the Squire, “is a deformity in the aspect of the river.” “And ought at least to be pulled down, if not rebuilt,” added his Cousin. “Even on the principle of economy, the large and incessant expenditure in support of this decayed structure, would be much more profitably applied in the erection of a new bridge of correspondent grandeur with the first metropolis in the universe; but the citizens seem inclined to protract the existence of this heavy fabric, as a memento of the bad taste of their progenitors.”
“This gothic mess,” said the Squire, “is an eyesore on the river.” “And it should at least be torn down, if not rebuilt,” added his Cousin. “Even from an economic standpoint, the large and constant spending to maintain this crumbling structure would be much better spent on building a new bridge that's worthy of being near the greatest city in the world; but the citizens seem determined to keep this heavy eyesore as a reminder of their ancestors' poor taste.”
[170] The indefatigable waterman continued to ply his oars, sans intermission, and in a few minutes our two associates in adventure were safely landed a short distance westward of the bridge. After remunerating the waterman, they ascended the stairs with an appetite quickened by the water breeze, and retired into the Shades, close at hand, for refreshment, previous to a renewal of their excursion.
[170] The tireless boatman kept rowing without stopping, and in a few minutes, our two adventurers were safely dropped off just west of the bridge. After paying the boatman, they climbed the stairs with appetites sharpened by the cool water breeze and went into the nearby Shades for a snack before continuing their trip.
The Shades, near London Bridge, is a house, or rather cellar, much resorted to by respectable citizens of “sober fame,” induced chiefly by the powerful attraction of genuine wines, which may here be had either drawn immediately from the wood, and served in regular standard pewter measures, or in bottles, also of full measure, containing the pure beverage, of various age and vintages. To these cellars numbers of the most respectable mercantile characters adjourn daily; enjoying the exhilarating juice of the grape, and further attracted by the pleasantness of situation, as commanding a full view of the river, whence the refreshing breeze is inhaled and enjoyed.
The Shades, near London Bridge, is a bar, or more accurately, a cellar, frequently visited by respectable citizens of good repute, mainly because of the great selection of authentic wines available here. You can get them either straight from the cask, served in standard pewter measures, or in full bottles that hold high-quality wine from various ages and vintages. Many well-respected business people come here daily to enjoy the refreshing grape drink, further drawn in by the pleasant location, which offers a great view of the river, along with a nice breeze that can be enjoyed.
Here then, our heroes recruited; and while taking their wine, Bob was much gratified by the performance of an itinerant band of musicians, playing outside, some of the latest and most popular airs, in a masterly style of execution. “Among other numerous refinements and improvements of the age,” observed Dashall, “may be considered that of our itinerant metropolitan musicians, for instead of the vile, discordant and grating hurdy-gurdy; the mechanical organ grinder, and the cat-gut scraper, “sawing a tune,” we have now parties who form themselves into small bands of really scientific and able performers, who from instruments well selected produce a combination of delightful melody; and this progress of harmony is equally evident with respect to vocalists, who frequently posting themselves opposite some well frequented tavern or coffee-house, amuse the inmates with catches, glees, duets, &c. and trust to the liberal feelings which the “concord of sweet sounds may have inspired, for remuneration and encouragement.”
Here then, our heroes gathered; and while sipping their wine, Bob was quite pleased by the performance of a traveling band of musicians playing outside, some of the latest and most popular tunes with impressive skill. “Among the many refinements and improvements of our time,” noted Dashall, “we can consider our roaming city musicians. Instead of the awful, discordant, and grinding hurdy-gurdy; the mechanical organ grinder, and the cat-gut player 'sawing a tune,' we now have groups that form small bands of truly talented performers, who produce a blend of delightful melodies from well-chosen instruments; and this progress in harmony is just as noticeable with vocalists, who often set up opposite popular taverns or coffeehouses, entertaining the patrons with catches, glees, duets, etc., and rely on the generous response that the 'concord of sweet sounds' may inspire for tips and support.”
Scarcely had Dashall concluded his remarks, when the musical party ceased their instrumental exertions, and, diversifying the entertainment, one of the performers struck up a song, which we here present to the reader as a subject not inapplicable to our work.[171]
Hardly had Dashall finished speaking when the musicians stopped playing, and to change things up, one of the performers started singing a song, which we present to the reader as a topic that fits our work well.[171]
It was but a few steps from the Shades to the Monument, to which our adventurers were now pursuing their way, when they met with an incident not unworthy of observation. Do not leave your goods, is the friendly admonition generally inscribed, in large characters, over the resting place for porters, throughout the metropolis. Opposite the church of Saint Magnus, close by London Bridge, a porter having pitched his load, turned his back upon it, and reclined himself against the post in careless ease, and security. It was just as our heroes approached, that the porter had turned himself round to resume his burden, when lo! it had vanished; in what manner no one can tell! without doubt, one of those numerous street-prowlers who are continually on the look out for prey, observing the remissness of the porter, had availed himself of the favourable opportunity, and quietly walked off with his booty. A crowd collected round the sufferer, but it afforded him neither sympathy nor relief. Our associates, however, contributed in mitigation of his loss, and proceeding up Fish-street Hill, were, in a few moments, shrouded under the towering column of the Monument.
It was just a few steps from the Shades to the Monument, which our adventurers were now making their way to, when they encountered an incident worth noting. "Don't leave your belongings," is the friendly warning usually seen in big letters over the resting spots for porters all over the city. Opposite the church of Saint Magnus, near London Bridge, a porter had set down his load, turned his back on it, and leaned against the post in relaxed comfort and security. Just as our heroes were getting closer, the porter turned around to pick up his load again, only to find that it had disappeared; no one knows how! Clearly, one of those many street thieves who are always on the lookout for an opportunity had taken advantage of the porter's carelessness and quietly walked off with his stuff. A crowd gathered around the unfortunate man, but it offered him neither sympathy nor help. Our companions, however, helped to make up for his loss, and after that, they continued up Fish-street Hill and soon found themselves standing beneath the towering column of the Monument.
Ascending the spiral stair-case of black marble, consisting of three hundred and forty-five steps, winding like a cork-screw, to the summit, our aspirants reached their aerial station in the gallery of this lofty edifice, and enjoyed one of the most variegated and extensively [173] interesting prospects of any in the metropolis. Far as the eye could reach, skirting itself down the river, a forest of tall masts appeared, and the colours of all nations, waving gaily in the breeze, gave a splendid idea of the opulence and industry of the first commercial city in the universe. The moving panorama, far beneath the giddy height, resembled the flitting figures of a camera obscura; the spacious Thames was reduced to a brook; the stately vessels riding on its undulating wave seemed the dwarfish boats of the school-boy navigator; and glancing on the streets and along London Bridge, horses dwindled in appearance to mice, and carriages to children's toys! after having enjoyed, during several minutes, the prospects afforded by their elevated position, the two friends descended, and with a feeling of relief again trod the safer and less difficult path of terra firma.
Ascending the spiral staircase of black marble, which had three hundred and forty-five steps and twisted like a corkscrew, our aspirants reached their high point in the gallery of this tall building and enjoyed one of the most colorful and interesting views in the city. As far as the eye could see, following the river, a forest of tall masts appeared, and the flags of all nations waved cheerfully in the breeze, showcasing the wealth and industry of the top commercial city in the world. The moving scene far below, at such a dizzying height, resembled the shifting images of a camera obscura; the wide Thames looked like a stream; the grand ships riding on its waves seemed like tiny boats from a child's toy set; and looking down at the streets and across London Bridge, horses appeared as small as mice, and carriages like children's toys! After enjoying the views from their elevated spot for several minutes, the two friends descended and, feeling relieved, returned to the safer and easier ground.
Our observers now turned their direction westward, and passed into Lombard Street, chiefly formed of banking-houses and other public edifices. “This street,” said Dashall, “is noted as the focus of wealth, the point of convergence of civic riches, and its respectable bankers are not more dignified by the possession of superabundant property than enhanced in the estimation of their fellow-citizens by strictly conscientious honour and integrity.
Our observers now faced west and moved into Lombard Street, which is mainly made up of banks and other public buildings. “This street,” said Dashall, “is known as the center of wealth, the meeting point for civic riches, and its esteemed bankers are not only elevated by their abundant assets but also held in higher regard by their fellow citizens due to their strong sense of honor and integrity.
“And of these not the least important in self-consequence is the jolly civic Baronet,” continued Dashall, “who has already come more than once within the scope of our observation.”
“And among these, one of the most significant in terms of self-importance is the cheerful civic Baronet,” continued Dashall, “who has already caught our attention more than once.”
“Ecce homo! behold the man!” responded the Squire, and the Baronet was descried rolling his ponderous form from the opposite alley to his banking-house.
“Look at this man!” the Squire said, as the Baronet was seen making his way, heavily, from the opposite alley to his banking house.
“It is rather unfortunate,” observed Dashall, “that nature has not kept pace with fortune, in liberality to the Baronet. Profuse in giving him a colossal magnitude of person, he exhibits a most disproportionable endowment of intellect. Unlike his great prototype Sir John, in one sense, but yet resembling him in another, 'He is not witty himself, but he occasions wit in others.'”
“It’s quite unfortunate,” Dashall noted, “that nature hasn’t matched fortune in generosity towards the Baronet. While he’s given an enormous physique, he shows a striking lack of intelligence. In one way, he’s unlike his great counterpart Sir John, but in another way, he’s similar: ‘He’s not witty himself, but he brings out wit in others.’”
“You are very fond of making a butt of me,” observed the Baronet to a brother Alderman.—“By no means,” rejoined the latter, “I never was fond of an empty butt in my life.” “Is the worthy Baronet inclined at times, (asked the Squire) in his capacity of M.P. to irradiate the gloom of St. Stephens?”
“You really like making a fool out of me,” the Baronet said to a fellow Alderman. “Not at all,” the Alderman replied, “I’ve never liked an empty fool in my life.” “Is the honorable Baronet sometimes, (asked the Squire) in his role as M.P., willing to brighten up the darkness of St. Stephens?”
[174] “O yes, frequently, particularly so when in the plenitude of his wisdom he conceives that he can enlighten the house with a modicum of information. The last time I heard him hold forth was as an apologist for the tumultuary loyalists at the Mansion House Meeting, when he delivered himself in a manner so heterogeneal of commonsense, and so completely in a style of egotism, as to excite the ridicule and risibility of the whole house, and discompose the gravity of even the speaker himself."{1}
[174] “Oh yes, often, especially when he believes he can share some wisdom with everyone. The last time I heard him speak was as a defender of the chaotic loyalists at the Mansion House Meeting, where he expressed himself in such a nonsensical way, and so completely with self-importance, that it made everyone in the room laugh and even disrupted the serious tone of the speaker himself."{1}
[175] The two partners in adventure had now reached the Mansion House. The Justice Room was open, and the friends ascended the stairs in order to witness the equitable dispensation of right by the Civic Sovereign.
[175] The two adventurous partners had now arrived at the Mansion House. The Justice Room was open, and the friends went up the stairs to witness the fair administration of justice by the Civic Sovereign.
The case now under investigation was a curious one, and excited the interest and amusement of a numerous auditory.
The case currently being investigated was an intriguing one, capturing the interest and amusement of a large audience.
The itinerant exhibitor of a dancing bear, complained that the person (proprietor of a small menage) now summoned into the presence of his lordship, illegally withheld from him a monkey, his property, and the ci-devant associate of the ursine dancer aforesaid.
The traveling showman with a dancing bear complained that the person (owner of a small household) now called before his lordship was illegally keeping a monkey, which belonged to him and was the former companion of the bear dancer.
On the other hand, the master of the menage roundly asserted that he was the rightful proprietor of the monkey, and had been in possession of the animal for several years.
On the other hand, the head of the household firmly claimed that he was the rightful owner of the monkey and had had the animal in his possession for several years.
“My lord,” said the master of the bear, “let the monkey be produced, and I will abide by his choice between this man and me as his master.” This proposition appearing reasonable, and pug having been brought forward as evidence, before giving his testimony made a respectful obeisance to the Chief Magistrate, and so far as chattering and grinning were indicative of his good intentions, seemed desirous of expressing his courtesy to the auditory in general. After having stared about him for some time, with an inquisitive eye, and corresponding gesticulation, he discerned the bear-master, and springing into his arms with all the eagerness of affectionate recognition, expressed the utmost joy at the unexpected meeting, and when the other claimant attempted to approach, he repulsed him in the most furious manner, and clung to the friend of his election with renewed pertinacity.
“My lord,” said the bear handler, “let’s bring in the monkey, and I’ll accept his choice between this man and me as his master.” This suggestion seemed fair, and when pug was brought in to testify, he respectfully bowed to the Chief Magistrate. As much as his chattering and grinning could show good intentions, he appeared eager to show his courtesy to everyone present. After looking around curiously for a while, he spotted the bear handler and jumped into his arms, clearly overjoyed at the unexpected reunion. When the other claimant tried to get closer, he fiercely pushed him away and clung to his chosen friend even more tightly.
Under these circumstances, the monkey was adjudged to the bear-master as his proper owner, and pug and his friend left the Justice Room, with mutual exchange of endearments.
Under these circumstances, the monkey was awarded to the bear-master as his rightful owner, and Pug and his friend left the Justice Room, exchanging affectionate words.
Nothing else meriting notice, occurred to the two strangers in this their new scene of observation. The Civic Sovereign having resigned the chair to one of the Aldermen, in order that he might attend the Sessions at the Old Bailey, Dashall and the Squire, at the same time, retired with the intention (the day now waning apace) of making the best of their way home, which they reached without further adventure.[177]
Nothing else worth mentioning happened to the two strangers in this new setting. The Civic Sovereign gave up the chair to one of the Aldermen so he could attend the Sessions at the Old Bailey, and at the same time, Dashall and the Squire left with the intention (as the day was quickly coming to an end) of making their way home, which they did without any further incidents.[177]
CHAPTER XIII
PURPOSING to spend an hour in the Sessions House at the Old Bailey, our adventurers started next morning betimes, and reaching their destination, took their seats in the gallery, for which accommodation they were charged one shilling each, which the Squire denominated an imposition, inquiring of his friend by what authority it was exacted, and to whose benefit applied, as from the frequent sittings of the Court, and general crouded state of the gallery, the perquisites must be considerable.
PURPOSED to spend an hour in the Sessions House at the Old Bailey, our adventurers set out early the next morning. Upon arriving, they took their seats in the gallery, for which they were charged one shilling each. The Squire called this an unfair charge and asked his friend by what authority it was imposed and who benefited from it, noting that given the court's frequent sessions and the gallery's usual crowd, the profits must be significant.
“Custom in every thing bears sovereign sway,” answered Dashall. “I know not whence this is derived, nor whose pockets are lined by the produce; but you will probably be surprised to learn, that a shilling admission is only demanded on common occasions, and that on trials of great public interest, from one to two guineas has been paid by every individual obtaining admission.”
“Tradition rules everything,” replied Dashall. “I have no idea where this comes from or who benefits financially from it; but you might be shocked to find out that a shilling entry fee is only charged on regular days, and that for highly publicized events, individuals often pay between one to two guineas to get in.”
The arrival of the Judges now terminated this colloquy. The Lord Mayor and several Aldermen were in waiting to receive them, and these sage expounders of the law were conducted to the Bench by the Sheriffs of London and Middlesex. The Chief Magistrate of the City uniformly and of right presiding at this Court, his Lordship [178] took his seat on the same Bench with the Judges, and the usual forms having been gone through, the dispensation of justice commenced.
The arrival of the Judges ended this conversation. The Lord Mayor and several Aldermen were ready to greet them, and these wise interpreters of the law were led to the Bench by the Sheriffs of London and Middlesex. The Chief Magistrate of the City always and rightfully presiding at this Court, his Lordship [178] took his seat on the same Bench as the Judges, and after the usual procedures were completed, the administration of justice began.
Several prisoners were tried and convicted of capital felony, during the short space of time that our associated observers remained in Court; but the cases of these wretched men, and the consciousness of their impending fate, seemed in no respect to operate upon their minds, as they left the bar apparently with perfect indifference.
Several prisoners were tried and convicted of serious crimes during the brief time our observers were in court; however, the cases of these unfortunate individuals, along with their awareness of the fate awaiting them, didn't seem to affect them at all as they left the bench looking completely indifferent.
An unfortunate man was next brought forward, and accused of having stolen from an auction room a couple of wine glasses. He was of respectable demeanor, and evidently had seen better days. When asked what he had to allege in his defence, the victim of misery preluding his story with a torrent of tears, told the following piteous tale of distress:
An unfortunate man was brought forward next and accused of stealing a couple of wine glasses from an auction room. He looked respectable and clearly had seen better days. When asked what he had to say in his defense, this victim of hardship, beginning his story with a flood of tears, shared the following heartbreaking tale of suffering:
He had been in business, and sustained an unimpeachable integrity of character for many years. Independence seemed within his reach, when misfortune, equally unforeseen as inevitable, at all points assailed him! In the course of one disastrous year, death deprived him of his family, and adversity of his property. He had unsuccessfully speculated, and the insolvency of several who were considerably indebted to him, had completed his ruin! At the time he committed the act for which he stood convicted at that bar, he had not tasted food for three days, neither had he in the world a friend or relative to whom he could apply for relief. The Jury found him Guilty, but strongly recommended him to mercy. The Judge humanely observed, that the least possible punishment should be inflicted on the prisoner. He was then sentenced to a fine of one shilling, and to be discharged. A sum of money, the spontaneous bounty of the spectators, was immediately collected for him, while one of the Jury promised him employment, on his calling at his house on the following day. The gratitude of the poor man was inexpressible: the sudden transition from the abyss of despair to the zenith of hope, seemed to overwhelm his faculties. He ejaculated a blessing on his benefactors, and departed.
He had been running a business and maintained a solid reputation for many years. Independence seemed close at hand when misfortune, as unexpected as it was inevitable, struck him from all sides! During one disastrous year, he lost his family to death and his property to hardship. He had tried and failed in his investments, and the bankruptcy of several people who owed him money completed his downfall! At the time he committed the act for which he was convicted, he hadn’t eaten for three days, and he had no friends or family to turn to for help. The jury found him guilty but strongly recommended mercy. The judge compassionately noted that the lightest possible punishment should be given to the prisoner. He was then sentenced to a fine of one shilling and was to be released. A sum of money was immediately raised from the spectators, while one of the jurors promised him a job if he visited his house the next day. The man's gratitude was beyond words; the sudden shift from the depths of despair to the heights of hope seemed to overwhelm him. He expressed his blessings for his benefactors and left.
[179] Dashall and his friend were much affected by this incident. Another, however, presently occurred, of a more lively description. In the course of the next trial, the counsellor, on cross-examining a witness, found occasion to address him with, “Well, my old buck, I suppose you are one of those people who do not often go to church?”—“Perhaps,” said the other, “if the truth were known, I am as often there as you are.” The promptness of the reply produced a laugh, in which the witness very cordially joined. “What makes you laugh?” said the lawyer. “Is not every body laughing?” replied the other. “True,” said the man of law; “but do you know what they are laughing at?”—“Why, I think in my heart,” rejoined the fellow, “that they take either me or you to be a fool, but I do not know which!”
[179] Dashall and his friend were quite impacted by this incident. However, another, more entertaining one happened shortly after. During the next trial, the lawyer, while cross-examining a witness, felt the need to say, “Well, my old friend, I guess you’re one of those people who don’t often attend church?”—“Maybe,” the witness replied, “if we’re being honest, I go there as often as you do.” The quickness of the response brought about laughter, in which the witness also happily joined. “What’s so funny?” the lawyer asked. “Isn’t everyone laughing?” the witness replied. “True,” said the lawyer; “but do you know what they’re laughing at?”—“Well, I suspect,” the witness shot back, “that they think either me or you is the fool, but I’m not sure which!”
The Judge at this repartee could not retain his gravity; a tumult of mirth pervaded the whole Court, and the discomfited counsellor adjusted his wig and sat down.
The judge couldn't keep a straight face at this banter; a wave of laughter filled the entire courtroom, and the embarrassed lawyer fixed his wig and took a seat.
During the few minutes longer that our heroes remained, nothing of interest occurring, they withdrew; and passing down the Old Bailey to Ludgate Street, and from thence towards the Temple, they crossed Fleet Street, and taking the direction of Shire Lane, were induced, by way of investigating Real Life in its lowest classification, to enter one of those too frequent receptacles of vice denominated Coffee Shops.
During the few extra minutes that our heroes stayed, nothing interesting happened, so they left. They walked down Old Bailey to Ludgate Street, then headed toward the Temple, crossed Fleet Street, and, deciding to explore the darker side of life, entered one of those all-too-common places called Coffee Shops.
This was a house of notorious irregularity, the occupant of which had more than once experienced the visitation of the law for his utter contempt of social order—and from the present appearance of his guests, it did not seem that legal interference had effected moral amendment.
This was a house known for its wild unpredictability, where the person living there had faced legal trouble more than once due to his complete disregard for social norms—and judging by the current state of his guests, it didn’t look like any legal action had brought about a change in their behavior.
As our two friends entered this Augean Stable, a whisper of surprise, mingled with dismay, went round the motley assemblage of female street-drabs, cracksmen,{1} and fogle-hunters; and a wary glance of suspicion darted from the group “many a time and oft” on the new-comers, who notwithstanding kept possession of their seats, and ordering without apparent notice of the party a cup of coffee, apprehension subsided into security, the re-assured inmates resumed their interrupted hilarity, and our adventurers were thus afforded the means of leisurable observation.
As our two friends walked into this chaotic place, a mix of surprise and dismay swept through the diverse crowd of street women, petty criminals, and scam artists; a cautious look of suspicion shot from the group at the newcomers. However, they stayed in their seats and, without seeming to notice the party, ordered a cup of coffee. As apprehension turned into calm, the relieved patrons picked up their interrupted laughter, giving our adventurers a chance for relaxed observation.
[180] The Squire, who had not perused the annals of blackguardism, and consequently was not an adept in the knowledge of the slang or vulgar tongue, was under the frequent necessity of applying to his friend for explanation of the obscure phraseology of those ladies and gentlemen of the pad, which Dashall contrived to occasionally interpret without the assistance or notice of its multitudinous learned professors.
[180] The Squire, who hadn't read up on the lifestyle of crooks and therefore wasn’t skilled in the slang or foul language, often found himself needing to ask his friend for explanations of the confusing phrases used by those shady characters, which Dashall sometimes managed to interpret without help or even acknowledgement from the many experts around him.
The desire of witnessing the exhibition of Real Life in its lowest state of human degradation, induced a prolongation of stay by our two associates. In the meanwhile, “the mirth and fun grew fast and furious,” exemplified by dance, song, and revelry, interspersed with practical jokes, recriminative abuse, and consequent pugilistic exercise, where science and strength alternately prevailed; and in deficiency of other missiles, poker, tongs, coffee-cups, saucers, and plates, were brought into active requisition.—The scene was a striking illustration of “Confusion worse confounded.” Luckily our two observers were in a situation without the reach of injury; they therefore “smiled at the tumult and enjoyed the storm.”
The urge to see the show of Real Life at its lowest point of human degradation led our two friends to stay longer. Meanwhile, “the laughter and fun grew wild and intense,” shown through dancing, singing, and partying, mixed with practical jokes, harsh insults, and resulting fights, where skill and strength took turns winning; and in the absence of proper weapons, things like pokers, tongs, coffee cups, saucers, and plates were grabbed for use. The scene was a perfect example of “confusion worse confounded.” Fortunately, our two observers were safe from harm; they just “smiled at the chaos and enjoyed the storm.”
The landlord now interfered in defence of his fragile property. Preliminaries of peace were agreed on, through his high mediation, and finally ratified betwixt the contending parties, ending as they began, like many other conflicting powers, statu quo ante bellum!
The landlord now stepped in to protect his delicate property. A peace deal was reached with his influential help and ultimately approved by both sides, returning to the way things were before, just like many other warring powers, statu quo ante bellum!
“And now to serious business we'll advance, says one of the King's of Brentford.
“And now to serious business we’ll move forward,” says one of the Kings of Brentford.
“But first let's have a dance.”
“But first, let’s dance.”
The present party followed exactly Mr. Baye's proposition; the dance and the row over, they now proceeded to serious business.
The current group followed Mr. Baye's suggestion closely; after the dance and the commotion, they moved on to more serious matters.
Seated in various groups, each engaged itself in conversation, which, from its almost inaudible expression, was singularly contrasted with the recent tumultuous uproar.
Seated in different groups, everyone was deep in conversation, which, with its almost whispered tones, was strikingly different from the recent loud chaos.
The next box where sat our two friends, was occupied by cracksmen and fogle-hunters, one of whom, whose superior skill gave him an ascendancy over his associates, had delineated on the table the plan of certain premises, and having given in a very low tone of voice, a verbal illustration to his fellow-labourers, with what intention it is not difficult to conjecture, observed, “We may as well pad (walk) it, as Sir Oliver (the moon) is not out to night.”
The next box where our two friends sat was filled with burglars and robbers. One of them, who was much more skilled than the others, had drawn up a plan of a certain building on the table. In a very quiet voice, he explained to his partners what they were going to do, which is easy to guess. He then said, “We might as well pad (walk) it since Sir Oliver (the moon) isn’t out tonight.”
[181] The party to whom this remark was addressed, prepared to pad it accordingly,—when the desired egress was opposed by the entrance of three men, who unbuttoning their great coats, exhibited, each a hanger and brace of pistols, and took the whole community, male and female, into safe custody
[181] The person this comment was directed at got ready to adjust it, but their exit was blocked by three men who unbuttoned their overcoats to reveal a sword and a pair of pistols, taking everyone in the community, both men and women, into custody.
This was a coup-de-main on the part of the captors, and sustained with the most perfect sang froid by the captured.
This was a coup-de-main by the captors, and it was handled with the utmost sang froid by those who were captured.
The officers next turned their attention to Dashall and Tallyho, who giving their cards, and candidly explaining the motives which led them into the temporary society of the prisoners, they were treated with becoming respect, the officers with their captives proceeding on their route to Bow Street, and our heros to the occurrence of future adventure.
The officers then focused on Dashall and Tallyho, who handed over their cards and openly explained the reasons that brought them into the temporary company of the prisoners. They were treated with appropriate respect as the officers continued on their way to Bow Street with their captives, while our heroes headed off toward future adventures.
Tallyho congratulated himself on his escape from expected mortification and inconvenience, but Dashall, whose more active and enterprizing mind was not to be checked by trifles, enjoyed the vague apprehensions of his friend, and by way of making amends for the penance they had inflicted on themselves in Shire Lane, agreed to dine and finish the evening at a Tavern in Covent Garden.
Tallyho felt proud of avoiding the embarrassment and hassle he expected, but Dashall, whose adventurous spirit wasn't easily held back by small things, delighted in his friend's vague worries. To make up for the discomfort they had put themselves through in Shire Lane, Dashall suggested they go out for dinner and spend the evening at a tavern in Covent Garden.
Thither, then, as they pursued their course, the Squire expressed his surprise that a final stop was not put to scenes such as they had just witnessed, and all such places of nefarious rendezvous, abolished by the vigilance of the police.
Then, as they continued on their way, the Squire remarked how surprised he was that a final end wasn't put to the kind of scenes they had just seen, and that all those shady meeting spots weren't shut down by the police.
“On the contrary,” observed Dashall, “it is the interest of the police, not utterly to destroy these receptacles of vice. They are the toleration haunts of profligacy, where the officers of justice are generally assured of meeting the objects of their inquiry, and therefore, under proper restrictions, and an occasional clearance, the continuance of a minor evil is productive of public benefit, by arresting the progress of infamy, and preventing the extension of crime.”
“On the contrary,” Dashall pointed out, “the police actually have an interest in not completely shutting down these places of vice. They are the tolerated hangouts for immoral behavior, where law enforcement can usually count on finding the individuals they’re looking for. So, with the right restrictions and occasional clean-ups, allowing a minor evil to persist can actually benefit the public by slowing down the spread of wrongdoing and preventing the escalation of crime.”
Passing along the Strand, the humane feelings of the Squire were excited by apparently a mutilated veteran seaman, who in a piteous tone of voice, supplicated his charitable consideration. The applicant stated, that he had lost an arm and an eye, and was deprived the use of a leg, in the service of his country, without friend or home, and entirely destitute of the means of subsistence, that he had no other resource than that of a humble reliance on public benevolence. The Squire with his usual philanthropic promptitude drew out his purse, but his [182] friend intercepted the boon, and inquired of the seaman under whom, in what ship, and in what action he had sustained his misfortunes. To these questions a satisfactory answer was given, and the claim of the man to compassion and relief was about to be admitted, when another inquiry occurred, “are you a pensioner?”
Passing along the Strand, the Squire's compassion was stirred by what appeared to be a wounded veteran sailor, who, in a sorrowful tone, begged for help. The man explained that he had lost an arm and an eye, and could barely use a leg, all while serving his country. He was without friends or a home and completely lacking in means to support himself, relying solely on the kindness of others. The Squire, true to his charitable nature, began to reach for his wallet, but his friend stopped him and asked the sailor who he served under, on what ship, and in what battle he had been injured. The sailor answered these questions satisfactorily, and it seemed his claim for compassion and assistance would be accepted, when another question came up: “Are you a pensioner?”
A pause ensued: in the interim the mendicant seeing a person approach, of whose recognition he was not at all ambitious, dropped in a moment his timber toe, unslung his arm, dashed a patch from his eye, and set off with the speed of a race-horse.
A pause followed: during this time, the beggar noticed someone coming his way, someone he had no desire to recognize. In an instant, he dropped his wooden leg, slung his arm over his shoulder, wiped a tear from his eye, and took off at a sprint like a racehorse.
During the amazement of our two observers of Real Life, excited by this sudden and unexpected transformation, the officer, for such was the quondam acquaintance of the imposter, introduced himself to their notice. “Gentlemen,” said he, “you are not up to the tricks of London, that fellow on whom you were about to bestow your charity, and who has just now exhibited his agility, is one of the greatest imposters in London;—however, I shall not run him down at present.—I know his haunts, and reckon sure of my game in the evening.”
During the amazement of our two observers of Real Life, excited by this sudden and unexpected change, the officer, who was once an acquaintance of the imposter, introduced himself. “Gentlemen,” he said, “you’re not familiar with the tricks of London. That guy you were about to give your charity to, the one who just showed off his skills, is one of the biggest frauds in London; however, I won’t talk badly about him right now. I know where he hangs out, and I’m pretty sure I’ll catch him this evening.”
“I confess,” replied Dashall, “that in the present instance I have been egregiously deceived;—I certainly am not up to all the tricks of London, although neither a Johnny Raw nor a green-horn; and yet I would not wish to prove callous to the claim of distress, even if sometimes unguardedly bestowing the mite of benevolence on an undeserving object.”
“I admit,” replied Dashall, “that in this case I have been seriously misled;—I’m definitely not clueless about all the tricks in London, even though I’m not a complete novice either; and yet I wouldn’t want to be indifferent to someone in need, even if I sometimes carelessly give my little bit of kindness to someone who doesn’t deserve it.”
“The Society for the Suppression of Mendicity in the Metropolis,” said the Officer, “think differently, they recommend that no relief should be given to street-beggars.”
“The Society for the Suppression of Mendicity in the Metropolis,” said the Officer, “has a different viewpoint; they suggest that no assistance should be provided to street beggars.”
“Then,” said Dashall, offended by the officer's interference,—“I envy them not the possession of their feelings,” and the two friends renewed their walk.
“Then,” said Dashall, annoyed by the officer's interference, “I don't envy them for having their feelings.” With that, the two friends continued their walk.
Proceeding, without further interruption, our pedestrians, were induced to intermingle with a crowd which had collected round a man who wore a most patriarchal redundancy of beard, and had been recognized by an acquaintance as a shoe-maker of the name of Cooke, a disciple of the American Prophet, John Decker.
Proceeding without any further interruption, our pedestrians were drawn into a crowd that had gathered around a man with an impressively large beard, who was identified by someone as a shoemaker named Cooke, a follower of the American Prophet, John Decker.
[183] Their high mightinesses the mobility were mischievously inclined, and would certainly have grossly insulted, if not injured the poor devotee, had not Dashall and his friend taken him under their protection.{1} He had been quietly making his way through Covent Garden Market, when the greetings and surprise of his friend at his strange transformation, attracted the curiosity of the multitude, and his unhesitating declaration, that he meant to accompany the great Prophet to Jerusalem, excited derision and indignation against the unfortunate enthusiast, when luckily our two heros interposed their good offices and conducted the proselyte in safety to the Shakespeare Tavern.
[183] Their highnesses the mobility were feeling mischievous and would have definitely insulted, if not harmed, the poor devotee, if Dashall and his friend hadn’t stepped in to protect him.{1} He had been quietly walking through Covent Garden Market when his friend's surprised greetings about his strange transformation caught the attention of the crowd, and his bold statement that he planned to join the great Prophet in Jerusalem sparked mockery and outrage against the unfortunate enthusiast. Luckily, our two heroes intervened and safely escorted the proselyte to the Shakespeare Tavern.
[184] No remonstrances of Dashall were of any avail in inducing the pertinacious fanatic to forego his resolution of a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, and when the inquisitive numbers who still lingered in front of the tavern had dispersed, Cooke, with appropriate acknowledgment of the protection which had been afforded him, took his leave, after having unsuccessfully endeavoured to make converts of Dashall and the Squire to the tenets of Prophet Decker, or to prevail on them to accompany the sacred band in the projected expedition to Jerusalem.
[184] No amount of persuasion from Dashall could convince the stubborn fanatic to give up his plan for a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. When the curious crowd that had been hanging around the tavern finally left, Cooke, expressing his gratitude for the protection he had received, took his leave. He had tried unsuccessfully to convert Dashall and the Squire to the beliefs of Prophet Decker or to get them to join the group in their planned expedition to Jerusalem.
CHAPTER XIV
[185] AMONGST other occurrences of the preceding day, Cousin Bob adverted, at the breakfast table, to the confused intermixture of carriages, dissonant din of attendant lacqueys clamouring for vehicles, and the dangers occasioned by quarrelsome coachmen, precipitately, and at all hazards, rushing forwards to the doors of a mansion, on the breaking-up of a route, each claiming, and none willing to concede precedency in taking up their masters and mistresses,—” I am surprised,” said the Squire, “that any rational being would sacrifice his time and comfort in making one of an assemblage where within doors you are pressed to the dread of suffocation, and in making your exit, are environed by peril and difficulty.”
[185] Among other things that happened the day before, Cousin Bob mentioned at the breakfast table the chaotic mix of carriages, the loud noise of servants shouting for vehicles, and the dangers caused by arguing coachmen who rushed to the doors of a house as soon as the route ended, each one insisting on being first to pick up their passengers. “I’m surprised,” said the Squire, “that anyone in their right mind would waste their time and comfort being part of a crowd where inside you feel like you might suffocate, and when you finally try to leave, you’re surrounded by danger and hassle.”
“Such,” rejoined Dashall, “are the follies of fashion. Its influence predominates universally; and the votarists of bon ton, are equally assiduous in the pursuit of their object, whether with the satellites in the gay and volatile regions of the court, or amongst those of 'sober fame' in the mercantile bustle of the city. In the purlieus of the great, bon ton is characterized by inconvenience; four or Ave hundred people, for example, invited to crowd a suite of rooms not calculated to accommodate half the number, the squeeze must be delightful! But
“Such,” replied Dashall, “are the craziness of fashion. Its influence is everywhere; and the followers of bon ton are just as dedicated in chasing their goals, whether with the crowd in the flashy and unpredictable court or among those of 'respectable reputation' in the busy city life. In the areas around the elite, bon ton is marked by discomfort; four or five hundred people, for instance, invited to pack a space not designed for even half that number, the crush must be amazing! But
[186] thence yield the followers of High Life in the West to the follies of fashion, where the enjoyment of ease is a subordinate, if not altogether exploded consideration.—Eastward on the other hand:
[186] then let the followers of High Life in the West give in to the whims of fashion, where the pleasure of comfort is a secondary, if not entirely disregarded, priority.—Heading East, on the other hand:
“Again,” added the Squire, “what a vast expence is incurred by these idle and ostentatious displays of luxury, without one object of advantage gained!”
“Again,” added the Squire, “what a huge expense is incurred by these lazy and showy displays of luxury, without any benefit gained!”
“Unproductive result,” rejoined Tom, “is not always the case; it not unfrequently happens that a route and card-party are united; when the lady of the mansion generally contrives, by skill and finesse, to transfer a portion of the spoil into her own private treasury; and notwithstanding expense, there are those who have given splendid routes and entertainments, and at the same time, recruited their exhausted finances, at the sole charges of incautious tradesmen, who notwithstanding repeated losses, yet absorbed in the love of gain, become the dupes of avarice and credulity.—In the elucidation of my remark,—
"Unproductive result," Tom replied, "isn't always the case; it often happens that a party and a game of cards come together; when the lady of the house cleverly manages, with skill and finesse, to redirect some of the winnings into her own private stash; and despite the costs, there are those who host lavish parties and events, while at the same time replenishing their drained finances, all at the expense of careless tradesmen, who, despite repeated losses, still caught up in their desire for profit, become victims of greed and gullibility.—To clarify my point,—
“Not long since,” continued Dashall, “an aspiring young limb of the law, of property, in expectancy (but that is neither here nor there) and fertile in expedient, contrived to insinuate himself into the good fellowship of a few bon vivants; and resolving to irradiate with ?surprising glory' the galaxy of fashion, he furnished a house, by permission of an accommodating upholsterer, in a style of magnificence, and decorated a side-board with a splendid service of plate, borrowed auspiciously for the occasion from a respectable silversmith, on a promise of liberal remuneration and safe return; after effecting the object of its migration, in dazzling the eyes of his honourable friends at his projected entertainment.
“Not long ago,” continued Dashall, “an ambitious young lawyer, with future prospects (but that doesn’t matter), and full of clever ideas, managed to insert himself into the social circle of a few party-goers; and determined to impress the world of fashion with 'surprising glory,' he set up a house, with the help of a generous upholsterer, in a lavish style, and adorned a sideboard with a stunning set of borrowed silverware, conveniently lent for the occasion by a reputable silversmith, with a promise of good payment and safe return; after achieving the goal of showcasing it, dazzling the eyes of his esteemed friends at his planned party.”
[187] “Amidst the busy 'note of preparation,' the important day at last arrived; the suite of apartments became thronged with company, and every one admired the elegance of the furniture; the tasteful ornaments of the rooms; the brilliancy of the lights and massive construction of the valuable family plate! In fact every thing conspired to give eclat to the scene, and confirm the friends of the founder of the feast in their belief alike of his exquisite judgment and high respectability.
[187] “With all the hustle and bustle of preparation, the big day finally arrived; the apartments were filled with guests, and everyone admired the stylish furniture, the tasteful decorations, the bright lights, and the impressive collection of valuable family silver! Everything came together to enhance the scene and reinforce the friends of the host in their belief in his excellent taste and high standing.”
“The silversmith, that he might not appear indelicately obtrusive, let a few days elapse after this grand gala had taken place, before he applied for restoration of his property, the borrower congratulated him on his good fortune, told him, that several friends had very much admired the plate, and even expressed an intention of ordering similar services; and that with regard to the borrowed plate, he had taken so strong a fancy to it, as to feel disposed to become a purchaser, if the price was reasonable, and an adequate consideration was made for prompt payment.
“The silversmith, wanting to avoid seeming overly pushy, waited a few days after the big event before asking for his property back. The borrower congratulated him on his good luck, said that several friends had really admired the plate, and even mentioned that they were thinking about ordering similar items. He added that he had become so fond of the borrowed plate that he was willing to buy it if the price was reasonable and a fair offer was made for quick payment.”
“The silversmith, who chuckled inwardly at the prospect of extending his business, and connecting himself with so many 'honourable men,' gratefully expressed his acknowledgments, and assuring him of liberal dealing, the several items of the borrowed plate were examined and dilated upon, the price of each article, after much higgling, was ultimately fixed, the sum total ascertained, and an early clay appointed for a final settlement of the accompt. It never was the intention of the borrower to return the plate, but he now had achieved a great object, by entirely changing the whole complexion of the business; he had now converted fraud into debt, and happen what might, the silversmith could only sue him on a civil process, which against a limb of the law, and as such, privileged from arrest, must be tedious and uncertain, whereas, had he made away with the plate, without accomplishing the object of this last manouvre, (such is the indiscriminating severity of English law,) that he might have been amenable to the punishment of felony!
“The silversmith, who inwardly laughed at the idea of growing his business and associating with so many ' respectable men,' gratefully expressed his thanks. He assured him of fair dealings, and they examined the various pieces of borrowed silverware, going over each one in detail. After a lot of bargaining, they finally settled on a price for each item, calculated the total amount, and set an early date for a final settlement of the account. The borrower never intended to return the silverware, but he had now achieved a significant goal by completely changing the nature of the transaction. He had turned theft into debt, and no matter what happened, the silversmith could only take him to civil court, which, because he was a member of the legal system, and therefore protected from arrest, would be a lengthy and uncertain process. If he had simply stolen the silverware without pulling off this last maneuver, (such is the unyielding harshness of English law,) he could have faced felony charges!”
“Now comes the reckoning when the banquet's o'er! the parties met for final settlement, when behold! the accepted purchaser offers the silversmith a bill at a month; he refuses it indignantly, and consults his solicitor as to the possibility of compelling the restoration of the plate; but the lawyer told him, that on his own shewing this could not be done. The silversmith had now no other resource than that of taking the [188] proposed bill, and waiting the expiration of the month, for payment. In the meanwhile, the debtor exhibiting the talent of an able conveyancer, transmuted the silver into gold, and now laughs at the credulity of London tradesmen, and sets the silversmith at defiance!”{1}
“Now comes the moment of truth when the feast is over! The parties gather for the final settling up, and look! The buyer hands the silversmith a bill due in a month; he angrily refuses it and asks his lawyer if there's any way to force the return of the silverware, but the lawyer tells him that, based on his own statements, that can't be done. The silversmith now has no choice but to accept the proposed bill and wait a month for payment. In the meantime, the debtor, showing off his skills as a clever lawyer, turns the silver into gold and now laughs at the gullibility of London merchants, leaving the silversmith powerless!”
[189] This detail threw the Squire into a train of rumination, on the tricks and chicanery of metropolitan adventurers; while Dashall amused himself with the breakfast-table concomitant, the newspaper. A few minutes only elapsed, when he laid it aside, approached the window, and seeing a funeral pass, in procession, along the street, he turned towards his Cousin, and interrupted his reverie with the following extemporaneous address:—
[189] This detail made the Squire think about the tricks and schemes of city adventurers, while Dashall occupied himself with the newspaper at the breakfast table. Just a few minutes later, he put it down, walked to the window, and, noticing a funeral procession passing by, turned to his cousin and interrupted his thoughts with the following impromptu remark:—
Cousin Bob was very much surprised by this sudden effusion, and inquiring the source of inspiration, Dashall put into his hands the newspaper, pointing to the following extraordinary communication, extracted verbatim.{1}
Cousin Bob was really surprised by this sudden outburst, and when he asked where it came from, Dashall handed him the newspaper, pointing to the following remarkable message, quoted exactly.{1}
[192] The Squire having perused this appalling account of human depravity, expressed himself in energetic terms of indignation against the miscreant, who to the acute miseries of maternal affliction at the premature loss of a son, and by such a death! could add the bitter anguish of consigning his cold remains, unseen by any earthly spirit of sympathy, to the knife of the dissector, in breach of every law moral and divine! In the warmth of his kindly feelings, the Squire would have uttered a curse, had he not been prevented by the entrance of his old friend, Sir Felix O'Grady. The two friends received their quondam acquaintance with much cordiality. “Cuish la mevchree! exclaimed the Baronet, shaking heartily the hands of Tom and Bob; “and how have you done these many long days past?”—This inquiry having been satisfactorily answered, Sir Felix explained the object of his visit:—“Aunts of all sorts, or any sort, or no sort at all at all,” said he, “are cursed bad things, sure enough; as somebody in the play says.”
[192] The Squire, after reading this shocking account of human wickedness, expressed his anger against the criminal who could add the deep suffering of a mother mourning the early loss of her son—and in such a way!—by forcing her to hand over his lifeless body, without even a sympathetic soul to witness, to the knife of the examiner, violating every moral and divine law! Filled with compassion, the Squire would have shouted a curse, but he was interrupted by the arrival of his old friend, Sir Felix O'Grady. The two friends welcomed their former acquaintance with warmth. “Cuish la mevchree!” exclaimed the Baronet, shaking hands vigorously with Tom and Bob; “and how have you been these many long days?” After a satisfactory response to this question, Sir Felix shared the reason for his visit: “Aunts of all kinds, or any kind, or none at all, are indeed troublesome things, for sure; just as someone says in the play.”
This abrupt commencement excited the risible feelings of Dashall and his Cousin, which were further stimulated by Sir Felix seriously appealing to their commiseration, under the pressure of misfortune,—“for this same respectable maiden lady, Mrs. Judith Macgilligan, my venerable aunt as aforesaid, has recently imported her antiquated piece of virginity from her native mountains near Belfast, and having had my address pat enough, the worse luck, the sowl, with an affected anxiety for my welfare, must take up her residence, while in town, in the same house with her dutiful nephew, that she may have the opportunity of watching over him in his erratic pursuits, as she says, with maternal solicitude; that is, in other words, to spy into all my actions, and bore me everlastingly with her intolerable company. It was but the blessed morning of yesterday that she took a fancy to exhibit her beautiful person at the lounge in Bond-street;—by-the-bye, this same paragon of perfection has passed her grand climacteric, being on the wrong side of sixty;—is as thin as a lath and as tall as a May-pole;—speaks an indescribable language of the mongrel kind, between Irish and Scotch, of which she is profuse to admiration; and forgetting the antiquity of her person, prides herself on the antiquity of her ancestry so much, that she is said to bear a strong resemblance to her grandmother, judging from the full-length portrait (painted seventy years ago,) of that worthy progenitor of our family, who was a descendent, lineally, from O'Brien king of Ulster, that she copies her dress on all public occasions, to the great amusement and edification of the spectators; and in these venerable habiliments she promenaded Bond-street, hanging on my arm;—by the Powers, till I felt ashamed of my precious charge, for all the world was abroad, and my reverend aunt was the universal magnet of attraction.”
This sudden start got Dashall and his cousin laughing even more, especially when Sir Felix earnestly pleaded for their sympathy, burdened by his misfortunes. "You see, this same respectable spinster, Mrs. Judith Macgilligan, my esteemed aunt as mentioned earlier, has recently brought her outdated sense of innocence from her home in the mountains near Belfast. And, unfortunate me, she managed to get my address just right. With an exaggerated concern for my well-being, she now insists on staying in the same house as her dutiful nephew while in town, claiming it's to keep an eye on my wild antics with some motherly care. In reality, it means she’s going to monitor my every move and bore me to death with her unbearable company. Just yesterday morning, she decided to show off her lovely presence at the lounge on Bond Street. By the way, this so-called paragon of perfection is past her prime, being well over sixty. She's as thin as a stick and as tall as a Maypole. She speaks an odd mix of Irish and Scottish that she’s proud of, and despite her age, she brags about her ancestry so much that people say she looks like her grandmother, based on the full-length portrait (painted seventy years ago) of that esteemed ancestor of our family who's a direct descendant of O'Brien, king of Ulster. She copies her grandmother's style on all public occasions, much to the amusement and entertainment of onlookers. And in those ancient clothes, she strolled down Bond Street, hanging onto my arm. By the Powers, I was mortified by my precious burden, as everyone was out and about, and my venerable aunt was the center of attention."
“Well, and you find yourself comfortable,” said Dashall,—“we have all of us foibles, and why expect your aunt to be exempted from them?—Have you any thing in expectance,—is she rich?”
“Well, I hope you're comfortable,” said Dashall, “we all have our quirks, so why should your aunt be any different? Do you have any expectations— is she wealthy?”
[193] “Twenty thousand pounds, twice told,” replied Sir Felix, “sterling money of Great Britain, in which I have a reversionary interest.”
[193] “Twenty thousand pounds, twice confirmed,” replied Sir Felix, “in British currency, in which I have a future interest.”
“Why then,” said Tallyho, “you cannot do better than contribute all in your power to her ease and pleasure; and in exercising this commendable duty, you will gain present satisfaction, and may justly anticipate future benefit.”
“Why then,” said Tallyho, “you can’t do better than give everything you can to her comfort and happiness; by doing this good deed, you’ll feel satisfied now and can reasonably expect to benefit later.”
“And,” added Dashall, “if my Cousin or myself can by any means further your object, in contributing towards the full attainment of your aunt's amusement while she remains in town, you may command our services.”
“And,” added Dashall, “if my cousin or I can help in any way to make sure your aunt has a good time while she’s in town, just let us know. We’re here to help.”
“By the powers of fortune,” exclaimed the Baronet, “you have just given me the opportunity I was wishing for; that is, I had a favour to ask, but which I could not find courage enough to do, notwithstanding my native assurance, until now. You must know, then, that on Easter Monday, the illustrious Judith Macgilligan, descendant lineally from O'Brien king of Ulster, means to honour the Civic entertainment with her sublime presence, and grace the Ball at the Mansion-house in a dress resembling that of her grandmother the princess, worn seventy years ago. Now, my dear friends, having pledged yourselves to contribute all in your power towards the pleasure of my venerable aunt, which of you will be her partner for the evening?”
“By the luck of fate,” exclaimed the Baronet, “you’ve just given me the chance I was hoping for; that is, I had a favor to ask, but I couldn’t gather the courage to do it, despite my usual confidence, until now. You should know, then, that on Easter Monday, the renowned Judith Macgilligan, a direct descendant of O'Brien, king of Ulster, will grace the Civic event with her exquisite presence and attend the Ball at the Mansion House in a dress similar to the one her grandmother, the princess, wore seventy years ago. Now, my dear friends, having committed to contributing all you can to delight my esteemed aunt, which of you will be her partner for the evening?”
The pause of a moment was succeeded by a hearty laugh; Tallyho had no objections to the hand, as a partner at the ball, of Miss Judith Macgilligan, even should she choose to array herself after the manner of the princess her grandmother. But Dashall observing that as no masque balls were given at the Mansion-house, it would be necessary that Miss Macgilligan should forego her intention of appearing otherwise than in modern costume. Sir Felix undertook to arrange this point with his relative, and in the name and on behalf of Squire Tallyho, of Belville-hall, to engage the distinguished honour of her hand at the ensuing Mansion-house Ball. This important affair having been satisfactorily adjusted, it was proposed by Dashall that, as his Cousin and the Baronet had neither of them ever been present at the Epping Hunt on Easter Monday, they should form themselves into a triumvirate for the purpose of enjoying that pleasure on the morrow. The Squire having in town [194] two hunters from his own stud, embraced the proposition with the avidity of a true sportsman, and Sir Felix declining the offer of one of these fleet-footed coursers, it was agreed they should be under the guidance of Tom and Bob, and that Sir Felix should accompany them, mounted on his own sober gelding, early in the morning, to the field of Nimrod, from which they purposed to return to town in sufficient time to witness other holiday sports, before dressing for the entertainment at the Mansion-house.
The brief pause was followed by a hearty laugh; Tallyho had no problem with Miss Judith Macgilligan as a partner at the ball, even if she chose to dress like the princess her grandmother. However, Dashall pointed out that since there were no masquerade balls at the Mansion House, it would be necessary for Miss Macgilligan to skip her plan of wearing anything other than modern attire. Sir Felix took it upon himself to discuss this with his relative and, on behalf of Squire Tallyho of Belville Hall, to secure the distinguished honor of her hand at the upcoming Mansion House Ball. Once this important matter was sorted out, Dashall suggested that since neither his cousin nor the baronet had ever attended the Epping Hunt on Easter Monday, they should team up for that experience the next day. The Squire, who had two hunters from his own stable in town, eagerly accepted the proposal like a true sportsman, and since Sir Felix declined the offer of one of these swift steeds, they agreed to be guided by Tom and Bob. Sir Felix would join them, riding his own steady gelding, early in the morning, to the field of Nimrod, with plans to return to town in time to enjoy other holiday festivities before getting ready for the event at the Mansion House.
These preliminaries settled, and Sir Felix agreeing to take a pot-luck dinner with his two friends, the trio resolved on a morning lounge of observation, and sallying forth, took their way along Piccadilly accordingly.
These preliminaries sorted out, and Sir Felix agreeing to join his two friends for a casual dinner, the trio decided to spend the morning lounging and observing, and heading out, made their way along Piccadilly.
Although it was Sunday morning, this street presented, with the exception of the shops being closed, nearly the same appearance of bustle as on any other day; the number of pedestrians was not apparently less, and of equestrians and carriage-occupants, an increase; the two latter description of the ton, actually or would-be, passing onwards to the general Sunday rendezvous, Hyde-Park, where Real Life in London is amusingly diversified; and where may be seen frequently, amongst the promiscuous promenaders of the Mall, a prince of the blood-royal undistinguishable by external ornament from any of the most humble in the moving panorama; while an endless succession of carriages, in which are seated, what England beyond any other country may proudly boast of, some of the most beautiful women in the world, present the observer with an enlivening theme of admiration; and, together with the mounted exhibiters, from the man of fashion on the “pampered, prancing steed,” to the youth of hebdomadary emancipation on “the hacked Bucephalus of Rotten Row,” form an assemblage at once ludicrous and interesting.
Although it was Sunday morning, this street looked almost as busy as any other day, except for the closed shops. There were just as many pedestrians, and even more horse riders and people in carriages, all heading to the usual Sunday hangout, Hyde Park, where real life in London offers a fun mix. Among the diverse crowd of walkers in the Mall, you can often spot a prince who looks just like anyone else in the lively scene. Meanwhile, an endless stream of carriages carries some of the most beautiful women in the world—something England can proudly claim—providing plenty of admiration for onlookers. Together with the horseback riders, from the dapper guy on the "pampered, prancing steed" to the youth on the "beat-up Bucephalus of Rotten Row," it creates a gathering that's both amusing and intriguing.
Having circumambulated the “Ring,” our triumvirate returned by the gate in Piccadilly, and crossing from thence to Constitution-hill, Dashall pointed out to his companions the seat, as now fixed upon (on the summit of the Green Park) of a Military Pillar, intended to be raised in commemoration of the many victories achieved by British valour in the last war. “This plan, if properly carried into effect by the erection (said Dashall) of a column equal in splendor of execution [195] with the glory it is meant to record, will be the greatest ornament of the metropolis.”
After walking around the “Ring,” our trio returned through the gate in Piccadilly and crossed over to Constitution Hill. Dashall pointed out to his friends the spot, now chosen (on the summit of Green Park), for a Military Pillar, meant to commemorate the many victories won by British bravery in the last war. “If this plan is properly executed,” Dashall said, “with a column that matches the grandeur of the glory it’s meant to honor, it will be the most impressive ornament of the city.” [195]
“If again,” added the Squire, “it does not prove like some other recent projections, a Castle in the air!”{1}
“If again,” added the Squire, “it doesn’t turn out like some other recent projects, a Castle in the air!”{1}
Without any other occurrence worthy of remark, the perambulators reached home, and enjoyed the comfortable quietude of an excellent domestic dinner, without interruption. Every arrangement having been made for the amusements of next day, the party broke up, Sir Felix returning to his lodgings, to gladden the heart of Miss Judith Macgilligan with the anticipation of conquest; and Dashall and Tallyho retiring to early repose, that they might encounter the business of the morning with recruited renovation.—Next day
Without any other noteworthy events, the group arrived home and enjoyed a peaceful, satisfying dinner without any interruptions. With all the plans set for the next day's activities, the gathering came to an end. Sir Felix went back to his lodgings, eager to delight Miss Judith Macgilligan with thoughts of victory; meanwhile, Dashall and Tallyho went to bed early so they could face the morning's tasks refreshed. —Next day
When the Baronet made his appearance “on a milk-white steed,” before the mansion of Dashall. In a few moments the friendly trio were assembled in the breakfast-parlour, and partook of a hasty repast while the coursers from the Belville-stud, destined to perform a prominent part in the forthcoming adventures of the day, were getting in readiness. The preparations were soon completed,—the hunters, two noble animals, were brought to the door,
When the Baronet showed up "on a milk-white horse" in front of the Dashall mansion, the friendly trio quickly gathered in the breakfast room and had a quick meal while the horses from the Belville stables, which were set to play a major role in the day's upcoming adventures, were getting ready. The preparations didn't take long — the two impressive hunters were brought to the door,
was the order of Richard,” said the Baronet; “but had he been in possession of such a horse as either of these, 'White Surrey' might have gone to the devil.”
“Was the order of Richard,” said the Baronet; “but if he had had a horse like either of these, 'White Surrey' might have been doomed.”
“I'll warrant them both, sound, wind and limb, and gentle to boot,” said the Squire,—“Come then, if you wish to be well-mounted, and would really look like a “baron bold,” seat yourself fearlessly on either, and bear yourself through the streets of London with the dignity [196] befitting a true, magnanimous and puissant knight of Munster!”—This address had the desired effect,—it implied a doubt of the Baronet's courage, and he seated himself on the “gallant steed” immediately.—Tom and Bob at same time betook themselves, the former to the other “high mettled racer,” and the latter to the unassuming rejected Rosinante of Sir Felix. A trifling delay, however, occurred; the stirrups of the Baronet's charger were too short, and he alighted while the groom repaired the defect.
“I guarantee both are fit, sound, and gentle,” said the Squire, “So come on, if you want to ride well and truly look like a bold knight, hop on either one and ride through the streets of London with the dignity of a true, generous, and powerful knight of Munster!”—This statement had the intended effect—it suggested that the Baronet lacked courage, and he quickly got on the “gallant steed.” Tom and Bob also got on their horses, with Tom choosing the other “high-spirited racer” and Bob opting for the simple, rejected Rosinante of Sir Felix. However, there was a small delay; the stirrups of the Baronet's horse were too short, so he got off while the groom fixed the issue.
Whether, like the Calenderer's horse under the its guidance of the celebrated John Gilpin, the disdainful steed now in the management of Sir Felix, “wondered what thing he'd got upon his back,” we are not competent to decide; but he certainly in his progress “o'er the stones” manifested frequent impatience of restraint. These symptoms of contumaciousness were nevertheless borne by the Baronet without complaint,—
Whether, like the Calenderer’s horse under the guidance of the famous John Gilpin, the proud horse now managed by Sir Felix “wondered what it had on its back,” we can’t say for sure; but it certainly showed frequent impatience with the restraints as it moved “over the stones.” These signs of defiance were still tolerated by the Baronet without any complaints,—
And, as if intuitively knowing the incapacity of his rider to restrain him, and despising curb and rein, the indignant animal set off at full speed, to the great dismay of Dashall and the Squire, who putting their horses to the pith of their mettle, hurried after their friend with the utmost solicitude. Luckily, however, the career of the spirited animal was impeded, and finally stopped, by the frequent interposition of the passengers on the road, and the Baronet was safely set down, ready to exclaim with Hawser Trunnion, “If ever I get astride the back of such another harum scarum son of a bitch again, my name is not Felix O'Grady.”
And as if it instinctively sensed its rider's inability to control it, and ignoring the bit and reins, the furious horse took off at full speed, much to the shock of Dashall and the Squire, who pushed their horses to the max and rushed after their friend with great concern. Fortunately, the enthusiastic horse's run was hindered and eventually stopped by the many people on the road, allowing the Baronet to be safely dropped off, ready to exclaim with Hawser Trunnion, “If I ever get on the back of another wild horse like that again, my name isn’t Felix O'Grady.”
The pursuers speedily rejoined the pursued, and felt happy in the knowledge of his welfare. The abashment of the baronet, occasioned by this untoward adventure, soon gave way to his characteristic good-humour; and [197] having resigned all further government of the Squire's unruly quadruped, and resumed possession of his own, the triumvirate proceeded towards the place of destination.
The pursuers quickly caught up with the person they were chasing and felt relieved knowing he was okay. The baronet’s embarrassment from this unfortunate event soon faded, and he returned to his usual good spirits. [197] After giving up control of the Squire's wild horse and taking back his own, the three of them continued on to their destination.
In the meanwhile, the city horsemen arose with Phoebus, to mount their rosinantes, to be present at the enlargement of the stag, and were roused from their slumbers according to order by the watchmen. The motley group, that was early in the field, furnished a capital subject for the caricaturist. Carts, horses, lame mares, and refractory donkies, with their grotesque riders, covered the field, together with dandies in chaises, and the lassies from St. Giles's, Chick-lane, Wapping, and St. Catherine's, in market carts, with their sweet-hearts, considerably swelled the number of the hunters. The stag was decorated with bunches of ribbons, and seemed when enlarged much more frightened at the appearance of the Londoners, than at the hounds, his natural enemies. When the chase commenced, never was witnessed such a scene of confusion and disorder. Upset carts, and unhorsed huntsmen, were seen in all directions. The stag went off in good style, and out of hundreds of horsemen, not above a dozen were able to keep their seats, but a number of fellows were on the lurk to take care of the stray horses.
In the meantime, the city horsemen rose with the sun to mount their horses and be present for the release of the stag, waking from their sleep at the order of the watchmen. The colorful group that was out early provided excellent material for the caricaturist. Carts, horses, lame mares, and stubborn donkeys with their quirky riders filled the field, along with stylish people in carriages and the women from St. Giles's, Chick Lane, Wapping, and St. Catherine's in market carts, joining their sweethearts and greatly increasing the number of hunters. The stag was adorned with bunches of ribbons and seemed, once released, much more scared by the sight of the Londoners than by the hounds, its natural enemies. When the chase began, it was a scene of absolute chaos and disorder. Upset carts and dismounted hunters were everywhere. The stag took off in style, and out of hundreds of horsemen, only about a dozen managed to stay on their horses, while several guys were lurking around to catch the stray horses.
After a cursory glance at the variegated and boisterous assemblage, the stag bounded forward with the velocity of lightning, amidst the astounding shouts of the multitude, and was instantly followed by his biped and quadruped foes of indescribable diversity, from the amateur of the turf on his spirited and well caparisoned steed, to the spavined gelding, bearing its cockney rider, and numerous other annual equestrians, preceded by every description of the canine race, from the high bred beagle to the “cur of low degree.” All was tumultuous dissonance, and confusion worse confounded. Tallyho enjoyed the scene to the very acme of delight, and giving the reins to his experienced courser, high in blood, and eager for accustomed exercise, the noble animal accompanied by its companion under the guidance of Dashall, started off with unrivalled celerity, and in a few moments set all competition at defiance. Sir Felix, in an attempt to follow his friends, leaped a fence, but gaining the opposite side, horse and rider came to the ground: fortunately neither of them sustained any injury.—Sir Felix, [198] however, on regaining his footing, found that his horse, which had gone forward, was in possession of a stranger, who losing his own, had availed himself of this opportunity of remounting, and now pursued his way bare-headed; for the wind had uncourteously uncovered his pericranium, and he abandoned his castor to its fate rather than by stopping to pick it up, risque the restitution of his prize, and the wrath of the baronet, who stood spell-bound against the fence, vociferously demanding his gelding, and extending his arm in reiterated denunciation of vengeance. The unceremonious intruder turning round on the saddle, without slackening his career.—” Bide you where you are, my fine fellow,” he provokingly exclaimed, “until the chase is over, and your gelding shall then be forthcoming.” If the sense of misfortune is alleviated by seeing it participated by others, the baronet had ample fund of consolation, for numbers around him were involved in similar calamity. He profited too, by an admirable lesson of patience under disaster. On the right of his runaway gelding, and its rider, he perceived a dismounted horseman, quietly submitting to adversity, by seating himself on a bank, while his unburthened steed pursued the chase with unabating celerity, leaving its owner to wait, at leisure, its return. Two cockney equestrians now approached, at full speed, the fence where Sir Felix still stood, in the attitude of remonstrance and irritation; and attempting the leap, one, like the baronet, gained the opposite side, but with a less successful result; for the rider was pitched over with some violence, with his heels aloft in the air, as if about to perambulate the field on his hands, while his horse came to the ground on its face and knees, suspended by its hind legs from the upper bar of the fence, and vainly essaying at extrication. The other cockney sportsman was similarly situated: his horse had not cleared the fence, neither had the rider, although he had reached the neck of his rosinante in his progress to the opposite side; in this position he assumed a permanent aspect, for his horse rested with his fore-legs over the fence, and seemed incapable of either retrograding or proceeding. These lessons taught the baronet resignation in mishap; the result of which was the return, in about an hour, of his friends Tom and Bob, to his great comfort, which was further increased by their bringing with them his gelding, having recognized the animal [199] in the possession of a stranger, who, on their claiming it as belonging to Sir Felix O'Grady, very readily gave it up, saying, that the baronet had not forgot in the midst of his threats, frequently to announce his name, and hoping that he would excuse him for having resorted to the privilege which every person claims on this day, of taking care of the stray horses. The party now fully satisfied with the humours and disasters of the Easter Hunt, turned their steeds homewards, and journeying unimpeded, notwithstanding the throng of the road, they quickly gained town, without the occurrence of any other memorable incident.
After a quick look at the colorful and noisy crowd, the stag shot forward like lightning, amid the astounding cheers of the people, instantly followed by his human and animal pursuers of all kinds, from the horse racing fan on his spirited, well-groomed steed to the broken-down gelding carrying its Cockney rider, along with many other annual riders, led by every type of dog from the high-bred beagle to the mutt. It was complete chaos, a confusing mix of sounds. Tallyho was enjoying the scene immensely, and handing the reins over to his experienced horse, eager for its usual run, the noble animal, guided by Dashall, took off with unmatched speed and quickly left all competitors behind. Sir Felix, trying to keep up with his friends, jumped a fence but landed badly on the other side, throwing both horse and rider to the ground; thankfully, neither was hurt. However, when Sir Felix got back up, he found his horse had run off with a stranger, who had lost his own mount and had taken this chance to remount. Now he rode on, bare-headed because the wind had blown his hat away. He decided it was better to lose his hat than stop to pick it up and risk losing the horse and facing the wrath of Sir Felix, who was standing, stunned, at the fence, loudly demanding his gelding back while angrily gesturing for revenge. The rude intruder turned in the saddle without slowing down and mockingly shouted, “Stay right where you are, my fine fellow, until the chase is over, and then your gelding will be returned.” If sharing misfortune brings comfort, Sir Felix had plenty of consolation, as many others around him were suffering similar fates. He also learned a valuable lesson in patience during hardship. To the right of his runaway gelding and its rider, he saw a dismounted horseman calmly enduring his misfortune by sitting on a bank, while his empty horse charged ahead, leaving its owner to wait patiently for its return. Two Cockney riders now approached the fence where Sir Felix stood, still in a pose of irritation; when they attempted the leap, one, like the baronet, made it over but with a less fortunate outcome; he was thrown off violently, with his feet in the air, as if about to walk the field on his hands, while his horse landed face-first and on its knees, hanging by its hind legs from the upper bar of the fence, struggling to get free. The other Cockney rider was similarly stuck: his horse had not cleared the fence, nor had he, though he managed to grab the neck of his horse trying to reach the other side; this left him in a permanently awkward position, as his horse rested its front legs over the fence, seeming unable to move either forward or back. These experiences taught the baronet acceptance in the face of misfortune; as a result, about an hour later, his friends Tom and Bob returned to him, bringing great comfort, especially since they had also retrieved his gelding, having recognized the animal with a stranger who, when they claimed it belonged to Sir Felix O'Grady, quickly returned it, saying that in the midst of his threats, the baronet had frequently mentioned his name, and he hoped to be forgiven for taking the liberty every person claims on this day to care for stray horses. The group, fully satisfied with the ups and downs of the Easter Hunt, turned their horses toward home, and despite the crowded road, they made it back to town quickly without any other memorable incidents.
Having reached the mansion of Dashall, Sir Felix acquainted Tallyho with the success of his mission respecting the hand, as a partner, at the Mansion-house Ball, of the august descendant of the Kings of Ulster, the sage and venerable Miss Judith Macgilligan. “O, the beautiful illustrissimo! the sweet crature” exclaimed the baronet, “with commendable care of her virgin purity, and fair unsullied fame, is tenacious of etiquette, and insists that she shall be asked with all due form and respect, (after I have introduced your Squireship to the honour of her notice) at the Mansion-house. By my conscience, I believe she is in love with your character, and no doubt will prove desperately so with your person. Faith and troth now, she is both too young and too old for matrimony; too young, because she may live to torment you these twenty years to come, which is a penance no sprightly lad should voluntarily undergo for all her fortune; and too old, being in all respects disqualified by age, for the important object of marriage, which was instituted for the procreation of children.”
Upon arriving at Dashall's mansion, Sir Felix informed Tallyho about the success of his mission regarding the hand of the illustrious Miss Judith Macgilligan, a distinguished descendant of the Kings of Ulster, as a partner at the Mansion-house Ball. “Oh, the lovely illustrissimo! The sweet creature,” exclaimed the baronet, “with commendable care for her virgin purity and untarnished reputation, is strict about etiquette and insists that she is asked with all due formality and respect (after I introduce you to her) at the Mansion-house. Honestly, I think she might be in love with your character and will probably become utterly smitten with your looks. To be fair, she’s both too young and too old for marriage; too young because she might spend the next twenty years tormenting you, which is a penance no lively young man should willingly endure for all her wealth; and too old, as she is, in every way, not fit for marriage, which is meant for having children.”
“My dear sir,” rejoined the Squire, “immaculate may the lady remain in her person and property, I have no views on either.”
“My dear sir,” replied the Squire, “the lady may remain perfect in her looks and belongings; I have no interest in either.”
“By the powers of charity retract that 'stern decree,'” exclaimed the baronet, “would you break the heart of the love-sick nymph, by chilling indifference to the potency of her charms and the magnitude of her fortune? However, all joking apart, my good friends, will you do my aunt and your humble servant the honour of calling at our lodgings; we shall wait your coming and proceed together to the civic entertainment?” This was agreed to;—the baronet retired, and the two cousins having the best part of the day still before them, set out on a stroll to Tothill-fields Fair, with the view of ascertaining Real Life in Westminster, amongst the middle and lower orders of its extensive population.
“By the powers of charity, take back that 'stern decree,'” the baronet exclaimed, “would you really break the heart of the love-struck lady by being cold and indifferent to how charming she is and how wealthy she is? But seriously, my good friends, would you do my aunt and me the honor of visiting us at our place? We'll be waiting for you so we can head to the civic event together.” They agreed to this; the baronet left, and the two cousins, with the best part of the day ahead of them, set out for a stroll to Tothill-fields Fair, eager to observe real life in Westminster among the middle and lower classes of its large population.
[200] Crossing St. James's Park, our two observers soon reached the scene of jollity. Here, as in all the fairs held in London, and its vicinity, was a vast assemblage of idlers, including both sexes and all ages. “They talk of the severity of the times,” said Dashall, “and the distress of the lower orders of society; I cannot say, however, that I have witnessed any semblance of distress or privation amongst such in this metropolis to the extent represented,1 in the whole course of my observation. These fairs, for instance, more properly marts of iniquity, are crammed to excess; and in pursuit of low enjoyment there appears no deficiency of pecuniary means. In all these resorts of dissipation, not only the shows are filled with spectators, but the booths and neighbouring public-houses are crowded with male and female revellers.”
[200] Crossing St. James's Park, our two observers quickly arrived at the lively scene. Here, as in all the fairs held in London and the surrounding areas, there was a large crowd of onlookers, including people of all ages and genders. “They talk about how tough times are,” said Dashall, “and the struggles of the lower class; however, I can't say that I've seen any real signs of hardship or deprivation among them in this city to the extent that's been suggested. These fairs, or what are better called centers of mischief, are packed to the brim; and when it comes to seeking pleasure, there seems to be no shortage of money. In all these places of entertainment, not only are the shows full of spectators, but the booths and nearby pubs are bustling with male and female partygoers.”
The Squire acquiesced in the correctness of his friend's remark, and both coincided in opinion that the regular daily public places of amusement in the metropolis afford ample opportunity for rational recreation, independent of the continuance of fairs, which have no other tendency than facilitating the progress of licentiousness.
The Squire agreed with his friend's comment, and they both felt that the regular daily entertainment spots in the city provide plenty of chances for sensible fun, apart from the ongoing fairs, which only serve to promote immoral behavior.
Dashall observed, that on the present occasion, in the midst of so much alleged distress,-the booths and shows of Tothill-fields Fair were much more extensive than in former years. “We must, however,” said he, “although the evil continues, do the Magistrates the justice to say that they have acted meritoriously in preventing the erection of those dangerous machines named round-abouts, by which, at former fairs, many serious accidents were occasioned.”
Dashall noticed that this time, despite all the rumored hardship, the booths and attractions at Tothill-fields Fair were much bigger than in previous years. "We must, however," he said, "even though the problem persists, give the Magistrates credit for doing a good job by stopping the setup of those dangerous rides called round-abouts, which caused many serious accidents at past fairs."
While Ton and Bob were quizzing the costermongers and the Venuses, they in their turn were queered out of their wipes; thus another cogent argument was afforded as to the necessity of suppressing these nuisances, as being the rendezvous of infamy, and the harvest of depredation. The visitors appeared in all their glory, as elegant and boisterous as usual; the consumption of gin and gingerbread was apparently prodigious, and the great luxury amongst the fashionables was fried sausages and the bolting of oysters with sugar for wagers. Having lost their wipes, the two friends resolved at least to save [201] their tattlers; and having seen a sufficiency of Westminster jollification, they left the fair to those visitors who might better appreciate its enjoyment.
While Ton and Bob were questioning the street vendors and the women, they, in turn, were left without their handkerchiefs; this provided another strong argument for the need to get rid of these nuisances, as they were a meeting place for disgrace and a breeding ground for crime. The visitors showed up in all their glory, as stylish and loud as ever; the consumption of gin and gingerbread seemed huge, and a major indulgence among the fashionable crowd was fried sausages and betting on gulping down oysters with sugar. Having lost their handkerchiefs, the two friends decided to at least keep their gossip stories; after seeing enough of the Westminster festivities, they left the fair to those visitors who might enjoy it more.
Returning home, they were not encountered by farther mischance, and having shortly reached their destination, and dressed for the evening gala, a chariot was ordered, and they were set down at the lodgings of Sir Felix O'Grady.
Returning home, they didn’t face any more bad luck, and after quickly reaching their destination and getting ready for the evening event, they called for a carriage and were taken to the residence of Sir Felix O'Grady.
The baronet introduced his two friends to his aunt, with much affected form, and with an arch leer of expression, which, on an occasion of minor import, would have excited the risibility of Bob, but this was no laughing affair; the presentation therefore was conducted with all due solemnity, and Miss Judith Macgilligan received him with a maidenish diffidence and complacency, yet with the dignity becoming a descendant of O'Brien, King of Ulster.
The baronet introduced his two friends to his aunt with a lot of exaggerated formality and a playful grin that, in a less serious situation, would have made Bob laugh. But this wasn't a funny moment; so the introduction was done with all the necessary seriousness. Miss Judith Macgilligan greeted him with a shy kind of grace, but also with the dignity fitting someone from the O'Brien lineage, King of Ulster.
Having partaken of a slight repast, the party drove off, in the lady's temporary vehicle, and rattling rapidly along the streets, were in a very short time arrived at the Mansion-house. The company was select and elegant; the ladies particularly, might vie in splendour of ornament and fascination of personal charms, with first rate beauties of the west; and what gave the entertainment a superior zest above every other consideration, was the condescending affability of the Civic Queen, who received her numerous and delighted guests with a truly hospitable, yet dignified politeness; nor was there any deficiency on the part of her lord; all that the most excellent arrangements and the most minute attention could accomplish was done, to the entire gratification and comfort of the company.{1}
After having a light meal, the group drove off in the lady's temporary car, and quickly made their way through the streets to the Mansion-house. The guests were select and elegant; the ladies, in particular, could compete in stunning adornments and personal charm with top beauties from the west. What made the event even more enjoyable was the gracious friendliness of the Civic Queen, who welcomed her many delighted guests with genuine hospitality while maintaining a dignified politeness. Her husband was equally attentive; everything that excellent planning and careful attention could provide was done to ensure the complete satisfaction and comfort of the guests.{1}
[203]
[203]
CHAPTER XV
[203] “Apropos,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, laying down the Times newspaper after breakfast, “a fine opportunity is offered to us to day, for a peep at the Citizens of London in their Legislative Assembly, a Court of Common Council is announced for twelve o'clock, and I think I can promise you much of entertaining information, by paying a visit at Guildhall and its vicinity. We have several times passed it with merely taking a view of its exterior, but the interior is equally deserving of attention, particularly at a period when it is graced by the personages and appendages which constitute its state and dignity. London is generally spoken of as the first commercial city in the known world, and its legislators, as a corporate body, becomes a sort of rallying post for all others in the kingdom. We have plenty of time before us, and may lounge a little as we march along to amuse or refresh ourselves at leisure.” “With all my heart,” said Tallyho, “for I have heard much about the Lord Mayor, the Sword Bearer, and the Common Hunt, all in a bustle,—though I have never yet had an opportunity of seeing any of them.”
[203] “By the way,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, setting down the Times newspaper after breakfast, “we have a great opportunity today to get a glimpse of the Citizens of London in their Legislative Assembly. A meeting of the Court of Common Council is scheduled for twelve o'clock, and I can promise you that a visit to Guildhall and its surroundings will provide us with plenty of entertaining information. We've passed by several times just admiring the exterior, but the interior is just as worthy of attention, especially when it’s filled with the important figures and elements that represent its status and dignity. London is widely regarded as the leading commercial city in the world, and its lawmakers serve as a sort of focal point for others across the kingdom. We have plenty of time ahead of us, so we can take it easy and enjoy ourselves as we make our way there.” “Absolutely,” replied Tallyho, “because I've heard a lot about the Lord Mayor, the Sword Bearer, and the Common Hunt, all bustling around—though I've never had a chance to see any of them.”
[204]"They are interesting subjects, I can assure you, so come along, we will take a view of these Gogs and Magogs of civic notoriety,” and thus saying, they were quickly on the road for the city. The morning being fine, they took their way down St. James's Street, at the bottom of which their ears were attracted by the sounds of martial music approaching.
[204]"They're really interesting characters, I promise you, so let's go check out these Gogs and Magogs of city fame," and with that, they quickly set off for the city. The morning was nice, so they walked down St. James's Street, where they were soon drawn in by the sounds of marching music getting closer.
“We have nicked the time nicely indeed,” said Dashall, “and may now enjoy a musical treat, before we proceed to the oratorical one. The Guards in and about the Palace, are relieved every morning about this time, for which purpose they are usually mustered at the Horse-Guards, in the Park, where they are paraded in regular order, and then marched here. It forms a very pleasing sight for the cockney loungers, for those out of employ, and those who have little inclination to be employed; and you see the crowds that are hastening before them, in order to obtain admission to Palace Yard, before their arrival—let us join the throng; there is another detachment stationed there ready to receive them, and while they are relieving the men actually on duty, the two bands alternately amuse the officers and the bye-standers with some of the most admired Overtures and Military Airs.”
“We've timed it perfectly,” said Dashall, “and can now enjoy some music before we move on to the speeches. The Guards around the Palace are changed every morning at this time, so they're usually gathered at the Horse Guards in the Park, where they're lined up in order and then marched here. It’s a delightful sight for the Londoners, especially those out of work and those who aren’t too eager to find jobs; you can see the crowds rushing ahead of them to get into Palace Yard before they arrive—let’s join them; another group is already stationed there to welcome them, and while they’re replacing the officers on duty, the two bands take turns entertaining everyone with some of the best Overtures and Military Airs.”
They now passed the gate, and quickly found themselves in a motley group of all descriptions, crowding to the seat of action, and pouring in from various avenues. Men, women, and children, half-drill'd drummers, bandy-legged fifers, and suckling triangle beaters, with bags of books and instruments in their hands to assist the band. The colours were mounted as usual on a post in the centre, the men drawn up in ranks, and standing at ease, while the officers were pacing backwards and forwards in the front, arm-in-arm with each other, relating the rencontres of the preceding day, or those in anticipation of the ensuing. This order of things was however quickly altered, as the relieving party entered, and at the word “attention,” every officer was at his post, and the men under arms. Our friends now moved under the piazzas so as to be in the rear of the party who had the first possession, and after hearing with great admiration the delightful airs played by the two bands, which had been the principal object of attraction with them—they proceeded through the Park and reached Charing Cross, by the way of Spring Gardens.
They passed through the gate and quickly found themselves in a diverse crowd, all rushing toward the main event and coming in from different directions. Men, women, and children, along with half-trained drummers, wobbly fifers, and little kids playing triangles, carried bags of books and instruments to support the band. The colors were raised as usual on a post in the center, with the men lined up and standing relaxed, while the officers walked back and forth in front, arm-in-arm, talking about the encounters of the previous day or those expected in the upcoming events. However, this setup changed quickly when the relief party arrived, and at the command “attention,” every officer took their position and the men stood ready. Our friends then moved under the porches to be behind the group that had originally occupied the space. After listening with great admiration to the lovely tunes played by the two bands, which were the main attraction for them, they made their way through the park and reached Charing Cross via Spring Gardens.
[205] “Zounds,” said Tallyho, “this is a very unworthy entrance to a Royal Park.”
[205] “Wow,” said Tallyho, “this is a pretty ungracious way to enter a Royal Park.”
“Admitted, it is so,” was the reply, “and a degradation to the splendid palace, I mean internally, which is so close to it, and which is the present residence of Majesty.” They now proceeded without any thing further of consequence worthy of remark, till they reached Villiers-street.
“It's true,” was the reply, “and it's a shame for the magnificent palace, I mean inside, which is right next to it, and which is where Majesty currently lives.” They then continued on without anything else significant to mention until they reached Villiers-street.
“Come,” said Tom, “I perceive we shall have time to take a look at the world below as well as the world above; “when crossing into the Adelphi, and suddenly giving another turn, he entered what to Bob appeared a cavern, and in one moment was obscured from his sight.—“Hallo,” said Tallyho, “where the devil are you leading me to?”—“Never mind,” was the reply; “keep on the right side, and you are safe enough; but if you get into the centre, beware of the Slough of Despond—don't be afraid.”
“Come on,” said Tom, “I see we’ll have time to check out the world below as well as the world above.” When they crossed into the Adelphi and suddenly turned again, he entered what Bob thought looked like a cave and vanished from his sight in an instant. “Hey,” said Tallyho, “where the heck are you taking me?” “Don’t worry,” Tom replied, “just stay on the right side, and you’ll be fine; but if you end up in the middle, watch out for the Slough of Despond—don’t be scared.”
Upon this assurance Bob groped his way along for a few paces, and at a distance could discover the glimmering of a lamp, which seemed but to make darkness more visible. Keeping his eye upon the light, and more engrossed with the idea of his own safety in such a place than any thing else, for he could neither conjecture where he was nor whence he was going, he presently came in violent contact with a person whom he could not see, and in a moment found himself prostrate on the ground.
Upon this assurance, Bob felt his way forward for a few steps and, at a distance, spotted the faint glow of a lamp, which only seemed to make the darkness more apparent. Keeping his focus on the light, and more concerned about his own safety in this place than anything else—since he had no idea where he was or where he was headed—he suddenly collided violently with someone he couldn’t see and, in an instant, found himself on the ground.
“Hallo,” cried a gruff voice, which sounded through the hollow arches of the place with sepulchral tone—“who the devil are you—why don't you mind where you go—you must not come here with your eyes in your pocket;” and at the same time he heard a spade dug into the earth, which almost inspired him with the idea that he should be buried alive.
“Hello,” shouted a gruff voice, echoing through the empty arches of the place with a ghostly tone—“who the hell are you—why don’t you watch where you’re going—you shouldn’t come here with your head in the clouds;” and at the same time, he heard a spade digging into the ground, which almost made him think he might be buried alive.
“Good God protect,” (exclaimed Bob,) “where is Dashall—where am I?”
“Good God, protect me,” exclaimed Bob, “where is Dashall—where am I?”
“Where are you—why you're in the mud to be sure—and for aught I know, Dashall and all the rest may be in the clouds; what business have you dashing here—we have enough of the Dandies above, without having them below—what have you lost your way, or have you been nibbling in the light, and want to hide yourself—eh?”
“Where are you—oh, you're in the mud for sure—and for all I know, Dashall and the others might be up in the clouds; what are you doing rushing in here—we have enough Dandies up top, no need for them down here—have you lost your way, or have you been nibbling in the light, and want to hide out—eh?”
[206] “Neither, neither, I can assure you; but I have been led here, and my friend is on before.”
[206] “No, not at all, I promise you; but I've been brought here, and my friend is ahead of me.”
“Oh, well, if that's the case, get up, and I'll hail him, —ey-ya-ap”—cried he, in a voice, which seemed like thunder to our fallen hero, and which was as quickly answered by the well known voice of his Cousin, who in a few minutes was at his elbow.
“Oh, well, if that’s how it is, get up, and I’ll call him, —ey-ya-ap”—he shouted, in a voice that sounded like thunder to our fallen hero, and was quickly responded to by the familiar voice of his cousin, who was by his side in just a few minutes.
“What now,” vociferated Tom, “I thought I gave you instructions how to follow, and expected you was just behind me.”
“What now,” shouted Tom, “I thought I gave you instructions to follow, and I expected you were right behind me.”
“Why for the matter of that,” cried the unknown, “he was not before you, that's sartin; and he knocked himself down in the mud before ever I spoke to him, that's all I know about it—but he don't seem to understand the navigation of our parts.”
“Why, for that matter,” shouted the stranger, “he wasn't here before you, that's for sure; and he knocked himself down in the mud before I ever talked to him, that's all I know about it—but he doesn't seem to get how things work around here.”
“I don't wonder at that,” replied Tom; “for he was never here before in his life—but there is no harm done, is there?”
“I’m not surprised by that,” Tom replied. “He’s never been here before in his life—but it hasn’t caused any harm, right?”
“None,” replied Bob; “all's right again now—so proceed.”
“None,” replied Bob; “everything's good again now—so go ahead.”
“Nay,” replied the unknown, “all's not right yet; for if as how this is your first appearance in the shades below, it is but fair you should come down.”
“Nah,” replied the unknown, “everything's not okay yet; because if this is your first time in the underworld, it’s only fair you should come down.”
“Down,” said Bob, “why I have been down—you knock'd me down.”
“Down,” said Bob, “the reason I’m down is that you knocked me down.”
“Well, never mind, my master, I have set you on your pins again; and besides that, I likes you very well, for you're down as a hammer, and up again like a watch-box—but to my thinking a drap o'somut good would revive you a little bit; and I should like to drink with you—for you ought to pay your footing.”
“Well, forget about it, my friend, I’ve got you back on your feet again; and on top of that, I like you a lot, because you’re tough as nails and bounce back like a spring—but I think a drink would perk you up a bit; and I’d love to have a drink with you—after all, you should pay your share.”
“And so he shall,” continued Tom—“So come along, my lad.”
“And so he will,” continued Tom—“So let’s go, my friend.”
By this time Bob had an opportunity of discovering that the person he had thus unfortunately encountered, was no other than a stout raw-boned coalheaver, and that the noise he had heard was occasioned by his sticking his pointed coal-shovel in the earth, with intention to help him up after his fall. Pursuing their way, and presently turning to the right, Bob was suddenly delighted by being brought from utter darkness into marvellous light, presenting a view of the river, with boats and barges passing and repassing with their usual activity.
By this point, Bob realized that the person he had unfortunately bumped into was just a big, heavy-set coal worker, and the noise he heard was from the guy sticking his pointed coal shovel into the ground, intending to help him up after he fell. As they continued on their way and turned right, Bob was suddenly thrilled to find himself pulled from complete darkness into amazing light, revealing a view of the river, with boats and barges moving back and forth, bustling with their usual activity.
“What place is this?” inquired Tallyho.
“What place is this?” Tallyho asked.
[207] “Before you,” replied his Cousin, “is the River Thames; and in the front you will find wharfs and warehouses for the landing and housing of various merchandize, such as coals, fruit, timber, &c.: we are now under the Adelphi Terrace, where many elegant and fashionable houses are occupied by persons of some rank in society; these streets, lanes, and subterraneous passages, have been constructed for the convenience of conveying the various articles landed here into the main streets of the metropolis, and form as it were a little world under ground.”
[207] “Before you,” replied his cousin, “is the River Thames; ahead, you’ll see docks and warehouses for unloading and storing all kinds of goods, like coal, fruit, timber, etc. We are now under the Adelphi Terrace, where many stylish and upscale homes are lived in by people of some social standing. These streets, alleys, and underground passages have been built to easily transport the various items unloaded here into the main streets of the city, creating a sort of little world beneath the ground.”
“And no bad world neither,” replied the coalheaver, who upon inspection proved to be no other than Bob Martlet, whom they had met with as one of the heavy wet party at Charley's Crib—“For there is many a family lives down here, and gets a good bit of bread too; what does it signify where a man gets his bread, if he has but an honest appetite to eat it with: aye, and though I say it, that house in the corner there, just down by the water's edge, can supply good stuff at all times to wash it down with, and that you know's the time of day, my master: this warm weather makes one dryish like, don't it?”
“And it’s not a bad world either,” replied the coal worker, who turned out to be none other than Bob Martlet, whom they had met as part of the heavy wet group at Charley's Crib—“Because many families live down here and make a decent living too; what does it matter where a guy gets his bread if he has a good appetite to enjoy it? And I have to say, that house in the corner, right by the water’s edge, has good drinks to go with it at any time, and you know how it is, my friend: this warm weather really makes you feel a bit thirsty, doesn’t it?”
Tom thought the hint dry enough, though Bob was declaring he was almost wet through; however, they took their road to the Fox under the Hill, as it is termed. On entering which a good fire presented itself, and Tallyho placed himself in front of it, in order to dry his clothes, while Bob Martlet was busy in inquiring of the landlord for a brush to give the gemman a wipe down, as, he observed, he had a sort of a trip up in these wild parts—though to be sure that there was no great wonder, for a gentleman who was near sighted, and didn't wear spectacles; “however,” continued he, “there an't no harm done; and so the gemman and I are going to drink together—arn't we, Sir?”
Tom thought the hint was pretty clear, even though Bob was saying he was almost soaked. Still, they made their way to the Fox under the Hill, as it’s called. Once inside, a nice fire greeted them, and Tallyho settled down in front of it to dry his clothes, while Bob Martlet busied himself asking the landlord for a brush to clean up the gentleman, since he mentioned that he had a bit of a stumble in these wild areas—though it wasn’t really surprising, given that the gentleman was near-sighted and wasn’t wearing glasses. “But,” he added, “there’s no harm done; and so the gentleman and I are going to have a drink together—aren’t we, Sir?”
Tallyho, who by this time had got well roasted by the fire-side, nodded his assent, and Dashall inquired what he would like.
Tallyho, who by this time had gotten well roasted by the fire, nodded in agreement, and Dashall asked what he would like.
[208] “Why, my master, as for that, it's not much matter to me; a drap of sky blue in a boulter of barley,{1} with a dollop of sweet,{2} and a little saw dust,{3} is no bad thing according to my thinking; but Lord bless you! if so be as how a gemman like you offers to treat Bill Martlet,
[208] “Well, my friend, to be honest, it doesn’t really bother me; a bit of sky blue in a bowl of barley, with a scoop of sweetness, and a little sawdust, isn’t too bad in my opinion; but good gracious! if someone like you is going to treat Bill Martlet,
why Bill Martlet never looks a gift horse in the mouth, you know, as the old saying is; but our landlord knows how to make such rum stuff, as I should like you to taste it—we call it hot, don't us, landlord?—Come, lend us hold of the brush?” “Ave, and brush up, Mr. Landlord,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall; “let us have a taste of this nectar he's talking of, for we have not much time to stop.”
why Bill Martlet never looks a gift horse in the mouth, you know, like the old saying goes; but our landlord knows how to make such strong stuff, which I’d like you to taste—we call it hot, don’t we, landlord?—Come on, lend us the brush?” “Sure, and let’s get to it, Mr. Landlord,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall; “let’s have a taste of this nectar he’s talking about, because we don’t have much time to stick around.”
“Lord bless your eye sight,” replied Martlet, “there an't no occasion whatsomdever for your honours to stay—if you'll only give the order, and push about the possibles, the business is all done. Come, shovel up the sensible,” continued he to the landlord, “mind you give us the real double XX. I don't think your coat is any the worse, it would sarve me for a Sunday swell toggery for a twelve-month to come yet; for our dirt down here is as I may say clean dirt, and d———me if I don't think it looks all the better for it.”
“Lord bless your eyesight,” replied Martlet, “there’s really no reason for you to stay—if you'll just give the order and sort out the details, the job will be done. Come on, let’s get the good stuff,” he continued to the landlord, “make sure you give us the real double XX. I don’t think your coat looks any worse; it would work for me as fancy Sunday wear for a whole year still, because our dirt down here is, as I might say, clean dirt, and damn if I don’t think it looks even better for it.”
“Thank you, my friend,” said Bob; “that will do very well,” and the landlord having by this time completed his cookery, produced the good stuff, as Martlet termed it.
“Thanks, my friend,” said Bob; “that’s perfect,” and the landlord, having finished cooking, brought out the good stuff, as Martlet called it.
“Come, gentlemen, this is the real right sort, nothing but the bang-up article, arn't it, my master? But as I always likes the landlord to taste it first, by way of setting a good example, just be after telling us what you think of it.”
“Come on, guys, this is the real deal, isn’t it, my friend? But since I always like the landlord to try it first to set a good example, just let us know what you think of it.”
“With all my heart,” said the landlord; who declared it was as prime a pot of hot as he had made for the last fortnight. .
“With all my heart,” said the landlord, who claimed it was the best pot of hot he had made in the last two weeks.
With this recommendation our friends tried it; and after tipping, took their departure, under the positive assurance of Martlet, that he should be very glad to see them again at any time.
With this recommendation, our friends gave it a shot; and after tipping, they took off, with Martlet assuring them that he would be very happy to see them again anytime.
They now pursued their way through other subterraneous passages, where they met waggons, carts, and horses, apparently as actively and usefully employed as those above ground.
They now continued their journey through other underground passages, where they encountered wagons, carts, and horses, seemingly just as busy and helpful as those above ground.
“Come,” said Tom, “we have suffered time to steal a inarch upon us,” as they reached the Strand; “we will therefore take the first” rattler we can meet with, and make the best of our way for the City.”—This was soon accomplished, and jumping into the coach, the old Jarvey was desired to drive them as expeditiously as possible to the corner of King-street, Cheapside.[209]
“Come on,” said Tom, “we’ve let time sneak up on us,” as they reached the Strand; “so let’s take the first” rattler we find, and make our way to the City as quickly as we can.” — This was done quickly, and hopping into the coach, they asked the old Jarvey to drive them as fast as possible to the corner of King Street, Cheapside.[209]
CHAPTER XVI
The Hon. Tom Dashall, who was fully aware that City appointments for twelve o'clock mean one, was nevertheless anxious to arrive at their place of destination some time before the commencement of the business of the day; and fortunately meeting with no obstruction on the road, they were set down at the corner of King-street, about half-past twelve.
The Hon. Tom Dashall, who knew very well that City appointments scheduled for noon actually meant one, was still eager to reach their destination well before the day’s events began; and luckily, encountering no delays on the way, they arrived at the corner of King Street around 12:30.
“Come,” said he, “we shall now have time to look about us at leisure, and observe the beauties of this place of civic festivity. The Hall you see in front of you, is the place devoted to the entertainment usually given by the Lord Mayor on his entrance upon the duties and dignities of his office. It is a fine gothic building, in which the various courts of the city are held. The citizens also meet there for the purpose of choosing their representatives in Parliament, the Lord Mayor, Sheriffs, &c. It was originally built in the year 1411, previous to which period the public, or as they term it the Common Hall, was held at a small room in Aldermanbury.
“Come,” he said, “we now have time to look around at our leisure and take in the beauty of this festive location. The hall you see in front of you is where the Lord Mayor usually hosts the celebrations marking the start of his duties and responsibilities. It’s a stunning Gothic building where various city courts are held. Citizens also gather there to elect their representatives in Parliament, the Lord Mayor, Sheriffs, and so on. It was originally built in 1411, and before that, public meetings—what they call the Common Hall—were held in a small room on Aldermanbury.”
[210] The expense Of the building was defrayed by voluntary subscription, and its erection occupied twenty years. It was seriously damaged by the fire of 1666, since which the present edifice, with the exception of the new gothic front, has been erected. That, however, was not finished till the year 1789, and many internal improvements and decorations have been introduced since. There is not much of attraction in its outward appearance. That new building on the right has recently been erected for the accommodation of Meetings of Bankrupts; and on the left is the Justice-Room, where the Aldermen attend daily in rotation as magistrates to decide petty causes; but we must not exhaust our time now upon them.”
[210] The cost of the building was covered by voluntary donations, and it took twenty years to complete. It suffered significant damage during the fire of 1666, after which the current structure was built, except for the new gothic front. However, that wasn't completed until 1789, and many internal upgrades and decorations have been made since. Its exterior isn't particularly appealing. The new building on the right was recently constructed for hosting Bankruptcy Meetings, and on the left is the Justice Room, where the Aldermen take turns daily as magistrates to handle minor cases; but we shouldn't spend too much time on them right now.
On entering the Hall, Tallyho appeared to be highly pleased with its extent, and was presently attracted by the monuments which it contains. “It is a noble room,” said he.—“Yes,” replied Tom, “this Hall is 153 feet in length, 48 in breadth, and the height to the roof is 55.” Tallyho was, however, more engaged in examining the monument erected to the memory of Lord Nelson, and an occasional glance at the two enormous figures who stand at opposites, on the left of the entrance.—Having read the tablet, and admired the workmanship of the former, he hastily turned to the latter. “And who in the name of wonder are these?” he inquired.
On entering the Hall, Tallyho looked really pleased with its size and was soon drawn to the monuments it held. “This is a stunning room,” he said. “Yes,” Tom replied, “this Hall is 153 feet long, 48 feet wide, and the ceiling is 55 feet high.” Still, Tallyho was more focused on examining the monument dedicated to Lord Nelson, while occasionally glancing at the two huge figures that stand across from each other on the left side of the entrance. After reading the plaque and admiring the craftsmanship of the former, he quickly turned his attention to the latter. “And who in the world are these?” he asked.
“These,” replied his communicative Cousin, “are called Gog and Magog. They are two ancient giants carved in wood, one holding a long staff suspending a ball stuck with pikes, and the other a halbert, supposed to be of great antiquity, and to represent an ancient Briton and a Saxon. They formerly used to stand on each side of that staircase which leads to the Chamberlain's Office, the Courts of King's Bench and Common Pleas, the Court of Aldermen, and the Common Council Chamber. At the other end are two fine monuments, to the memory of Lord Chatham, the father of Mr. Pitt, and his Son. The windows are fine specimens of the revived art of painting on glass. There is also a monument of Mr. Beckford.”
“These,” replied his talkative cousin, “are called Gog and Magog. They are two ancient giants carved from wood, one holding a long staff with a ball covered in spikes, and the other a halberd, which is believed to be very old and represents an ancient Briton and a Saxon. They used to stand on either side of the staircase that leads to the Chamberlain's Office, the Courts of King's Bench and Common Pleas, the Court of Aldermen, and the Common Council Chamber. At the other end are two impressive monuments dedicated to Lord Chatham, the father of Mr. Pitt, and his son. The windows are great examples of the revived art of painted glass. There’s also a monument to Mr. Beckford.”
While they were taking a view of these several objects of curiosity, their attention was suddenly attracted by a confused noise and bustle at the door, which announced the arrival of the Lord Mayor and his attendants, who passed them in state, and were followed by our friends to the Council Chamber; on entering which, they were [211] directed by the City Marshall, who guarded the door, to keep below the bar. Tallyho gazed with admiration and delight on the numerous pictures with which the Chamber is decorated, as well as the ceiling, which forms, a dome, with a skylight in the centre. The Lord Mayor having first entered the Court of Aldermen, the business of the day had not yet commenced. Tom directed his Cousin's eye in the first instance to the very large and celebrated painting by Copley, which fronts the Lord Mayor's chair, and represents the destruction of the floating batteries before Gibraltar, to commemorate the gallant defence of that place by General Elliott, afterwards Lord Heath field, in 1782. The statue of the late King George the Third; the death of David Rizzio, by Opie; the miseries of Civil War, from Shakespeare; Domestic Happiness, exemplified in portraits of an Alderman and his family; the death of Wat Tyler; the representation of the Procession of the Lord Mayor to Westminster Hall, by water; and the ceremony of swearing in the Lord Mayor at Guildhall, in 1781; containing portraits of all the principal members of the Corporation of London at that time. Meanwhile the benches were filling with the Deputies and Common Councilmen from their several wards. At one o'clock, the Lord Mayor entered the Court, attended by several Aldermen, who took their seats around him, and the business of the day commenced. Among those on the upper seats, Tom gave his Cousin to understand which were the most popular of the Aldermen, and named in succession Messrs. Waithman, Wood, Sir Claudius Stephen Hunter, Birch, Flower, and Curtis; and as their object was not so much to hear the debates as to see the form and know the characters, he proposed an adjournment from their present rather uncomfortable situation, where they were obliged to stand wedged in, by the crowd continually increasing, during which they could take a few more observations, and he could give some little clue to the origin and present situations of the persons to whom he had directed his Cousin's attention. Making the best of their way out of the Court, they found themselves in an anti-room, surrounded by marshalmen, beadles of Wards waiting for their Aldermen, and the Lord Mayor's and Sheriffs' footmen, finding almost as much difficulty to proceed, as they had before encountered.
While they were checking out the various curiosities, they were suddenly drawn in by a lively commotion at the door, signaling the arrival of the Lord Mayor and his entourage. They passed by in grand style, and our friends followed them to the Council Chamber. Once inside, the City Marshall, who was guarding the door, instructed them to stay below the bar. Tallyho admired the many paintings that decorated the Chamber, as well as the dome ceiling with a skylight in the center. After the Lord Mayor entered the Court of Aldermen, the day's business hadn't started yet. Tom pointed out a large and famous painting by Copley, which faced the Lord Mayor's chair and depicted the destruction of the floating batteries before Gibraltar, commemorating the brave defense led by General Elliott, later Lord Heathfield, in 1782. They also saw the statue of the late King George the Third, Opie's painting of the death of David Rizzio, Shakespeare's portrayal of the struggles of Civil War, a depiction of Domestic Happiness in portraits of an Alderman and his family, the death of Wat Tyler, the Procession of the Lord Mayor to Westminster Hall by water, and the ceremony of swearing in the Lord Mayor at Guildhall in 1781, featuring portraits of all the key members of the Corporation of London at that time. Meanwhile, the benches were filling up with Deputies and Common Councilmen from their respective wards. At one o'clock, the Lord Mayor entered the Court, accompanied by several Aldermen who took their seats around him, and the day's business began. Among those seated above, Tom pointed out which Aldermen were the most popular, listing Messrs. Waithman, Wood, Sir Claudius Stephen Hunter, Birch, Flower, and Curtis. Since their goal was more about seeing the proceedings and knowing the characters rather than following the debates, he suggested they move from their cramped spot, where they were squeezed in by the ever-growing crowd. They could take more observations, and he could give some background on the people he had highlighted for his Cousin. Making their way out of the Court, they found themselves in an anteroom, surrounded by marshals, ward beadles waiting for their Aldermen, and the footmen of the Lord Mayor and Sheriffs, facing almost as much difficulty progressing as they had before.
[212] Having struggled through this formidable phalanx of judicial and state appendages,
[212] Having fought through this tough group of legal and government forces,
“Now,” said Dashall, “we shall be enabled to breathe again at liberty, and make our observations without fear; for where we have just quitted, there is scarcely any possibility of making a remark without having it snapped up by newspaper reporters, and retailers of anecdotes; here, however, we can indulge ad libitum.”
“Now,” said Dashall, “we can finally relax and make our observations without worry; because where we just left, it’s almost impossible to say anything without it being picked up by newspaper reporters and gossipmongers; here, though, we can indulge ad libitum.”
“Yes,” replied Tallyho, “and having seen thus far, I am a little inquisitive to know more. I have, it is true, at times seen the names of the parties you pointed out to me in the daily prints, but a sight of their persons in their official stations excites stronger curiosity.”
“Yes,” replied Tallyho, “and having seen this much, I’m a bit curious to learn more. I have, it’s true, sometimes seen the names of the people you mentioned in the daily news, but seeing them in their official roles sparks much greater interest.”
“Then,” said Tom, “according to promise I will give you a sort of brief sketch of some of them. The present Lord Mayor is a very eminent wholesale stationer, carrying on an extensive trade in Queen-street; he ought to have filled the chair before this, but some temporary circumstances relative to his mercantile concerns induced him to give up his rotation. He has since removed the obstacle, and has been elected by his fellow-citizens to the high and important office of Chief Magistrate. I believe he has not signalized himself by any remarkable circumstance, but he has the character of being a worthy man. Perhaps there are few in the Court of Aldermen who have obtained more deservedly the esteem of the Livery of London, than Alderman Waithman, whose exertions have long been directed to the correction of abuses, and who represented them as one of their members during the last Parliament, when he displaced the mighty Alderman Curtis. Waithman is of humble origin, and has, like many others of Civic notoriety, worked his way by perseverance and integrity as a linen-draper, to respectable independence, and the hearts of his fellow-citizens: he has served the office of Sheriff, and during that time acted with a becoming spirit at the death of the late Queen, by risking his own life to save others. His political sentiments are on the opposition side, consequently he is no favorite with ministers.”
“Then,” said Tom, “as promised, I’ll give you a brief overview of some of them. The current Lord Mayor is a well-known wholesale stationer running a large business on Queen Street; he should have filled the position sooner, but some temporary issues with his business made him give up his turn. He has since resolved those issues and has been elected by his fellow citizens to the important role of Chief Magistrate. I don’t think he has done anything particularly outstanding, but he is known to be a good man. There are probably few in the Court of Aldermen who have earned the respect of the Livery of London more than Alderman Waithman, who has long worked to address abuses and served as one of their representatives in the last Parliament, when he replaced the powerful Alderman Curtis. Waithman comes from humble beginnings and, like many others known in Civic circles, he has worked his way up through hard work and integrity as a linen-draper to achieve financial independence and earn the admiration of his fellow citizens. He has served as Sheriff, and during that time, he displayed great courage at the death of the late Queen by risking his own life to save others. His political views are on the opposition side, so he’s not favored by the ministers.”
“And if he were,” replied Tallyho, “that would scarcely be considered an honour.”
“And if he were,” replied Tallyho, “that wouldn’t really be seen as an honor.”
“True,” continued Tom, “but then it might lead to profit, as it has done with many others, though he appears to hold such very light.
“True,” continued Tom, “but it could lead to profit, as it has for many others, even though he seems to take it so lightly.”
[213] “Alderman Wood has not yet been so fortunate as the celebrated Whittington, whom you may recollect was thrice Lord Mayor of London; but he has had the honour to serve that office during two succeeding years: he is a member of Parliament, and his exertions in behalf of the late Queen, if they have done him no great deal of good among the higher powers, are at least honourable to his heart.
[213] “Alderman Wood hasn't been as lucky as the famous Whittington, who you might remember was the Lord Mayor of London three times; however, he has had the opportunity to serve in that role for two consecutive years. He is also a member of Parliament, and although his efforts on behalf of the late Queen may not have significantly helped him with the higher-ups, they are at least commendable in terms of his character.
“Of Sir Claudius Stephen Hunter there is but little to be said, except that he has served the office, and been a Colonel of the City Militia—led off the ball at a Jew's wedding—used to ride a white charger—and is so passionately fond of military parade, that had he continued another year in the office, the age of chivalry would certainly have been revived in the East, and knights-errant and esquires have completely superseded merchants, traders, and shopkeepers.
“Not much can be said about Sir Claudius Stephen Hunter, except that he served in the position and was a Colonel of the City Militia—led off the dance at a Jewish wedding—used to ride a white horse—and is so passionately into military parades that if he had stayed in the role for another year, the age of chivalry would definitely have made a comeback in the East, and knights-errant and squires would have completely replaced merchants, traders, and shopkeepers."
“Alderman Birch is an excellent pastry-cook, and that perhaps is the best thing that can be said of him: he has written some dramatic pieces; but the pastry is beyond all comparison best of the two, and he needs no other passport to fame, at least with his fellow-citizens.
“Alderman Birch is a fantastic baker, and that might be the best thing to say about him: he has written a few plays; but the baking is far superior to the writing, and he doesn't need any other ticket to fame, at least with the people in his community.”
“But last, though not least, under our present consideration, comes the renowned Sir William, a plain bluff John Bull; he is said to be the son of a presbyterian citizen, and was rigidly educated in his father's religion. He obtained the alderman's gown, and represented the City in the year 1790: he is a good natured, and, I believe, a good hearted man enough, though he has long been a subject for satirical wit. He was Lord Mayor in 1796: you may recollect what was related of him by the literary labourer we met with in the Park—anecdotes and caricatures have been published in abundance upon him: he may, however, be considered in various points of view—as an alderman and a biscuit baker—as a fisherman “—
“But last, but definitely not least, under our current discussion, we have the famous Sir William, a straightforward and unpretentious John Bull. He’s said to be the son of a Presbyterian citizen and was strictly raised in his father’s faith. He became an alderman and represented the City in 1790. He’s a good-natured guy and, I believe, a genuinely kind-hearted man, even though he has been a target for satire for quite a while. He served as Lord Mayor in 1796; you might remember the stories shared by the literary worker we ran into in the Park—there have been plenty of anecdotes and caricatures published about him. He can be looked at in different ways—as an alderman, a biscuit baker, and as a fisherman.”
“How!” cried Tallyho!
"How!" cried Tallyho!
“Why, as a fisherman, he is the Polyphemus of his time.
“Why, as a fisherman, he is the Polyphemus of his era.
“Besides which,” continued Dashall, “he is a great sailor; has a yacht of his own, and generally accompanies
“Besides that,” continued Dashall, “he’s a great sailor; he has his own yacht and usually accompanies
[214] Royalty on aquatic excursions. I remember a laughable caricature, exhibiting the alderman in his own vessel, with a turtle suspended on a pole, with the following lines, in imitation of Black-eyed Susan, said to be written by Mr. Jekyll:—
[214] Royalty on water adventures. I recall a funny caricature showing the alderman in his own boat, with a turtle hanging from a pole, along with these lines, mimicking Black-eyed Susan, supposedly written by Mr. Jekyll:—
He is a banker, a loan-monger, and a contractor, a member of Parliament, and an orator; added to which, he may be said to be a man of wit and humour—at all events he is the cause of it in others. His first occupations have procured him great wealth, and his wit and humour great fame.
He’s a banker, a loan shark, and a contractor, a member of Parliament, and a public speaker; on top of that, you could say he’s a witty and humorous guy—at least he brings that out in others. His initial jobs have made him very wealthy, and his wit and humor have brought him a lot of fame.
“The worthy Alderman's hospitality to the late good humoured and gossiping James Boswell, the humble follower and biographer of Dr. Johnson, is well known; and it is probable that the pleasures of the table, in which no man more joyously engaged, shortened his life. To write the life of a great man is no easy task, and to write that of a big one may be no less arduous. Whether the Alderman really expected to be held up to future fame by the Biographer of Johnson, cannot be very easily ascertained; however that wish and expectation, if it ever existed, was completely frustrated by the death of poor Boswell.
“The admirable Alderman's hospitality towards the late good-natured and chatty James Boswell, the devoted follower and biographer of Dr. Johnson, is well known; and it’s likely that the enjoyment of the meals, in which no one engaged more happily, shortened his life. Writing the life of a great person is no easy feat, and doing so for a significant one may be just as challenging. Whether the Alderman truly thought he would be remembered in the future by the Biographer of Johnson is hard to determine; however, that desire and hope, if it ever existed, were completely dashed by the death of poor Boswell.
“I recollect to have seen some lines of the worthy Alderman, on the glorious victory of the Nile, which shew at once his patriotism, his wit, and his resolution, in that he is not to be laughed out of the memorable toast he once gave—
“I remember seeing some lines from the esteemed Alderman about the glorious victory at the Nile, which clearly showcase his patriotism, wit, and determination, as he won't be mocked out of the memorable toast he once gave—
[215] “Egad,” said Bob, “if this be true, he appears to knock up rhymes almost as well as he could bake biscuits” (smothering a laugh.)
[215] “Wow,” Bob said, “if this is true, he seems to come up with rhymes just about as well as he can bake cookies” (stifling a laugh.)
“Why,” replied Dashall, “I believe that it has not been positively ascertained that these lines, which unlike other poetry, contain no fiction, but plain and undeniable matter of fact, were wholly indicated by the worthy Alderman; indeed it is not impossible but that his worship's barber might have had a hand in their composition. It would be hard indeed, if in his operations upon the Alderman's pericranium, he should not have absorbed some of the effluvia of the wit and genius contained therein; and in justice to this operator on his chin and caput, I ought to give you a specimen which was produced by him upon the election of his Lordship to the Mayoralty—
“Why,” replied Dashall, “I believe it hasn't been definitively proven that these lines, which unlike other poetry, have no fiction but are straightforward and undeniable facts, were entirely written by the esteemed Alderman. It’s quite possible that his barber played a role in their creation. It would be quite strange if, while working on the Alderman's head, he didn't soak up some of the brilliance and genius present there. To be fair to this barber of his chin and head, I should share an example he produced when his Lordship was elected Mayor—
“This epigrammatic distich, which cannot be said to be destitute of point, upon being read at table, received, as it deserved, a large share of commendation; and his Lordship declared to the company present, that it had not taken his barber above three hours to produce it extempore.”
“This clever couplet, which definitely has its merits, received a well-deserved amount of praise when read at the table. His Lordship informed everyone present that it took his barber only three hours to come up with it on the spot.”
Tallyho laughed heartily at these satirical touches upon the poor Alderman.
Tallyho laughed loudly at these sarcastic jabs at the unfortunate Alderman.
“However,” continued Tom, “a man with plenty of money can bear laughing at, and sometimes laughs at himself, though I suspect he will hardly laugh or produce a laugh in others, by what he stated in his seat in the House of Commons, on the subject of the riots{1} at Knightsbridge. I suspect his wit and good humour will hardly protect him in that instance.”
“However,” Tom continued, “a man with a lot of money can take a joke, and sometimes even laughs at himself, though I doubt he’ll make anyone else laugh with what he said in his seat in the House of Commons about the riots at Knightsbridge. I doubt his wit and good humor will really help him in that case.”
[216] After taking a cursory look into the Chamberlain's Office, the Court of King's Bench and Common Pleas, they took their departure from Guildhall, very well satisfied with their morning's excursion.
[216] After quickly checking out the Chamberlain's Office, the Court of King's Bench, and Common Pleas, they left Guildhall feeling very pleased with their morning trip.
It was between three and four o'clock when our friends left the Hall. Tom Dashalt, being upon the qui vive, determined to give his Cousin a chevy for the remainder of the day; and for this purpose, it being on a Friday, he proposed a stroll among the Prad-sellers in Smithfield, where, after partaking of a steak and a bottle at Dolly's, they accordingly repaired.
It was between three and four o'clock when our friends left the Hall. Tom Dashalt, being alert, decided to hang out with his cousin for the rest of the day. Since it was a Friday, he suggested a walk among the street vendors in Smithfield, where they went after enjoying a steak and a bottle at Dolly's.
“You will recollect,” said Tom, “that you passed through Smithfield (which is our principal cattle market) during the time of Bartholomew Fair; but you will now find it in a situation so different, that you would scarcely know it for the same place: you will now see it full of horse-jockeys, publicans, pugilists, and lads upon the lark like ourselves, who having no real business either in the purchase or sale of the commodities of the market, are watching the manners and manouvres of those who have.”
“You remember,” Tom said, “that you went through Smithfield (our main cattle market) during Bartholomew Fair; but now you’ll find it so different that you’d hardly recognize it: it’s packed with horse jockeys, bar owners, fighters, and guys out having fun like us, who have no real interest in buying or selling anything but are just observing the behavior and tricks of those who do.”
As Tom was imparting this piece of information to his attentive Cousin, they were entering Smithfield by the way of Giltspur-street, and were met by a man having much the appearance of a drover, who by the dodging movements of his stick directly before their eyes, inspired our friends so strongly with the idea of some animal being behind them which they could not see, and from which danger was to be apprehended, that they suddenly broke from each other, and fled forward for safety, at which a roar of laughter ensued from the byestanders, who [217] perceiving the hoax, recommended the dandies to take care they did not dirty their boots, or get near the hoofs of the prancing prads, Tom was not much disconcerted at this effort of practical jocularity, though his Cousin seemed to have but little relish for it.
As Tom was sharing this information with his attentive cousin, they entered Smithfield via Giltspur Street and were approached by a man who looked quite like a drover. His quick, dodging moves with his stick right in front of them gave Tom and his cousin the strong impression that some unseen animal was behind them, posing a threat. In a panic, they suddenly separated and ran forward for safety, which caused the bystanders to erupt in laughter. They, realizing it was a prank, teased the dandies to watch out so they wouldn’t get their boots dirty or get too close to the prancing horses. Tom wasn’t too bothered by this practical joke, though his cousin didn’t seem to find it funny at all.
“Come along,” said Tom, catching him by the arm, and impelling him forward, “although this is not Bartholomew Fair time, you must consider all fair at the horse-fair, unless you are willing to put up with a horse-laugh.”
“Come on,” said Tom, grabbing him by the arm and pushing him forward, “even though it’s not Bartholomew Fair time, you have to treat everything like it is at the horse fair, unless you’re okay with being the punchline.”
Struggling through crowds who appeared to be buying, selling, or bargaining for the lame, the broken winded, and spavined prads of various sizes, prices, and pretensions,
Struggling through crowds who seemed to be buying, selling, or haggling over the lame, the out of shape, and worn-out horses of different sizes, prices, and claims,
“There is little difference,” said Tom, “between this place as a market for horses, and any similar mart in the kingdom,
“There isn’t much difference,” said Tom, “between this place as a market for horses and any other similar market in the country,
except that perhaps a little more refinement on the arts of gulling may be found; and it is no very uncommon thing for a stolen nag to be offered for sale in this market almost before the knowledge of his absence is ascertained by the legal owner.—I have already given you some information on the general character of horse-dealers during our visit to Tattersal's; but every species of trick and low chicanery is practised, of which numerous instances might be produced; and though I admit good horses are sometimes to be purchased here, it requires a man to be perfectly upon his guard as to who he deals with, and how he deals, although the regulations of the market are, generally speaking, good.”
except that maybe a bit more skill in deception can be found; and it’s not uncommon for a stolen horse to be put up for sale in this market almost before the legal owner even realizes it’s missing. —I’ve already shared some information about the general character of horse dealers during our visit to Tattersall's; but all kinds of tricks and shady tactics are used here, and there are plenty of examples to illustrate this. Although I acknowledge that good horses can sometimes be purchased here, a person really needs to be on their guard about who they’re dealing with and how they’re dealing, even though the market regulations are, generally speaking, solid.
“I wouldn't have him at no price,” said a costermonger, who it appeared was bargaining for a donkey; “the h———y sulkey b——— von't budge, he's not vorth a fig out of a horses———.”
“I wouldn't take him for any price,” said a street vendor, who seemed to be haggling for a donkey; “the damn sulky bastard won't move, he's not worth a fig out of a horse's ass.”
“I knows better as that 'are,” cried a chimney-sweeper; “for no better an't no vare to be had; he's long backed and strong legged. Here, Bill, you get upon him, and give him rump steaks, and he'll run like the devil a'ter a parson.”
“I know better than that,” shouted a chimney-sweeper; “no better horse can be had; he's long-backed and strong-legged. Here, Bill, you get on him, and feed him rump steaks, and he'll run like the devil after a priest.”
Here Bill, a little blear-eyed chimney-sweeper, mounted the poor animal, and belaboured him most unmercifully, without producing any other effect than kicking up behind, and most effectually placing poor Bill in the
Here Bill, a slightly bleary-eyed chimney sweep, got on the poor animal and beat it mercilessly, achieving nothing more than making it kick up behind, which effectively put poor Bill in the
[218] mud, to the great discomfiture of the donkey seller, and the mirth of the spectators. The animal brayed, the byestanders laughed, and the bargain, like poor Bill, was off.
[218] mud, much to the irritation of the donkey seller and the amusement of the onlookers. The donkey brayed, the bystanders laughed, and the deal, like poor Bill, fell through.
After a complete turn round Smithfield, hearing occasionally the chaffing of its visitants, and once or twice being nearly run over, they took their departure from this scene of bustle, bargaining, and confusion, taking their way down King-street, up Holborn Hill, and along Great Queen-street.
After a full loop around Smithfield, occasionally hearing the banter of its visitors, and nearly getting run over once or twice, they left this chaotic scene of activity, dealing, and disorder, making their way down King Street, up Holborn Hill, and along Great Queen Street.
“Now,” said Tom, “we will have a look in at Covent Garden Theatre; the Exile is produced there with great splendour. The piece is certainly got up in a style of the utmost magnificence, and maintains its ground in the theatre rather upon that score than its really interesting dialogue, though some of the scenes are well worked up, and have powerful claims upon approbation. The original has been altered, abridged, and (by some termed) amended, in order to introduce a gorgeous coronation, a popular species of entertainment lately.”
“Now,” said Tom, “let's check out Covent Garden Theatre; they're putting on The Exile with great flair. The production is definitely staged in a very impressive way, and it holds its place in the theatre more for that reason than for its actually engaging dialogue, even though some scenes are well crafted and deserve recognition. The original has been changed, shortened, and (as some might say) improved to include a stunning coronation, which is a popular type of entertainment lately.”
Upon entering the theatre, Tallyho was almost riveted in attention to the performance, and the latter scene closed upon him with all its splendid pageantry before he discovered that his Cousin had given him the slip, and a dashing cyprian of the first order was seated at his elbow, with whom entering into a conversation, the minutes were not measured till Dashall's return, who perceiving he was engaged, appeared inclined to retire, and leave the cooing couple to their apparently agreeable tete-a-tete. Bob, however, observing him, immediately wished his fair incognita good night, and joined his Cousin.
Upon entering the theater, Tallyho was totally captivated by the performance, and he was so absorbed that he didn't notice when his cousin had slipped away. Instead, a charming and stylish woman was sitting next to him, and as they started chatting, the time flew by until Dashall returned. Seeing Tallyho engaged in conversation, Dashall seemed ready to leave the couple to their seemingly pleasant chat. However, Bob noticed him, quickly said goodnight to the lovely stranger, and joined his cousin.
“D———d dull,” said Tom,—“all weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable.”
“Damn dull,” said Tom, —“all tired, boring, flat, and pointless.”
“But very grand,” rejoined Bob.
"But very impressive," replied Bob.
“I have found nothing to look at,” replied Tom; “I have hunted every part of the House, and only seen two persons I know.”
“I haven’t found anything to see,” Tom replied. “I’ve searched every part of the house and only seen two people I know.”
“And I,” said Tallyho, “have been all the while looking at the piece.”
“And I,” said Tallyho, “have been watching it the whole time.”
“Which piece do you mean, the one beside you, or the one before you?”
“Which piece are you talking about, the one next to you or the one in front of you?”
“The performance—The Coronation.”
“The performance—The Coronation.”
“I have had so much of that,” said Tom, “that finding you so close in attention to the stage, that I could get no [219] opportunity of speaking to you, I have been hunting for other game, and have almost wearied myself in the pursuit without success; so that I am for quitting the premises, and making a call at a once celebrated place near at hand, which used to be called the Finish. Come along, therefore, unless you have 'mettle more attractive;' perhaps you have some engagements?”
“I’ve had enough of that,” Tom said, “that seeing you so focused on the stage meant I couldn’t find any chance to talk to you. I’ve been looking for other opportunities and have nearly exhausted myself in the chase without any luck. So, I’m ready to leave here and visit a once famous spot nearby that used to be called the Finish. Come with me, unless you have something more interesting to do; maybe you have other plans?”
“None upon earth to supersede the one I have with you,” was the reply. Upon which they left the House, and soon found themselves in Covent Garden Market. “This,” said Tom, “has been the spot of many larks and sprees of almost all descriptions, ana election wit has been as cheap in the market as any of the vegetables of the venders; but I am going to take you to a small house that has in former times been the resort of the greatest wits of the age. Sheridan, Fox, and others of their time, have not disdained to be its inmates, nor is it now deserted by the votaries of genius, though considerably altered, and conducted in a different manner: it still, however, affords much amusement and accommodation. It was formerly well known by the appellation of the Finish, and was not opened till a late hour in the night, and, as at the present moment, is generally shut up between 11 and 12 o'clock, and re-opened for the accommodation of the market people at 4 in the morning. The most respectable persons resident in the neighbourhood assemble to refresh themselves after the labours of the day with a glass of ale, spirits, or wine, as they draw no porter. The landlord is a pleasant fellow enough, and there is a pretty neat dressing young lass in the bar, whom I believe to be his sister—this is the house.”
“None on earth can compare to what I have with you,” was the reply. After that, they left the House and soon found themselves in Covent Garden Market. “This,” said Tom, “has been the site of many fun times and all sorts of shenanigans. Election jokes have been as common here as the vegetables sold by the vendors; but I’m going to take you to a little place that has been a hangout for some of the brightest minds of the day. Sheridan, Fox, and others of their era didn’t hesitate to stay here, and it’s still frequented by creative types, though it’s changed a lot and is run differently now: it still offers a lot of fun and comfort. It used to be well-known as the Finish, and it didn’t open until late at night. Like now, it usually closes between 11 and 12 o’clock and reopens at 4 in the morning for the market folks. The most respectable people in the area come here to unwind after their day with a drink, whether it’s ale, spirits, or wine, since they don’t serve porter. The landlord is a pretty friendly guy, and there’s a neat young girl behind the bar, who I believe is his sister—this is the place.”
“House,” said Bob, “why this is a deviation from the customary buildings of London; it appears to have no up stairs rooms.”
“House,” said Bob, “this is different from the usual buildings in London; it seems to have no upstairs rooms.”
“Never mind that,” continued Dashall, “there is room enough for us, I dare say; and after your visit to the Woolpack, I suppose you can stand smoke, if you can't stand fire.”
“Forget about that,” continued Dashall, “there’s plenty of room for both of us, I'm sure; and after your trip to the Woolpack, I assume you can handle smoke if you can’t handle fire.”
By this time they had entered the Carpenter's Arms, when turning short round the bar, they found themselves in a small room, pretty well filled with company, enjoying their glasses, and puffing their pipes: in the right hand corner sat an undertaker, who having just obtained a victory over his opposite neighbour, was humming a stave [220] to himself indicative of his satisfaction at the result of the contest, which it afterwards appeared was for two mighty's;{1} while his opponent was shrugging up his shoulders with a feeling of a very different kind.
By this time, they had entered the Carpenter's Arms. When they turned around the bar, they found themselves in a small room, pretty much filled with people enjoying their drinks and smoking their pipes. In the right-hand corner sat an undertaker, who had just won a dispute against his neighbor and was humming a tune to himself, clearly pleased with the outcome of the argument, which turned out to be over two drinks; while his opponent was shrugging his shoulders, feeling quite different. [220]
“It's of no use,” said Jemmy,{2} as they called him, “for you to enter the lists along with me, for you know very well I must have you at last.”
“It's pointless,” said Jemmy,{2} as they called him, “for you to join the competition with me, because you know I will end up with you eventually.”
“And no doubt it will prove a good fit,” said an elderly shoemaker of respectable appearance, who seemed to command the reverence of the company, “for all of us are subject to the pinch.”
“And I'm sure it will be a great fit,” said an elderly shoemaker with a respectable appearance, who seemed to command the respect of everyone present, “because we all experience the pinch.”
“There's no certainty of his assertion, however,” replied the unsuccessful opponent of Jemmy.
“There's no certainty to his claim, though,” replied the defeated opponent of Jemmy.
“Surely not,"{3} said another most emphatically, taking a pinch of snuff, and offering it to the shoemaker; “for you know Jemmy may come to the finch before John.”
“Surely not,” said another very firmly, taking a pinch of snuff and offering it to the shoemaker; “because you know Jemmy might beat John to the finch.”
[221] “Never mind,” continued Jemmy, “I take my chance in this life, and sing toll de roll loll.”
[221] “No worries,” Jemmy said, “I’ll take my chances in this life and sing toll de roll loll.”
By this time our friends, being supplied with mighties, joined in the laugh which was going round at the witty sallies of the speakers.
By this time, our friends, being well-stocked with drinks, joined in the laughter going around at the clever remarks of the speakers.
“It is possible I may go first,” said the undertaker, resuming his pipe; “and if I should, I can't help it.”
“It’s possible I might go first,” said the undertaker, picking up his pipe again; “and if I do, I can’t change that.”
“Surely not,—but I tell you what, Jemmy, if you are not afraid, I'll see you for two more mighties before I go, and I summons you to shew cause.”
“Of course not—but listen, Jemmy, if you’re not scared, I’ll meet you for two more mighties before I leave, and I’m calling on you to explain yourself.”
“D———n your summons,"{1} cried the former unsuccessful opponent of the risible undertaker, who at the word summons burst into a hearty laugh, in which he was immediately joined by all but the last speaker.
“Damn your summons,”{1} yelled the former unsuccessful opponent of the ridiculous undertaker, who at the word summons broke into a hearty laugh, which was quickly joined by everyone except the last speaker.
“The summons is a sore place,” said Jemmy.
“The summons is a tough spot,” said Jemmy.
“Surely not. I did not speak to him, I spoke to you, Sir; and I have a right to express myself as I please: if that gentleman has an antipathy to a summons, am I to be tongue-tied? Although he may sport with sovereigns, he must be accountable to plebeians; and if I summons you to shew cause, I see no reason why he should interrupt our conversation.”
“Surely not. I didn't talk to him, I talked to you, Sir; and I have the right to express myself however I want: if that guy has a problem with a summons, am I supposed to stay silent? Even if he mingles with the elite, he still has to answer to regular people; and if I summon you to explain yourself, I don’t see any reason for him to interrupt our conversation.”
[222] “Surely not,” was reverberated round the room, accompanied with a general laugh against the interrupter, who seizing the paper, appeared to read without noticing what was passing.
[222] “Of course not,” echoed throughout the room, followed by a collective laugh aimed at the interrupter, who grabbed the paper and seemed to read it without acknowledging what was happening.
The company was now interrupted by the entrance of several strangers, and our two friends departed on their return homeward for the evening.
The company was now interrupted by the arrival of several strangers, and our two friends left to head back home for the evening.
CHAPTER XVII
[223] Our heros next morning determined on a visit to their Hibernian friend and his aunt, whom they found had not yet forgot the entertainment at the Mansion-house, and which still continued to be the favorite topic of conversation. Sir Felix expressed his satisfaction that the worthy Citizens of London retained with increasing splendor their long established renown of pre-eminent distinction in the art of good living.
[223] The next morning, our heroes decided to visit their Irish friend and his aunt, who they found had not yet forgotten the party at the Mansion-house, which was still the favorite topic of conversation. Sir Felix expressed his pleasure that the good people of London continued to uphold their long-standing reputation for excellence in the art of fine living with even greater style.
“And let us hope,” said Dashall, “that they will not at any future period be reduced to the lamentable necessity of restraining the progress of epicurism, as in the year 1543, when the Lord Mayor and Common Council enacted a sumptuary law to prevent luxurious eating; by which it was ordered, that the Mayor should confine himself to seven, Aldermen and Sheriffs to six, and the Sword-bearer to four dishes at dinner or supper, under the penalty of forty shillings for each supernumerary dish!”
“And let’s hope,” said Dashall, “that they won’t have to face the sad necessity of limiting the spread of indulgence like they did in 1543, when the Lord Mayor and Common Council passed a law to stop excessive eating; it mandated that the Mayor could have only seven dishes, Aldermen and Sheriffs could have six, and the Sword-bearer could have four dishes at dinner or supper, with a fine of forty shillings for each extra dish!”
“A law,” rejoined the Baronet, “which voluptuaries of the present times would find more difficult of observance than any enjoined by the decalogue.”
“A law,” replied the Baronet, “that pleasure-seekers these days would find harder to follow than any commanded by the Ten Commandments.”
The Squire suggested the expediency of a similar enactment, with a view to productive results; for were the [224] wealthy citizens (he observed) prohibited the indulgence of luxurious eating, under certain penalties, the produce would be highly beneficial to the civic treasury.
The Squire proposed that a similar law might be useful for achieving positive outcomes; he noted that if the [224] wealthy citizens were banned from indulging in extravagant meals, with certain penalties in place, the benefits would greatly enhance the city's funds.
The Fine Arts claiming a priority of notice, the party determined on visiting a few of the private and public Exhibitions.
The Fine Arts demanded immediate attention, so the group decided to check out a few of the private and public exhibitions.
London is now much and deservedly distinguished for the cultivation of the fine arts. The commotions on the continent operated as a hurricane on the productions of
London is now widely recognized and rightly so for its emphasis on the fine arts. The turmoil on the continent acted like a storm on the creations of
genius, and the finest works of ancient and modern times ave been removed from their old situations to the asylum afforded by the wooden walls of Britain. Many of them have, therefore, been consigned to this country, and are now in the collections of our nobility and gentry, chiefly in and about the metropolis.
genius, and the greatest works of both ancient and modern times have been taken from their original locations to find refuge within the wooden walls of Britain. Many of them have, therefore, been entrusted to this country, and are now housed in the collections of our nobility and upper class, mainly in and around the capital.
Although France may possess the greatest number of the larger works of the old masters, yet England undoubtedly possesses the greatest portion of their first-rate productions, which is accounted for by the great painters exerting all their talents on such pictures as were not too large to be actually painted by their own hands, while in their larger works they resorted to inferior assistance. Pictures, therefore, of this kind, being extremely valuable, and at the same time portable, England, during the convulsions on the Continent, was the only place where such paintings could obtain a commensurate price. Such is the wealth of individuals in this country, that some of these pictures now described, belonging to private collections, were purchased at the great prices of ten and twelve thousand guineas each.
Although France might have the most large-scale works by the old masters, England definitely has the largest share of their top-quality pieces. This is because the great painters focused their talents on works that weren't too big to paint themselves, while they often relied on lesser help for their larger pieces. As a result, these types of paintings are incredibly valuable and also portable, making England the only place where such artworks could command a fair price during the upheavals on the Continent. The wealth of individuals in this country is such that some of the paintings currently in private collections were bought for as much as ten and twelve thousand guineas each.
Amongst the many private collections of pictures, statues, &c. in the metropolis, that of the Marquis of Stafford, called the Cleveland Gallery, is the most prominent, being the finest collection of the old masters in England, and was principally selected from the works that formerly composed the celebrated Orleans Gallery, and others, which at the commencement of the French revolution were brought to this country. Thither, then, our tourists directed their progress, and through the mediation of Dashall access was obtained without difficulty.
Among the many private collections of paintings, sculptures, etc. in the city, the Marquis of Stafford's collection, known as the Cleveland Gallery, stands out as the best. It features the finest collection of old master artworks in England, mainly chosen from pieces that once made up the famous Orleans Gallery, along with others that were brought to this country at the start of the French Revolution. So, our tourists made their way there, and thanks to Dashall's help, they were able to gain access without any trouble.
The party derived much pleasure in the inspection of this collection, which contains two or three fine pictures of Raphael, several by Titian and the Caracas, some [225] capital productions of the Dutch and Flemish schools, and some admirable productions of the English school, particularly two by Wilson, one by Turner, and one by Vobson, amounting, in the whole, to 300 first-rate pictures by the first masters, admirably distributed in the new gallery, the drawing-room, the Poussin room (containing eight chef d'oeuvres of that painter), the passage-room, dining-room, old anti-room, old gallery, and small room. The noble proprietor has liberally appropriated one day in the week for the public to view these pictures. The curiosity of.the visitors being now amply gratified, they retired, Sir Felix much pleased with the polite attention of the domestic who conducted them through the different apartments, to whom Miss Macgilligan offered a gratuity, but the acceptance of which was, with courteous acknowledgments, declined.
The group really enjoyed checking out this collection, which features a couple of great paintings by Raphael, several by Titian and the Caracas, some [225] excellent works from the Dutch and Flemish schools, and some outstanding pieces from the English school, especially two by Wilson, one by Turner, and one by Vobson, totaling 300 top-notch paintings by the best masters, beautifully arranged in the new gallery, the drawing room, the Poussin room (which has eight masterpieces by that artist), the passage room, dining room, old anteroom, old gallery, and small room. The generous owner has set aside one day a week for the public to see these paintings. With the visitors' curiosity fully satisfied, they left, and Sir Felix was pleased with the polite attention of the staff member who showed them around the various rooms. Miss Macgilligan tried to give a tip, but it was politely declined with thanks.
Proceeding to the house of Mr. Angerstein, Pall Mall, our party obtained leave to inspect a collection, not numerous, but perhaps the most select of any in London, and which has certainly been formed at the greatest expense in proportion to its numbers. Among its principal ornaments are four of the finest landscapes by Claude; the Venus and Adonis, and the Ganymede, by Titian, from the Colonna palace at Rome; a very fine landscape by Poussin, and other works by Velasquez, Rubens, Murillo, and Vandyck: to all which is added the invaluable series of Hogarth's Marriage-a-la-mode.
Heading to Mr. Angerstein's house on Pall Mall, our group got permission to check out a collection that, while not large, is likely the most select in London and has definitely been created at the highest cost relative to its size. Among its standout pieces are four of the finest landscapes by Claude, Titian's Venus and Adonis and Ganymede from the Colonna palace in Rome, an exceptional landscape by Poussin, and works by Velasquez, Rubens, Murillo, and Vandyck. Additionally, it features the priceless series of Hogarth's Marriage-a-la-mode.
Returning along Pall-Mall, our perambulators now reached the Gallery of the British Institution; a Public Exhibition, established in the year 1805, under the patronage of his late Majesty, for the encouragement and reward of the talents of British artists, exhibiting during half of the year a collection of the works of living artists for sale; and during the other half year, it is furnished with pictures painted by the most celebrated masters, for the study of the academic and other pupils in painting. The Institution, now patronised by his present Majesty, is supported by the subscriptions of the principal nobility and gentry, and the number of pictures sold under their influence is very considerable. The gallery was first opened on April 17, 1806.
Returning along Pall Mall, we now arrived at the Gallery of the British Institution; a public exhibition that was established in 1805, under the patronage of the late king, to encourage and reward the talents of British artists. For half the year, it showcases a collection of works by living artists for sale, and during the other half of the year, it features paintings by the most celebrated masters for the study of students in painting. The Institution, now supported by the current king, relies on subscriptions from prominent nobles and gentry, and the number of paintings sold under their influence is quite significant. The gallery first opened on April 17, 1806.
In 1813, the public were gratified by a display of the best works of Sir Joshua Reynolds, collected by the industry and influence of the committee, from the private [226] collections of the royal family, nobility, and gentry; and in 1814, by a collection of 221 pictures of those inimitable painters, Hogarth, Gainsborough, and Wilson.{1}
In 1813, the public enjoyed a showcase of the finest works by Sir Joshua Reynolds, gathered through the efforts and connections of the committee from private collections belonging to the royal family, nobility, and gentry; and in 1814, they were presented with a collection of 221 paintings from those unique artists, Hogarth, Gainsborough, and Wilson.{1}
Since then they have regularly two annual exhibitions; one, of the best works of the old masters, for the improvement of the public taste, and knowledge of the artists, varied by some of the deceased British artists, alternately with that on their old plan of the exhibition and sale of the works of living artists.
Since then, they hold two annual exhibitions regularly: one featuring the best works of the old masters to enhance public taste and knowledge of the artists, along with pieces from some deceased British artists, and the other following their original format of showcasing and selling the works of living artists.
The directors of this laudable Institution have also exhibited and procured the loan for study, of one or two of the inimitable cartoons of Raphael for their students. An annual private exhibition of their studies also takes place yearly; the last of which displayed such a degree of merit as no society or academy in Europe could equal.
The directors of this admirable institution have also displayed and secured the loan of one or two of Raphael's outstanding cartoons for their students to study. An annual private exhibition of their works also occurs each year; the latest one showcased a level of quality that no other society or academy in Europe could match.
Sir Felix, who on a former occasion had expressed a wish to acquire the art of verse-writing, was so much satisfied with his inspection of this exhibition, that he [227]became equally emulous of attaining the sister-art of painting; but Dashall requested him to suspend at present his choice, as perhaps he might alternately prefer the acquisition of music.
Sir Felix, who had previously expressed a desire to learn how to write poetry, was so impressed by this exhibition that he [227]also became eager to pursue the related skill of painting; however, Dashall suggested that he hold off on his decision for now, as he might also want to consider learning music.
“In that case,” rejoined the Baronet, “I must endeavour to acquire the knack of rhyming extempore, that I may accompany the discordant music with correspondent doggerels to the immortal memory of the heroic achievements of my revered Aunt's mighty progenitor—O'Brien king of Ulster.”
“In that case,” replied the Baronet, “I’ll have to try to get the hang of rhyming on the spot, so I can match the off-key music with some fitting jingles to honor the legendary feats of my beloved Aunt’s great ancestor—O'Brien, king of Ulster.”
This expression of contempt cast by the Baronet on the splendor of the ancient provincial sovereign of the north, had nearly created an open rupture between his aunt and him. Tallyho, however, happily succeeded in effecting an amnesty for the past, on promise under his guarantee of amendment for the future.
This expression of disdain thrown by the Baronet at the grandeur of the old provincial ruler of the north almost caused a serious rift between him and his aunt. Fortunately, Tallyho managed to broker a truce for the past, promising, with his assurance, to improve things moving forward.
The party now migrated by Spring Garden Gate into the salubrious regions of St. James's Park, and crossing its eastern extremity, took post of observation opposite the Horse Guards, an elegant building of stone, that divides Parliament-street from St. James's Park, to which it is the principal entrance. The architect was Ware, and the building cost upwards of £30,000. It derives its name from the two regiments of Life Guards (usually called the Horse Guards) mounting guard there.
The group now moved through Spring Garden Gate into the pleasant areas of St. James's Park, and after crossing its eastern edge, set up a lookout spot in front of the Horse Guards, an impressive stone building that separates Parliament Street from St. James's Park, which it mainly serves as the entrance to. The architect was Ware, and the construction cost more than £30,000. It gets its name from the two regiments of Life Guards (commonly referred to as the Horse Guards) that stand guard there.
“Here is transacted,” said Dashall, “all the business of the British army in a great variety of departments, consisting of the Commander-in-Chief's Office,—the Offices of the Secretary-at-War,—the Adjutant-General's Office,—the Quarter-Master-General's Office,—besides the Orderly Rooms for the three regiments of Foot Guards, whose arms are kept here. These three regiments, containing about 7000 men, including officers, and two regiments of Horse Guards, consisting together of 1200 men, at once serve as appendages to the King's royal state, and form a general military establishment for the metropolis. A body called the Yeomen of the Guard, consisting of 100 men, remains a curious relic of the dress of the King's guards in the fifteenth century. Some Light Horse are stationed at the Barracks in Hyde Park, to attend his Majesty, or other members of the Royal Family, chiefly in travelling; and to do duty on occasions immediately connected with the King's administration.
“Here is where all the operations of the British army take place,” said Dashall. “This includes the Commander-in-Chief's Office, the Secretary-at-War's offices, the Adjutant-General's Office, the Quarter-Master-General's Office, plus the Orderly Rooms for the three regiments of Foot Guards, whose weapons are stored here. These three regiments, which total around 7000 men including officers, along with two regiments of Horse Guards totaling 1200 men, collectively support the King's royal status and make up a central military establishment for the city. There's also a group known as the Yeomen of the Guard, made up of 100 men, which serves as an interesting remnant of the King's guards' attire from the fifteenth century. Some Light Horse are stationed at the Barracks in Hyde Park to accompany the King or other members of the Royal Family, mainly during travel, and to perform duties related to the King's administration.”
[228] “On the left is the Admiralty (anciently Wallingford House), containing the offices and apartments of the Lords Commissioners who superintend the marine department of this mighty empire.
[228] “On the left is the Admiralty (formerly Wallingford House), which houses the offices and apartments of the Lords Commissioners who oversee the maritime affairs of this great empire.
“On the right is the Treasury and Secretary of State's Offices. Here, in fact, is performed the whole State business of the British Empire. In one building is directed the movements of those fleets, whose thunders rule every sea, and strike terror into every nation. In the centre is directed the energies of an army, hitherto invincible in the field, and which, number for number, would beat any other army in the world. Adjoining are the executive departments with relation to civil and domestic concerns, to foreign nations, and to our exterior colonies. And to finish the groupe, here is that wonderful Treasury, which receives and pays above a hundred millions per annum.”
“On the right are the Treasury and the Secretary of State's Offices. This is where all the government business of the British Empire is handled. In this building, the operations of those fleets that dominate every sea and instill fear in every nation are managed. In the center, the efforts of an army, so far unbeatable in battle, are coordinated, and which, when matched against any other army in the world, would come out on top. Next to these are the executive departments dealing with civil and domestic issues, relations with foreign nations, and our overseas territories. And to complete the group, here is that remarkable Treasury, which manages over a hundred million each year.”
Entering Parliament-street from the Horse-Guards, our perambulators now proceeded to Westminster-bridge,{1} which passing, they paid a visit to Coade and Sealy's Gallery of Artificial Stone, Westminster-bridge-road.
Entering Parliament Street from the Horse Guards, our walkers now headed to Westminster Bridge,{1} and after crossing it, they dropped by Coade and Sealy's Gallery of Artificial Stone on Westminster Bridge Road.
This place contains a great variety of elegant models from the antique and modern masters, of statues, busts, vases, pedestals, monuments, architectural and sculptural decorations, modelled and baked on a composition harder and more durable than any stone.
This place features a wide range of stylish designs from both ancient and modern masters, including statues, busts, vases, pedestals, monuments, and architectural and sculptural decorations, all crafted and fired from a material that's harder and more durable than any stone.
Animadverting on the utility of this work combining the taste of elegance with the advantage of permanent wear, the two friends, Tom and Bob, recollected having seen, in their rambles through the metropolis, many specimens of the perfection of this ingenious art, particularly at Carlton-House, the Pelican Office, Lombard-street, and almost all the public halls. The statues of the four [229]quarters of the world, and others at the Bank, at the Admiralty, Trinity House, Tower-hill, Somerset-place, the Theatres; and almost every street presents objects, (some of 20 years standing,) as perfect as when put up.
Observing the usefulness of this work that combines elegance with durability, the two friends, Tom and Bob, recalled seeing many examples of this impressive art during their walks around the city, especially at Carlton House, the Pelican Office, Lombard Street, and nearly all the public halls. The statues representing the four [229] corners of the world and others at the Bank, Admiralty, Trinity House, Tower Hill, Somerset Place, the Theatres, and nearly every street showcase pieces (some over 20 years old) that are just as perfect as when they were first installed.
Retracing their steps homewards, our pedestrians again crossed the Park, and finding themselves once more in Spring Gardens, entered the Exhibition Rooms of the Society of Painters in Water Colours.
Retracing their steps home, our walkers crossed the Park again and, finding themselves back in Spring Gardens, entered the Exhibition Rooms of the Society of Painters in Water Colours.
This, beyond any other gratification of the morning, pleased the party the most. The vivid tints of the various well-executed landscapes had a pleasing effect, and wore more the appearance of nature than any similar display of the fascinating art which they had hitherto witnessed.
This, more than any other enjoyment of the morning, delighted the group the most. The bright colors of the beautifully crafted landscapes were very pleasing and looked more like nature than any similar presentation of the captivating art they had seen before.
This Society, which was formed in 1804, for the purpose of giving due emphasis to an interesting branch of art that was lost in the blaze of Somerset-House, where water-colours, however beautiful, harmonized so badly with paintings in oil, has, in its late exhibitions, deviated from its original and legitimate object, and has mixed with its own exquisite productions various pictures in oil.
This Society, which was established in 1804 to highlight an intriguing branch of art that was overshadowed by the fire at Somerset House, where watercolors, no matter how beautiful, clashed with oil paintings, has, in its recent exhibitions, strayed from its original and rightful purpose and has incorporated various oil paintings along with its own exquisite works.
The last annual exhibition of painting in oil and water colours, was as brilliant and interesting as any former one, and afforded unmixed pleasure to every visitor.
The latest annual exhibition of oil and watercolor paintings was just as brilliant and engaging as any previous one, providing pure enjoyment for every visitor.
One more attraction remained in Spring Gardens, which Tom, who had all the morning very ably performed the double duty of conductor and explainer, proposed the company's visiting;—“That is,” said he, “Wigley's Promenade Rooms, where are constantly on exhibition various objects of curiosity.”
One more attraction was left in Spring Gardens, which Tom, who had skillfully taken on the roles of both guide and narrator all morning, suggested the group should check out; “That is,” he said, “Wigley's Promenade Rooms, where various curious objects are always on display.”
Thither then they repaired, and were much pleased with two very extraordinary productions of ingenuity, the first Mr. Theodon's grand Mechanical and Picturesque Theatre, illustrative of the effect of art in imitation of nature, in views of the Island of St. Helena, the City of Paris, the passage of Mount St. Barnard, Chinese artificial fireworks, and a storm at sea. The whole was conducted on the principle of perspective animation, in a manner highly picturesque, natural, and interesting.
They then went there and were very impressed by two incredible displays of creativity. The first was Mr. Theodon's grand Mechanical and Picturesque Theatre, which showed how art imitates nature through views of St. Helena Island, the City of Paris, the passage of Mount St. Barnard, Chinese fireworks, and a storm at sea. The whole experience was based on perspective animation and was extremely picturesque, natural, and engaging.
Here also our party examined the original model of a newly invented travelling automaton, a machine which can, with ease and accuracy, travel at the rate of six miles an hour, ascend acclivities, and turn the narrowest corners, by machinery only, conducted by one of the persons seated within, without the assistance of either horse or steam.
Here, our group also looked at the original model of a newly invented traveling robot, a machine that can easily and accurately move at six miles per hour, climb hills, and navigate the tightest corners, all through its machinery, controlled by one of the people inside, without help from a horse or steam.
[230] This extraordinary piece of mechanism attracted the particular attention of the Baronet, who minutely explored its principles, with the view, as he said, of its introduction to general use, in the province of Munster, in substitution of ricketty jaunting-cars and stumbling geldings. Miss Judith Macgilligan likewise condescended to honour this novel carriage with her approbation, as an economical improvement, embracing, with its obvious utility, a vast saving in the keep of horses, and superseding the use of jaunting-cars, the universal succedaneum, in Ireland, for more respectable vehicles; but which, she added, no lady of illustrious ancestry should resort to.
[230] This remarkable piece of machinery caught the Baronet's attention, who carefully examined its principles, intending, as he said, to introduce it for general use in the province of Munster, replacing rickety jaunting cars and unstable horses. Miss Judith Macgilligan also took the time to endorse this new carriage as a cost-effective improvement, highlighting its clear utility and significant savings on horse upkeep, thus eliminating the need for jaunting cars, which were the common substitute in Ireland for more respectable vehicles; however, she added that no lady of noble lineage should resort to them.
This endless recurrence to noble descent elicited from Sir Felix another “palpable hit;” who observed, that those fastidious dames of antiquity, to whatever country belonging, of apparent asperity to the present times, would do well in laying aside unfounded prejudices; that the age to which Miss Macgilligan so frequently alluded, was one of the most ignorant barbarism; and the unpolished females of that day unequal to a comparison with those of the present, as much so, as the savage squaws of America with the finished beauties of an Irish Vicegerent's drawing-room.{1}
This constant focus on noble heritage prompted another “palpable hit” from Sir Felix, who remarked that those picky ladies from the past, no matter their nationality, who seem so harsh in today’s world, really should let go of their baseless prejudices. He pointed out that the era Miss Macgilligan often referred to was one of the most ignorant barbarism and that the unrefined women of that time were incomparable to those of today, just like the Native American women are to the sophisticated beauties in an Irish Governor's drawing room.{1}
Re-entering St. James's Park, our party directed their course towards the Mall, eastward of which they were agreeably amused by the appearance of groupes of children, who, under the care of attendant nursery maids, were regaling themselves with milk from the cow, thus presenting to these delighted juveniles a rural feast in the heart of the metropolis.
Re-entering St. James's Park, our group headed towards the Mall, where they were happily entertained by the sight of groups of children, who, under the supervision of nursery maids, were enjoying milk from the cow, creating a rural feast for these delighted kids in the heart of the city.
[231] Here Dashall drew the attention of his friends to a very important improvement. “Until within these few months,” said he, “the Park at night-fall presented a very sombre aspect; being so imperfectly lighted as to encourage the resort of the most depraved characters of both sexes; and although, in several instances, a general caption, by direction of the police, was made of these nocturnal visitants, yet the evil still remained; when a brilliant remedy at last was found, by entirely irradiating the darkness hitherto so favourable to the career of licentiousness: these lamps, each at a short distance from the other, have been lately introduced; stretching along the Mall, and circumscribing the Park, they shed a noon-tide splendor on the solitude of midnight. They are lighted with gas, and continue burning from sunset to day-break, combining ornament with utility. Thus vice has been banished from her wonted haunts, and the Park has become a respectable evening promenade.
[231] Here, Dashall pointed out a very important improvement to his friends. “Until a few months ago,” he said, “the Park at dusk had a very gloomy atmosphere; it was so poorly lit that it attracted the company of the most immoral people of both genders. Even though there were times when the police rounded up these nighttime visitors, the problem persisted. Finally, a brilliant solution was discovered by completely lighting up the darkness that previously allowed for such reckless behavior: these lamps, spaced closely apart, have recently been installed; they run along the Mall and surround the Park, casting a bright light on the midnight solitude. They’re powered by gas and stay lit from sunset to dawn, combining beauty with function. As a result, vice has been driven out from its usual spots, and the Park has turned into a respectable evening stroll.”
“This Park,” continued the communicative Dashall, “which is nearly two miles in circuit, was enclosed by King Charles II., who planted the avenues, made the Canal and the Aviary adjacent to the Bird-cage Walk, which took its name from the cages hung in the trees; but the present fine effect of the piece of ground within the railing, is the fruit of the genius of the celebrated Mr. Brown."{1}
“This Park,” continued the talkative Dashall, “which is almost two miles around, was enclosed by King Charles II., who planted the paths, created the Canal and the Aviary near the Bird-cage Walk, which got its name from the cages hung in the trees; but the current beautiful appearance of the area within the fence is the result of the talent of the famous Mr. Brown."{1}
[232] The party now seated themselves on one of the benches in the Mall, opposite the spot where lately stood the Chinese or Pagoda bridge. Tallyho had often animadverted on the absurdity of the late inconvenient and heterogeneous wooden structure, which had been erected at a considerable public expense; its dangling non-descript ornaments, and tiresome acclivity and descent of forty steps each. “What,” said he, “notwithstanding the protection by centinels of this precious memento of vitiated taste, has it become the prey of dilapidation?”
[232] The group now settled on one of the benches in the Mall, across from where the Chinese or Pagoda bridge used to be. Tallyho had often criticized the ridiculousness of the recently built, inconvenient, and mismatched wooden structure, which had cost a lot of public money; its awkward, random decorations and the annoying forty steps up and down. “How,” he said, “despite the guards protecting this precious reminder of bad taste, has it fallen into such disrepair?”
“Rather,” answered Dashall, “of premature decay. Its crazy condition induced the sage authors of its origin to hasten its destruction; like the Cherokee chief, who, when the object of his regard becomes no longer useful, buries him alive!”
“Instead,” Dashall replied, “of an early end. Its insane state prompted the wise creators to rush its demise; like the Cherokee chief who, when something he cares about is no longer useful, buries it alive!”
Contrasting the magnificent appearance of the adjacent edifices, as seen from the Park, with one of apparently very humble pretensions, Miss Macgilligan inquired to what purpose the “shabby fabric” was applied, and by whom occupied.
Contrasting the impressive look of the nearby buildings, visible from the Park, with one that seemed quite modest, Miss Macgilligan asked what the "shabby structure" was used for and who lived there.
“That 'shabby fabric,' Madam,” responded Dashall, “is St. James's Palace, erected by Henry VIII., in which our sovereigns of England have held their Courts from the reign of Queen Anne to that of his late Majesty George III.” {1}
“That's 'shabby fabric,' Ma'am,” replied Dashall, “it's St. James's Palace, built by Henry VIII, where our English monarchs have held their Courts from the time of Queen Anne until the reign of his late Majesty George III.” {1}
[233] The descendant of O'Brien was astonished, and connecting her ideas of the internal show of this Palace with its outward appearance, doubted not, secretly, that it was far inferior to the residence, in former times, of her royal progenitor.
[233] The descendant of O'Brien was amazed, and combining her thoughts about the inner workings of this Palace with its exterior look, privately doubted that it was anywhere near as impressive as the home of her royal ancestor in the past.
Probably guessing her thoughts, Dashall proceeded to observe, that the Palace was venerable from age, and in its interior decoration that it fully corresponded in splendor with the regal purposes to which it had been so long applied; “It is now, however,” he added, “about to assume a still more imposing aspect, being under alterations and adornments, for the reception of the Court of his present Majesty, which, when completed, will render it worthy the presence of the Sovereign of this great Empire.”
Probably sensing her thoughts, Dashall continued to note that the Palace was old and that its interior design matched the grandeur it had always served for royal purposes. "However," he added, "it's about to take on an even more impressive look, as it's being renovated and decorated for the arrival of the Court of the current King. Once it's finished, it will truly be worthy of the presence of the Sovereign of this vast Empire."
[234] The sole use made lately of St. James's Palace, is for purposes of state. In 1808, the south-eastern wing of the building was destroyed by fire; the state apartments were, however, uninjured, and the Court of George the Third and his Queen was held here.
[234] The only recent use of St. James's Palace is for state functions. In 1808, the southeastern wing of the building was destroyed by fire; however, the state apartments were unharmed, and the court of George III and his queen was held here.
On the right of the Palace, the attention of the party was next attracted by Marlborough House. It was built in the reign of Queen Anne, by the public, at the expense of 40,000L. on part of the royal gardens, and given by the Queen and Parliament, on a long lease, to the great Duke of Marlborough. It is a handsome building, much improved of late years, and has a garden extending to the Park, and forms a striking contrast to the adjoining Palace of St. James's. It is now the town residence of his Royal Highness, Prince Leopold of Saxe Cobourg.
On the right of the Palace, the group's attention was drawn to Marlborough House. It was built during Queen Anne's reign, funded by the public at a cost of £40,000, on part of the royal gardens. The Queen and Parliament granted it to the Duke of Marlborough on a long lease. It’s a beautiful building that has been upgraded in recent years and features a garden that extends to the Park, creating a striking contrast with the nearby Palace of St. James's. It is currently the town residence of His Royal Highness, Prince Leopold of Saxe Cobourg.
Our party now passed into St. James's-street, where Miss Macgilligan, whose acerbitude of temper had been much softened by the politeness of her friends during the morning's ramble, mentioned, that she had a visit to make on an occasion of etiquette, and requesting the honour of the gentlemen's company to dinner, she was handed by the Squire of Belville-hall, with all due gallantry and obeisance, into a hackney-chariot; Tom in the meanwhile noting its number, in the anticipation of its ultimately proving a requisite precaution.
Our group now moved into St. James's Street, where Miss Macgilligan, whose sharp temper had been mellowed by the kindness of her friends during the morning walk, mentioned that she had a visit to make for a social obligation and requested the gentlemen to join her for dinner. The Squire of Belville Hall gallantly assisted her into a hired carriage, while Tom took note of its number, anticipating that it might be a necessary precaution later on.
The trio, now left to their own pursuits, lounged leisurely up St. James's-street, and pausing at the caricature shop, an incident occurred which placed in a very favorable point of view the Baronet's promptitude of reply and equanimity of temper. Having had recourse to his glasses, lie stood on the pavement, examining the prints, unobservant of any other object; when a porter with a load brushed hastily forward, and coming in contact with the Baronet, put him, involuntarily, by the violence of the shock, to the left about face, without the word either of caution or command. “Damn your spectacles!” at same time, exclaimed the fellow; “Thank you, my good friend,” rejoined Sir Felix,—“it is not the first time that my spectacles have saved my eyes!”
The trio, now focused on their own activities, strolled casually up St. James's Street, and while stopping at the caricature shop, an incident occurred that highlighted the Baronet's quick thinking and calm demeanor. Having put on his glasses, he stood on the sidewalk, studying the prints, completely unaware of anything else around him; when a porter carrying a load rushed forward and accidentally bumped into the Baronet, causing him to spin around with the force of the collision, without any warning or instructions. “Damn your glasses!” the porter shouted at the same time; “Thank you, my good friend,” Sir Felix replied—“this isn’t the first time my glasses have protected my eyes!”
[235] Remarking on this rencounter, Dashall observed, that the insolence of these fellows was become really a public nuisance. Armed in the panoply of arrogance, they assume the right of the footway, to the ejection, danger, and frequent injury of other passengers; moving in a direct line with loads that sometimes stretch on either side the width of the pavement, they dash onward, careless whom they may run against, or what mischief may ensue. “I would not,” continued Dashall, “class them with beasts of burthen, and confine them to the carriage-way of the street, like other brutes of that description; but I would have them placed under the control of some salutary regulations, and humanized under the dread of punishment.”
[235] Commenting on this encounter, Dashall noted that the arrogance of these guys had truly become a public nuisance. Dressed in their confident attitude, they take over the sidewalk, putting other pedestrians at risk and often causing harm; moving straight ahead with loads that sometimes extend beyond the width of the pavement, they barrel forward, indifferent to who they might bump into or what trouble could follow. “I wouldn’t,” Dashall added, “compare them to pack animals and force them to stay in the road like other creatures of that kind; instead, I believe they should be subject to some effective regulations and treated with a sense of responsibility.”
The Squire coincided with his friend in opinion, and added, by way of illustration, that it was only a few days since he witnessed a serious accident occasioned by the scandalous conduct of a porter: the fellow bore on his shoulders a chest of drawers, a corner of which, while he forced his way along the pavement, struck a young lady a stunning blow on the head, bringing her violently to the ground, and falling against a shop window, one of her hands went through a pane of glass, by which she was severely cut; thus sustaining a double injury, either of which might have been attended with fatal consequences.
The Squire agreed with his friend and added, as an example, that just a few days ago he saw a serious accident caused by a careless porter. The guy was carrying a chest of drawers on his shoulders, and while he pushed his way down the sidewalk, a corner of it hit a young lady hard on the head, knocking her down. She fell against a shop window, and one of her hands went through a glass pane, resulting in a severe cut. She ended up with two injuries, either of which could have been deadly.
The three friends had now gained the fashionable lounge of Bond-street, whence turning into Conduit-street, they entered Limmer's Coffee-house, for the purpose of closing, by refreshment, the morning's excursion.
The three friends had now reached the trendy lounge on Bond Street, and after turning onto Conduit Street, they entered Limmer's Coffee House to wrap up their morning outing with some refreshments.
Here Dashall recognized an old acquaintance in the person of an eminent physician, who, after an interchange of civilities, resumed his attention to the daily journals.
Here, Dashall spotted an old acquaintance in a prominent doctor, who, after exchanging pleasantries, went back to reading the daily news.
In the same box with this gentleman, and directly opposite, sat another, whose health was apparently on the decline, who finding that the ingenious physician had occasionally dropped into this coffee-house, had placed himself vis-a-vis the doctor, and made many indirect efforts to withdraw his attention from the newspaper to examine the index of his (the invalid's) constitution. He at last ventured a bold push at once, in the following terms: “Doctor,” said he, “I have for a long time been very far from being well, and as I belong to an office, where I am obliged to attend everyday, the complaints I have prove very troublesome to me, [236] and I would be glad to remove them.”—The doctor laid down his paper, and regarded his patient with a steady eye, while he proceeded. “I have but little appetite, and digest what I eat very poorly; I have a strange swimming in my head,” &c. In short, after giving the doctor a full quarter of an hour's detail of all his symptoms, he concluded the state of his case with a direct question:—“Pray, doctor, what shall I take?” The doctor, in the act of resuming the newspaper, gave him the following laconic prescription:—“Take, why, take advice!”
In the same booth as this gentleman, and directly across from him, sat another man whose health seemed to be getting worse. Noticing that the clever doctor occasionally visited this coffee house, he positioned himself opposite the doctor and tried several indirect ways to get his attention away from the newspaper to assess his (the sick man's) condition. Finally, he made a bold approach and said, “Doctor, I haven’t been well for a long time, and since I work in an office where I have to show up every day, my complaints are quite bothersome, and I’d like to get rid of them.” The doctor put down his paper and looked at him intently as he continued. “I have very little appetite, and I don’t digest what I eat well; I also feel a strange dizziness in my head,” etc. In short, after spending a full fifteen minutes detailing all his symptoms, he wrapped up by directly asking, “So, doctor, what should I take?” The doctor, about to pick up his newspaper again, gave him this short prescription: “Take, well, take advice!”
This colloquy, and its ludicrous result, having been perfectly audible to the company present, afforded considerable entertainment, of which the manoeuvring invalid seemed in no degree willing to partake, for he presently made his exit, without even thanking the doctor for his gratuitous advice.{1}
This conversation, and its ridiculous outcome, was completely audible to everyone present, providing a lot of entertainment, which the scheming patient didn't seem interested in at all, as he quickly left without even thanking the doctor for his free advice.{1}
[237] The repast ended, the friends separated; Sir Felix to rejoin his august relative at their lodgings, and arrange with her preparations for the entertainment of Tom and Bob, and these two gentlemen also returning homewards to dress for the important occasion.
[237] After the meal, the friends went their separate ways; Sir Felix headed back to his distinguished relative at their place to help her get ready for Tom and Bob's visit, while the two gentlemen also made their way home to get dressed for the big event.
Passing the house of his tailor, the Baronet stept in, and desired Mr. Snip to send to his lodgings, any time in the course of the evening, for the last new suit, for the purpose of alteration, as had been already pointed out.
Passing by his tailor's shop, the Baronet went in and asked Mr. Snip to send over his last new suit to his place sometime in the evening for alterations, as had already been mentioned.
Miss Macgilligan had preceded her nephew in reaching home, and gave him, on his arrival, an appropriate and edifying lecture on a three-fold subject, embracing—petulancy,—respect to superiors,—and veneration for the memory of our ancestors.
Miss Macgilligan got home before her nephew and gave him a fitting and insightful lecture upon his arrival. The lecture covered three main topics: being irritable, showing respect to those in authority, and honoring the memory of our ancestors.
The Baronet, who never designed seriously to insult his aunt, but merely to have a bye-blow at her prominent foible,—pride of descent,—listened with becoming deference to her dissertation, which was interrupted by the entrance of his servant, (the same who on a certain occasion confided to Mother Cummings the safety of his master's property,{1})—“The tailor's boy, Sir Felix, for the new suit your Honor ordered to be altered.”—“Very well,” rejoined Sir Felix, “sure enough Mr. Snip is prompt in observance of instructions,—let the lad have the suit immediately.”—This business having been despatched, Miss Macgilligan was about to resume her admonitory discourse; when, luckily, the arrival of the expected guests prevented its continuance, and it was consequently postponed until a more favourable opportunity.
The Baronet, who didn’t mean to seriously offend his aunt but just wanted to poke fun at her major flaw—her pride in her lineage—listened with appropriate respect to her lecture. It was interrupted by the arrival of his servant, (the same one who once told Mother Cummings about his master's belongings' safety,{1})—“The tailor's boy, Sir Felix, with the new suit you ordered to be altered.” —“Alright,” replied Sir Felix, “Mr. Snip is certainly quick to follow directions—let the boy have the suit right away.” Once that was taken care of, Miss Macgilligan was about to continue her warning speech when fortunately, the expected guests arrived, preventing any further discussion, which would have to wait for a better time.
Dinner was shortly announced, during which nothing occurred of particular import. When the exhilirating “Tuscan grape” had superseded the discarded viands, Miss Macgilligan mentioned, that she had been grossly imposed upon by the driver of the hackney-chariot. It seems, that conceiving Jehu was exacting more than his fare, the lady, presenting a handful of silver, told him to take it all, if he thought proper, and the conscientious knight of the whip had actually embraced the offer in its literal acceptation, and pocketing the money, made the best of his way, before she recovered from the surprise occasioned by this “iniquitous” transaction.
Dinner was soon announced, and nothing significant happened during it. After the delightful “Tuscan grape” replaced the leftover food, Miss Macgilligan mentioned that she had been seriously taken advantage of by the cab driver. It turns out that she thought the driver was asking for more than the fare, so she offered him a handful of silver and told him to keep it all if he wanted. The honest driver actually took her up on that offer in the most literal way, pocketed the money, and quickly left before she could recover from the shock of this “unjust” incident.
[238] “Iniquitous!” repeated the Baronet;—“by the powers of folly but there was no advantage taken at all, at all; and the man must have been worse than an idiot had he rejected so liberal an offer! Gra-machree, he might cry, and thanks to the donor, such opportunities don't occur every day.”
[238] "Unbelievable!" the Baronet exclaimed; "by the powers of foolishness, there was absolutely no advantage taken at all; the man would have had to be more than an idiot to turn down such a generous offer! He could shout 'dear heart' in gratitude to the donor, as opportunities like this don't come around every day."
Appealing to her guests, she had the mortification of finding the opinion of her nephew supported.—“Certainly, madam,” said Dashall, “the conduct of the man in putting a construction not meant upon your word, was highly reprehensible; yet I am afraid that redress is unavailable. A gift was implied, though obviously not intended, but impartially speaking, you tendered a donation, and the man, if not morally right, was legally justifiable in accepting it.”
Appealing to her guests, she felt humiliated to discover that her nephew's opinion was backed. “Of course, ma'am,” said Dashall, “the way that man twisted your words was completely unacceptable; however, I’m afraid there’s nothing you can do about it. A gift was implied, even if it wasn't intended, but to be fair, you offered a donation, and the man, while maybe not morally right, was legally justified in accepting it.”
While this case was under discussion, the baronet chuckled at the mischance of his aunt, and in defiance of the admonition given him a few hours before, seemed more petulant, less respectful, and totally irreverent of his ancestors.
While this case was being discussed, the baronet laughed at his aunt's misfortune, and despite the warning he received a few hours earlier, he appeared more irritable, less respectful, and completely dismissive of his ancestors.
In the enjoyment of this triumph, and asserting that he could not be taken-in, even by the most artfully conducted manouvre, he was struck dumb by the information that Mr. Snip the tailor had called for the new suit. “The devil fly over the hill of Howth with him!” exclaimed the astounded Sir Felix, with a secret foreboding of evil, “has he not had the new suit, hours ago?”
In celebrating this victory and confidently claiming that he couldn’t be fooled, even by the most cleverly executed trick, he was left speechless when he found out that Mr. Snip, the tailor, had come for the new suit. “May the devil take him over Howth Hill!” exclaimed the shocked Sir Felix, with a hidden sense of impending trouble. “Didn’t he get the new suit hours ago?”
“He says not, sir,” answered the servant.
“He didn’t say, sir,” replied the servant.
“Where then, in the name of mystery,” rejoined the baronet, “are the clothes gone to? They were sent by his boy, were they not?”
“Where then, in the name of mystery,” replied the baronet, “did the clothes go? They were sent by his boy, right?”
“He denies, sir,” responded the servant, “that he sent for the clothes at all at all.”
“He denies, sir,” the servant replied, “that he sent for the clothes at all.”
“Sowl of my grandmother! send in this snip of a tailor instantaneously.”
“Soul of my grandmother! Send in this little tailor right away.”
Dashall immediately surmised a fraud, and the statement of Snip converted suspicion into fact.
Dashall quickly figured out there was a scam, and Snip's statement turned suspicion into certainty.
Mr. Snip repeated, that he had not sent for the clothes; and neither did he keep a boy; but he recollected that there was a lad in his shop purchasing some trifling article at the time Sir Felix gave his address, and ordered the new suit to be sent for; and there is no doubt, added Snip, that this young adept, being thus put in the way of successfully practising a fraud, gladly availed himself of the opportunity, and obtained possession of the clothes in my name. But, Sir Felix (continued Mr. Snip) it must have escaped your recollection when [239] you sanctioned the delivery of the clothes, that I had particularly cautioned you, when you first honoured me with your custom, against your sending to my house any articles of apparel by pretended messengers from me, unless on the authority of my own hand writing.”
Mr. Snip repeated that he hadn’t ordered the clothes and didn’t have a boy working for him. However, he remembered a kid in his shop buying something trivial when Sir Felix gave his address and requested that the new suit be sent over. There's no doubt, Snip added, that this young guy, seeing a chance to pull off a scam, took advantage of it and got the clothes in my name. But, Sir Felix, Mr. Snip continued, it must have slipped your mind when [239] you approved the delivery of the clothes that I specifically warned you, when you first started doing business with me, not to send any clothing to my address with fake messengers from me, unless it was authorized by my own handwriting.
“I exonerate you,” said the baronet, “from censure, and exempt you from loss. I have been swindled. There is now no remedy. So make me another suit, and by stricter vigilance, we shall endeavour to avoid future depredation."{1}
“I absolve you,” said the baronet, “from blame, and free you from any penalties. I have been cheated. There’s no way to fix it now. So, make me another suit, and with stricter oversight, we’ll try to prevent future thefts.”{1}
[240] It was now Miss Macgilligan's turn to triumph, but, to the surprise and relief of her nephew, she did not avail herself of the privilege; sensible, perhaps, that the loss which site sustained, was occasioned by her own imprudence, and that his misfortune might have happened to those even the most guarded against deception, she consoled instead of recriminating. The most perfect unanimity now prevailed between the two relatives; and the evening passed on with increased pleasure. The unexpected migration of the new suit led to conversation on the frauds of London, when Dashall justly observed, that if the ingenuity exemplified in depredation was exercised in honest industry, in place of being now the pest, many of those men might have been the ornaments of Society.
[240] It was now Miss Macgilligan's turn to celebrate, but, to her nephew's surprise and relief, she didn’t take advantage of the moment; perhaps realizing that the loss she faced was due to her own carelessness, and that his misfortune could have happened to anyone, even the most cautious against deceit, she chose to comfort him instead of blame. There was complete harmony between the two relatives, and the evening went on with greater enjoyment. The unexpected appearance of the new suit led to a discussion about the scams in London, when Dashall pointed out that if the creativity used for deception was applied to honest work, instead of being a nuisance, many of those men could have been celebrated members of Society.
CHAPTER XVIII
[241] Our two friends, in consequence of some allusions made by the company at the Finish, on a preceding day, to a house of great theatrical celebrity in Drury-lane, resolved on a visit the following evening; and it may here be necessary to introduce such of our readers as are not in the secret, to the same.
[241] Our two friends, due to some comments made by the group at the Finish the day before, about a well-known theater in Drury Lane, decided to check it out the next evening; and it might be useful to introduce those of our readers who aren't in the loop to the same.
The Harp, opposite Drury-lane Theatre, is well known as the resort of theatrical amateurs and professors; but those who have not had an opportunity of visiting its interior, can scarcely form an idea of the mirth, wit, and humour constantly displayed within its walls. The circumstance here alluded to, though not exactly introduced in point of time, is one which generally takes place once in three years; viz. the election of a Mayor to represent the now City of Lushington, an event which is attended with as much of bustle, interest, and whimsicality, as a popular election for a member of Parliament. The generality of the persons who are frequent visitors to the house are termed Harponians, and by due qualification become citizens of Lushington. Although we cannot give a true and circumstantial history of this ancient city, we doubt not our numerous readers will discover that its title is derived from an important article in life, commonly called Lush. The four wards are also appropriately titled, as symbolical of the effects which are usually produced by its improper application. On entering the room, the first corner on the right hand is Suicide Ward, and derives its appellation from a society so named, in which each member is bound by an oath, that however he might feel inclined to lay violent hands upon his glass, he would not lay violent hands upon his own existence.
The Harp, across from Drury Lane Theatre, is well-known as a favorite spot for theater enthusiasts and professionals. However, those who haven't had the chance to visit its interior can hardly imagine the laughter, wit, and humor that's always on display within its walls. The event mentioned here, although not introduced chronologically, usually happens every three years: the election of a Mayor for the now City of Lushington. This event brings as much excitement, interest, and quirky fun as a popular election for a Member of Parliament. The regular visitors to the establishment are called Harponians, and by meeting certain requirements, they become citizens of Lushington. While we can't provide a detailed history of this ancient city, we’re sure our many readers will notice that its name comes from a crucial element in life, commonly known as Lush. The four wards are also aptly named to reflect the effects often caused by its improper use. Upon entering the room, the first corner on the right is Suicide Ward, named after a society of the same name, where each member swears that, no matter how tempted they may feel to harm their drink, they won't harm their own life.
[242] The left hand corner has also a name as appropriate as its neighbour, being called Poverty Ward; so termed from its vicinity to the door, and the ease with which a citizen, whose tanner case{1} and toggery{2} are out of repair, may make his entree and exit, without subjecting himself to the embarrassing gaze and scrutiny of his more fortunate fellow-citizens. Juniper Ward, which is directly opposite to Poverty Ward, may in a moral point of view be said to mark the natural gradation rom the one to the other. Whether these wards are so placed by the moral considerations of the ingenious citizens or not, we are at present unable to learn; but we have discovered that Juniper Ward is so called in consequence of a club, consisting of seven citizens, who bound themselves to meet every evening exactly on the spot, taking each upon himself to defray the expense of blue ruin for the whole party on each evening alternately. In the corner directly opposite to Suicide Ward is Lunatic Ward, indicative no doubt of the few steps there are between the one and the other: hence the four corner pillars of this ancient and honourable city are replete with moral instruction to the wise and discriminating part of society.
[242] The left-hand corner has a name just as fitting as its neighbor, called Poverty Ward. It got this name because of its closeness to the door, allowing a citizen, whose clothing and appearance are not up to par, to come and go easily without facing the judgmental stares and scrutiny of his more fortunate fellow citizens. Juniper Ward, located directly across from Poverty Ward, could be seen as representing the moral spectrum from one to the other. We can't confirm if these wards were arranged based on the moral insights of the clever citizens, but we have found out that Juniper Ward is named after a club of seven citizens who committed to meet every evening at that spot, with each one taking turns covering the cost of blue ruin for the entire group each night. The corner directly across from Suicide Ward is Lunatic Ward, which surely suggests how closely related the two are. Thus, the four corner pillars of this ancient and honorable city are filled with moral lessons for the wise and discerning members of society.
Each of these wards, like the wards of the City of London, has its alderman, and no doubt can be entertained of their being ably represented, as well as their rights and privileges being well secured and sustained. A gentleman who is well known and highly respected for his abilities and attentions as theatrical agent, which character he has sustained for many years, is high bailiff, and at proper periods issues his writ in the following form:—
Each of these districts, similar to the districts of the City of London, has its own alderman, and there is no doubt that they are well represented, with their rights and privileges being effectively protected and upheld. A gentleman who is well known and highly respected for his skills and dedication as a theatrical agent, a role he has held for many years, serves as the high bailiff and regularly issues his writ in the following format:—
“City of Lushington, (to wit.)
“City of Lushington, (namely.)
“The high bailiff having received a requisition to convene a meeting for the purpose of nominating aldermen to represent the different wards, and from them to elect a mayor for the above city for the year ensuing;
“The high bailiff received a request to hold a meeting to nominate aldermen to represent the different wards, and from those aldermen, to elect a mayor for the city for the coming year;
[243] “The high bailiff, in pursuance thereof, fixes Saturday the 22d December inst. to nominate for the purpose aforesaid, and from thence proceed to the election, which election is to continue till the following Monday, being the 24th, when the poll is to be closed.
[243] “The high bailiff, in line with that, sets Saturday, December 22nd, to nominate for the purpose mentioned, and then move on to the election, which will run until the following Monday, the 24th, when the poll will close.
“Given under my hand, this 18th day of December, 1821. (Signed) “F. SIMS, high bailiff.”
“Given under my hand, this 18th day of December, 1821. (Signed) “F. SIMS, high bailiff.”
“Lushington Hall.”
"Lushington Hall."
“The election to commence at 7 o'clock; the poll to be closed at half-past 10.”
“The election will start at 7 o'clock, and the polling will close at 10:30.”
After this official notice, preparations are made in due form for the election, and in the fitting up of the hustings the most skilful and ingenious artists are selected from the several wards, while the candidates are employed in forming their committees, and canvassing their friends and fellow-citizens, each of them professing an intention to intersect the city with canals of sky blue, to reduce the price of heavy wet, and to cultivate plantations of the weed, to be given away for the benefit and advantage of the community, thereby to render taxation useless, and the comforts of life comeatable by all ranks and degrees of society. To take the burthensome load of civic state upon themselves, in order that their friends and neighbours may be free; that independence may become universal, and that the suffrages of the people may be beyond controul nor can it be doubted but these professions are made with as much sincerity in many of a similar nature in larger cities, and in situations of much greater importance.
After this official announcement, preparations are made for the election, and for setting up the voting areas, the most talented and creative artists are chosen from the different neighborhoods. Meanwhile, the candidates form their committees and reach out to their friends and fellow citizens, each claiming they plan to connect the city with sky-blue canals, lower the price of heavy drinks, and create spaces for growing the weed, which will be distributed to benefit the community. This would make taxes unnecessary and the comforts of life accessible to all social classes. They take on the burdens of public service so their friends and neighbors can be free; they want independence to be universal and ensure that the people's votes are uncontrollable. It's undeniable that these promises are made with as much sincerity as many similar ones in larger cities and in far more significant situations.
It is, however, proper to observe, that in the City of Lushington there are no sinecures, no placemen and pensioners, to exhaust the treasury; honour is the grand inducement for the acceptance of office, and highly honour'd are those who are fortunate enough to obtain the mark s of distinction to which they aspire.
It is, however, important to note that in the City of Lushington there are no cushy jobs, no political appointees or pensioners draining the treasury; honor is the main reason for taking on a position, and those lucky enough to achieve the marks of distinction they seek are held in high regard.
[244] The oath administered upon such occasions is of a most serious and solemn nature; which, however, notwithstanding the conscientious scruples of the voters, must be taken with suitable gravity before they can be, permitted to poll; being in substance nearly as follows:—
[244] The oath given on such occasions is very serious and solemn; however, despite the voters' personal beliefs, it must be taken with proper seriousness before they can be allowed to vote. The oath is essentially as follows:—
“I (A. B.) do swear that I have been an inhabitant of the City of Lushington for the space of — years; and that I have taken within its walls — pots of porter, — glasses of jackey, and smoked —pipes; (the blanks are filled in according to circumstances); that is to say, one pot of heavy wet, one glass of juniper, and one loading of weed at least annually; have been the cause of such acts in others, or have been present when such acts have been performed; and that I have not polled at this election.”
“I, A. B., swear that I have lived in the City of Lushington for — years; and that I have consumed — pots of porter, — glasses of jackey, and smoked — pipes (the blanks are filled in according to circumstances); that is to say, at least one pot of heavy wet, one glass of juniper, and one load of weed each year; have caused such actions in others, or have been present when such actions were taken; and that I did not vote in this election.”
This oath is sworn with all due solemnity, by kissing the foot of a broken glass, and the vote is then recorded.
This oath is taken very seriously, by kissing the foot of a broken glass, and then the vote is officially documented.
Tom and Bob, who had so little previous intimation of this important event, were informed as they proceeded to the scene of action, by a friend of one of the candidates, that the election was strongly contested between Sir William Sims, the son of the worthy high bailiff, Sir Benjamin Rosebud, Jessamine Sweetbriar, Sir Peter Paid, and Peregrine Foxall, the silver-toned orator, strongly supported by the Tag Rag and Bobtail Club. Sir Frederick Atkinson introduced and proposed by the Marquis of Huntley, a well known sporting character from the county of Surrey, and Mr. Alderman Whetman, of Lushington notoriety. The door of the house was well guarded by the posse comitatis, armed with staves, emblematical of the renowned city to which they belonged, and decorated with the favors of the different candidates by whom they were employed, or whose interest they espoused. The staves, instead of the crown, were surmounted by quartern measures, and produced a most striking and novel effect, as they appeared to be more reverenced and respected than that gaudy bauble which is a representative of Royalty.
Tom and Bob, who had no idea about this important event beforehand, were told as they made their way to the venue by a friend of one of the candidates that the election was highly competitive between Sir William Sims, the son of the respected high bailiff, Sir Benjamin Rosebud, Jessamine Sweetbriar, Sir Peter Paid, and Peregrine Foxall, the silver-tongued speaker, who had strong support from the Tag Rag and Bobtail Club. Sir Frederick Atkinson was
At the moment of our friends entrance, large bodies of voters were brought up by canvassing parties from the surrounding habitations, with colours flying, and were introduced in succession to poll; and as time was fast escaping, every one was active in support of his favourite candidate. All was bustle and anxiety, and Tom and Bob approached the hustings with two chimney-sweepers, a hackney-coachman, and three light bearers, alias link-carriers, from Covent Garden Theatre. Having polled for Sir William Sims, who very politely returned thanks for [245] the honour conferred on him, standing room was provided for them by the inhabitants of Lunatic Ward, who it should seem, like others under the influence of the moon, have their lucid intervals, and who upon this occasion displayed a more than usual portion of sanity, mingled with good humour and humanity.
At the time our friend arrived, large groups of voters were brought in by canvassers from nearby neighborhoods, waving their banners, and were introduced one by one to vote; and as time was running out, everyone was busy supporting their favorite candidate. It was a scene of activity and tension, and Tom and Bob approached the polling place with two chimney sweeps, a cab driver, and three torchbearers, also known as link-carriers, from Covent Garden Theatre. After voting for Sir William Sims, who graciously thanked them for [245] the honor, the residents of Lunatic Ward, who, like others influenced by the moon, experience moments of clarity, provided them with a place to stand. On this occasion, they displayed an unusually high level of sanity, mixed with good humor and kindness.
In this quarter of the city, where our friends expected to find distracted, or at least abstracted intellect, they were very pleasingly disappointed at discovering they were associated with reasonable and intelligent beings; although some of them, fatigued by their exertions during the election, were so strongly attacked by Somnus, that notwithstanding the bustle with which they were surrounded, they occasionally dropped into the arms of the drowsy god, and accompanied the proceedings with a snore, till again roused to light and life by some more wakeful inhabitant.
In this part of the city, where our friends thought they’d find distracted or at least somewhat absent-minded people, they were pleasantly surprised to discover they were surrounded by reasonable and intelligent individuals. However, some of them, worn out from the election efforts, were so overwhelmed by sleep that, despite the commotion around them, they occasionally dozed off into the arms of sleep and joined the proceedings with a snore, until they were brought back to alertness and activity by a more awake resident.
At the appointed time, the high bailiff announced the election closed, and after an examination of the votes, declared the choice to have fallen on Sir William, a circumstance which drew forth a unanimous burst of approbation, long, loud, and deep, which in a few moments being communicated to those without. This was as cordially and as vociferously answered by anxious and admiring crowds.
At the scheduled time, the high bailiff announced that the election was closed, and after reviewing the votes, declared that Sir William was the chosen candidate. This news was met with a unanimous outburst of approval—long, loud, and heartfelt—which was quickly shared with those outside. The anxious and admiring crowds responded just as enthusiastically and loudly.
The influx of citizens, upon the event being known, to hear the speeches of the different candidates, choaked up every avenue to the hustings, and beggars all description; the inimitable pencil of a Hogarth could hardly have done justice to the scene, and a Common Hall of the City of London might be considered a common fool to it; every voter had a right, established that right, and enjoyed it. Here stood the well-dressed Corinthian in his bang-up toggery, alongside of a man in armour, one of the Braziers Company, armed with a pot-lid and a spit, and decorated with a jack-chain round his neck. There stood a controller of the prads, a Jarvey, in close conversation with one of the lighters of the world, with his torch in hand. A flue faker in one corner, was endeavouring to explain a distinction between smoke and gas to a lamplighter, who declared it as his opinion, “that the City of Lushington,—at all times a luminous and deservedly revered City,—had had more light thrown upon it that election, by the introduction of the link carriers, than it ever had before; and likewise that his dissertation on smoke and gas was not worth one puff from his pipe.”
The rush of people, once word got out, to hear the speeches of various candidates, blocked every path to the polls and was beyond description; even the unmatched artistry of Hogarth would have struggled to capture the scene, and a Common Hall in the City of London would seem silly in comparison; every voter had a right, claimed that right, and took part in it. There stood the well-dressed man in his sharp outfit next to a guy in armor from the Braziers Company, equipped with a pot lid and a spit, and wearing a chain around his neck. A cab driver was chatting closely with one of the porters, holding his torch. In one corner, a chimney sweep was trying to explain the difference between smoke and gas to a lamplighter, who stated, "I believe that the City of Lushington—always a bright and respected City—has received more illumination during this election thanks to the link carriers than ever before; and my talk about smoke and gas isn’t worth a puff from my pipe.”
[246] In the midst of this bustle, noise and confusion, it was some time before the high bailiff could obtain silence; when Sir William made his appearance on the hustings, and in language well suited for the occasion, declared the heartfelt gratitude he entertained for the high and distinguished honour so handsomely conferred upon him, with his determination never to lose sight of the invaluable rights and privileges of his constituents, assuring them they were welcome to indulge themselves with any thing the house afforded. He next complimented his opponents on the very gentlemanlike way in which the election had been conducted, and alluded most emphatically to the introduction of those voters who endeavour to lighten the darkness of the world, the link-carriers, who by their manners and conduct had become on that occasion as it were links of a chain, which in point of friendship, good humour and independence, he sincerely hoped would never be broken. Rapturous applause followed this speech, which notwithstanding the almost overpowering load of gratitude with which the speaker was burthened, was given with good emphasis and corresponding effect.
[246] In the middle of all the hustle, noise, and confusion, it took a while for the high bailiff to get everyone quiet. When Sir William finally appeared on the platform, he expressed his heartfelt gratitude for the great honor that had been bestowed upon him, and he promised to always keep the essential rights and privileges of his constituents in mind, making it clear that they were welcome to enjoy everything the house had to offer. He then praised his opponents for the very gentlemanly way the election had been run and pointed out, with great emphasis, the inclusion of those voters who strive to brighten the world—the link-carriers—who, through their manners and actions, had become links in a chain that he sincerely hoped would never be broken in terms of friendship, good humor, and independence. This speech was met with enthusiastic applause, which, despite the heavy burden of gratitude the speaker felt, was delivered with strong emphasis and had a significant impact.
The other candidates returned thanks to those of their fellow-citizens who had supported their interest; and no one seeming inclined to call for a scrutiny, Sir William took the official oath, and was invested with the cloathing of magistracy, which being done, Mr. Alderman Whetman arose to address the mayor.
The other candidates thanked their fellow citizens who supported them; since no one seemed eager to request a recount, Sir William took the official oath and was given the magistrate’s robes. Once that was done, Mr. Alderman Whetman stood up to speak to the mayor.
The well known ability usually displayed by this gentleman, his patriotic zeal, and undeviating integrity, commanded immediate silence, while he informed the chief magistrate of a circumstance which had recently occurred, and which left one of the wards unrepresented, by a worthy alderman who in consequence of accepting an office in the board of controul, had by the laws of Lushington vacated his seat. An explanation being demanded, it appeared that the worthy alderman had become a deputy manager of a country theatre, and consequently must be considered under the board of controul; it was therefore necessary he should at least be re-elected before he could be allowed to continue in the distinguished station of alderman: this point being agreed to, the situation was declared vacant, and a time appointed for the election.
The well-known ability often shown by this gentleman, along with his patriotic enthusiasm and unwavering integrity, brought immediate silence as he informed the chief magistrate about a recent event that left one of the wards without representation. A respected alderman had vacated his seat because he accepted a position on the board of control, which, according to Lushington's laws, disqualified him. When an explanation was requested, it turned out that the alderman had taken a deputy manager role at a local theater, thus placing him under the board of control. Therefore, he would need to be re-elected before he could continue serving as alderman. Once this was agreed upon, the position was declared vacant, and a time was set for the election.
[247] The official business of the election being over, harmony and conviviality became the order of the night; foaming bowls and flowing glasses decorated the tables; many of the citizens withdrawing to rest after their labours, made room for those who remained, and every one seemed desirous to
[247] With the official business of the election wrapped up, the atmosphere turned to one of harmony and celebration; frothy bowls and overflowing glasses filled the tables. Many citizens left to rest after their efforts, making space for those who stayed, and everyone seemed eager to
The song, the toast, the sentiment, followed each other in rapid succession; mirth and good humour prevailed, and time, while he exhausted himself, appeared to be inexhaustible. The beams of wit, the lively sallies of humour, and the interchange of good fellowship, eradiated the glass in its circulation, and doubly enhanced its contents; and in amusements so truly congenial with the disposition of the Hon. Tom Dashall and his Cousin, they joined till after four o'clock in the morning, thus rendering themselves true and devoted citizens of Lushington, when they sallied forth, tolerably well primed for any lark or spree which chance might throw in their way. It was a fine morning, and while the shopkeepers and trades-men were taking their rest, the market gardeners and others were directing their waggons and carts to Covent Garden.
The song, the toast, and the sentiments followed one after the other quickly; joy and laughter were in the air, and while time seemed to fly by, it felt endless. The clever jokes, lively banter, and friendly exchanges filled the glasses as they raised them, making the drinks even more enjoyable. Engaging in such fun activities suited the Hon. Tom Dashall and his Cousin perfectly, and they kept it going until after four in the morning, truly making them devoted members of Lushington. When they finally headed out, they were ready for any adventure or fun that might come their way. It was a beautiful morning, and while the shopkeepers and tradespeople were resting, the market gardeners and others were busy directing their wagons and carts to Covent Garden.
“Now,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “we will just take a turn round the Garden, and a stroll down Drury-lane, for a walk will do us no harm after our night's amusement, and we can hardly fail to find subjects worthy of observation, though; in all probability we are too early to realize all the poet's description of a market:”
“Now,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “let’s take a walk around the Garden and stroll down Drury Lane. A walk can't hurt us after last night’s fun, and we’re bound to find interesting things to see. However, it’s likely we’re too early to fully appreciate the poet’s description of a market:”
[248] The streets that surround the theatres, and which of an evening are thronged with the elegant equipage of the visitors, were now filled with carts, waggons, and other vehicles of various denominations, for conveyance of the marketable commodities to and from the place of sale: here and there were groupes of Irishmen and basket-women, endeavouring to obtain a load, and squabbling with assiduous vociferations for the first call.
[248] The streets around the theaters, which in the evenings are packed with the fancy carriages of visitors, were now crowded with carts, wagons, and various other vehicles bringing market goods to and from the marketplace. Here and there were groups of Irishmen and women with baskets, trying to get a load and loudly arguing for first pick.
“This,” said Tom, “is the largest market for vegetables we have in the metropolis, and supplies numerous retail dealers with their stock in trade; who assemble here early in the morning to make their bargains, and get them home before the more important business of the day, that of selling, commences.” While Tom was explaining thus briefly to his Cousin, aloud laugh attracted their attention, and drew them to a part of the market where a crowd was collected, to witness a squabble between a Jew orange merchant and a pork butcher.{1}
“This,” said Tom, “is the biggest vegetable market we have in the city, supplying many retailers with their stock; they gather here early in the morning to make their deals and get everything home before the main business of the day, which is selling, starts.” While Tom was giving this quick explanation to his cousin, a loud laugh caught their attention and led them to an area of the market where a crowd had gathered to watch an argument between a Jewish orange seller and a pork butcher.{1}
[250] The Israelite appeared to be in a great rage, swore he would have revenge of his insulting neighbour, and pull him up. The exasperation of the Jew afforded much merriment to the spectators, who seemed to enjoy his aggravation: our friends, however, had arrived too late to discover the cause, and although not very particular about discovering themselves amid the mob, conceived it most prudent to move onward without inquiry; “for,” as Tom observed, “if we ask any questions we are sure to be told lies: “they then passed through the Market, made their way up James-street to Long Acre, and thence to Drury-lane.
[250] The Israelite seemed really furious and swore he would get back at his insulting neighbor and confront him. The frustration of the Jew provided a lot of entertainment for the onlookers, who seemed to enjoy his distress. Our friends, however, had arrived too late to find out what was going on, and although they weren’t too concerned about revealing themselves in the crowd, they thought it would be wise to move on without asking any questions; “because,” as Tom pointed out, “if we ask anything, we’re only going to hear lies.” They then walked through the Market, made their way up James Street to Long Acre, and then headed to Drury Lane.
The watchmen were just leaving their stations, with an intention to partake of what they had all night been endeavouring to deprive others, and the humbler ranks of society were preparing for the business of the day; while the batter'd beau, the clean'd out buck, and the dissipated voluptuary, were occasionally to be seen gliding from holes and corners, and scampering home with less wisdom in their heads, and less money in their purses, than when they left. Here was to be seen the City shopman, hastening away from his dulcenea, to get down his master's shutters before the gouty old gentleman should be able to crawl down stairs; there, the dandy, half dressed, and more than half seas over, buttoning his toggery close round him to keep out the damp air of the morning, affecting to sing
The watchmen were just finishing up their shifts, planning to enjoy what they'd been trying to deny others all night, while the lower ranks of society were getting ready for the day ahead; meanwhile, the worn-out pretty boy, the broke playboy, and the overindulged partygoer could sometimes be spotted sneaking from their hideouts and rushing home, with less sense in their heads and less cash in their pockets than when they left. You could see the City shopkeeper hustling away from his lady friend to get his boss's shutters down before the gouty old man managed to shuffle down the stairs; there was the dandy, half-dressed and more than a bit tipsy, buttoning up his clothes tightly to ward off the morning chill, pretending to sing.
slipped along, as he supposed, unobserved, between dustmen, scavengers, flue-fakers, gardeners, fish-fags, and brick-layer's labourers—to refit and put himself in a situation to recount the adventures of the night. At one door, stood a shivering group of half-starved chimney-sweepers, rending the air with their piercing cries of “sweep,” occasionally relieved by a few hearty d—-ns bestowed upon the servant, that she did not come down, in order to let a diminutive urchin yet up the flue; leaning against a post at the corner of the street was an overdone Irishman, making a bargain with pug-nosed Peg, a sort of half-bred pinafore cyprian, whose disappointments during the night induced her to try at obtaining a morning customer. The Hibernian was relating the ill usage he had been subjected to, and the necessity he had of making a hasty retreat from the quarters he had taken up; while Bet Brill, on her road to Billingsgate, was blowing him up for wearing odd boots, and being a hod man—blowing a cloud sufficient to enliven and revive the whole party.
slipped along, as he thought, unnoticed, among garbage collectors, scavengers, chimney sweeps, gardeners, fish sellers, and construction workers—to get ready and put himself in a position to share the stories of the night. At one door, there was a shivering group of half-starved chimney sweeps, filling the air with their loud cries of “sweep,” occasionally punctuated by a few hearty curses aimed at the servant for not coming down to let a small kid up the chimney. Leaning against a post at the corner of the street was an overly dramatic Irishman, negotiating with pug-nosed Peg, a kind of half-breed streetwalker, whose disappointments during the night led her to try to find a morning client. The Irishman was recounting the mistreatment he had experienced and the need he had to make a quick exit from the place he had settled; meanwhile, Bet Brill, on her way to Billingsgate, was scolding him for wearing mismatched boots and being a hod carrier—creating a commotion that was enough to lift the spirits of the whole group.
[251] “Poor fellow,” said Tom, “it would be a charity to pop him into a rattler, and drive him home; and do you see, he is standing close to a mud cart, the delicate drippings of which are gently replenishing his otherwise empty pockets.”
[251] “Poor guy,” said Tom, “it would be nice to throw him in a cab and take him home; and look, he’s standing right next to a mud cart, and those delicate drips are slowly filling up his otherwise empty pockets.”
“Be aisy,” said Pat Murphy the hodman, “arn't he an Irish jontleman, arn't I a jontleman from Ireland; and arn't it lit and proper, and right and just, as well as jontlemanly, that two jontlemen should go together, so come along Peg, we'll just take a taste of the cratur, drink success to the lads of Shellaly, and put the matter in its right shape.” With this pug-nosed Peg seized him by one arm, and the last orator by the other, and in a short time they entered a sluicery in the neighbourhood, which enclosed the party from view.
“Take it easy,” said Pat Murphy the hodman, “isn't he an Irish gentleman, isn't I a gentleman from Ireland; and isn't it fitting and proper, and right and just, as well as gentlemanly, that two gentlemen should be together, so come on Peg, we'll just grab a drink, toast to the guys from Shellaly, and get things sorted out.” With this, the pug-nosed Peg grabbed him by one arm, and the last speaker by the other, and soon they entered a bar in the area, which shielded the group from sight.
Turning from the group which they had been paying attention to, they were suddenly attracted by a female purveyor for the stomach, who was serving out her tea, coffee, and saloop, from a boiling cauldron, and handing with due complaisance to her customers bread and butter, which was as eagerly swallowed and devoured by two dustmen, who appeared to relish their delicate meal with as much of appetite and gout, as the pampered palate of a City alderman would a plate of turtle. The figure of the lady, whose commodities were thus desirable and refreshing to the hungry dust-collectors, struck Bob at the first view as having something matronly and kind about it.
Turning away from the group they had been focused on, they were suddenly drawn to a woman selling food, who was serving tea, coffee, and saloop from a boiling pot, and pleasantly handing out bread and butter to her customers. Two dustmen eagerly devoured their meal, enjoying it with as much appetite and enthusiasm as a pampered City alderman would savor a plate of turtle soup. The woman, whose goods were so appealing and refreshing to the hungry collectors, struck Bob at first glance as having a warm and motherly presence.
“These persons,” said Tom, “are really useful in their vocation; and while they provide a wholesome beverage for the industrious, are rather deserving of approbation than censure or molestation: the latter, however, they are frequently subjected to; for the kids of lark, in their moments of revelry, think lightly of such poor people's stock in trade, and consider it a prime spree to upset the whole concern, without caring who may be scalded by the downfall, or how many of their fellow-creatures may go without a breakfast and dinner in consequence; but do you mark the other woman behind her?”
"These people," Tom said, "are truly valuable in their jobs; while they offer a healthy drink for those who work hard, they deserve praise rather than criticism or disturbance. Unfortunately, they often face the latter, as the rowdy kids, during their fun times, treat these hardworking individuals' livelihoods lightly and think it’s a great joke to ruin everything, not caring who might get hurt in the process or how many of their fellow humans might skip breakfast and lunch because of it. But do you see the other woman behind her?"
“I do,” said Bob, “and it is impossible to view them both without noticing the striking contrast they form to each other.”
“I do,” Bob said, “and it's impossible to look at both without noticing the striking contrast between them.”
[252] “Your observations are just,” continued Tom; “that is an old beldame of the neighbourhood, in search of the poor unhappy girl who has just taken the Irishman in tow, an encourager of all that is vicious and baneful in society.”
[252] “You’re right,” Tom said. “That’s an old lady from the neighborhood, looking for the poor girl who just got involved with the Irishman. She’s a supporter of everything wicked and harmful in society.”
“I could almost judge that from her features,” replied Bob, “though I do not pretend to much skill in physiognomy.”
“I could almost tell that from her features,” replied Bob, “though I don’t claim to be very skilled in reading faces.”
“A debauched body and a vitiated mind are perceptible in her face, and having remained on the town till these were too visible for her to hope for a continuance, she is now a tutoress of others, to make the most of those with whom they promiscuously associate. She furnishes the finery, and shares the plunder. It is, however, a melancholy and disgusting picture of Real Life in London, and merely deserves to be known in order to be avoided, for there is no species of villainy to which persons of her stamp”—
“A corrupted body and a damaged mind are obvious in her face, and after staying in the city until these traits became too apparent for her to hide, she is now a mentor to others, teaching them how to get the most out of those they randomly associate with. She provides the glamor and shares the spoils. However, it’s a sad and repulsive depiction of real life in London, and it only deserves to be known so that it can be avoided, as there is no kind of wickedness that people like her”—
“Of whom it is to be hoped there are but few,” cried Tallyho, interrupting him.
“Hopefully, there aren't many like that,” shouted Tallyho, cutting him off.
“For the sake of human nature,” replied Dashalt., “it is to be hoped so; but there is no species of villainy to which they will not stoop.” {1}
“For the sake of human nature,” replied Dashalt, “let's hope so; but there’s no kind of wickedness they won’t sink to.” {1}
[253] At this moment their attention was suddenly called to another subject, by a loud huzza from a combination of voices at no great distance from where they then were, and in a few minutes a considerable concourse of dustmen and others appeared in view.
[253] At that moment, their attention was abruptly drawn to a different topic by a loud cheer from a mix of voices not far from where they were. In a few minutes, a large group of refuse collectors and others came into view.
“There is something in the wind,” said Dashall, “we must have a look at these gentry, for there is frequently some humour among them.
“There’s something in the air,” said Dashall, “we should check out these folks, because there’s often some humor to be found among them."
“I hope,” replied Bob, “they have not overturned the dustcart in the wind, for I am apprehensive in such a case we should scarcely have eyes to view their frolics.”
“I hope,” replied Bob, “they haven’t blown over the garbage truck in the wind, because I’m worried that in that case, we would hardly have any eyes left to see their antics.”
Tom laughed at the ready turn of his Cousin, and remarking that all flesh was dust, proceeded towards the increasing party: here they soon found out; that, as a venerable son of the fan-tailed-hat fraternity described it, “a screw was loose.”
Tom laughed at his cousin's quick response, and noting that everyone was just dust, walked over to the growing group. They soon discovered that, as an elderly member of the fan-tailed hat club put it, “something was off.”
“Perhaps,” inquired Bob, “it is the linch-pin.” “Why aye, mayhap as how that there may be the case for aught I knows about it. Howsomdever, I'll tell you all about it:—first and foremost you must know that Dick Nobbs lives down here in Charles-street, and Dick Nobbs has got a wife. Now she is the devil's own darling, and Dick is a match for her or the devil himself, come from wherever he may, but as good a fellow as ever lapp'd up a pail full of water-gruel; and so you must know as how Dick has this here very morning been found out, in bed with another man's wife. The other man is a nightman, and rubbish-carter, vhat lives in the same house with Dick; so this here man being out all night at a job, Dick gets lushy, and so help me———, he finds his way steady enough into that there man's bed, and vhen that there man comes home, my eyes vhat a blow up! There lays Dick Nobbs fast asleep in the man's wife's arms, so he kicks up a row—Dick shews fight—and the man comes and tells us all about it; so we are going to try him for a misdemeanor, and he can't help himself no how whatsomedever.”
“Maybe,” Bob asked, “it’s the key point.” “Yeah, that could definitely be the case, as far as I know. Anyway, let me fill you in: first off, you should know that Dick Nobbs lives down here on Charles Street, and Dick Nobbs has a wife. Now, she’s quite the handful, and Dick can hold his own against her or anyone else, but he’s a decent guy who’d do anything for you. So, you need to know that this very morning, Dick has been caught in bed with another man’s wife. The other man is a night worker and garbage collector who lives in the same building as Dick. So, this guy is out all night working, and Dick gets drunk, and somehow he ends up in that man’s bed. When that man comes home, what a scene! There’s Dick Nobbs fast asleep in the man’s wife’s arms, so he creates a huge fuss—Dick puts up a fight—and the man comes to tell us all about it; so we’re going to charge him with a misdemeanor, and there’s no way he can escape it.”
Tom was alive to the story, and in a few minutes the culprit was conducted to a neighbouring public-house, tried before a whole bench of the society, cast, and condemned to undergo the usual sentence in such cases made and provided, entitled, “Burning Shame,” and active preparations were making by those of the fraternity without, to carry into immediate execution the sentence pronounced by those within.
Tom was completely caught up in the story, and within a few minutes, the culprit was taken to a nearby pub, put on trial in front of a whole group from the society, found guilty, and sentenced to the usual punishment in cases like this, called "Burning Shame." Meanwhile, those outside the group were actively preparing to immediately carry out the sentence declared by those inside.
[254] The offender was decorated with a bunch of Christmas in his hat, and two large carrots in the front, to represent horns. In this manner he was mounted on the brawny shoulders of four of his companions, preceded by the crier of the court, another dustman, with a bell, which he rung lustily, and at intervals proclaimed the crime of which the culprit had been found guilty. After the crier, followed eight more of the brotherhood, two and two, their hats ornamented with bunches of holly, and a burning candle in the front of each hat. Then came the culprit, carried as already described, with a pot of heavy wet in one hand, and a pipe of tobacco in the other, which he occasionally smoaked, stooping forward to light it at one of the candles in the fantail hats of his two front supporters. The rear of this ludicrous procession was brought up by several other dustmen and coalheavers, and their ladies. The procession set out from Charles-street, down Drury-lane, Great Queen-street, Wild-street, and round Clare Market, followed by an immense crowd, which kept increasing as they went, and nearly rendered the streets impassable. Two collectors were appointed, one on each side of the street, and were very active in levying contributions among the spectators to defray the expenses. They stopped at several public-houses, where they quaffed off oceans of heavy wet, and numerous streamlets of old Jamaica, and then returned to headquarters in Charles-street, where the offence was drowned in drink, and they and their ladies passed the remainder of the evening, as happy as beer and gin, rum and tobacco, could make them.
[254] The offender was decked out with a bunch of Christmas decorations on his hat and two large carrots at the front to represent horns. He was carried on the strong shoulders of four of his friends, led by the court crier, another dustman, who rang a bell energetically and periodically announced the crime for which the guilty party had been found responsible. Following the crier were eight more members of the group, paired up, with their hats adorned with bunches of holly and a burning candle on the front of each one. Then came the culprit, carried as described, holding a pint of beer in one hand and a pipe in the other, which he occasionally smoked, leaning forward to light it at one of the candles on the hats of his two front supporters. The back of this amusing procession was rounded out by several other dustmen and coal workers, along with their wives. They set off from Charles Street, down Drury Lane, Great Queen Street, Wild Street, and around Clare Market, followed by a huge crowd that kept growing as they walked, making the streets nearly impassable. Two collectors were assigned, one on each side of the street, and they were very active in gathering donations from the onlookers to cover costs. They stopped at several pubs, where they drank plenty of beer and numerous shots of rum, then returned to their base in Charles Street, where they drowned their sorrows in drinks and spent the rest of the evening as happily as beer, gin, rum, and tobacco could make them.
Having witnessed a considerable part of this ceremonious proceeding, and been informed of the intended finale, our friends, who began to feel somewhat uncomfortable for want of refreshment and rest, proposed returning home; and having thrown themselves into a hack, they in a short time arrived at Piccadilly.
Having seen a significant portion of this formal event and learned about the planned conclusion, our friends, who started to feel a bit uncomfortable from lack of food and rest, suggested heading back home; and after hopping into a cab, they quickly arrived at Piccadilly.
CHAPTER XIX
[255] The arrival at Piccadilly turned out to be truly agreeable to our friends, who were scarcely dressed and seated at the breakfast-table, before they were surprised by the unexpected appearance of an old friend, whose company and conversation had upon many occasions afforded them so much pleasure and information. This was no other than Sparkle.
[255] When they arrived at Piccadilly, it was a pleasant surprise for our friends, who had just gotten dressed and sat down at the breakfast table. They were taken aback by the sudden visit of an old friend, whose company and conversation had brought them much joy and insight in the past. This was none other than Sparkle.
“My dear boy,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “you are welcome to the scene of former gratifications. How is your better half, and all friends in the country—any increase in the family? Why you look as healthy as Hygeia, and as steady as old time.”
“My dear boy,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “you're welcome to this place of past pleasures. How is your significant other, and everyone back home—any news on the family front? You look as healthy as can be and as steady as ever.”
“I confess,” replied Sparkle, “you ask so many questions upon important subjects in one breath, that I am quite deficient of wind to answer them seriatim. You must therefore take an answer in two words—all's right.”
“I admit,” replied Sparkle, “you ask so many questions about important topics all at once that I can barely catch my breath to answer them one by one. So you’ll have to settle for a two-word response—everything’s good.”
“Enough,” replied Tom, “then I am content; but how, what,—are you in town alone?”
“Okay,” Tom replied, “then I’m satisfied; but wait, what—are you in town by yourself?”
“You shall know all in time, but don't drive on too hard. I am glad to meet you again in the regions of fun, frolic, and humour, of which I doubt not there is, as there always was, a plentiful stock. Glad to see you both in good health and tip-top spirits. I have only come to pass a fortnight with you; and as I intend to make the utmost use of every minute of the time, don't let us waste in empty words what would be better employed in useful deeds.”
"You'll find out everything in due time, but don't push too hard. I'm happy to see you both again in the land of fun, laughter, and humor, where I know there's always plenty to enjoy. It's great to see you both in good health and high spirits. I've only come to spend two weeks with you, so since I plan to make the most of every moment, let’s not waste our time on pointless chatter when we could be doing something meaningful."
[256] “Useful deeds,” re-echoed Tom, “useful deeds—that savours of reflection. I thought you were fully aware it is an article considered of little value in the labyrinths of London; but since you are become, as I may venture to presume, a useful man, what may be the objects upon which you propose to practise your utility?”
[256] “Helpful actions,” Tom echoed, “helpful actions—that sounds like deep thinking. I thought you knew that it’s seen as not very important in the twists and turns of London; but since you’ve become, if I may say so, a useful person, what are the things you plan to use your usefulness on?”
“Still the same I find, Tom; all life, spirit, and gaiety, nothing like a hit, and I suppose you now think you have a palpable one. Never mind, I am not easily disconcerted, therefore you may play off the artillery of your wit without much chance of obtaining a triumph; but however, in plain words, I expect to be a happy father in about another month.”
“Still the same, I see, Tom; full of life, energy, and cheer—nothing like a good joke, and I guess you think you’ve got a solid one. But don’t worry, I’m not easily thrown off, so you can throw out your clever remarks without much chance of winning. However, to be straightforward, I expect to be a happy dad in about a month.”
“O ho!” said Tom, “then you are really a useful member of society, and I suppose are merely come up to town for the purpose of picking up a little more useful information and instruction how to perform the part of Papa.”
“O ho!” said Tom, “so you really are a valuable member of society, and I guess you’ve just come to the city to gather a bit more useful information on how to play the role of Dad.”
“Nay,” replied Sparkle, “I could hardly expect to obtain such from you. I must therefore be excused and acquitted of all such intentions—but joking apart, how are you devoted?”
“Nah,” replied Sparkle, “I really can’t expect to get that from you. So, I should be let off the hook and cleared of any such intentions—but seriously, how committed are you?”
“To you,” replied Tallyho, who was much pleased by this accession to their society.
“To you,” replied Tallyho, who was very happy about this addition to their group.
“Then,” continued Sparkle, “lend me all the assistance in your power. When did you see our old friend Merrywell!”
“Then,” continued Sparkle, “please give me all the help you can. When did you last see our old friend Merrywell?”
“The last time I saw him was in a place of safety, studying the law, and taking lessons from its professors in the Priory.”
“The last time I saw him was in a safe place, studying the law and taking classes from its professors at the Priory.”
“We must find him,” replied Sparkle; “so if you are not engaged, come along, and I will relate the circumstances which induce this search as we proceed.”
“We need to find him,” Sparkle replied. “So if you’re free, come with me, and I’ll explain why we’re searching as we go.”
To this proposal Tom and Bob readily acceding, the party were quickly on their way towards Abbot's Park.
To this proposal, Tom and Bob quickly agreed, and the group was soon on their way to Abbot's Park.
[257] “You must know,” said Sparkle, “that Merry well's uncle in the country having received some information upon the subject of his confinement, probably very highly coloured, has since his release withdrawn his patronage and support, so that the poor fellow has been without supplies for some time past, and I am at a loss to conjecture by what means he is now working the oracle for a subsistence. His uncle, however, is in the last stage of a severe illness, with little chance of recovery; and as I apprehend there is but little time to spare, I intend, if possible, to find our old acquaintance, start him for his relative's residence, in hope that he may arrive in time to be in at the death, and become inheritor of his estate, which is considerable, and may otherwise be apportioned among persons for whom he has had but little or no regard while living.”
[257] “You should know,” said Sparkle, “that Merrywell's uncle in the country received some possibly exaggerated information about his confinement. Since his release, he has cut off his support, leaving the poor guy without any help for a while now. I can't figure out how he's managing to get by. However, his uncle is in the final stages of a serious illness, with little chance of getting better; and since I think we don't have much time left, I plan to find our old friend and send him to his uncle’s place, hoping he gets there in time to say his goodbyes and inherit the estate, which is substantial and might otherwise be divided among people his uncle didn't care for much while he was alive.”
“The object in view is a good one,” said Dashall, “and I sincerely hope we shall succeed in our endeavours.”
“The goal we have is a worthwhile one,” said Dashall, “and I truly hope we succeed in our efforts.”
Passing down St. James's-street, Sparkle was quickly recognized by many of his old acquaintances and friends, and congratulated upon his return to the scenes where they had, in company with him, enjoyed many a lark; and invitations came in as fast upon nim as the moments of life were fleeting away: for the present, however, all engagements were declined, till the principal object of his journey to London should be accomplished; and after inquiries about old friends, and observations upon the passing occurrences of the moment were over, they proceeded on their way. Westminster Bridge was the precise line of direction for them to pursue, and as fortune would have it, they had scarcely arrived at the foot of it, before they discovered Merrywell bustling along in an opposite direction: he, however, appeared rather inclined to pass without recognition or acknowledgment, when Sparkle turning close upon him, gave him a hearty tap on the shoulder, which made him as it were involuntarily turn his head.
Passing down St. James's Street, Sparkle was quickly recognized by many of his old acquaintances and friends, who congratulated him on his return to the places where they had shared many fun times together. Invitations came pouring in as fast as the moments were slipping away; for now, though, he turned down all offers until the main purpose of his trip to London was accomplished. After catching up about old friends and commenting on the current events, they continued on their way. Westminster Bridge was their exact route, and as luck would have it, they had barely reached the foot of it when they spotted Merrywell hurrying in the opposite direction. He seemed inclined to pass by without acknowledging them, but Sparkle quickly turned to him and gave him a friendly tap on the shoulder, making him involuntarily turn his head.
“Well met,” said Sparkle, “I want you.”
“Well met,” said Sparkle, “I want you.”
“At whose suit. Sir?” was the immediate inquiry.
“At whose request, sir?” was the immediate question.
“To suit yourself,” was a reply as quickly given.
"Whatever works for you," was a quick response.
“Zounds!” said Merrywell, “I had little idea of being tapped on the shoulder by an old friend—but are you indeed in earnest?”
“Wow!” said Merrywell, “I had no idea I’d be tapped on the shoulder by an old friend—but are you really serious?”
“Certainly I am, and can't be refused; but if you should be pinched for bail, I think I have two friends with me who will do the needful;” introducing Tom and Bob.
“Of course I am, and there's no way I can be turned down; but if you find yourself short on bail, I believe I have two friends here who can help out,” introducing Tom and Bob.
“I see how it is,” continued Merrywell, “and have no objection to a joke; but I can't bear to have it carried too far.—How d'ye do, how d'ye do—can't stop—in a devil of a hurry—full of business.”
“I get it,” Merrywell continued, “and I don’t mind a joke; but I can’t stand it when it goes too far. —How’s it going, how’s it going—I can't stop—in a crazy rush—full of stuff to do.”
[258] “Zounds!” said Tom, “you are almost as bad as the man who having married a wife could not come; but if I may be so bold, whither away so fast?”
[258] “Wow!” said Tom, “you’re almost as bad as that guy who couldn’t come home after marrying his wife. But if I can be so bold, where are you running off to so quickly?”
“To Westminster Hall—the sessions is on—must go—law is like the tide, it stays for none—adieu.”
“To Westminster Hall—the session is on—I must go—law is like the tide, it waits for no one—goodbye.”
“We cannot part thus,” said Sparkle, “I have come some miles in search of you, and cannot afford to be played with now.”
“We can’t part like this,” said Sparkle, “I’ve traveled quite a distance looking for you, and I can’t afford to be messed around now.”
“Then accompany me to Westminster Hall, and I will be at your service.”
“Then come with me to Westminster Hall, and I’ll be at your service.”
“If not,” replied Sparkle, “I shall enter a special detainer against you—so come along.”
“If not,” replied Sparkle, “I’ll file a special detainer against you—so let's go.”
They now entered Westminster Hall, where Merry well having disposed of some briefs and other papers into the hands of a counsellor preparatory to a cause coming on;
They now entered Westminster Hall, where Merry had taken care of some briefs and other papers, passing them to a lawyer in preparation for an upcoming case;
“There,” continued he, unow I am at your service.”
“There,” he continued, “now I am at your service.”
“Then tell me,” said Sparkle, “what you are at.”
“Then tell me,” Sparkle said, “what you’re up to.”
“First,” inquired Merry well, “let me know what is your object in asking such a question.”
“First,” Merry asked, “can you tell me why you’re asking that question?”
This being briefly explained, together with the absolute necessity there was for his leaving town without delay—
This being briefly explained, along with the urgent need for him to leave town right away—
“Now,” said he, “I am at liberty to give you a sketch of circumstances which have befallen me since I saw you last.”
“Now,” he said, “I’m free to share with you a summary of the events that have occurred since I last saw you.”
“Come then,” said Dashall, “we will proceed to Piccadilly, spend a comfortable afternoon, and ship you off by the mail from the White Horse Cellar at eight o'clock.”
“Come on then,” said Dashall, “let’s head to Piccadilly, have a relaxing afternoon, and get you on the mail from the White Horse Cellar at eight o'clock.”
“With all my heart,” was the reply. “Well, now you must understand, I am a sort of dabbler in professions. I was liberated from the high wall of the Priory by the Insolvent Debtor's Act; and since the unfortunate representation to the Old Boy, which deprived me of the needful supplies, I have tried my hand in three different ways.”
“With all my heart,” was the response. “Well, you should know, I kind of dabble in different jobs. I was freed from the high wall of the Priory by the Insolvent Debtor's Act; and since the unfortunate complaint to the Old Boy that cut off my financial support, I’ve experimented with three different paths.”
“And which are they?”
“Which ones are they?”
“Love, law, and literature,” continued Merry well.
“Love, law, and literature,” Merry continued confidently.
“A very pretty combination,” said Dashall, “and are you able to make them blend comfortably together?”
"A really nice combination," said Dashall, "Can you get them to work well together?"
[259] “Nothing more easy in the world. In the first place, a lady has taken a fancy to me, which fancy I am willing to indulge; in return for which she provides me with every indulgence.—I profess to be principal in the office of a” lawyer of established practice, who suffers me to share in the profits of such business as I can obtain. In the way of literature I have as yet done but little, though I am encouraged to hope much, from the success of others. Indeed I am told, if I can but write libels for John Bull, I may make a rapid fortune.”
[259] “Nothing could be easier. First of all, a lady has taken a liking to me, and I’m happy to entertain that; in return, she provides me with all kinds of privileges. I claim to be a key player in the office of an established lawyer, who allows me to share in the profits from any business I can bring in. In terms of writing, I haven’t done much so far, but I’m encouraged to expect a lot, thanks to the success of others. In fact, I’ve been told that if I can just write some articles for John Bull, I could make a quick fortune.”
“And when so made,” said Sparkle, “I shall wish you well with it; but I think the speculation I have already named much more likely to turn out equal to your wishes, and more consonant with your feelings, than the pursuit of either of those you have mentioned.”
“And when that’s done,” said Sparkle, “I’ll wish you the best with it; but I believe the idea I’ve already suggested is far more likely to meet your expectations and align with your feelings than going after either of those you’ve mentioned.”
“There I agree perfectly with you; and if I can make all right with the old gentleman, a fig for all the rest of my occupations: but you know I always liked independence, and if I could not get a fortune ready made, I had a desire to be the architect of one I should raise for myself.”
“There I completely agree with you; and if I can make everything right with the old man, I don’t care about the rest of my jobs: but you know I’ve always valued independence, and if I can't get a fortune handed to me, I want to build one for myself.”
“Why I know you have generally borne the character of a man of genius.”
“Why I know you have usually been seen as someone with a brilliant mind.”
“Yes, and a deal my character did for me after quitting the walls. Why man, I happened to hear of a vacancy in a city parish school, for which I ventured to conceive myself duly qualified, and therefore determined to make application to the churchwardens, one of whom had the character of being a man of great power, and was said to be the first in his line in the three kingdoms. Away I posted, full of hope and expectation of becoming a second Caleb Quotem, not doubting but salary and circumstances would turn out exactly to my wish.”
“Yes, and my character made a deal for me after I left the walls. Look, I heard about an opening in a city parish school, and I thought I was qualified, so I decided to apply to the churchwardens. One of them was known to be very powerful and was said to be the best in his field across the three kingdoms. I rushed over, filled with hope and excitement about becoming a second Caleb Quotem, fully expecting that the salary and conditions would be just what I wanted.”
“But I thought you liked independence,” said Tallyho.
“But I thought you liked being independent,” said Tallyho.
“Rather too much to engage in that concern,” was the reply, “as you will hear presently. Upon tracing out this gentleman who bore so strong a recommendation to particular notice, you may guess my surprise upon finding 'Purveyor of sausages' in gold letters over his door.”
“That's a bit much to worry about,” was the reply, “but you'll understand soon enough. When I tracked down this gentleman who had such a glowing recommendation, you can imagine my surprise when I saw 'Purveyor of sausages' in gold letters above his door.”
Dashall burst into an irresistible laugh, and was most cordially joined by Sparkle and Tallyho, who were now strongly interested in the result of Merrywell's account.
Dashall broke into a contagious laugh, and was warmly joined by Sparkle and Tallyho, who were now deeply invested in the outcome of Merrywell's story.
“When I arrived,” continued Merry well, “this patron was reading the newspaper, which he threw down immediately upon my entrance, having mistaken me for a customer.”
“When I arrived,” Merry continued confidently, “this patron was reading the newspaper, which he tossed aside as soon as I walked in, thinking I was a customer.”
[260] “Survaut, Sir,” said he, pulling down his greasy waist-coat.—“I am come, Sir,” said I, “to make some inquiry concerning a vacant school-master-ship.”—“Oh there again,” resumed the sausage-making churchwarden,—“Vy you are the seventeenth fellow that has been here to-day a bothering me about this plaguy vacasey. How do you read? you'll have a trial before me and my brother representative of this parish, and my spouse will also attend the reading bouts. Now if so be as you minds your hits, why then may be you'll be the dominy. But, mind you, I don't like your sonorous voices, and my spouse—she knows things quite as well as I do,—she vants a great deal of action, so only you mind, loud and sonorous, and plenty of muscular motion for my spouse, that's the vay to win; but I haven't any time to talk to you now, you must call of an evening, when I am more at leisure, and then I'll explain; so move off now, Sir, move off, for I sees a customer coming—survant maum.”—“Flesh and blood could bear no more, and so”———“So what,” said Sparkle; “did you knock him down in the midst of his own sausages?”
[260] “Excuse me, Sir,” he said, pulling down his greasy waistcoat. “I’ve come, Sir,” I replied, “to inquire about a vacant teaching position.” “Oh, not this again,” grumbled the sausage-making churchwarden. “You’re the seventeenth person to bother me about this annoying vacancy today. How do you prepare? You’ll have a trial in front of me and my brother, who represents this parish, and my wife will be there for the reading sessions as well. If you know your stuff, then maybe you’ll get the position. But listen, I’m not a fan of those loud voices, and my wife—she knows just as much as I do—she wants a lot of action. So just remember: be loud and animated, and use plenty of gestures to impress my wife; that’s the way to win. But I don’t have time to talk now; you’ll need to come back in the evening when I’m less busy, and then I’ll explain everything. So move along now, Sir, I see a customer coming—good day, ma’am.” “Flesh and blood could take no more, so”—“So what?” said Sparkle. “Did you knock him down right in the middle of his own sausages?”
“No, no, I knew too much of the law for that; but I cut the churchwarden, and bolted from the sausage-shop, determined to embrace law, physic, or divinity, in preference to cutting
“No, no, I knew too much about the law for that; but I ignored the churchwarden and ran out of the sausage shop, determined to pursue law, medicine, or theology, instead of cutting.”
“The study of the law was rather compulsory than voluntary, for during my residence in the College I was under the necessity of devoting some part of my time to, though I felt no great partiality for it; and you know law is law; and as in such, and so forth, and hereby and aforesaid, provided always nevertheless notwithstanding, law is like a country dance, people are led up and down in it till they are tired: law is like a book of surgery, there are a great many terrible cases in it. It is also like physic, they that take least of it are best off: law is like a homely gentlewoman, very well to follow: law is like a scolding wife, very bad when it follows us: law is like a new fashion, people are bewitched to get into it; it is also like bad weather, most people are glad when they get out of it.”
“The study of law was more of a requirement than a choice because during my time at the College, I had to spend some of my time on it, even though I wasn’t particularly fond of it. You know how it is with law; it’s just the way things are, and with all the legal jargon, it can feel like a tiring dance where people are led this way and that. Law is like a surgery manual, filled with many grim cases. It’s also similar to medicine; those who take the least of it usually fare the best. Law is like a plain woman—fine to have around—but like a nagging wife, it becomes a burden when it’s always there. Law is like a trendy new style; people become obsessed with getting into it. It’s also like bad weather; most people are relieved when they can escape it.”
[261] “I believe that sincerely,” cried the Hon. Tom Dashall; “for I think there are instances enough in which law has nothing at all to do with justice."{1}
[261] “I honestly believe that,” exclaimed the Hon. Tom Dashall; “because I think there are plenty of cases where the law has nothing to do with justice."{1}
[202] By this time they were arrived in Piccadilly, where they sat down to a cheerful refreshment, and proceeded to make arrangements for Merry well's departure: previous to this, however, Dashall and his Cousin had an engagement to keep with their Hibernian friends, of which particulars will appear in the next Chapter.
[202] By this time, they had arrived in Piccadilly, where they sat down for a nice snack and started making plans for Merrywell's departure. However, before that, Dashall and his cousin had a commitment to meet their Irish friends, details of which will be shared in the next chapter.
CHAPTER XX
Other manifestations of affection by a grateful people to the best of Sovereigns!—
Other ways a thankful people show affection to the greatest of rulers!—
[264] But despite of wind or wet, female curiosity must be gratified. Miss Judith Macgilligan had some time previous to this auspicious day, expressed a desire to witness the gay and brilliant assemblage of company in progress to the Levee, and Tom and Bob having gallantly volunteered their services on this important occasion, they now sallied forth, just as the Park and Tower guns were thundering the announcement of festivity, and joining Sir Felix O'Grady and his aunt at their lodgings, the party immediately moved onward to the scene of action.
[264] But regardless of the wind or rain, a woman's curiosity must be satisfied. Miss Judith Macgilligan had previously expressed her wish to see the lively and colorful gathering of people heading to the Levee. Tom and Bob had bravely offered to accompany her on this important occasion, so they set out just as the Park and Tower guns were booming to announce the festivities. After meeting up with Sir Felix O'Grady and his aunt at their place, the group immediately headed to the event.
Already had Royalty taken wing, and dignified with his presence the late maternal Palace, before our pedestrians reached the Park, to the great disappointment of Miss Macgilligan, who however consoled herself with the hope of being able to obtain a glimpse of monarchy as his Majesty passed on his return to Carlton-house.
Already, Royalty had taken flight and graced the former maternal Palace with his presence, before our walkers arrived at the Park, much to the disappointment of Miss Macgilligan. However, she comforted herself with the hope of catching a glimpse of the monarchy as His Majesty passed by on his way back to Carlton House.
The Baronet in the meanwhile was in a reverie, which at last broke out in the following rhapsody:—
The Baronet was lost in thought, which eventually burst forth in the following outburst:—
[265] An immense number of splendid carriages now presented themselves to view, in continued and uninterrupted succession, stretching from the Horse Guards the whole length of the Mall, to Buckingham-house, where each setting down, and thence taking up a position in the Bird-cage Walk, they formed a circle of nearly two miles, and exhibited, in the magnificence of the vehicles, the admirable symmetry of the horses, and rich liveries of the attendants, a scene of interest, matchless perhaps by any other metropolis in the universe.
[265] A huge number of beautiful carriages were on display, moving continuously and without pause, stretching from the Horse Guards all the way down the Mall to Buckingham Palace. As each carriage dropped off its passengers and then parked in the Bird-cage Walk, they created a circle of nearly two miles. The grandeur of the vehicles, the impressive horses, and the lavish outfits of the attendants created a scene that was probably unmatched by any other city in the world.
Skirting the indeterminable line of carriages, that slowly and under frequent stoppages proceeded to the goal of attraction, our party penetrated at last the dense mass of spectators, and gaining a favourable post of observation, took a position adjacent to Buckingham-house, where the band of music of the Foot Guards within, and that of the Horse Guards without the iron-railing circumscribing the palace, alternately enlivened the scene with “concord of sweet sounds.”
Avoiding the unclear line of carriages that slowly moved toward the main attraction with frequent stops, our group finally made its way through the thick crowd of spectators. We found a good spot to watch, positioned next to Buckingham Palace, where the band from the Foot Guards inside and the band from the Horse Guards outside the iron railing surrounding the palace took turns adding to the cheerful atmosphere with their harmonious music.
But the great and general object of attention, was that of female loveliness, occupying almost every passing vehicle. Dashall remarked, that he had never before been gratified with such an extensive and captivating display. Sir Felix and the Squire were in raptures, and even the primitive austerity of Miss Macgilligan yielded to the influence of beauty, and acknowledging its predominancy, she at same time observed, that its fascination was enhanced by the dress of the ladies, which, though splendid, exhibited genuine taste, and was more remarkable for its uniform adherence to modesty than she had hitherto seen it on any similar occasion.{1}
But the main focus of everyone's attention was the beauty of the women, which filled almost every passing vehicle. Dashall noted that he had never seen such a wide and captivating display before. Sir Felix and the Squire were thrilled, and even the strict demeanor of Miss Macgilligan softened in the presence of beauty. Acknowledging its power, she remarked that the allure was heightened by the ladies' attire, which, while extravagant, showed real taste and was notably more modest than what she had seen on similar occasions.{1}
[266] Dashall, whose place would more properly have been in the circle within the palace than amongst the spectators without, was frequently saluted by the passing company; and when the fair hand of beauty waved gracefully towards him, Sir Felix felt happy in the friendship and society of a gentleman thus honoured with such distinguished recognition, and in the warmth of his feelings exclaimed aloud, that, “by the immortal powers, were he King of England, he would be more proud of the irradiating charms of these celestial visiters, than in the diadem of royalty and extension of empire!” This remark was universally acquiesced in, and most cordially so by a group of lively girls, to whom it had apparently given much pleasure; one of whom thanked the Baronet in the name of the sex, and complimented him on his gallantry, which she said was truly characteristic of his country.
[266] Dashall, who really belonged in the inner circle of the palace rather than among the spectators outside, was often greeted by those passing by; and when a beautiful hand waved gracefully at him, Sir Felix felt a rush of happiness from the friendship and company of a gentleman so honored with such special recognition. In the warmth of his emotions, he exclaimed loudly that, “by the immortal powers, if he were King of England, he would be prouder of the radiant charms of these heavenly visitors than of the crown of royalty and the expansion of his empire!” Everyone agreed with this remark, especially a lively group of girls who seemed particularly delighted by it; one of them thanked the Baronet on behalf of all women and praised him for his gallantry, saying it was truly representative of his country.
To Sir Felix an encomium from a fair lady was ever irresistible.
To Sir Felix, a compliment from a beautiful woman was always irresistible.
He bowed, expressed a commensurate feeling of gratitude for the honour conferred upon him, and professed himself an ardent admirer of the whole of women kind; concluding by humming a stanza from Burns,—
He bowed, showed a fitting gratitude for the honor given to him, and stated that he was a passionate admirer of all women; finishing by humming a verse from Burns,—
Unluckily for the apophthegm of the Baronet, it so happened, that a quarrel took place in the immediate vicinity and hearing of the party, between two rival female fruiterers of the Emerald Isle; during which incivilities were exchanged in language not altogether acceptable to the auricular organs of delicacy. The brogue was that of Munster,—the war of words waged quicker and faster; and from invective the heroines seemed rapidly approximating to actual battle. Neither park-keeper nor constable were at hand; and although the surrounding mobility “laughed at the tumult and enjoyed the storm,” Sir Felix, much distressed at so untoward an incident, and deeply interested in the honour of his country, so lately the theme of elegant panegyric, dashed through the crowd, the component parts of which he scattered aside like chaff, and arrested the further progress of the wranglers.
Unfortunately for the saying of the Baronet, a fight broke out nearby and within earshot of the group, between two competing female fruit sellers from Ireland. They exchanged insults in language that wasn't exactly polite. Their accent was from Munster, and the argument escalated quickly; it seemed like they were on the verge of a physical altercation. There was no park keeper or police officer around, and while the surrounding crowd “laughed at the chaos and enjoyed the drama,” Sir Felix, quite distressed by such an unfortunate event and deeply concerned about the reputation of his country, which had just been praised, rushed through the crowd, pushing people aside like they were nothing, and intervened to stop the arguing women.
“Arrah, now, for the honour of Munster, be any, ye brats of the devil's own begetting!”
“Come on, now, for the honor of Munster, are any of you brats born of the devil?”
“Hear him! hear him! hear the umpire!” resounded from all quarters.
“Hear him! Hear him! Hear the umpire!” echoed from all directions.
“May the devil make hell-broth of ye both, in his own caldron!”
“May the devil turn you both into hell stew in his own pot!”
[267] The mirth of the multitude became now still more obstreperous, and Tom and Bob pushed forward to the assistance of their friend, who was in the act of keeping the two viragos apart from each other, having a hand on each, and holding them at arms length, alternately threatening and remonstrating, while the two nymphs, with frightful grimaces, struggled to elude his grasp, and abide the chance of war;—the scene altogether would have afforded ample scope for the pencil of an artist; and if not edifying, was at least to a numerous and motley assemblage of spectators, highly entertaining. Sir Felix declined the assistance of his friends,—
[267] The laughter of the crowd got even louder, and Tom and Bob pushed forward to help their friend, who was busy keeping the two women from attacking each other. He had one hand on each of them, holding them at arm's length, while alternately threatening and trying to calm them down. The two women, making frightening faces, struggled to break free and each waited to see what would happen next. The whole scene would have provided a great opportunity for an artist’s brush; while it might not have been enlightening, it was definitely entertaining for the large and diverse group of onlookers. Sir Felix refused his friends' help,—
“Never mind it,” said he, “I'll settle the affair myself, my honies:” and slipping a half-crown piece into the hand of each of the amazons—“Now be off wid you,” he whispered,—“lave the Park immediately;—away to the gin-shop;—shake hands wid each other in friendship; and drink good-luck to Sir Felix O'Grady.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, “I’ll handle this myself, my dears:” and slipping a half-crown coin into each of the women’s hands—“Now get going,” he whispered, “leave the Park right away; head to the pub; shake hands with each other in friendship; and toast to Sir Felix O'Grady.”
With many expressions of gratitude, the contending parties obeyed the mandate, and walked off lovingly together, cheek-by-jowl, as if no irruption of harmony had happened!
With many expressions of thanks, the competing parties followed the order and walked off arm in arm, as if no disruption of harmony had occurred!
“Long life to him!” exclaimed a son of green Erin; “wid a word in the ear he has settled the business at once.”
“Long life to him!” shouted a son of green Erin; “with a word in his ear he has resolved the matter right away.”
“And I pray,” said a reverend looking gentleman in black, “that all conflicting powers may meet with like able mediation.”
“And I pray,” said a well-dressed pastor in black, “that all opposing forces may be met with capable mediation.”
“Amen!” responded a fellow in the drawling nasil tone of a parish-clerk; and the congregation dispersed.
“Amen!” replied a guy in the slow, nasal voice of a parish clerk; and the congregation broke up.
The tumult thus happily subdued, Sir Felix, with Tom and Bob, rejoined Miss Macgilligan and the group with whom she had been left in charge when the two latter gentlemen came to the Baronet's relief.
The chaos now calmed down, Sir Felix, along with Tom and Bob, rejoined Miss Macgilligan and the group she had been taking care of while the two gentlemen had come to the Baronet's aid.
The “ardent admirer of the whole of women kind” sustained the jokes of the company with admirable equanimity of temper; and the same young lady who had eulogized his gallantry, now said that it was unfair, and what the Baronet could not possibly mean, to take his words in their literal acceptation; at the same time she highly commended his benevolent interference in the quarrel between the two women, and congratulated him on his address in bringing it to an amicable termination.
The "passionate admirer of all women" handled the jokes from the group with impressive calmness; and the same young woman who had praised his bravery now claimed it was unfair, and that the Baronet couldn’t really mean his words as they were taken literally; at the same time, she praised his kind involvement in the argument between the two women and congratulated him on his skill in resolving it peacefully.
[268] Resuming their attention to the still continued line of company, Dashall and his friends remarked that pearls were a prominent part of female ornament at the present levee; particularly, he said, with the galaxy of Civic beauty from the East; for he had recognized so decorated, several elegantes, the wives and daughters of aldermen, bankers, merchants and others, of his City acquaintances.{1} A ponderous state carriage, carved and gilt in all directions, and the pannels richly emblazoned with heraldry, now came slowly up the Mall, and Sir Felix immediately announced the approach of the Lord Mayor of the City of London; but as the vehicle approximated nearer towards him, he became lost in a labyrinth of conjecture, on perceiving, that the pericranium of its principal inmate was enveloped in a wig of appalling dimensions; he now inquired whether the profundity of wisdom was denoted by the magnitude of a wig; and if so, why it was not worn by the Civic Sovereign rather on the seat of justice, where it might operate in terrorem on delinquency, than on the happy occasion of his Majesty's anniversary; when Dashall unravelled the mystery, by acquainting the Baronet, that the personage whom he supposed to be the Lord Mayor of London, was the Lord High Chancellor of England.
[268] As they continued to watch the ongoing line of guests, Dashall and his friends noted that pearls were a major part of women's jewelry at the current event; especially, he pointed out, with the array of Civic beauties from the East. He recognized several elegantly dressed women, the wives and daughters of aldermen, bankers, merchants, and others among his City acquaintances.{1} A heavy state carriage, intricately carved and gilded, with its panels lavishly adorned with heraldry, slowly approached along the Mall, and Sir Felix promptly announced the arrival of the Lord Mayor of the City of London. However, as the carriage got closer, he became puzzled upon seeing that the head of its main occupant was topped with an enormous wig. He wondered if the depth of wisdom was indicated by the size of a wig, and if so, why it wasn’t worn by the Civic Sovereign in the courtroom instead, where it could have a more intimidating effect on wrongdoers, rather than on the joyous occasion of his Majesty's anniversary. Dashall cleared up the confusion by informing the Baronet that the person he believed to be the Lord Mayor of London was actually the Lord High Chancellor of England.
[269] The company still poured along, numerous and diversified, beyond all former precedent; including all the nobility in town, their ladies, daughters, et cetera; officers of the army and navy, grand crosses and knights companions of the most honourable order of the Bath; dignified sages and learned brethren of the law; and, “though last, not least in our esteem,” the very right reverend Fathers in God, the Lords Bishops, in the costume of sacerdotal panoply; and amidst the fascination of female beauty, setting their affections on things above!{1}
[269] The crowd continued to move forward, large and diverse, unlike anything seen before; including all the local nobility, their ladies, daughters, and so on; officers from the army and navy, grand crosses, and knights companions of the most honorable order of the Bath; respected scholars and learned members of the law; and, “though last, not least in our esteem,” the very right reverend Fathers in God, the Lords Bishops, dressed in their ceremonial robes; and amidst the allure of female beauty, focusing their hearts on higher things!{1}
From noon until past four, visiters continued to arrive; when the carriages again circumscribed the Park, each taking up at the gate of Buckingham-house, and thence passing home by the Bird-cage Walk, and through the Horse Guards. The arrangements were excellent; no accident occurred. The Life Guards lined the Mall, and a numerous detachment of police-officers were on the alert throughout the day. Their indefatigable exertions however were not entirely available in counteracting the industry of the light-fingered gentry, of whom there were many on the look-out; and doubtless on this, as on every other occasion of public resort in the metropolis, they reaped the fruits of a plentiful harvest.
From noon until after four, visitors kept arriving; when the carriages circled the Park again, each one stopping at the gate of Buckingham House and then heading home via Birdcage Walk and through the Horse Guards. The arrangements were great; nothing went wrong. The Life Guards lined the Mall, and a large group of police officers were on alert all day. Their tireless efforts, however, weren't completely effective in stopping the work of the pickpockets, who were out in force; and no doubt on this, like on every other occasion of public gathering in the city, they enjoyed a good haul.
The party sauntering along the Mall, Sir Felix observed one of the group with whom he was associated when viewing the company proceeding to the Palace, and would have entered into familiar chit-chat with him, but for the interposition of Dashall, who taking the Baronet aside, cautioned him against having intercourse with a stranger, of whom he knew nothing, but who had all the appearance of a black-leg.
The group walking along the Mall caught Sir Felix's attention, and he noticed someone he was familiar with while watching the crowd heading to the Palace. He would have started a casual conversation with him, but Dashall stepped in and pulled the Baronet aside. He warned him not to engage with a stranger he knew nothing about, who seemed to have the look of a con artist.
Dashall was an accurate observer of men and manners; and in the present instance his conjecture was well founded; for, in a few subsequent moments,
Dashall was a keen observer of people and their behaviors; and in this case, his guess was spot on; because, in just a few moments later,
[270] What was the devil's gratitude to Latimer for this eulogy According to his biography, “for his zeal in the Protestant faith, he was, with Ridley, bishop of London, burnt at Oxford in 1554.” this assumed gentleman was met by a reconnoitering party of the police, who claiming the privilege of old acquaintance, took him into custody as a reputed thief, to the manifest surprise and dismay of Miss Judith Macgilligan, who instinctively putting her hand into her pocket, found that her purse had vanished through the medium of some invisible agency. It contained, fortunately, silver only. She now mentioned her loss, and expressed her suspicion of the gentleman in duresse; he having stood close by her, for a considerable length of time, while she and her friends were stationary in the Mall. The officers accordingly searched him; but the wily adept, anticipating consequences, had disencumbered himself of the purse; part of the silver, however, found in his possession, tallied in description with that which had been lost, although the lady could not identify it as her property. He was conducted from the Park, with the view of being introduced to the recollection of the magistrates of the Public-office in Bow-street.
[270] What was the devil's gratitude to Latimer for this praise? According to his biography, “for his commitment to the Protestant faith, he was, along with Ridley, burned at Oxford in 1554.” This supposed gentleman was met by a police patrol, who, claiming to know him from the past, took him into custody as a suspected thief, much to the surprise and dismay of Miss Judith Macgilligan. She instinctively put her hand in her pocket and realized that her purse had disappeared through some invisible means. Fortunately, it only contained silver. She reported her loss and expressed her suspicion of the gentleman in custody; he had been standing very close to her while she and her friends were hanging out in the Mall. The officers then searched him, but the clever thief had anticipated this and gotten rid of the purse. However, some of the silver found on him matched the description of what had been lost, though the lady couldn’t confirm it as hers. He was taken from the Park to be presented to the magistrates at the Public Office in Bow Street.
During this transaction, a carriage bearing the royal arms, and attended by two footmen only, drove rapidly along the Mall, without attracting particular notice, and entering the garden-gate of Carlton-house, was immediately lost to public view; nor did the numerous groups who were in waiting to catch a transient glance of royalty, recognise in the unassuming inmate of this vehicle, the sacred person of his most gracious Majesty King George the Fourth, who was thus pleased modestly to decline the congratulations of his loving subjects, by eluding, incognita, their observation.
During this event, a carriage with the royal insignia, accompanied by just two footmen, drove quickly down the Mall without drawing much attention. It entered the garden gate of Carlton House and quickly vanished from sight. The many groups waiting to catch a fleeting glimpse of royalty didn’t realize that the humble occupant of the carriage was none other than his most gracious Majesty King George the Fourth, who modestly chose to avoid the well-wishes of his loyal subjects by slipping past them unnoticed.
This was a second grievous disappointment to our venerable aunt, and might have operated as a spell against the further enjoyment of the day; but the gloom of vexation was dispersed by the Esquire of Belville-hall, who observed, that the royal lineage of the lady might aspire to a more intimate knowledge of majesty than a view en passant, and that at any future levee there could not exist a doubt of the facility of Miss Macgilligan's introduction.
This was a second major disappointment for our respected aunt, and it could have put a damper on the rest of the day; however, the cloud of frustration was lifted by the Esquire of Belville-hall, who noted that the royal lineage of the lady might expect to have a closer connection to royalty than just a passing glance, and that at any future event, there would be no doubt about the ease of introducing Miss Macgilligan.
A convenient and vacant bench presenting itself, the associates now seated themselves.
A convenient and empty bench appeared, so the associates sat down.
“Apropos,” exclaimed Sir Felix, “talking of the King, does his Majesty mean to honour with another visit his Hanoverian dominions this ensuing summer?”
“By the way,” exclaimed Sir Felix, “speaking of the King, does his Majesty plan to honor his Hanoverian territories with another visit this upcoming summer?”
[271] The inquiry was directed to Dashall, whom the Baronet was accustomed to look upon as an universal intelligencer.
[271] The question was directed to Dashall, whom the Baronet typically regarded as an all-knowing source of information.
Tom declared his incompetency to answer the question.
Tom admitted that he wasn't capable of answering the question.
“Well,” continued Sir Felix, “were I the monarch of this empire, J would make myself acquainted with every part of it. A tour through England, Scotland, and Ireland, should be my primary object, and a visit to my foreign territories a subordinate consideration, I would travel from town to town in the land that gave me birth; like the Tudors and the Stuarts; with confidence in the loyalty of my people, my person should be familiar to them, and 1 should at all times be accessible to their complaints. Elizabeth and the Second James made frequent excursions into distant parts of the country, and every where were received with addresses of fidelity. Were his present Majesty to follow, in this respect, the example of his royal predecessors, who can doubt his experiencing the most ample and unequivocal demonstrations of attachment to his person and government?”
“Well,” continued Sir Felix, “if I were the monarch of this empire, I would get to know every part of it. A tour through England, Scotland, and Ireland would be my top priority, while visiting my overseas territories would be a secondary focus. I would travel from town to town in the land where I was born, just like the Tudors and the Stuarts; confident in the loyalty of my people, I would ensure that they were familiar with me, and I would always be available to hear their concerns. Elizabeth and the Second James frequently ventured into far parts of the country and were welcomed everywhere with pledges of loyalty. If the current King were to follow in this regard the example set by his royal predecessors, who could doubt that he would receive the most abundant and clear expressions of loyalty to his person and government?”
The friendly associates indulged a hearty laugh at the expense of the visionary, although they did him the justice to believe that his theoretical improvements on the policy of majesty were the ebullition of a generous heart, warm in fraternal regard for the whole of human kind.
The friendly associates had a good laugh at the expense of the visionary, but they gave him credit for believing that his theoretical improvements on the king's policies came from a generous heart, genuinely caring for all of humanity.
Tom, however, reminded him that the pusillanimous James II. acquired no popularity by his royal tours; and that the affections of the people were not to be gained by the merely personal condescension of the monarch.{1}
Tom, however, reminded him that the cowardly James II didn’t gain any popularity from his royal tours; and that the love of the people couldn’t be won just by the king’s personal kindness.{1}
[272]So slow was the progress of the vehicles towards the palace for the purpose of taking up their respective owners, that many gentlemen, whose residences were in the vicinity, rather than wait, preferred walking across the Park; while the unusual exhibition of a pedestrian in full court-dress excited no little attention from the multitude. Our party proceeding in their lounge, was presently met by one of these gentlemen, who recognizing Dashall and Tallyho, shook them cordially by the hand, and was introduced to Sir Felix and his Aunt, as Captain of the Royal Navy.
[272] The vehicles were moving so slowly toward the palace to pick up their owners that many gentlemen who lived nearby preferred to walk across the Park instead of waiting. The sight of someone in full court dress walking drew quite a bit of attention from the crowd. Our group, enjoying their time, was soon approached by one of these gentlemen. Recognizing Dashall and Tallyho, he shook their hands warmly and was introduced to Sir Felix and his Aunt as a Captain in the Royal Navy.
The Captain, to adopt a Court phrase, was most graciously received by the lady; who observing he had been present at the Levee, begged that he would favour her with an account of what had passed.
The Captain, to use a courtly term, was warmly welcomed by the lady; who noticing that he had attended the Levee, requested that he share with her what had happened.
The gallant Captain, retracing his steps with his friends along the Mall, said, that little or nothing had occurred worthy of remark.
The brave Captain, walking back with his friends along the Mall, said that very little had happened that was worth mentioning.
“The drawing-room,” he continued, “was crowded to such excess, that I should have felt myself more at ease in the bilboes; however, amidst the awkwardness of the squeeze, I frequently came into unavoidable contact with some very fine girls, and that pleasure certainly more than compensated all inconveniences. The King (God bless him)! perspired most prodigiously; for the heat was intolerable; he appeared very much fatigued; and 1 hope has retired with a superior relish to enjoy the quietude and luxury of the royal table at Carlton Palace. The presentations of the female sprigs of nobility were numerous, to all of whom he paid particular attention, in duty bound, as a gallant Cavalier and the best bred gentleman in Europe. Indeed, he seemed to gloat on the charms of those terrestrial deities with ecstacy! The introductions were endless, and the etiquette tiresome and monotonous. In fact, after making my humble congée, extrication became my only object, and I effected a retreat with difficulty. My stay was short, and as I had neither inclination nor opportunity for minute remark, I hope, Madam, that you will pardon my incapability of answering your inquiry in a more particular manner.”
“The drawing-room,” he continued, “was so packed that I would have felt more comfortable in chains; however, amidst the awkwardness of the crowd, I kept bumping into some really attractive girls, and that pleasure definitely made up for any inconveniences. The King (God bless him!) was sweating profusely because the heat was unbearable; he looked quite tired, and I hope he has gone to enjoy the peace and luxury of the royal table at Carlton Palace. There were a lot of young noblewomen introduced, and he gave special attention to each one, as a true gentleman and the best-bred guy in Europe. In fact, he seemed to revel in the beauty of those earthly goddesses with delight! The introductions went on forever, and the formalities were exhausting and dull. Honestly, after making my polite bow, my only goal was to find a way out, and I managed to escape with difficulty. My time there was brief, and since I had neither the desire nor the chance to take detailed notes, I hope, Madam, that you will forgive my inability to answer your question in a more specific way.”
[273] Nothing farther could be elicited. In truth, the Captain had left nothing untold; for his description of the Levee, although succinct, was correct, laying aside the enumeration of the dramatis personæ, too numerous, and in many instances perhaps too insignificant, for recollection.
[273] Nothing more could be revealed. Honestly, the Captain had shared everything; his description of the Levee, while brief, was accurate, aside from mentioning the cast of characters, which was too many and often too trivial to remember.
The gallant son of Neptune now took his leave, and the party continued to enjoy the pleasure of the promenade.
The brave son of Neptune now said his goodbyes, and the group continued to enjoy their walk.
The Park was still thronged with spectators, attracted by the retiring visitors, of whom some it seems were no welcome guests.
The Park was still crowded with onlookers, drawn in by the departing visitors, some of whom apparently were not very welcome.
Whether vice had contaminated the hallowed presence of Royalty, we cannot take upon us to say; but it appears that the sanctum sanctorum had been polluted by intrusion; for a notification was issued next day by the Lord Chamberlain, prefaced with the usual Whereas, “that certain improper persons had gained access to his Majesty's Levee, and stating, that in future no one would be admitted unless in full Court dress, including bag-wig, sword,” &c.{1}
Whether vice had tainted the revered presence of royalty, we can’t say; but it seems that the sacred space had been compromised by intrusion. The next day, the Lord Chamberlain released a notice, beginning with the usual Whereas, “that certain inappropriate individuals had gained access to his Majesty's Levee, and stating that in the future, no one would be admitted unless in full Court dress, including bag-wig, sword,” &c.{1}
The party having lounged away another pleasant hour, made ultimately their exit from the Park by the Stable-yard, and entering Pall Mall, were agreeably surprised with a very interesting exhibition.
The group had relaxed for another enjoyable hour before finally leaving the Park through the Stable-yard. As they entered Pall Mall, they were pleasantly surprised by a very interesting exhibition.
During many years of the late King's reign, it was usual on the birth-day anniversary for the different mail coaches to pass in review before his Majesty in front of St. James's Palace. The custom still prevails.
During many years of the late King's reign, it was common on the anniversary of his birthday for different mail coaches to parade in front of his Majesty at St. James's Palace. The tradition still continues.
On the present occasion numerous spectators had assembled opposite Carl ton-house; and it is presumed that the Sovereign thence witnessed the procession, although he was not within the view of public observation.
On this occasion, a large crowd had gathered in front of Carlton House; and it is assumed that the Sovereign watched the procession from there, even though he was not visible to the public.
[274] Above thirty mail coaches, fresh gilt and painted, or in the language of churchwardens, beautified, and each drawn by four noble-spirited, yet perfectly tractable horses, elegantly caparisoned, now made their appearance. The cavalcade moved slowly onward, the prancing steeds impatient of restraint, and conscious of superiority. On the box of each vehicle was seated a portly good looking man, the knowing Jehu of the road, and behind was the guard, occasionally “winding his bugle-horn” with melodious and scientific ability. The reins and harness were new, so also were the royal liveries of the coachmen and guards. Mounted conductors led the van of the procession, while others accompanied it on either side; and the interest of the scene was considerably heightened by each coach being occupied inside by handsome well-dressed women and children. The rear of this imposing spectacle was brought up by a long train of the twopenny post-boys, all newly clothed in the royal uniform, and mounted on hardy ponies, chiefly of the Highland and Shetland breed. The cavalcade halted in front of the royal residence, and gave three cheers in honour of the day, which were heartily returned by the populace. The procession then resumed its progress by Charing-cross, the Strand, Fleet-street, Ludgate-hill, round St. Paul's, and by Cheapside into Lombard-street,
[274] Over thirty mail coaches, freshly gilded and painted, or as the churchwardens would say, beautified, each pulled by four spirited yet perfectly manageable horses, elegantly dressed, made their appearance. The parade moved slowly forward, with the prancing horses eager to break free, fully aware of their strength. On the box of each coach was a stout, good-looking man, the experienced driver of the road, and behind him was the guard, occasionally “playing his bugle” with skillful and melodic flair. The reins and harness were brand new, as were the royal uniforms of the drivers and guards. Mounted conductors led the front of the procession, while others flanked it on either side; the scene was further enhanced by each coach being filled with attractive, well-dressed women and children. The back of this grand display was brought up by a long line of postboys in their new royal uniforms, riding sturdy ponies, mostly of Highland and Shetland breeds. The procession stopped in front of the royal residence and cheered three times in honor of the day, which the crowd eagerly echoed. It then continued its journey through Charing Cross, the Strand, Fleet Street, Ludgate Hill, around St. Paul's, and down Cheapside into Lombard Street.
Passing up the new street, the associates reached the mansion of Dashall, who had previously engaged his friends to dinner.
Passing the new street, the friends arrived at Dashall's mansion, where he had invited them for dinner.
An elegant repast was immediately served up, and highly enjoyed by the party, after such prolonged exercise and abstinence.
An elegant meal was quickly served and thoroughly enjoyed by the group after such a long time of exercise and not eating.
The conversation turning on the recent interesting exhibition, it was universally acknowledged, that the introduction of the mail coach into the establishment of the General Post-office, might be classed among the highest improvements of the age, as amazingly accelerating the celerity of intercourse with all parts of the empire. Neither was the well-merited meed of encomium withheld from the Twopenny-post Institution, by which, so frequently in the course of the day, the facility of communication is kept up within the metropolis and suburbs, extending to all adjacencies, and bounded only by the limits of the bills of mortality. Dashall, who seldom let slip an opportunity of appropriate remark [275] digressed from the procession to the important national utility of the Post-office, and thence, by easy transition, to the sublime powers of the human mind, as emphatically exemplified in the invention of writing and printing; while Sir Felix, who was well experienced in the British poets, favoured his aunt with a quotation from Pope's Epistle of Heloisa to Abelard, subject, however, to such whimsical interpolation as he deemed suitable to the occasion:—
The conversation shifted to the recent fascinating exhibition, and it was widely agreed that the introduction of the mail coach into the General Post Office was one of the greatest advancements of the time, as it greatly sped up communication across the entire empire. The well-deserved praise also went to the Twopenny Post Institution, which maintains the ease of communication throughout the city and suburbs, reaching all nearby areas and limited only by the boundaries of the mortality records. Dashall, who rarely missed a chance to make a relevant comment, veered off from the flow to discuss the significant national benefit of the Post Office, and then smoothly transitioned to the remarkable capabilities of the human mind, clearly demonstrated by the invention of writing and printing. Meanwhile, Sir Felix, who was well-versed in British poetry, treated his aunt to a quote from Pope's Epistle of Heloisa to Abelard, though he added some amusing twists he thought were fitting for the moment:—
Heaven first taught letters for some wretch's aid, Some antique, lovesick, North of Ireland maid! They live, they speak, they breathe what age inspires, Preposterous fondness and impure desires! The latent wish without a blush impart, Reveal the frailties of a morbid heart; Speed the neglected sigh from soul to soul, And waft a groan from Indus to the Pole!
Heaven first taught letters to help some unfortunate, lovesick girl from North Ireland! They live, they speak, they breathe what this age inspires—absurd affection and impure desires! The hidden wish shared without shame reveals the weaknesses of a troubled heart; it carries the neglected sigh from one soul to another and sends a groan from the Indus River to the North Pole!
The reading of Miss Macgilligan, like her ideas, was rather on a contracted scale. She suspected, however, that her nephew had aimed against her the shafts of ridicule, and was preparing her resentment accordingly; when the Baronet deprecating her wrath, assured her, that he had recited the lines exactly as originally written, and that in the present clay they had no personal application, having been composed by a little cynical fellow many years before Miss Macgilligan came into existence.—The lady gave credence to the assertion, and the impending storm was happily averted.
The way Miss Macgilligan read, like her ideas, was pretty narrow. However, she suspected that her nephew was making fun of her and was getting ready to be angry about it; when the Baronet, trying to calm her down, assured her that he had recited the lines exactly as they were originally written, and that today they had no personal meaning, since they were created by a cynical little guy many years before Miss Macgilligan was born. The lady believed him, and the brewing conflict was fortunately avoided.
The residence of royalty being within the precinct of St. James's, the bells of the neighbouring church sounded a merry peal in the ears of the party; and were responded to by those of St, Martin-in-the-Fields, a parish of which it is remarkable that his Majesty George II. was once church-warden, serving the office, of course, by deputy. The steeple of this church, as well as those of many others in the metropolis, displayed, throughout the day, the royal standard, a manifestation of loyalty which likewise extended itself to the liquid element of old father Thames, where many of the vessels commemorated the anniversary by frequent salutes of artillery, under the decorative and splendid canopy formed by the colours of all nations.
The royal residence at St. James's was close by, and the bells of the nearby church rang happily in the ears of the group. They were answered by the bells of St. Martin-in-the-Fields, a parish notably once overseen by King George II, who served as churchwarden, though by proxy. The steeple of this church, along with many others in the city, displayed the royal flag throughout the day, a sign of loyalty that also reached the waters of the River Thames, where many ships celebrated the anniversary with gun salutes, all under a vibrant canopy made of flags from all nations.
[276] The carriages of the foreign ambassadors, and those of the friends of government, were again in requisition, and rattled along the streets towards the several mansions of the members of administration, who each, in conformity with ancient usage, gave a grand dinner on the birth-day, at least on that appointed for its celebration.
[276] The carriages of the foreign ambassadors and those belonging to government supporters were once again in demand, clattering down the streets to the various homes of the administration members, who each, following tradition, hosted a lavish dinner to celebrate the birthday, at least on the day designated for the occasion.
“At these dinners,” said Dashall, “politics and etiquette are both laid aside; conviviality is the order of the day; the glass, the joke, the repartee and the 'retort courteous,' circulate freely, and all is harmony and good humour.”
“At these dinners,” said Dashall, “politics and manners are both put on hold; enjoying ourselves is the main focus; drinks, jokes, quick comebacks, and polite replies flow freely, and everything is in harmony and good spirits.”
“With sometimes a sprinkling of alloy,” said the Squire, “I have heard that during the administration of Mr. Pitt, he and the Lord Chancellor Thurlow were frequently at variance on subjects having no reference to politics, and even under the exhilirating influence of the grape.”
“Sometimes with a bit of blend,” said the Squire, “I’ve heard that during Mr. Pitt’s time, he and Lord Chancellor Thurlow often disagreed on topics unrelated to politics, and even while enjoying a drink.”
The party were all attention, and the Squire proceeded—“At a cabinet dinner a discussion took place between the Premier and Lord Chancellor, as to the comparative merits of the Latin and English languages. Mr. Pitt gave the preference to the former, the Chancellor! to the latter; and the arguments on both sides were carried on with equal pertinacity.—The Premier would not yield a jot in opinion. Becoming at last impatient of opposition,
The group was fully engaged, and the Squire continued—“During a cabinet dinner, there was a debate between the Prime Minister and the Lord Chancellor about the advantages of Latin versus English. Mr. Pitt favored Latin, while the Chancellor preferred English, and both sides argued their points with equal determination. The Prime Minister would not budge in his viewpoint. Eventually, growing tired of the disagreement,
“Why,” said he, “the English language is an ambiguity—two negatives make an affirmative; but in the Latin, two negatives make a positive.”—“Then,” said the Chancellor, “your father and mother must have been two negatives, to make such a positive fellow as you are!”{1}
“Why,” he said, “the English language is full of ambiguity—two negatives create a positive; but in Latin, two negatives create a positive.” — “Then,” the Chancellor replied, “your parents must have been two negatives to produce such a positive guy like you!”{1}
[278] Sir Felix laughed heartily at this anecdote, and inquired of his aunt whether she knew any of the Positive family in the North of Ireland.
[278] Sir Felix laughed loudly at this story and asked his aunt if she knew any of the Positive family from Northern Ireland.
“Perfectly well,” retorted the lady, “they are allied to the Wrongheads of the province of Munster!”
“Perfectly well,” the lady shot back, “they’re related to the Wrongheads from the province of Munster!”
This reproof, which was hailed with applause by Tom and Bob, dumb-foundered the Baronet, who became suddenly taciturn; but his habitual good humour predominated, and conscious that he had brought on himself the inflicted castigation, he resolved on a cessation of hostilities for the remainder of the evening.
This criticism, which Tom and Bob applauded, left the Baronet speechless, causing him to become suddenly quiet; however, his usual good humor took over, and knowing he was the one who had caused the punishment, he decided to stop the arguments for the rest of the evening.
The invitation by Dashall having been without formal ceremony, and unhesitatingly accepted by Miss Macgilligan and her nephew, they now, in turn, claimed the like privilege of freedom, by soliciting the company of the two Cousins to supper; a request which Tom and Bob cheerfully acquiesced in; and the party immediately set out for the Baronet's lodgings, preferring to walk the short distance, that they might view, more leisurely, the accustomed illuminations on the anniversary of his Majesty's birth-day.
The invitation from Dashall was pretty casual, and Miss Macgilligan and her nephew quickly accepted it. In return, they asked if the two cousins could join them for supper, a request that Tom and Bob happily agreed to. The group then decided to walk the short distance to the Baronet's place, wanting to enjoy the familiar lights celebrating the anniversary of the King's birthday at a more relaxed pace.
The variegated lamps were tastefully arranged; but this effusion of loyalty was rather of an interested than interesting description, being confined wholly to the public-offices, the theatres, and the different houses of his Majesty's tradesmen; no other habitation in this immense metropolis bearing any external indication of attachment, on the part of its occupant, to the Sovereign of the British Empire!
The colorful lamps were arranged beautifully; however, this display of loyalty seemed more self-serving than genuinely interesting, as it was limited entirely to the government buildings, theaters, and various shops owned by the King's vendors. No other residence in this vast city showed any outward sign of allegiance from its residents to the Sovereign of the British Empire!
“Here comes a set of jolly fellows,” exclaimed the Baronet, as the party of friends turned into Bow-street from Covent-Garden, “who are at least determined to honour the anniversary of St. George and their Sovereign,” the clang of marrow bones and cleavers resounding with harsh and stunning dissonance.
“Here comes a group of cheerful guys,” yelled the Baronet, as the group of friends turned onto Bow Street from Covent Garden, “who are definitely set on celebrating the anniversary of St. George and their Monarch,” the clattering of marrow bones and cleavers ringing out with a loud and jarring noise.
“Rather,” said Dashall, “fellows determined to levy contributions on the public, caring as little for the actual George the King, as they do for the fabulous George the Champion.”
“Instead,” said Dashall, “guys set on taking money from the public care as little for the real George the King as they do for the legendary George the Champion.”
[279] It was in vain that our party attempted to avoid them by crossing the street. The intention was quickly thwarted by these self-licensed prowlers, who intercepting our associates in the carriage-way, encircled them in such a manner, as to preclude the possibility of extrication; and raised, at the same time, a discoid of sounds, compared with which the vocal minstrelsy of the long-eared braying fraternity would have been the music of the spheres!
[279] Our group tried in vain to avoid them by crossing the street. Their plans were quickly messed up by these self-appointed prowlers, who blocked our friends in the roadway, surrounding them in a way that made it impossible to escape. At the same time, they created a cacophony of sounds that would make the singing of the donkey brigade sound like heavenly music!
Sir Felix, in chastisement of their arrogance, would singly have encountered the whole group, had he not been restrained by Tom and Bob, who rather than engage in a street brawl with a host of pertinacious adversaries, chose to yield to circumstances, and purchase freedom at the expense of a trifling pecuniary consideration, with which the collectors departed well satisfied.
Sir Felix, to put them in their place for their arrogance, would have taken on the whole group by himself if Tom and Bob hadn’t stopped him. Instead of getting into a street fight with a bunch of persistent opponents, they decided to go along with the situation and buy their freedom with a small amount of money, which the collectors left feeling quite satisfied with.
Our observers having thus obtained their liberty, renewed their walk, and reached the lodgings of the Baronet without farther interruption.
Our observers, having gained their freedom, continued their walk and arrived at the Baronet's place without any further interruptions.
During their perambulation, the following article was put into the hands of the Squire, with which we shall conclude our Chapter of Incidents;—
During their walk, the following article was handed to the Squire, with which we will wrap up our Chapter of Incidents;—
CHAPTER XXI
[282] The departure of Merrywell left our three friends at perfect liberty, and they were determined to enjoy it as much as possible during Sparkle's visit. The remainder of the evening was therefore devoted to the retracing of past events, in which they had formerly been engaged together, in drinking success to Merrywell's journey, and in laying down some plans for the proceedings of the next day. On the latter subject, however, there were as many opinions as there were persons. The Hon. Tom Dash all proposed going to the Review—Sparkle was for a journey to Gravesend in the steam-boat, with the religious friends who were to accompany Lord Gambier—and Tallyho proposed a visit to the Tower of London, in order to inspect its interior. It was therefore left undecided till the morning, which proving extremely inviting, they determined to sally forth, and leave the direction of their course wholly to chance, as they had many times done before.
[282] With Merrywell gone, our three friends were completely free, and they were determined to make the most of it during Sparkle's visit. They spent the rest of the evening reminiscing about past events they had shared together, toasting to Merrywell's journey, and brainstorming plans for the next day. However, when it came to the latter, everyone had different ideas. The Hon. Tom Dash suggested going to the Review—Sparkle was in favor of taking a steamship to Gravesend with the religious friends who were accompanying Lord Gambier—and Tallyho wanted to visit the Tower of London to explore its interior. So, it was left unresolved until the morning, which turned out to be very inviting, prompting them to head out and let chance decide their adventure, just as they had done many times before.
[283] Sparkle's relish for the sprees and sports of a London life, was evidently injured by his residence in the country; though at the same time former scenes and former circumstances rushing occasionally upon his sight and his recollection, appeared to afford him gratification and delight.
[283] Sparkle's enjoyment of the fun and activities of London life was clearly affected by living in the countryside; however, past scenes and experiences would sometimes flood his mind and seem to bring him pleasure and happiness.
“And how,” said Sparkle, addressing himself to Tallyho, “do you like the scene of ever varying novelty—has it lost any of its charms since I saw you last?”
“And how,” said Sparkle, turning to Tallyho, “do you like the constantly changing scene—has it lost any of its charm since I last saw you?”
“By no means,” replied Tallyho; “for although many of them are grown familiar to me, and many are also calculated to excite painful feelings, I am not yet tired of the inquiry. I set out with the intention to contemplate men and manners as they actually are, and I conceive a useful lesson for instruction and improvement may be afforded by it.”
“Not at all,” replied Tallyho; “even though I know many of them well and some are likely to bring up uncomfortable feelings, I’m not yet weary of learning about them. I started with the goal of observing people and their behavior as they truly are, and I believe there’s a valuable lesson to be learned for both education and personal growth.”
“Right,” continued Sparkle, “real life is a most excellent school; and if in imbibing the instruction with which it is fraught, the judgment is not misled, or the mind vitiated none can be more important to mankind.”
“Right,” continued Sparkle, “real life is an excellent teacher; and if we take in the lessons it offers without letting our judgment be misled or our minds be corrupted, nothing could be more beneficial to humanity.”
“Come,” said Tom, “I see you are getting into one of your moralizing strains, such as you left us with. Now I am well aware that you have an excellent acquaintance with the pursuits you are speaking of, and have enjoyed them as much as myself; nor can I conceive that your temporary absence has wrought such a change in your opinion, as to make you wholly disregard the amusements they afford. So come along, no more preaching; “and thus saying, he seized him by one arm, while Tallyho closed upon the other; and they proceeded on their way along Piccadilly towards the Haymarket.
“Come on,” said Tom, “I can see you're getting into one of your preachy moods again, like the last time. Look, I know you're really familiar with the activities you're talking about, and you've enjoyed them just as much as I have; I can’t believe that your short time away has changed your mind so much that you’ve completely dismissed the fun they bring. So let’s go, no more preaching.” With that, he grabbed him by one arm, while Tallyho took hold of the other, and they continued on their way down Piccadilly toward the Haymarket.
“Besides,” continued Dashall, “every day makes a difference in this metropolis; so that even you who have proved yourself so able a delineator of men and things as they were, may still find many things deserving of your observation as they are.”
“Besides,” continued Dashall, “every day changes things in this city; so even you, who have shown yourself to be such a skilled observer of people and situations as they were, may still discover plenty of things worth noticing as they are.”
“I do not doubt it,” was the reply; “and consequently expect, that having just arrived from rural felicity, you will direct my footsteps to the most novel scene of metropolitan splendour or extraordinary character.”
“I don’t doubt it,” was the reply; “so I expect that having just come from rural happiness, you will guide me to the most exciting place of city splendor or unique character.”
[284] “Character is an abundant and everlasting supply of humour and eccentricity for an observant quiz like yourself, and being fly to most occurrences either in town or country, I shall rather confine myself to the most remarkable circumstances that happen to strike my recollection us we proceed. The first that occurs at this moment, is the opening of a new establishment in Regent-street, under the title of the Cafe Royale, to which, as we have not yet paid a visit, I propose now to direct your steps.”
[284] “Character is a rich and endless source of humor and quirks for an observant person like you, and since you’re aware of most happenings, whether in town or the countryside, I’ll focus on the most notable things that come to mind as we go along. The first thing that comes to mind right now is the opening of a new place on Regent Street called the Cafe Royale, which we haven’t visited yet, so I suggest we head there now.”
“Cafe Royale” repeated Sparkle, “there is something Frenchified in the sound. I suppose it is quite in the tip top stile of elegance.”
“Cafe Royale,” Sparkle repeated, “there’s something so French about the sound. I guess it really is at the height of elegance.”
“So says report.”
"So says the report."
“Then allons,—but as we proceed, I beg to ask one question. If it be considered important in a national point of view, that the superior elegancies of our Parisian neighbours should be engrafted on our own habits, and that an establishment of this nature should be formed, with a view of its becoming the resort of rank and fashion, whether any good reason can be given why such an establishment, in an English city for Englishmen, should not have an English title?”
“Then let's go—but as we move forward, I’d like to ask one question. If it’s seen as important from a national perspective that the finer qualities of our Parisian neighbors should be integrated into our own customs, and that a place like this should be created to attract the elite and fashionable, can anyone provide a good reason why such a place, in an English city for English people, shouldn’t have an English name?”
“A most extraordinary question for a fashionable man.”
“A really unusual question for a stylish guy.”
“It may be so,” continued Sparkle; “but you must attribute it to my country habits of thinking: however, as I like argument better than assertion, I see no reason to abandon my question. The adoption of any thing foreign, is only rational in proportion as it is useful or agreeable; for foreign wines, foreign fruits, foreign made coffee, &c. no one can be a greater advocate than myself; but I apprehend that these good things may taste as well, whether the room in which they are taken be called by a French or an English name.”
“It might be true,” Sparkle continued, “but you have to chalk it up to my country way of thinking. Still, since I prefer a debate over just making statements, I don’t see any reason to drop my question. Embracing anything from abroad is only sensible as long as it’s useful or enjoyable. When it comes to foreign wines, fruits, and coffee, no one is a bigger fan than I am. But I believe these delightful things can taste just as good, regardless of whether the room where they’re enjoyed has a French or an English name.”
“That is a truth so self evident as to require no reply; and really I can give no sort of reason for the adoption of a French title, unless it be with a view to give it that air of novelty which invariably proves attractive to Johnny Bull; and I think I need not attempt to explain to you the importance of a title.”
“That is a truth so obvious that it needs no response; honestly, I can't come up with any reason for adopting a French title, unless it's to give it that sense of novelty that's always appealing to Johnny Bull; and I don't think I need to explain to you how important a title is.”
“However,” said Sparkle, “I cannot help thinking, that if the place alluded to is to become a permanent establishment, it would become an Englishman to have an English name for it. We need not be ashamed of our language, although some folks disdain to use it, if they can find any substitute, however inapt. Why should it not be called the Royal Coffee-house, the King's Coffee-house, the Patrician, the Universal, or in fact any thing, so that it be English?”
“However,” said Sparkle, “I can’t help but think that if the place we’re talking about is going to be a permanent establishment, it would be fitting to give it an English name. We shouldn’t be embarrassed by our language, even though some people look down on it and prefer any alternative, no matter how unsuitable. Why shouldn’t it be called the Royal Coffee-house, the King’s Coffee-house, the Patrician, the Universal, or really anything, as long as it’s in English?”
[285] “Because,” said Tallyho, “those titles are already engrossed by newspaper editors, coffee-shops of a lower order, magazines, &c.: for instance, we have the Royal Magazine, the Universal Magazine; and consequently these are all grown common, and any thing common is extremely vulgar.”
[285] “Because,” said Tallyho, “those titles are already taken by newspaper editors, lower-quality coffee shops, magazines, etc.: for example, we have the Royal Magazine and the Universal Magazine; and because of this, they’ve all become common, and anything common is very tacky.”
“Besides,” continued Dashall, “Cafe Royale is a mouthful, without attacking its contents; and the very sound of it seems to impart a taste, before you approach it, of what may be obtained in the interior. Zounds! this country life of your's seems to have altered your opinions, and almost obliterated your former education: I never had any relish for it.”
“Besides,” continued Dashall, “Cafe Royale is a lot to deal with, without even considering what’s inside it; and just the sound of it gives you a taste, before you even get there, of what you might find inside. Wow! This country life of yours seems to have changed your views and nearly erased your previous education: I never really liked it.”
“In town let me live, and in town let me die, For in truth 1 can't relish the country, not I: If one must have a villa in summer to dwell, Oh give me the sweet shady side of Pall Mall.”
“In town let me live, and in town let me die, For in truth I can't enjoy the country, not at all: If someone has to have a villa in summer, Oh give me the nice shady side of Pall Mall.”
By this time they had reached the Cafe Royale, and upon entrance were ushered by a man in blue livery, with gold laced trimmings, into an apartment far exceeding in splendour any thing that their previous conversation had led them to expect. The walls, formed of looking glass and rich tapestry, and ornamented in a fanciful manner, reflected their persons as they passed along at every point; while the choicest flowers and shrubs, with which they were surrounded, sent forth a delightful fragrance, and gave some distant idea of Eastern luxuries.
By this time, they had arrived at the Cafe Royale, and as they entered, a man in a blue uniform with gold trim guided them into a room that was far more magnificent than anything their earlier conversation had suggested. The walls, made of mirrors and rich tapestries, decorated in an imaginative style, reflected their images as they walked through; meanwhile, the beautiful flowers and plants surrounding them released a lovely fragrance, hinting at luxurious Eastern delights.
“Here,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “is elegance at least; and if the accommodations are found to be equally good, it can be of little consequence to us whether the place itself have an English or a foreign name.”
“Here,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “there's at least some elegance; and if the amenities are just as good, it doesn't really matter to us whether the place has an English name or a foreign one.”
“I confess,” replied Sparkle, “that I still conceive, that as a place of resort appropriated to the upper ranks of natives and foreigners, magnificent in its decorations, superior in its accommodations, and conducted with skill and liberality, to become truly national and deserving of support, it should be honoured with an English title.”
“I admit,” replied Sparkle, “that I still believe that as a venue meant for the elite among locals and visitors, magnificent in its decor, exceptional in its amenities, and managed with expertise and generosity, it should be recognized as truly national and worthy of support by being given an English title.”
“And that it certainly is,” continued Dashall, “not only one but many, for nobility is frequently to be found within its walls; nay, a proof of it appears at this moment, for there is Lord P——— and Lord C——— now entering; but come, let us try the coffee, catch a view of the papers, and proceed.”
“And it definitely is,” Dashall continued, “not just one but many, because nobility is often found within these walls; in fact, we have proof of that right now, as Lord P——— and Lord C——— are entering. But come on, let’s grab some coffee, take a look at the papers, and move on.”
[286] They had now seated themselves near an elderly gentleman, who seemed to be in deep contemplation, occasionally rubbing his hands with apparent gratification, and shaking his head with importance, while he glanced over a newspaper which lay before him.
[286] They had now settled themselves near an older gentleman, who appeared to be in deep thought, occasionally rubbing his hands with clear satisfaction and shaking his head with significance as he looked over a newspaper that was in front of him.
“I should judge,” said Tallyho, “he is a member of parliament, probably conning over the report of his last night's speech in the House.”
“I guess,” said Tallyho, “he’s a member of parliament, probably going over the notes of his speech from last night in the House.”
“Or probably,” said Dashall, “an author in search of ideas for his next publication, wherein he intends to cut up the ministers and their measures.”
“Or maybe,” said Dashall, “an author looking for ideas for his next book, where he plans to criticize the ministers and their policies.”
“Yes,” continued Sparkle, “or a quack doctor, examining if the editor has given insertion to his new flaming advertisement, wherein he promises to perform what is utterly impossible to be accomplished.”
“Yes,” continued Sparkle, “or a fake doctor, checking to see if the editor has published his flashy new ad, where he claims he can do what is completely impossible.”
“I wonder if he can speak,” said Tom, laying clown the paper; “I'll try him.—A fine morning, Sir.”
“I wonder if he can talk,” said Tom, putting down the paper; “I'll give it a shot. —Good morning, Sir.”
As this was directed immediately to meet the old gentleman's ear, he looked up for the first time since they had entered.
As this was aimed directly at the old man's ears, he looked up for the first time since they had entered.
“Beautiful, Sir,” was the reply—and here the conversation ceased again.
“Beautiful, Sir,” was the response—and at this point, the conversation stopped once more.
“Excellent coffee,” said Sparkle,—“is there any news to-day, Sir?” endeavouring to rouse him again.
“Great coffee,” said Sparkle, “is there any news today, Sir?” trying to wake him up again.
“There is always news, Sir,” was the reply, taking a plentiful supply of snuff.
“There’s always news, Sir,” was the reply, taking a good amount of snuff.
“Of one sort or other,” continued Bon.
“Of one kind or another,” continued Bon.
“Why yes, have we not every day a quantity of newspapers that make their appearance with the sun?”
“Of course, don’t we get a bunch of newspapers every day when the sun comes up?”
“Truly,” replied Sparkle; “but you could hardly misunderstand me—I alluded to something out of the common run of events; such, for instance, as relates to the interests of the nation, the agricultural distress, the distress of the Irish, the state of the American independents, the proceedings of the Spanish cortes, and the French chamber; the movements of the Greeks, the operations of Turkey and Russia, or the—or—”
“Honestly,” replied Sparkle, “but you could hardly misinterpret me—I was referring to matters outside of everyday occurrences; like the interests of the nation, the struggles in agriculture, the troubles in Ireland, the situation of American independents, the actions of the Spanish parliament, and the French assembly; the activities of the Greeks, the actions of Turkey and Russia, or the—or—”
“Why, Sir, your inquiries are very rational; and as I perceive you have a desire for intelligence, and I have at all times a desire to impart such as I am in possession of for the benefit of others, the newspapers have abundance of information; but I must say the editors, though men of education and intelligence, are not always well informed: besides, Sir, there is no reliance on their assertions; many valuable and important secrets are in the hands of individuals, which never find their way into the public journals.”
“Why, Sir, your questions are quite reasonable; and since I see you want knowledge, and I always want to share what I know for the benefit of others, the newspapers have plenty of information. However, I must say that the editors, although educated and intelligent, aren’t always well-informed. Also, Sir, you can’t always trust what they say; many valuable and important secrets are held by individuals that never make it into the public newspapers.”
[288] Having proceeded thus far, our three friends were all anxiety to continue what now assumed the appearance of an interesting conversation.
[288] Having come this far, our three friends were all eager to carry on with what now seemed to be an engaging conversation.
“The nation is gull'd by misrepresentation, from the high to the low one system is acted upon; but I have a document in my pocket which came into my possession in rather an extraordinary manner, and is as extraordinary in its contents; it was thrust into my hand on my way here by a stranger, who instantly disappeared.”
“The country is deceived by misrepresentation; from the highest to the lowest, one system is in place. However, I have a document in my pocket that I got in a rather unusual way, and its contents are just as unusual. A stranger handed it to me on my way here and then vanished instantly.”
“A curious salute,” observed Tom; “probably some state paper, some information on foreign affairs, or a petition to be presented to the House.”
“A curious salute,” Tom remarked; “probably some official document, some info on foreign affairs, or a petition to be presented to the House.”
“The fact is, Sir, as I had no conversation with the stranger, I was ignorant of the importance of the document; but upon opening it, judge of my astonishment, when I found it concerned a Prince well known to the British nation, whose interests depend on its support.”
“The truth is, Sir, since I didn’t talk to the stranger, I didn’t realize how important the document was; but when I opened it, imagine my surprise when I saw it was related to a Prince who is well known to the British public, and whose interests rely on their support.”
“O ho,” said Sparkle, “then perhaps it is of a delicate nature, and more attaching to private circumstances than public affairs.”
“O ho,” said Sparkle, “then maybe it's sensitive and more related to personal matters than public issues.”
“You shall hear, Sir.—It was an appeal to myself, amongst others, in which Russia was stated to be in such connection with Greece, that the heads of this kingdom could not but be conscious of the important results; results, Sir, that were enough to make one's hair stand on end; indeed, I have never been able to dismiss the subject from my mind since I first cast my eye over the information.”
“You will hear, Sir. It was a call to me and others, which mentioned that Russia was so linked with Greece that the leaders of this kingdom couldn't help but be aware of the significant consequences; consequences, Sir, that were enough to make one's hair stand on end. In fact, I haven't been able to stop thinking about this ever since I first looked over the information.”
“Zounds, then,” cried Dashall, “there is much to be apprehended.”
“Wow, then,” exclaimed Dashall, “there's a lot to be worried about.”
“It is impossible for me,” continued the old gentleman, “to say how far the distinguished person to whom I have alluded has already, or may hereafter succeed in the objects he has in view; but this I think certain, that if he can but interest the Poles on his side, his affairs must thrive.”
“It’s impossible for me,” the old gentleman continued, “to say how far the distinguished person I mentioned has already succeeded or may succeed in his goals; but I’m sure of this: if he can just win the Poles over to his side, his affairs will definitely prosper.”
The Hon. Tom Dashall by this time was puzzled with the lengthened introduction this gentleman was giving; he sipped his coffee—looked grave—smiled, took up the paper—pretended to read—then laid it down again.
The Hon. Tom Dashall was now puzzled by the long introduction this guy was giving; he sipped his coffee—looked serious—smiled, picked up the paper—pretended to read—then put it down again.
[288] Sparkle looked wise, and betrayed his anxiety by moving closer to the communicant. Tallyho fixed his eyes on the old gentleman, with an apparent desire to count the words he uttered.
[288] Sparkle appeared wise but revealed his anxiety by inching closer to the speaker. Tallyho focused his gaze on the old man, seemingly wanting to keep track of the words he spoke.
“In the meantime,” continued the interesting stranger, “he is so indefatigable in diffusing through all ranks of society, by means of the press and private agents, a knowledge of the power he has of smoothing the way to success, that the crown ought to receive his proffered aid for its own benefit.”
“In the meantime,” continued the intriguing stranger, “he is so tireless in spreading awareness throughout all levels of society, through the media and private contacts, about his ability to pave the way to success, that the crown should accept his offered help for its own advantage.”
“Then,” said Sparkle, “it really is a document of public importance: if not too great a favour, might we be allowed a sight of the———”
“Then,” said Sparkle, “it really is a document of public importance: if it’s not too much to ask, could we please take a look at the———”
“The document,—Oh certainly, Sir,” said he, hastily rising and drawing a printed paper from his pocket; “I will leave it with you:” then throwing it on the table, he made a precipitate retreat.
“The document,—Oh of course, Sir,” he said, quickly standing up and pulling a printed paper from his pocket. “I'll leave it with you:” then tossing it on the table, he hurriedly left.
The little care which the old gentleman seemed to take of this scrap of importance, struck them all with wonder.
The minimal attention the old man appeared to give this piece of importance amazed them all.
“A rum old codger,” said Tom; “and I recommend his observations, as well as the produce of his pocket, to the serious consideration of our friend Sparkle, who will perhaps read this paper for the benefit of us all.”
“A weird old guy,” said Tom; “and I suggest that our friend Sparkle seriously thinks about his observations, as well as what he gives us from his pocket, which he might read in this paper for all our benefit.”
Sparkle, who by this time had unfolded this mysterious paper, burst into a hearty laugh; and as soon as he could command his risibility, he read as follows:
Sparkle, who by this point had opened this mysterious paper, burst into a hearty laugh; and as soon as he could control his laughter, he read as follows:
“PRINCE'S RUSSIA OIL, For promoting the growth of Hair.”
“PRINCE'S RUSSIA OIL, For encouraging hair growth.”
“And Sparkle introduced to Greece,” said Tom.—“Well, the old buck has paid you off for your interruption: however, he has certainly proved his own assertion, that there is no reliance on any body.”
“And Sparkle introduced to Greece,” said Tom.—“Well, the old guy has paid you back for interrupting: however, he has definitely proven his point that you can’t rely on anyone.”
“A mountain in labour,” continued Tom,—“I think he had you in a line, however.”
“A mountain in labor,” continued Tom, “I think he had you in line, though.”
“I cannot help thinking,” replied Sparkle, “that there is a great similarity between him and some of our most popular parliamentary orators, for he has said a great deal to little purpose; but come, let us move on, and lose no more time in the French coffee house, discussing the merits or virtues of Russia oil.”
“I can't help but think,” replied Sparkle, “that there's a strong resemblance between him and some of our most popular speakers in Parliament, because he has said a lot without really saying anything valuable; but come on, let’s move on and not waste any more time in the French coffee house discussing the pros and cons of Russian oil.”
[289] This proposition being acceded to, our friends now took their way along Pall Mall, where the improvements recently made struck Sparkle with pleasure and delight; the appearance of new and elegant houses occupying the situation of buildings of a shabby and mean exterior, and the introduction of new streets, were subjects of considerable admiration.
[289] Once they agreed to this idea, our friends headed down Pall Mall, where the recent improvements filled Sparkle with joy and excitement; the sight of new and stylish houses replacing some old, rundown buildings, along with the addition of new streets, was a topic of great admiration.
“The rapidity of alterations in London,” said Sparkle, “are almost inconceivable.”
“The speed of changes in London,” said Sparkle, “is almost unimaginable.”
“That remark,” replied Tom, “only arises from your late absence from the scene of action; for to us who frequently see their progress, there is but little to excite wonder. Now for my part I am more astonished in present times, when so many complaints are made of distress, that occupiers can be found for them, and also seeing the increase of buildings at every part of the environs of London, where tenants can be found to occupy them.”
“Your comment,” Tom replied, “is only because you haven’t been around lately; for those of us who see the situation regularly, there’s not much to be surprised about. Personally, I’m more amazed these days by the fact that, despite so many complaints about hardship, there are still people willing to rent these properties, and that new buildings keep popping up all around London, where tenants can be found to fill them.”
“I confess,” said Tallyho, “that is a subject which I have often thought upon without being able to come to any reasonable conclusion; it appears to me to prove a great increase of population, for although I am aware of the continued influx of new comers from the country, the towns and villages appear as full as ever.”
“I confess,” said Tallyho, “that's a topic I've thought about a lot without reaching any clear conclusion; it seems to me to indicate a significant population increase, because even though I know there are always new arrivals from the countryside, the towns and villages seem just as crowded as ever.”
“I am not able to solve the mystery to my own satisfaction,” replied Sparkle, “in either case, though I cannot help acknowledging the facts alluded to. It however seems in this place to prove the correctness of the Poet's lines, who says,
“I can’t solve the mystery to my own satisfaction,” replied Sparkle, “in either case, though I can’t ignore the facts mentioned. It seems like it proves the truth of the Poet's lines, who says,
Continuing their course along Parliament-street, they soon arrived at Westminster-bridge, when the day proving extremely fine, it was proposed to embrace the opportunity of making an excursion by water. The tide served for London Bridge, and without further ceremony, Tom, Bob, and Sparkle jumped into a wherry, and were quickly gliding along upon the bosom of Old Father Thames. The smiling appearance of the day, and the smooth unruffled surface of the water, excited the most cheerful and enlivening feelings of the mind.
Continuing their way down Parliament Street, they soon reached Westminster Bridge. Since the weather was really nice, they decided to take advantage of the opportunity to go for a boat ride. The tide was right for London Bridge, so without thinking twice, Tom, Bob, and Sparkle jumped into a small boat and quickly started gliding along the waters of Old Father Thames. The sunny day and the calm water brought out the happiest and most uplifting feelings.
[290] “Nice weather for the rowing match,” said a bluff looking sturdy built waterman, who had doffed his coat, waistcoat, and cravat, in order to facilitate him in performing his duty.
[290] “Great weather for the rowing match,” said a burly-looking, well-built dockworker, who had taken off his coat, vest, and tie to make it easier to do his job.
“Rowing match,” inquired Tom. “When does it take place?”
“Rowing match,” Tom asked. “When is it happening?”
“Why this afternoon at four o'clock, your Honour. Vauxhall will be very full to-night,—Them ere people what's got it now are a getting plenty of company, and they will have a bumper to-night, for the gentlemen what belongs to the funny club gives a funny to be rowed for.”
“Why this afternoon at four o'clock, your Honor. Vauxhall will be really crowded tonight,—Those folks who have it now are getting a lot of guests, and they’re going to have a great time tonight, because the guys from the comedy club are hosting a funny contest.”
“That's funny enough,” exclaimed Sparkle.
“That's pretty funny,” exclaimed Sparkle.
“And convenient too,” said Tom; “for as we have no engagement for the evening, we can mingle with the lads on their water frolic.”
“And it’s convenient too,” said Tom; “since we have no plans for the evening, we can join the guys in their water fun.”
“With all my heart,” said Bob; “and as I am given to understand Vauxhall is greatly improved, it will make an admirable wind up of the day.”
“With all my heart,” Bob said; “and since I hear Vauxhall has improved a lot, it will be a great way to end the day.”
Approaching Waterloo Bridge—“What have we here,” exclaimed Tallyho.
Approaching Waterloo Bridge—“What do we have here?” exclaimed Tallyho.
“That,” said Tom, “is a floating fire engine, for the protection of shipping, and sometimes very useful in cases of fire on the banks of the river.”
"That," Tom said, "is a floating fire engine, designed to protect ships, and it can be very helpful in case of fires along the riverbanks."
“An excellent idea,” continued Bob, “because they can never be in want of water.”
“Great idea,” Bob continued, “since they'll never be short of water.”
“Will you sit a little more this way, Sir, if you please? we shall trim better.”
“Could you please sit a bit more this way, sir? It will help us get a better trim.”
Bob rose hastily upon this intimation; and had not his Cousin caught him by the coat, would have trimmed himself into the watery element.
Bob jumped up quickly at this suggestion; and if his cousin hadn't grabbed him by the coat, he would have plunged right into the water.
“Zounds, man, you had nearly upset us all. You must trim the boat, and sit steady, or we shall all go to Davey's locker. You must not attempt to dance in such a vehicle as this.”
“Wow, dude, you almost threw us all off balance. You need to stabilize the boat and sit still, or we’re all going to end up at the bottom of the sea. You shouldn’t try to move around in a boat like this.”
Bob's confusion at this circumstance created laughter to his two friends, which however he could not exactly enjoy with the same relish; nor did he perfectly recover himself till they were safely landed at Tower Stairs.
Bob's confusion about the situation made his two friends laugh, but he couldn't fully enjoy it the same way they did; he didn't really feel better until they were safely on solid ground at Tower Stairs.
“Now,” said Tom, “I propose a peep at the interior of this place, a row down to Greenwich to dinner, and then a touch at the rowing match; what say you—agreed on all hands.”
“Now,” said Tom, “I suggest we take a look inside this place, head down to Greenwich for dinner, and then catch some of the rowing match; what do you say—agreed all around?”
[291] “Then,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “wait for us here old boy, and you shall be our conveyancer.”
[291] “Then,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “wait for us here, buddy, and you’ll be our ride.”
“I don't know nothing of you, gentlemen; and you understand me, I'm not a going to be done—I'm too old a hand to be catch'd in that there fashion; but if so be you engages me for the day, you can take the number of my boat—but then you must tip.”
“I don’t know anything about you, gentlemen; and you get me, I’m not going to be fooled—I’ve been around too long for that; but if you want to hire me for the day, you can get the number of my boat—but you’ll have to give me a tip.”
“Right,” said Sparkle, “who knows whether we shall escape the Lions, and then how is old rough and tough to get paid.”
“Right,” said Sparkle, “who knows if we’ll manage to escape the Lions, and then how is old rough and tough going to get paid?”
“You'll excuse me, gentlemen, I don't mean no affront upon my soul; but I have stood the nonsense before now, and been flung—but I von't be sarved out in that there way any more. I am up to the gossip, and expects you'll come down with the rag.”
"You'll excuse me, gentlemen, I don't mean any offense; but I've put up with the nonsense before and been treated poorly—but I won't be served up that way anymore. I'm onto the gossip, and I expect you'll come through with the truth."
“Certainly,” said Tom Dashall with a smile; “I am aware of the hint, which by the way is pretty broadly conveyed, therefore be satisfied; “and giving him a sovereign, they proceeded into the Tower.
“Of course,” said Tom Dashall with a smile; “I get the hint, which, by the way, is pretty obvious, so don’t worry.” And giving him a sovereign, they went into the Tower.
The entrance to the Tower from the wharf is by a drawbridge, near to which is a cut connecting the river with the ditch, having a water gate, called Traitor's Gate; state prisoners having been formerly conveyed by this passage from the Tower to Westminster for trial; and over this gate is the water-works which supply the fortress.
The entrance to the Tower from the wharf is via a drawbridge, close to a channel that connects the river with the moat, featuring a water gate known as Traitor's Gate; state prisoners were previously taken through this passage from the Tower to Westminster for trial; above this gate are the waterworks that supply the fortress.
Having passed the drawbridge, Bob looked around him, almost conceiving himself in a new world; he saw houses and streets, of which he had formed no conception.
Having crossed the drawbridge, Bob looked around, almost imagining he was in a new world; he saw houses and streets that he had never even imagined before.
“Zounds,” said he, “this Tower seems almost to contain a City.”
“Wow,” he said, “this Tower almost seems like it’s a City.”
“Yes,” replied Dashall, “it occupies some ground. Its extent within the walls is twelve acres and five roods. The exterior circuit of the ditch, which entirely surrounds it, is 3156 feet. The principal buildings are the Church, the White Tower, the Ordnance Office, the Record Office, the Jewel Office, the Horse Armoury, the Grand Store House, the small Armoury, the houses belonging to the Officers, barracks for the Garrison, and two Suttling Houses for the accommodation of the military and the inhabitants.”
“Yes,” replied Dashall, “it covers some land. Its area within the walls is twelve acres and five roods. The total length of the ditch, which completely surrounds it, is 3,156 feet. The main buildings include the Church, the White Tower, the Ordnance Office, the Record Office, the Jewel Office, the Horse Armoury, the Grand Storehouse, the small Armoury, the houses for the Officers, barracks for the Garrison, and two Suttling Houses for the military and local residents.”
[292] The White Tower, as it is called, is a large square building in the centre of the fortress; on the top of which are four watch towers, one being at present used as an observatory. Neither the sides of this building, nor the small towers, are uniform. The walls are whitewashed: near to it is the grand storehouse, a plain building of brick and stone, 345 feet long, and 60 feet broad.
[292] The White Tower, as it’s known, is a big square building in the middle of the fortress; on top, there are four watchtowers, one of which is currently being used as an observatory. The sides of this building and the smaller towers are not uniform. The walls are whitewashed; close by is the grand storehouse, a simple building made of brick and stone, 345 feet long and 60 feet wide.
Being conducted to the Spanish{1} armory, Tallyho was much gratified with a view of its contents—trophies of the famous victory of Queen Elizabeth over the Spanish armada, among which the most remarkable were the thumb screws, intended to be used in order to extort confession from the English, where their money was hidden. The axe with which the unfortunate Anne Bullen was beheaded by order of Henry VIII.; a representation of Queen Elizabeth in armour, standing by a cream-coloured horse, attended by a page, also attracted his attention; her majesty being dressed in the armour she wore at the time she addressed her brave army at Tilbury, in 1588, with a white silk petticoat, richly ornamented with pearls and spangles. In the Small Armory, which is one of the finest rooms in Europe, containing complete stands of arms for 100,000 men, they could not but admire the beautiful and elegant manner in which the arms were disposed, forming tasteful devices in a variety of figures: a piece of ordnance from Egypt, and the Highland broadsword, also claimed particular notice.
Being taken to the Spanish armory, Tallyho was pleased to see its contents—trophies from Queen Elizabeth's famous victory over the Spanish Armada, among which the most notable were the thumb screws used to extract confessions from the English about where their money was hidden. The axe that beheaded the unfortunate Anne Boleyn by order of Henry VIII also caught his eye; a depiction of Queen Elizabeth in armor, standing beside a cream-colored horse and attended by a page, was also striking. Her majesty was dressed in the armor she wore when she addressed her brave army at Tilbury in 1588, complete with a white silk petticoat, elaborately adorned with pearls and sequins. In the Small Armory, one of the finest rooms in Europe, containing complete stands of arms for 100,000 men, they couldn’t help but admire the beautiful and elegant arrangement of the arms, forming artistic displays in various shapes: a piece of ordnance from Egypt and the Highland broadsword also drew special attention.
The Volunteer Armory, containing arms piled in beautiful order for 30,000 men, with pikes, swords, &c. in immense numbers, presented to them a fine figure of Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, in bright armour, bearing the very lance he actually used in his lifetime, which is no less than 18 feet long. The Sea Armory, containing arms for nearly 50,000 seamen and marines, and the Royal Artillery, which is partly kept on the ground floor under the Small Armory, next underwent inspection. Here they could not help admiring the room, which is 380 feet long, 50 feet wide, and 24 feet high, and the many peculiarly fine pieces of cannon which it contained. The artillery is ranged on each side, leaving a passage in the centre of ten feet in breadth. Twenty pillars in this room support the Small Armory above, which are hung round with implements of war, and trophies taken from the enemy, producing altogether a grand and imposing effect.
The Volunteer Armory, filled with weapons neatly arranged for 30,000 men, featured an impressive statue of Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, in shiny armor, holding the actual lance he used in his life, measuring a remarkable 18 feet long. Next, they inspected the Sea Armory, which holds arms for nearly 50,000 sailors and marines, as well as the Royal Artillery, partially located on the ground floor beneath the Small Armory. Here, they couldn’t help but admire the room, which is 380 feet long, 50 feet wide, and 24 feet high, along with the many exceptionally fine pieces of cannon it housed. The artillery is arranged on either side, leaving a ten-foot-wide passage in the middle. Twenty pillars in this room support the Small Armory above, adorned with weapons and trophies taken from the enemy, creating an overall grand and impressive effect.
[293] The Horse Armory—a noble room, crowded with curiosities—proved a source of high gratification. Here they found themselves in company with all the kings of England, from William the Conqueror to George III.; the whole on horseback, and in armour. The armour of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, seven feet high, and the sword and lance of proportionable size, were viewed as objects of wonder.
[293] The Horse Armory—a grand room filled with curiosities—was a source of great delight. Here, they found themselves alongside all the kings of England, from William the Conqueror to George III., all on horseback and in armor. The armor of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, towering at seven feet, along with the sword and lance scaled to match, were seen as amazing sights.
In the Jewel Office,{1} containing the regalia of state, was the next object to which they directed their attention. Here they were shewn the Imperial Crown, with which the Kings of England are crowned: it is made of gold, enriched with diamonds, emeralds, rubies, sapphires, and pearls. The cap is of purple velvet, lined with white taffety, and turned up with three rows of ermine. This crown is never used but at coronations; the golden globe, which is placed in the King's right hand before he is crowned; the golden sceptre and its cross, upon a large amethyst, decorated with table diamonds; the sceptre, which is considered to be far the most ancient in the collection, and probably a part of the original regalia, is covered with jewels and gothic enamel work, surmounted with an onyx dove, was found by the present keeper in the year 1814, and is estimated at a very high value. St. Edward's staff, made of beaten gold, and which is borne before the King in the coronation procession, is 4 feet 7 inches and a half in length, and 3 inches and 3 quarters round. The golden saltseller, the sword of mercy without a point, the grand silver font, used for christenings of the royal family, and the crown of state worn by the King at his meeting of the Parliament, and other state occasions, were viewed in succession with admiration and delight. The latter is of great splendour and value; it is covered with precious stones of a large size, and on the top of its cross is a pearl, which Charles I. pledged for eighteen thousand pounds to the Dutch Republic: under the cross is an emerald diamond, of a palish green colour, valued at one hundred thousand pounds, being seven inches and
In the Jewel Office,{1} which holds the state regalia, they next focused their attention. Here they were shown the Imperial Crown, used to crown the Kings of England. It’s made of gold and adorned with diamonds, emeralds, rubies, sapphires, and pearls. The cap is purple velvet lined with white taffeta and has three rows of ermine. This crown is only used during coronations; the golden globe is placed in the King's right hand before he is crowned; the golden scepter, featuring a cross atop a large amethyst adorned with table diamonds; the scepter, considered the oldest in the collection and likely part of the original regalia, is decorated with jewels and gothic enamel, topped with an onyx dove, and was discovered by the current keeper in 1814, holding significant value. St. Edward's staff, made from beaten gold and carried before the King during the coronation procession, measures 4 feet 7.5 inches long and has a circumference of 3.75 inches. The golden saltseller, the sword of mercy without a blade, the impressive silver font used for baptisms in the royal family, and the state crown worn by the King during Parliament meetings and other official events were all admired in turn. The latter is exceptionally grand and valuable; it is encrusted with large precious stones, and a pearl on top of its cross was pledged for eighteen thousand pounds to the Dutch Republic by Charles I. Below the cross is an emerald diamond of a pale green hue, valued at one hundred thousand pounds, measuring seven inches and
a half in circumference; in the front is a rock ruby in its purely natural state, unpolished, three inches in length, the value of which cannot be estimated. Several other curiosities of state regalia—such as the golden eagle, the golden spur, the crown of Queen Mary, the cross of King William, and the diadem worn by the Queens Anne and Mary, were numbered among the valuable jewels contained in this office, together with abundance of curious old plate, the value of which, independent of several of the jewels, which are inestimable, is not less than two millions sterling.
a half in circumference; in the front is a natural, unpolished rock ruby, three inches long, whose value is beyond measure. Several other interesting pieces of state regalia—like the golden eagle, the golden spur, the crown of Queen Mary, the cross of King William, and the diadem worn by Queens Anne and Mary—were included among the valuable jewels in this office, along with a wealth of old silverware, the value of which, not counting several of the priceless jewels, is at least two million pounds.
[294] “Now,” said Dashall, as they left the Jewel Office, “we have taken a view of the inanimates, we must not leave the spot without a peep at the lions;{l} for though I believe there is nothing very extraordinary in the collection, more than may be seen at the menagerie at Exeter Change, it would be an unpardonable omission not to see the lions in the Tower.”
[294] “So,” said Dashall as they exited the Jewel Office, “now that we’ve checked out the inanimate exhibits, we can’t leave without taking a look at the lions;{l} even though I don’t think there’s anything too amazing in that collection, more than what you’d find at the menagerie at Exeter Change, it would be a big mistake not to see the lions in the Tower.”
For this purpose they proceeded to the western entrance, where they were quickly introduced by the keeper to the various animals under his care, and who, in going round with them, explained, as usual, their several histories.
For this purpose, they went to the western entrance, where the keeper quickly introduced them to the different animals he was responsible for and, as usual, shared their individual stories while showing them around.
In examining these various curiosities, time had imperceptibly stolen a march upon them, and their original plan of proceeding to Greenwich was found to be impracticable; besides which, upon reaching the stairs where they had landed, the bluff old waterman was not to be found.
In looking at these different curiosities, time had quietly slipped away from them, and their original plan to head to Greenwich turned out to be impossible; also, when they got to the stairs where they had landed, the gruff old waterman was nowhere to be found.
“Zounds,” said Dashall, “this looks like a do. I wonder what's become of the old blade.”
“Wow,” said Dashall, “this looks like a mess. I wonder what happened to the old guy.”
Sparkle began to laugh, and Bob bit his lip. Tom made inquiry of a boy at the stairs, who informed him that Barney was gone to the suttling house to smoak a pipe.
Sparkle started laughing, and Bob bit his lip. Tom asked a boy at the stairs, who told him that Barney had gone to the tavern to smoke a pipe.
“All right,” said Tom, “then we will soon rouse him, and start.”
“All right,” Tom said, “then we’ll wake him up and get going.”
Upon this they moved back again into the Tower, and according to the directions they had received, they found Barney in the tap-room, puffing away care, and singing with Stentorian voice to the surrounding company—
Upon this, they moved back into the Tower, and following the directions they had received, they found Barney in the taproom, smoking away his worries and singing loudly to the people around him—
[295] In search of real life and character, and at all times rather inclined to promote mirth than spoil sport, our friends immediately entered unperceived by Barney, and taking an opposite corner of the room, were quickly attended by the landlord, who received orders, and produced them supplies.
[295] Looking for real life and character, and always more likely to encourage fun than ruin it, our friends quietly slipped in without Barney noticing, and taking a spot across the room, were quickly served by the landlord, who took their orders and brought them what they needed.
The song being over, and Barney rewarded for his exertions by the most enthusiastic applause of the room, he renewed his pipe, at the same time declaring to a soldier who sat near him, he thought “he had miss'd fire, for he was d———d if he didn't think he'd lost his company, or his company had lost him—but that he had taken care to nibble the blunt, and upon that there score all was right—so landlord tip us another quart, and if they don't make their appearance by the time I've got through that, I'll tip them the toddle, shove off my boat, and disappear.—That's the time of day, an't it, boy.”
The song finished, and Barney was rewarded for his efforts with the loudest applause in the room. He lit his pipe again and told a soldier sitting nearby that he thought he had missed the chance to join his friends. He was damn sure he’d either lost them or they’d lost him, but at least he made sure to take the edge off, so everything was good on that front. “So, landlord, pour us another quart, and if they don't show up by the time I finish this, I'll roll out, push off my boat, and vanish. That’s the plan, right, buddy?”
“Why aye, to be sure,” replied the soldier, “you watermen leads a happy life; you are your own masters, you does just as you pleases, while a soldier dare as well be d———d as desert his post. But I say, Barney, mind what
“Sure, absolutely,” replied the soldier, “you watermen lead a happy life; you’re your own bosses, you do whatever you want, while a soldier might as well be damned as desert his post. But I say, Barney, be careful what
you says,—nose—nose;” accompanying the last two words with a significant action of placing his finger on his nose, and winking his eye.
you say,—nose—nose;” while making a meaningful gesture of putting his finger on his nose and winking his eye.
Upon this intimation, which appeared to be well understood by Barney, he puffed off an immoderate cloud of smoke, and looking round the room, perceived his customers in the corner.
Upon hearing this, which seemed clear to Barney, he blew out a huge cloud of smoke and, looking around the room, noticed his customers in the corner.
“Be quiet,” said he, “that's my fare—so it's all right again,—Do you want me, gentlemen; I am always ready, so that whenever you says the word, Barney's your boy.”
“Be quiet,” he said, “that's my fare—so everything’s good again. Do you need me, gentlemen? I’m always ready, so whenever you say the word, Barney's your guy.”
“Presently,” said Dashall, “for it would be hard to make you start upon a full jorum.”
“Right now,” said Dashall, “because it would be difficult to get you to start on a full jorum.”
“Why I must say,” continued Barney, “I never likes to leave a foaming quart behind me;” and catching hold of the pot of heavy wet, he roared out,—
“Why I must say,” continued Barney, “I never like to leave a foaming quart behind me;” and grabbing the pot of heavy wet, he shouted out,—
“What a hearty blade am I,
“What a strong sword I am,
and taking a hearty drink, he handed it to his companion, filled his pipe afresh, lighted, and informed the gentlemen he was at their service; when in a few minutes all being ready, they were quickly on board.
and taking a big drink, he handed it to his friend, refilled his pipe, lit it, and told the guys he was ready to help them; when in a few minutes everything was set, they quickly boarded.
[296] “I don't like the looks of the weather, my masters, why we shall have a shower presently, where will you go to?”
[296] “I don't like the way the weather looks, my friends; we’re going to have a shower soon. Where will you go?”
“To Vauxhall,” was the reply.
"To Vauxhall," was the reply.
“Very well, your Honour, then here goes; but if you don't get a sousing, my name an't Barney.”
“Alright, Your Honor, here we go; but if you don't get soaked, my name isn't Barney.”
This prognostication proved true, for before they reached Blackfriars Bridge, a smart shower came on, which nearly wetted them through before they could reach land. When this was accomplished, they proceeded to the Horn Tavern, Doctors Commons, where they partook of an excellent repast, and the weather clearing up, they again joined Barney.
This prediction turned out to be correct, because just before they got to Blackfriars Bridge, a heavy rain started that almost soaked them completely before they could find shelter. Once they got there, they went to the Horn Tavern, Doctors Commons, where they enjoyed a wonderful meal. With the weather improving, they met up with Barney again.
By this time the promising fineness of the evening had induced many to venture forth to the rowing match, and the river was all gaiety and delight. Boats of every description were seen filled with well dressed persons, both male and female: the smiling countenances of the lads and lasses were in unison with the laughing sun, that darted his brilliant beams upon the dimpled wave, which seemed to leap in return with grateful animation. The shores were lined with spectators, anxiously waiting the moment for the commencement of this trial of skill. Our friends were highly delighted with the prospect before them, and at the appointed time, having rested on their oars near the place of starting, they saw with pleasure the active preparations on the part of the competitors, and upon the signal being given for the start, the river appeared to consist of nothing but moving conveyances of happy faces, all guided in one direction. The 'shouts of the various friends of the occasionally successful candidates for the honour of victory, and the skill and dexterity with which they manoeuvred against each other, were subjects of continued admiration; while bands of music were heard from boats that intermingled with the throng. The lads of the Funny Club were in high glee—numerous cutters and sailing boats, with their owners and visiting friends, were also in the throng. Barney pulled away like a good one, and for a considerable distance kept nearly up with the principal actors in this gay and animated scene of aquatic diversion, and arrived off Cumberland gardens just in time to have an excellent view of the winner coming in at the appointed spot, in prime style, amidst the loud and reiterated plaudits of his friends.
By this time, the beautiful quality of the evening had encouraged many to head out to the rowing match, making the river lively and joyful. Boats of all kinds were seen filled with well-dressed people, both men and women: the smiling faces of the boys and girls mirrored the cheerful sun, which cast its brilliant rays on the sparkling waves that seemed to dance in response. The shores were packed with spectators eagerly waiting for the event to begin. Our friends were excited about what lay ahead, and at the designated time, after resting on their oars near the starting point, they happily watched the competitors make their preparations. When the signal to start was given, the river appeared to be nothing but moving boats filled with happy faces all heading the same way. The cheers from supporters of the occasionally successful contenders for the honor of victory, along with the skill and agility with which they navigated against one another, were a constant source of admiration; meanwhile, music played from boats mingling with the crowd. The boys from the Funny Club were in high spirits—many cutters and sailing boats, along with their owners and visiting friends, were also part of the scene. Barney rowed like a champ, keeping pace with the main players in this vibrant and exciting aquatic entertainment for quite a distance, and arrived at Cumberland Gardens just in time to see the winner cross the finish line in style, greeted by the loud and enthusiastic cheers of his friends.
[297] The intention of visiting Vauxhall Gardens was, however, for the present evening relinquished; and our party, feeling fatigued by their excursion, repaired homeward, where for the present we shall leave them to their quiet and repose.
[297] The plan to visit Vauxhall Gardens was, for tonight, abandoned; and our group, feeling tired from their outing, headed homeward, where we will leave them for now to enjoy their peace and rest.
CHAPTER XXII
[298] Exclaimed Dashall, as he advanced from the breakfast table towards the window, when a pleasing and singular street-exhibition presented itself, which had attracted around a numerous audience, of all ages and conditions.
[298] "Look!" Dashall exclaimed as he moved from the breakfast table to the window, where a fascinating and unique street performance was happening, drawing a large crowd of people of all ages and backgrounds.
An itinerant purveyor of novelties was in the act of showing forth to an admiring crowd, the docility of a tame hare. On a table in the street, on which was placed a drum, the little animal stood, in an erect posture, and with surprising tractableness obeyed the commands of its exhibiter, delivered in very broken English, with which, nevertheless, it seemed perfectly conversant.
An traveling seller of novelties was demonstrating to an admiring crowd the gentle nature of a pet hare. On a table in the street, where a drum was also placed, the small animal stood upright and, surprisingly obedient, followed the commands of its presenter, who spoke in very broken English, which the hare seemed to understand perfectly.
“Vat mattiere now, dat you be so solky, and no take notice of your goot friends?—Come, Sare, shew your politesse, and salute de genteelmens at de window, who so kind as come to look at you.—Make way dere, goot peoples and leetel childer, dat de genteelmens sail see,—dat vill do. Now, sare, begin;—do your beisance all round.”
“What's the matter now, that you're so sulky and not paying attention to your good friends?—Come on, sir, show your manners and greet the gentlemen at the window, who are so kind to come and look at you.—Make way there, good people and little children, so the gentlemen can see,—that will do. Now, sir, start;—bow to everyone.”
The animal, without any apparent instruction to whom to give the precedency of obeisance, immediately faced “de genteelmens at de window,” and saluted them with a conge of particular respect; which being acknowledged with a motion of the hand by Dashall, the intelligent animal expressed its sense of his complacency, by a second obeisance, more profound than the first.
The animal, with no clear indication of whom to show respect to first, immediately turned to “the gentlemen at the window,” and bowed to them with a sign of special respect. When Dashall acknowledged this with a gesture, the clever animal responded to his approval with a deeper bow than the first.
The spectators applauded, and the performer testified its gratitude by a bow, all round.
The audience clapped, and the performer showed appreciation with a bow all around.
“Dat all goot. Now, sare, tree role on de drom for le Roi d'Angletterre:—Vive le Roi d'Anglettere!”
“That's all good. Now, sir, three drums roll for the King of England:—Long live the King of England!”
This command the animal very promptly obeyed, by substituting its fore feet for sticks, and giving three prolonged rolls of the drum, each in distinct succession.
This command was quickly followed by the animal, which used its front feet instead of sticks, producing three long beats on the drum, each one distinct from the others.
“Now den for Messieurs.”
"Now then for gentlemen."
[299] With equal alacrity this hint was attended to, and as le Roi d'Angletterre had three, so de genteelmens at de window were honoured with two rolls of the drum.
[299] With the same eagerness, this suggestion was taken seriously, and just as le Roi d'Anglettere had three, the gentlemen at the window were treated to two rolls of the drum.
The like compliment was paid to all de Englise peoples; and the minor salute of one roll was given to the surrounding spectators.
The same compliment was given to all the English people; and a brief salute of one roll was made to the surrounding spectators.
The indefatigable drummer was next required to give a token of regard for the Cook; but this he declined to do, and the order, though frequently given, was as frequently uncomplied with.
The tireless drummer was then asked to show some appreciation for the Cook; however, he refused to do so, and the request, though often made, was just as often ignored.
“Vill you take notice of me, den?”
“Will you pay attention to me, then?”
This question was instantly answered by the accustomed mark of respect.
This question was immediately answered with the usual sign of respect.
“Genteelmans at de window, and peoples on de street, my leetel drommer no love de cook,—no show her de respect dat he show you—he know dat de cook be no friend of de pauvre hare; “—then turning towards the animal, —“Vat,” said he, “must I speak all de tanks mineself?”
“Gentlemen at the window, and people on the street, my little drummer doesn’t love the cook—doesn’t show her the respect he shows you—he knows that the cook is no friend of the poor hare;”—then turning towards the animal—“What,” said he, “must I say all the thanks myself?”
In deficiency of speech, the animal reiterated its obeisances— “Diable!” exclaimed the exhibiter—“here comes de cook, to kill and spit you!”
In the absence of speech, the animal kept bowing— “Damn!” exclaimed the exhibitor—“here comes the cook, to kill and gut you!”
The hare instantly hastened to its hiding place, and thus terminated the exhibition.
The hare quickly ran to its hiding spot, and that ended the show.
“This epitome of the world,” observed Tallyho, “lacks nothing to gratify every sense of man! Here industry is on the alert to accumulate wealth, and dissipation in haste to spend it. Here riot and licentiousness roll triumphantly in gilded state, while merit pines in penury and obscurity;—and here ingenuity roams the streets for a scanty and precarious subsistence, exhibiting learned pigs, dogs, and so forth, that will cast accounts with the precision of an experienced arithmetician; and a tame hare that will beat a drum, and make a bow more gracefully than a dancing-master. This last instance of human ingeniousness, by which the poor Frenchman picks up a living, would almost induce a belief that the power of art is unlimitable, and that apparently insurmountable difficulties may be overcome by diligent perseverance!—Who, besides this foreigner, would have thought of divesting a hare of its natural timidity, and rendering it subservient, by a display of intelligence, to the acquirement of his subsistence?”
“This epitome of the world,” Tallyho observed, “has everything to please every human sense! Here, people work hard to build wealth, while others quickly spend it. Here, chaos and indulgence flourish in luxury, while true talent struggles in poverty and anonymity;—and here, creativity wanders the streets in search of a meager and uncertain living, showcasing trained pigs, dogs, and so on, that can calculate with the accuracy of a skilled accountant; and a tame hare that can beat a drum and take a bow more elegantly than a dance teacher. This last example of human ingenuity, through which the poor Frenchman earns a living, almost makes one believe that the power of art knows no limits and that seemingly insurmountable challenges can be overcome through hard work!—Who, besides this foreigner, would have thought to rid a hare of its natural shyness and make it obedient, using its intelligence to earn a living?”
[300] “And who,” said Dashall, “would have thought, but a German, of training canary-birds to imitate military evolution,—make a prisoner of one of their fellows as a deserter,—try and condemn him to death,—apparently execute the sentence, by shooting him with a small gun,—and finally, bear away the motionless and seemingly lifeless body on a wheel-barrow, for interment!—Nay, who would think of inverting the order of nature, by creating and cementing a union of friendship between cats and birds and mice, associating them together, within the confines of a cage, in the utmost harmony of social intercourse?—And who shall presume to set bounds to the human art, that from a deal board has constructed the figure of a man that will beat at the difficult game of chess, the first players in Europe;{1} and created a wooden musician, that in a solo from the trumpet, will excel the best living performers on that instrument!”
[300] “And who,” said Dashall, “would have thought that a German would teach canaries to mimic military drills—capture one of their own as a deserter—put him on trial and condemn him to death—seemingly carry out the sentence by shooting him with a small gun—and finally, cart off the motionless, apparently lifeless body on a wheelbarrow for burial!—Seriously, who would think of defying nature by creating and bonding a friendship between cats, birds, and mice, keeping them together in a cage, living in perfect harmony?—And who dares to limit human creativity, which has turned a simple wooden board into a figure that can outplay the best chess players in Europe;{1} and crafted a wooden musician that, in a solo on the trumpet, surpasses the best living performers on that instrument!”
[302] “London is a rare place for sights,—always something new;—where the spirits need never flag through want of amusement. Let me recapitulate,—there is the automaton chess-player and the automaton trumpeter,—the family compact, alias amicable society of cat, birds, and mice,—the military canaries, and an hundred phenomena besides, of which we shall make the round in due time. In the meanwhile, let us set out, like the knight of La Mancha, in search of adventures, without running the risk of mistaking windmills for giants: one of the former would, indeed, be a high treat to the insatiable curiosity of the inhabitants of this metropolis; and as to giants, there are none on shew since Bartholomew-fair, excepting those stationary gentlemen, the twin-brothers, Gog and Magog, in Guildhall.”
[302] "London is an amazing place full of sights—there's always something new; the spirits never have to drop due to a lack of entertainment. Let me summarize—there's the chess-playing robot and the robot trumpeter—the family group, also known as the friendly society of cats, birds, and mice—the military canaries, and a hundred other wonders that we'll explore in due time. Meanwhile, let's set out, like the knight of La Mancha, in search of adventures, without the risk of mistaking windmills for giants: one of those would certainly be a real treat for the insatiable curiosity of the city's residents; and as for giants, there haven't been any on display since Bartholomew Fair, except for those stationary guys, the twin brothers, Gog and Magog, at Guildhall."
Passing through the town without meeting with any new object worthy of particular notice, they found themselves at the extremity of Threadneedle-street, when Dashall, pointing to a neat plain building, “this,” said he, “is the South Sea House. The South Sea Company was established for the purpose of an exclusive trade to the South Seas, and many thousands were ruined by the speculation: the iniquity and deception were at last discovered, and those who were at the head were punished. The eager hope of wealth frequently engenders disappointment,—but here credulity attained her zenith;—amongst other schemes, equally practicable, the projectors of this notorious bubble set up a method of making butter from beech-trees; a plan to learn people to cast their nativity; an insurance against divorces; and a way of making deal boards out of saw-dust!”
Passing through the town without encountering anything particularly noteworthy, they found themselves at the end of Threadneedle Street when Dashall, pointing to a tidy, unadorned building, said, “This is the South Sea House. The South Sea Company was created for the sole purpose of trading in the South Seas, and many thousands lost everything due to the speculation. The wrongdoing and deceit were eventually uncovered, and those in charge were held accountable. The intense desire for wealth often leads to disappointment,—but here, gullibility reached its peak;—among other equally ridiculous schemes, the creators of this infamous bubble proposed a method of making butter from beech trees; a way to help people cast their horoscopes; insurance against divorces; and a process for making planks from sawdust!”
“And is it possible,” inquired Tallyho, “that such most preposterous theories obtained belief?”
“And is it possible,” Tallyho asked, “that such ridiculous theories gained acceptance?”
“Even so,” answered Dashall,—“What is there in which human folly will not believe?—We have all read of the bottle-conjurer.{1}—The prevalence of curiosity is universal. I could safely stake any money, that if public notice was given of a person who would leap down his own throat, he would gain belief, and a full audience would favour him with their company to witness his marvellous performance.”
“Still,” replied Dashall, “what is it that human foolishness won’t believe? We’ve all heard about the bottle-conjurer.{1} Curiosity is everywhere. I’d bet any amount of money that if someone announced they could jump down their own throat, people would believe it, and a big crowd would show up to see the amazing stunt.”
[303] Proceeding into Bishopsgate-street, the new City of London Tavern caught the attention of Tallyho.
[303] Moving into Bishopsgate Street, the new City of London Tavern caught Tallyho's eye.
“This,” observed his friend, “is probably the first tavern in London, with reference to superior accommodation. Here congregate the most eminent corporate bodies, directors of public institutions and others, on occasions of business or enjoyment; here the admirable arrangement of every thing conducive to comfort is minutely attended to; here the plenitude of abundance, and the delicacies of luxury, distinguish the festive board, and the culinary art is shown forth to the very acme of perfection; which, together with the varied, unsophisticated excellence of the richest wines, secure to this celebrated tavern the continuance of a well-merited public approbation. But one of these days we shall avail ourselves of practical experience, by forming part of the company at dinner.”
“This,” his friend remarked, “is probably the first tavern in London when it comes to top-notch accommodations. Here, you'll find the most distinguished corporate groups, directors of public institutions, and others, whether it's for business or leisure; the excellent setup for comfort is meticulously taken care of; the lavish spread and the luxury delicacies set the festive table apart, and the culinary skills are showcased to perfection; along with the diverse, high-quality selection of the finest wines, this famous tavern earns its well-deserved public praise. One of these days, we'll take part in the experience by joining the dinner crowd.”
Proposing in their way home to take the skirts of the metropolis, they directed their course through Moorfield, where Tallyho remarked on the unseemly desolate waste there presenting itself, and expressed surprise that it was not appropriated to some purposes of utility or ornament.
Proposing on their way home to take the outskirts of the city, they changed their route through Moorfield, where Tallyho commented on the unsightly desolate area before them and expressed surprise that it wasn't being used for some useful or decorative purposes.
[304] “It appears,” answered Dashall, “as if some such improvement was in projection; probably a new square, if we may so opine from present indications; however, be the intention what it may, the execution is uncommonly tardy; with the exception of the central iron-railing, the handsome structure on the opposite side, the solitary building on the right, and range of new houses on the left, the tout ensemble was the same twenty years ago. It is a scene of dilapidation which might perhaps have been
[304] “It looks like,” Dashall replied, “there was some plan for improvement; probably a new square, if we can guess from what we see now. But whatever the intention is, the progress is incredibly slow. Aside from the central iron railing, the attractive building across the street, the single structure on the right, and the row of new houses on the left, everything else has been the same for the past twenty years. It really is a rundown scene that could have been
“More honoured in the breach than in th' observance.”
“More respected when ignored than when followed.”
I recollect, that when a boy, I frequently extended my rambles into the quarters of Moorfields, for so was this place then named, from its compartments, exhibiting rural appearance even in the centre of London. Here were four enclosed fields, displaying in the season the beautiful verdure of nature; and numerous trees branching, in ample shade, over two great walks, that intersected each other at right angles, and formed the afternoon promenade of the citizens' wives and daughters. In former times, the quarters of Moorfields were resorted to by holiday visitants, as the favourite place of rendezvous, where predominated the recreation of manly exercises, and shows, gambols, and merriment were the orders of the day. The present is an age of improvement,—and yet I cannot think, in an already monstrously overgrown metropolis, the substitution of bricks and mortar an equivalent for green fields and rural simplicity.”
I remember that when I was a boy, I often wandered into the area known as Moorfields, which was named for its sections that had a rural feel even in the heart of London. There were four enclosed fields that showcased the beautiful greenery of nature during the season, and many trees provided ample shade over two wide paths that crossed each other at right angles, making them the afternoon hangout spot for the wives and daughters of the city's residents. In the past, Moorfields was a popular destination for holiday-goers, a favorite meeting place filled with manly activities and where fun, games, and laughter were the norm. Today, we live in an age of progress, but I can’t help but think that in this already huge city, replacing green fields and natural simplicity with bricks and concrete isn’t really the right trade-off.
Leaving Moorfields, they passed, in a few minutes, into Finsbury-square.
Leaving Moorfields, they quickly made their way into Finsbury Square.
Tallyho appeared surprised by its uniformly handsome edifices, its spacious extent, and beautiful circular area, in which the ground is laid out and the shrubberies disposed to the very best advantage. “Here, at least,” he observed, “is a proof that Taste and Elegance are not altogether excluded a civic residence.”
Tallyho seemed surprised by its consistently attractive buildings, its large area, and lovely circular park, where the landscaping and shrubs are arranged to perfection. “Well, at least,” he remarked, “this shows that Taste and Elegance aren't completely absent from a city residence.”
“In this square, taking its name from the division of Finsbury,” said Dashall, “reside many of the merchants and other eminent citizens of London; and here, in the decorations, internally, of their respective mansions, they vie with the more courtly residents westward, and exceed them generally in the quietude of domestic enjoyment.”
“In this square, named after the Finsbury division,” said Dashall, “live many of the merchants and other prominent citizens of London; and here, in the interior decorations of their homes, they compete with the more aristocratic residents to the west, often surpassing them in the peace of home life.”
[305] Renewing their walk along the City Road, the gate of Bunhill Fields burying-ground standing conveniently open, “Let us step in,” said Dashall,—“this is the most extensive depository of the dead in London, and as every grave almost is surmounted by a tombstone, we cannot fail in acquiring an impressive memento mori.”
[305] Continuing their walk along City Road, the gate of Bunhill Fields cemetery stood wide open. “Let’s go in,” said Dashall. “This is the largest burial site in London, and since nearly every grave has a tombstone, we’re sure to get a striking memento mori.”
While examining a monumental record, of which there appeared a countless number, their attention was withdrawn from the dead, and attracted by the living. An elderly personage, arrayed in a rusty suit of sables, with an ink bottle dangling from one of the buttons of his coat, was intently employed in copying a long, yet well written inscription, to the memory of Patrick Colquhon, L.L.D., author of a Treatise on the Police of the Metropolis, and several other works of great public utility. Having accomplished his object, the stranger saluted Dashall and Tallyho in a manner so courteous as seemingly to invite conversation.
While looking at a grand monument, where there were countless inscriptions, they found themselves focused more on the living than the dead. An elderly gentleman, dressed in a worn fur coat with an ink bottle hanging from one of the buttons, was deeply engaged in copying a long, yet nicely written inscription dedicated to Patrick Colquhon, L.L.D., the author of a Treatise on the Police of the Metropolis and several other highly useful works. Once he finished his task, the stranger greeted Dashall and Tallyho in such a polite manner that it seemed to invite a conversation.
“You have chosen, Sir,” observed Mr. Dashall, “rather a sombre cast of amusement.”
“You've chosen, Sir,” noted Mr. Dashall, “a rather dark type of entertainment.”
“Otherwise occupation,” said the stranger, “from which I derive subsistence. Amidst the endless varieties of Real Life in London, I am an Epitaph-Collector, favoured by my friends with the appellation of Old Mortality, furnished them by the voluminous writer and meteor of the north, Sir Walter Scott.”
“Otherwise occupation,” said the stranger, “from which I make a living. Among the countless aspects of real life in London, I am an Epitaph-Collector, affectionately referred to by my friends as Old Mortality, a name given to me by the prolific writer and celebrity from the north, Sir Walter Scott.”
“Do you collect,” asked Tallyho, “with the view of publishing on your own account?”
“Do you collect,” asked Tallyho, “with the intention of publishing it yourself?”
“No, Sir,—I really am not in possession of the means wherewith to embark on so hazardous a speculation. I am thus employed by an eccentric, yet very worthy gentleman, of large property, who ambitious of transmitting his name to posterity, means to favour the world with a more multitudinous collection of epitaphs than has hitherto appeared in any age or nation;—his prospectus states “Monumental Gleanings, in twenty-five quarto volumes!”
“No, Sir, I truly don’t have the resources to take on such a risky venture. I work for an eccentric but very respectable gentleman with considerable wealth, who, eager to ensure his name is remembered, plans to provide the world with a larger collection of epitaphs than has ever been seen in any time or place; his prospectus claims ‘Monumental Gleanings, in twenty-five quarto volumes!’”
“Astonishing!” exclaimed Dashall,—“Can it be possible that he ever will be able to accomplish so vast an undertaking?”
“Amazing!” exclaimed Dashall, “Is it really possible that he will ever be able to pull off such a huge task?”
“And if he does,” said Tallyho, “can it be possible that any person will be found to read a production of such magnitude, and on such a subject?”
“And if he does,” said Tallyho, “is it really possible that anyone would be willing to read something so extensive, and on such a topic?”
[306] “That to him is a matter of indifference,” said Old Mortality,—“he means to defray the entire charges, and the object of publication effected, will rest satisfied with the approbation of the discerning few, leaving encomium from the multitude to authors or compilers more susceptible of flattery,—
[306] “To him, it doesn’t really matter,” said Old Mortality. “He plans to cover all the costs, and the purpose of the publication will be achieved, leaving the approval of the few who truly appreciate it, while letting praise from the masses go to authors or compilers who are more inclined to enjoy flattery—
As to the quantum of materiel, he is indefatigable in personal research, employing besides numerous collectors even in the sister island, and in this, from the Land's-end to Johnny Grot's house.”
As for the amount of materials, he is tireless in his personal research, using many collectors even on the neighboring island, and in this, from the Land's End to Johnny Grot's house.
“And when,” asked Dashall, “is it probable that this gigantic work may be completed?”
“And when,” asked Dashall, “do you think this huge project might be finished?”
“Can't say,” answered Old Mortality,—“I should think at no very remote period: the collection is in daily accumulation, and we are already in possession of above ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND.”
“Can't say,” replied Old Mortality, “but I think it won’t be long. The collection is growing every day, and we already have over ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND.”
“Prodigious!” exclaimed Dashall, “as Dominic Sampson says. And pray, Sir, what number may your assiduities have contributed towards the aggregate?”
"Impressive!" exclaimed Dashall, "as Dominic Sampson says. And I ask you, Sir, how many have your efforts added to the total?"
“That,” answered Old Mortality, “I cannot exactly ascertain; to those, however, already supplied, this ground will yield a considerable increase.”
“That,” replied Old Mortality, “I can’t say for sure; but for those who are already provided for, this ground will offer a significant boost.”
“May we solicit,” said Tallyho, “without the imputation of intrusion, the favour of your reading to us from your table-book, a few of the most remarkable epitaphs?”
“May we ask,” said Tallyho, “without being seen as intrusive, for the favor of you reading to us from your notebook some of the most notable epitaphs?”
Old Mortality readily promised gratification as far as possible, but he had not his table-book with him; “I have been employed to day,” said he, “in making extracts from one of our manuscript folio volumes, for the purpose of insertion in the different metropolitan daily papers;—here they are”—taking a small bundle from his pocket, tied round with red tape,—“one for each paper: permit me, gentlemen, for a moment just to look over the endorsations.”
Old Mortality confidently promised satisfaction as much as he could, but he didn’t have his notes with him. “I’ve been busy today,” he said, “making excerpts from one of our manuscript folio volumes to submit to various daily newspapers in the city;—here they are”—he pulled out a small bundle from his pocket, tied with red tape—“one for each paper: allow me, gentlemen, to quickly review the labels.”
The triumvirate now seated themselves on a tombstone, and Old Mortality untying the bundle of extracts, laid them down in loose compact; then taking up the first, and reading the superscription, shewing for what newspaper it was intended, he reversed it on the tombstone.—“This,” said he, “is for “The Times, British Press, Morning Post, Morning Chronicle, Morning Advertiser, Morning Herald, Public Ledger,—all right,—and sorted, as the postman sorts his letters: I shall take, first of all, Printing-house Square, the others are in a direct line of delivery.” This important arrangement made, he took up one paper from the bundle, and read the contents with an audible voice:—[307]
The three of them sat down on a tombstone, and Old Mortality, untieing the bundle of papers, laid them out neatly. Then he picked up the first one, read the header showing which newspaper it was meant for, and flipped it over on the tombstone. “This,” he said, “is for The Times, British Press, Morning Post, Morning Chronicle, Morning Advertiser, Morning Herald, Public Ledger,—all sorted correctly, just like the postman sorts his letters: I’ll start with Printing-house Square; the others follow in the delivery lineup.” After getting everything organized, he picked one paper from the bundle and read the contents aloud:—[307]
SPECIMEN OF MONUMENTAL GLEANINGS,
SAMPLE OF MONUMENTAL FINDINGS,
Extracted from the manuscript folio of a new compilation of Epitaphs, serious and eccentric, now in collection, from numerous Dormitories in Great Britain and Ireland; To be completed with all possible expedition, And will be ushered to the patronage of a discerning Public, in Twenty-five quarto volumes.
Extracted from the manuscript folio of a new collection of epitaphs, both serious and quirky, currently being compiled from various burial grounds in Great Britain and Ireland; it will be finished as quickly as possible and presented to an appreciative public in twenty-five quarto volumes.
Interchanging civilities, the party now separated, the collector to resume his occupation, and the two friends their walk.
Exchanging pleasantries, the group then broke up, with the collector going back to his work and the two friends continuing their walk.
“Twenty-five quarto volumes,” exclaimed the Squire, “and exclusively filled with epitaphs; this fellow has set himself a task with a vengeance!”
“Twenty-five quarto volumes,” exclaimed the Squire, “and all filled with epitaphs; this guy has really taken on quite a challenge!”
“And which,” answered his friend, “he will never be able to accomplish; however, the ambition of renown as a voluminous collector is the less censurable, as being unattended by any of its too frequently pernicious concomitants, and giving to others an acceptable and not irrational employment; he is only blameable in the projected extent, not the nature of his pursuit; and happy would it be for mankind did the love of fame engender no greater evil than that, if any, which may accrue from the Herculean labours of this epitaph collector.”
“And which,” his friend replied, “he will never be able to achieve; however, the desire for recognition as a prolific collector is less blameworthy since it doesn’t come with the often harmful side effects, and it provides others with a worthwhile and reasonable activity. He is only at fault for the ambitious scope, not the nature of his pursuit; and it would be fortunate for humanity if the desire for fame caused no greater harm than, if any, that which might come from the intense efforts of this collector of epitaphs.”
“Yet to us, the uninitiated of the country, it would never occur that there existed even in London a man who disseminated his fortune, and applied his mental and corporeal energies in gleaning epitaphs.”
“Yet for us, the outsiders of the country, it would never cross our minds that there was even in London a man who shared his wealth and dedicated his mental and physical efforts to gathering epitaphs.”
“Neither perhaps would it occur that there existed even in London a virtuoso who discovered that fleas were a species of lobster, and who proceeded to proof by the ordeal of boiling water, on the supposition that the process would change their hue from black to red, and thus satisfactorily establish the correctness of his judgment; unfortunately, however, the boiled fleas still retained their original colour, and the ingenious hypothesis was reluctantly relinquished."{1}
“It's unlikely that there was even in London a genius who figured out that fleas were a type of lobster, and who went so far as to test this by boiling them, thinking the process would turn them from black to red, proving his theory right; unfortunately, the boiled fleas still kept their original color, and the clever idea was reluctantly given up."{1}
[310] Pursuing their course along the City Road, the two friends were attracted by the appearance of a caravan, stationary on the road side, whereon was inscribed, in large characters, The Female Salamander.
[310] As they walked along City Road, the two friends were drawn to a caravan parked on the side of the road, which had the words "The Female Salamander" written in big letters.
“Here is another instance,” observed Dashall, “of the varieties of Real Life in London.”
“Here’s another example,” noted Dashall, “of the different realities of life in London.”
“Walk in, gentlemen,” exclaimed the proprietor, “and see the surprising young woman over whom the element of fire has no control!”
“Come on in, gentlemen,” the owner exclaimed, “and check out the amazing young woman whom fire has no power over!”
Tom and Bob accepted the invitation. Entering the caravan, they were received by an interesting young female, apparently not more than eighteen years of age, with a courteousness of manner far beyond what could have been expected from an itinerant exhibitor.
Tom and Bob accepted the invitation. As they entered the caravan, they were greeted by an intriguing young woman, seemingly no older than eighteen, who exhibited a level of courtesy far beyond what one would expect from a traveling exhibitor.
So soon as a sufficient number of spectators had congregated within the vehicle, the female Salamander commenced her exhibition.
As soon as enough spectators had gathered inside the vehicle, the female Salamander started her performance.
Taking a red-hot poker from the fire, she grasped it firmly, and drew it from head to point through her hand, without sustaining the smallest injury!
Taking a red-hot poker from the fire, she grasped it firmly and ran it from head to point through her hand without sustaining the slightest injury!
[311] “Will you permit me to look at your hand?” asked Dashall.
[311] “Can I see your hand?” asked Dashall.
The girl extended her hand,—the palm was moist, and seemed to have been previously fortified against danger by some secret liquid or other application, now reeking from its recent contact with the flaming weapon.
The girl reached out her hand—the palm was wet and appeared to have been previously protected from harm by some hidden liquid or treatment, now smelling from its recent contact with the fiery weapon.
An uncivilized bumpkin accused her of deception, asserting that the poker was not heated to the extent represented.
An unsophisticated fool accused her of lying, claiming that the poker wasn't as hot as she said.
“Touch and try,” answered the girl. He did so, and the cauterizing instrument gave a feeling (although not very satisfactory) negative to his assertion.
“Go ahead and touch it,” replied the girl. He did, and the cauterizing instrument provided a feeling (though not very satisfying) that contradicted his statement.
“The mystery,” continued Dashall, “of resisting the impression of tire, certainly originates in the liquid by which your hand has been protected.”
“The mystery,” continued Dashall, “of resisting the feeling of fatigue definitely comes from the liquid that has protected your hand.”
“I shall answer your observation,” said the Salamander, “by another performance.”
“I’ll respond to your comment,” said the Salamander, “with another performance.”
She then dipped her fingers into a pot of molten lead, and let fall upon her tongue several drops of the metallic fluid, to the no small amazement and terror of the company; and as if to remove the idea of precautionary application, she after a lapse of five minutes, repeated the same extraordinary exhibition, and finally immerged her naked feet in the boiling material.
She then dipped her fingers into a pot of molten lead and let several drops of the liquid metal fall onto her tongue, shocking and terrifying everyone present. To further dismiss any thoughts of safety, she repeated the same incredible act after five minutes and finally plunged her bare feet into the boiling substance.
The inscrutable means by which the Salamander executed these feats with the most complete success and safety, were not to be divulged; and as neither of our respectable friends felt desirous of emulating the fair exhibitant, they declined the importunity of further inquiry.
The mysterious ways the Salamander accomplished these feats with total success and safety were not to be revealed; and since neither of our respectable friends wanted to mimic the talented performer, they refused any further questions.
“This is, indeed,” said Dashall, as they resumed their walk, “the age of wonders:—here is a girl who can bear to gargle her mouth with melted lead, put her delicate feet into the same scalding material, and pass through her hands a flaming red-hot poker! I am inclined to believe, that were the present an age of superstition, she might be burnt for a witch, were she not happily incombustible. For my own part, I sincerely hope that this pyrophorous prodigy will never think of quitting her own country; and as I am a bachelor, I verily believe I should be tempted to make her an offer of my hand, could I flatter myself with any chance of raising aflame, or making a match with such uninflammable commodity. Only conceive the luxury, when a man comes home fatigued, and in a hurry for his tea, of having a wife who can instantly take out the heater for [312] the urn with her fingers,—stir the fire with ditto—snuff candles with ditto—make a spit of her arm, or a toasting fork of her thumb! What a saving, too, at the washing season, since she need only hold her hand between the bars till it is red-hot, thrust it into a box iron, and iron you off a dozen children's frocks, while an ordinary laundress would be coddling the irons over the fire, spitting upon them, and holding them to her cheek to ascertain the heat before she began to work.”
“This is, indeed,” said Dashall as they continued their walk, “the age of wonders: here’s a girl who can gargle her mouth with melted lead, dip her delicate feet into the same scalding material, and handle a flaming red-hot poker! I’m tempted to believe that if this were an era of superstition, she could be accused of witchcraft, were she not happily fireproof. For my part, I truly hope that this extraordinary girl never thinks of leaving her country; and since I’m a bachelor, I honestly believe I would consider proposing to her if I could convince myself that I had any chance of igniting a spark or making a connection with such a flame-resistant individual. Just imagine the luxury when a man comes home exhausted and eager for his tea, of having a wife who can instantly pull out the heater for the urn with her fingers—stir the fire the same way—trim the candles with them—make a spit out of her arm, or a toasting fork out of her thumb! And what a saving, too, during laundry season, since she would only need to hold her hand between the bars until it’s red-hot, then stick it into a box iron and press out a dozen children’s frocks, while an ordinary laundress would be fussing over the irons by the fire, spitting on them, and holding them to her cheek to check the heat before she starts working.”
“And,” observed the Squire, taking up his friend's vein of humour, “if the young lady be as insensible to the flames of Cupid as she is to those of Vulcan, she might still be highly useful in a national point of view, and well worthy the attention of the various fire-offices.”
“And,” noted the Squire, picking up on his friend's sense of humor, “if the young lady is as indifferent to the flames of love as she is to those of the forge, she could still be very useful from a national perspective and certainly deserving of the attention of various fire departments.”
“Exactly so,” replied his Cousin,—“how desirable for instance would it have been at the late alarming fire in Gracechurch-street, to have had a trustworthy person like her, who could very coolly perambulate the blazing warehouses, to rescue from the flames the most valuable commodities, or lolling astraddle upon a burning beam, hold the red-hot engine pipe in her hand, and calmly direct the hissing water to those points where it may be most effectually applied. In our various manufactories, what essential services she might perform. In glass-houses, for instance, it is notorious that great mischief sometimes arises from inability to ascertain when the sand and flint have arrived at the proper degree of fusion. How completely might this be remedied, by merely shutting up the female Salamander in the furnace; and I can really imagine nothing more interesting, than to contemplate her in that situation, dressed in an asbestos pelisse, watching the reproduction of a phoenix hung up in an iron cage by her side, fondling a spritely little Salamander, and bathing her naked feet in the vitreous lava, to report upon the intensity of heat. Much more might be urged to draw the attention of government to the propriety of retaining this anti-ignitible young lady, not only for the benefits she may confer upon the public, but for the example she may afford to others of her own sex; that by a proper exertion of courage, the most ardent sparks may be sometimes encountered without the smallest inconvenience or injury.”
“Exactly,” replied his cousin, “how great would it have been during the recent alarming fire on Gracechurch Street to have had someone reliable like her, who could calmly walk through the blazing warehouses, rescuing the most valuable items from the flames, or casually sitting on a burning beam, holding a hot fire hose in her hand and directing the hissing water to where it could be used most effectively. In our various factories, imagine the essential services she could provide. For example, in glass factories, it's well-known that significant problems can arise from not knowing when the sand and flint have reached the right temperature for melting. This could be easily solved by simply placing the female Salamander in the furnace; I can’t think of anything more fascinating than watching her in that situation, dressed in an asbestos coat, observing a phoenix being recreated in an iron cage beside her, playing with a lively little Salamander, and dipping her bare feet in the molten glass to check the heat. There are many more points to stress to the government about the importance of keeping this fireproof young lady, not just for the benefits she could bring to the public but also for the example she sets for other women, showing that with the right courage, even the most intense sparks can be faced without any discomfort or harm.”
[313] Indulging in this playful vein of raillery, they now reached that part of the City Road intersected by the Regent's Canal, where its spacious basin, circumjacent wharfs and warehouses, and winding line of water, with barges gliding majestically on its placid wave, where lately appeared open fields arrayed in the verdure of nature, afforded full scope for remark by Mr. Dashall, on the gigantic design and rapid accomplishment, by commercial enterprize, of the most stupendous undertakings.
[313] Having fun with their playful banter, they now arrived at the part of City Road where it intersects with Regent's Canal. Here, the wide basin, surrounding wharfs and warehouses, and the winding stretch of water, with barges smoothly gliding across its calm surface, used to be open fields filled with lush greenery. This setting gave Mr. Dashall plenty of opportunity to comment on the ambitious plans and quick achievements of commercial ventures in executing remarkable projects.
“This work of incalculable public utility,” said Mr. Dashall, “sprang into being with the alacrity of enchantment;—the same remark may apply to every other improvement of this vast metropolis, so rapid in execution, that one thinks of the wonderful lamp, and the magnificent palace of Aladdin, erected in one night by the attendant genii.”
“This incredibly useful project,” said Mr. Dashall, “came to life with the speed of magic;—the same can be said for every other advancement in this huge city, so quickly put together, that it reminds you of the amazing lamp and the grand palace of Aladdin, built in a single night by the help of genies.”
Onwards towards “merry Islington;"{1}—“here,” said Dashall, “is the New River: this fine artificial stream is brought from two springs at Chad well and Am well, in Hertfordshire, for the supply of London with water. It was finished in 1613, by Sir Hugh Middleton, a citizen of London, who expended his whole fortune in this public undertaking. The river, with all its windings, is nearly 39 miles in length; it has 43 sluices, and 215 bridges; over and under it a great number of brooks and water-courses have their passage. In some places this canal is carried through vales, and in others through subterraneous passages. It terminates in a basin called the New River Head, close by. From the reservoir at Islington the water is conveyed by 58 main pipes under ground along the middle of the principal streets; and thence by leaden pipes to the different houses. Thus, by means of the New River, and of the London Bridge water-works, every house in the metropolis is abundantly supplied with water, at the expense each of a few shillings only per annum.
Onwards towards “merry Islington;”{1}—“here,” said Dashall, “is the New River: this impressive artificial stream is sourced from two springs at Chadwell and Amwell, in Hertfordshire, to supply London with water. It was completed in 1613 by Sir Hugh Middleton, a citizen of London, who spent his entire fortune on this public project. The river, with all its twists and turns, is nearly 39 miles long; it features 43 sluices and 215 bridges; above and below it, numerous brooks and watercourses flow through. In some areas, this canal is routed through valleys, and in others through underground passages. It ends in a basin called the New River Head, nearby. From the reservoir at Islington, the water is transported via 58 main pipes underground along the main streets; and from there by lead pipes to individual homes. Thanks to the New River and the London Bridge water works, every house in the city is well supplied with water, costing each household only a few shillings per year.”
This village of Islington is a large and populous place, superior both in size and appearance to many considerable towns in the country. Observe the Angel Inn, celebrated for its ordinary, where you may enjoy, after a country ramble, an excellent dinner on very moderate terms.—Apropos, of the Angel Inn ordinary: some years ago it was regularly every Sunday attended by a thin meagre [314] gaunt and bony figure, of cadaverous aspect, who excited amongst the other guests no small degree of dismay, and not without cause. Cognominated the Wolf, he justified his pretensions to the appellation, by his almost incredible powers of gormandizing; for a quantum of viands sufficient for six men of moderate appetite, would vanish on the magic contact of his knife and fork, in the twinkling of an eye; in fact, his voracity was considered of boundless extent, for he invariably and without cessation consumed by wholesale, so long as eatables remained on the table. One day, after having essentially contributed to the demolition of a baron of beef, and devoured an entire shoulder of lamb, with a commensurate proportion of bread, roots, vegetables, &c, he pounced, with the celerity of a hawk, on a fine roast goose, which unfortunately happened to have been just then placed within the reach of his annihilating fangs, and in a very short space of time it was reduced to a skeleton; having occasion for a few minutes to leave the room, the company in the meanwhile secreted the bones of the goose. The waiter now entered for the purpose of removing the cloth: casting his eyes round the room, he seemed absorbed in perplexity—“What is the matter?” asked one of the company; “do you miss arty thing?”—“Yes, Sir, the bones of a goose!”—“Why then you may save yourself the trouble of further search; the gentleman just gone out, of modest manners and puny appetite, has devoured the goose, bones and all!”—The waiter lost no time in reporting the appalling fact to his master, who now more than ever was desirous of getting rid of the glutton—but how? it was impossible to exclude him the ordinary, or set bounds to his appetite; the only resource left was that of buying him off, which was done at the rate of one shilling per diem, and the wolf took his hebdomadary repast at a different ordinary: from this also his absence was purchased at the same rate as by the first. Speculating on his gluttony, he levied similar contributions on the proprietors of the principal ordinaries in the metropolis and environs; and if the fellow is still living, I have no doubt of his continuing to derive his subsistence from the sources already described!—Now what think you of Real Life in London?"{1}
This village of Islington is a large and populated area, better in both size and appearance than many significant towns in the country. Take note of the Angel Inn, famous for its regular meals, where you can enjoy an excellent dinner at reasonable prices after a country stroll. Speaking of the Angel Inn's meals: years ago, every Sunday, it was regularly visited by a thin, gaunt figure with a pale, bony appearance, who caused quite a bit of alarm among the other guests, and rightfully so. Known as the Wolf, he earned this nickname from his incredible ability to devour food; a portion enough for six people with average appetites would disappear with the swift action of his knife and fork in no time at all. In fact, his hunger seemed limitless, as he consistently ate voraciously, as long as there were food items on the table. One day, after significantly contributing to the consumption of a roast beef and finishing an entire shoulder of lamb, along with a good amount of bread, vegetables, and so on, he quickly lunged at a fine roast goose that had just been placed within his reach. Before long, it was reduced to nothing but bones. Needing to step out for a few minutes, the other diners discreetly hid the goose's bones. When the waiter came in to clear the table, he looked around the room, clearly confused. “What’s the matter?” asked one of the guests. “Are you missing something?” “Yes, Sir, the bones of a goose!” “Well, you can save yourself the trouble of looking; the gentleman who just left, with his modest manners and small appetite, has eaten the goose — bones and all!” The waiter hurried to inform his boss of this shocking news, who was now even more eager to get rid of the glutton. But how? It was impossible to kick him out of the dining area or limit his appetite; the only option left was to pay him off, which they did at the rate of one shilling a day, and the Wolf took his weekly meal at a different place. His absence there was also bought at the same rate as before. Capitalizing on his gluttony, he extorted similar payments from the owners of major dining places in the city and surrounding areas; if he’s still alive, I have no doubt he continues to make a living from these means! So, what do you think about Real Life in London?
[315] The Squire knew not what to think—the circumstance was so extraordinary, that the story would have been rejected by him as unworthy of notice, had it been told by any other person; and coming even from his respectable friend, he remained, until reassured of the fact, rather incredulous of belief.
[315] The Squire didn't know what to think—the situation was so unusual that he would have dismissed the story as unworthy of attention if someone else had told it; and even coming from his respected friend, he remained somewhat skeptical until he was assured it was true.
Descending the declivity leading from Pentonville to Battle Bridge, Dashall, pointing to an extensive pile of buildings at some little distance on the left,—“That,” said he, “is Cold Bath Fields Penitentiary House, constructed on the plan of the late Mr. Howard, and may be considered in all respects as an experiment of his principles. It cost the county of Middlesex between £70 and £80,000, and its yearly expenditure is about £7,000. It was opened in 1794, and was originally designed only as a kind of Bridewell; but having suitable accommodations for several descriptions of prisoners, it was applied to their different circumstances. The prison you may observe is surrounded by a wall of moderate height. Here are workshops for the prisoners; an office in which the business of the prison is transacted; a committee-room, and the best chapel of any prison in London. The cells are 218 in number, about eight feet long each. In these, penitentiary prisoners are confined till they have completed their tasks, when they are let into the courts at the back. Owing to the exertions of Sir Francis [316] Burdett, and his partizans, this house, about the year 1799 and 1800, attracted much popular odium. Many abuses, now rectified, were then found to exist in the management, though not to the full extent described.”
Descending the slope from Pentonville to Battle Bridge, Dashall pointed to a large group of buildings on the left and said, “That’s Cold Bath Fields Penitentiary, built according to the design of the late Mr. Howard, and it can be seen as a test of his principles. It cost the county of Middlesex between £70,000 and £80,000, and its annual expenses are about £7,000. It opened in 1794 and was originally meant to be a type of Bridewell; however, since it has appropriate facilities for various types of prisoners, it has been adapted for different circumstances. You can see that the prison is surrounded by a moderately high wall. There are workshops for the prisoners, an office for managing the prison's affairs, a committee room, and the best chapel of any prison in London. There are 218 cells, each about eight feet long. In these, penitentiary prisoners are kept until they finish their tasks, after which they can go into the courtyards at the back. Because of the efforts of Sir Francis [316] Burdett and his supporters, this place drew a lot of public criticism around 1799 and 1800. Many issues, now fixed, were found in the management back then, although not to the degree that was reported.”
A new scene now rose on the view of our two pedestrians. A little further on, in a field by the roadside, a motley assemblage of auditors environed an orator mounted on a chair, who with frequent contortion of feature, and appropriate accompaniment of gesticulation, was holding forth in the spirit, as Pashalt, surmised, either of radicalism or fanaticism. This elevated personage, on closer approximation, proved to be a field-preacher, and judging from exterior appearance, no stranger to the good things of this life, although his present admonitory harangue strongly reprobated indulgence in the vanities of this wicked world;—he was well clad, and in portly condition, and certainly his rubicundity of visage by no means indicated on his part the union of practice with precept.
A new scene came into view for our two walkers. A little further down, in a field by the roadside, a diverse group of listeners surrounded a speaker who was standing on a chair. With dramatic facial expressions and hands moving energetically, he was passionately sharing his message, which Pashalt believed was either radical or fanatical. As they got closer, it became clear that he was a field preacher. Judging by his appearance, he seemed to be quite familiar with the comforts of life, even though his current sermon strongly criticized indulging in the distractions of this sinful world. He was well-dressed and of a sturdy build, and certainly, his rosy face didn’t suggest that he was living by the principles he was preaching.
Nothing of further interest occurred, and they reached home, pleased with their day's ramble, that had been productive of so much amusement;—“thus verifying,” said Dashall to the Squire, “the observation which you lately made—that every hour brings to a metropolitan perambulator a fresh accession of incident.”
Nothing else of note happened, and they got home, happy with their day's wander that had provided so much fun;—“thus confirming,” said Dashall to the Squire, “the point you recently made—that every hour offers a new experience to someone exploring the city.”
CHAPTER XXIII
[317] Adverting to the trick recently and successfully practised on Sir Felix O'Grady, by a juvenile adept in fraud, obtaining from the Baronet a new suit of clothes; his servant, indignant at his master having been thus plundered with impunity, had, for several days, been meditating in what manner most effectually to manouvre, so as to recover the lost property, and retrieve the honor of Munster, which he considered tarnished by his master having been duped by a stripling; when one morning a hand-bill was found in the area, intimating the residence in Town, pro bono publico, of a celebrated professor of the Occult Sciences; to whom was given the sublime art of divination, and who, by astrological and intuitive knowledge, would discover lost or stolen property, with infallible precision. Thady, whose credulity was of no inferior order, elate with the idea of consummating his wishes, communicated to his master the happy opportunity, and was permitted to seek the counsel of the celestial augurer. Not that the Baronet entertained any belief of its proving available of discovery, but rather with the view of introducing to his friends, Dashall and Tallyho, a fresh source of amusement, as connected with their diurnal investigation of Real Life in London.
[317] Referring to the recent deception successfully carried out on Sir Felix O'Grady by a young master of trickery, who managed to get a new suit of clothes from the Baronet; his servant, outraged that his master had been robbed without consequence, had been pondering for several days on how to effectively maneuver to recover the lost items and restore the honor of Munster, which he felt was stained by his master being fooled by a young lad. One morning, a flyer was found in the area, announcing the presence in town, for the public good, of a famous professor of the Occult Sciences; known for his remarkable skill in divination, who would, through astrological and intuitive knowledge, locate lost or stolen property with guaranteed accuracy. Thady, whose gullibility was quite significant, excited by the prospect of fulfilling his wishes, informed his master of this fortunate opportunity and was given permission to seek the advice of the celestial seer. Not that the Baronet believed it would actually lead to any discoveries, but rather to provide a new source of entertainment for his friends, Dashall and Tallyho, during their daily exploration of Real Life in London.
Thither then, Thady repaired, and consulting the Seer, was astonished by responses which implied the most profound knowledge of times past, present, and to come! The simplicity of Thady had not escaped the Astrologer's [318] notice, who, by dint of manouvre having contrived to draw from the Munster man, unwittingly, the requisite intelligence, merely echoed back the information thus received, to the utter amazement of Thady, who concluded that the Doctor must have intercourse with the Devil, and thence that he merited implicit veneration and belief. The sage predictor having received the customary douceur, now dismissed his credulous visitant, saying that the planets must be propitiated, and desiring him to come again at the expiration of twenty-four hours, when he would receive further intelligence.
Thady went there and consulted the Seer, who amazed him with answers that showed an incredible understanding of the past, present, and future! The simplicity of Thady didn’t go unnoticed by the Astrologer, who cleverly managed to get the information he needed from the Munster man without him realizing it. The Astrologer simply repeated what he had learned, leaving Thady in complete awe, believing that the Doctor must have dealings with the Devil, and therefore deserved total respect and trust. After receiving the usual tip, the wise predictor sent his naive visitor away, saying that the planets needed to be appeased and asked him to return in twenty-four hours for more information.
Tom and his Cousin having called at the lodging of Sir Felix during the time that Thady was out on his expedition of discovery, the Baronet apprized his friends of the amusement in reserve; and they agreed to visit this expounder of destinies on the servant's return.
Tom and his cousin visited Sir Felix's place while Thady was out on his mission. The baronet informed his friends about the entertainment planned, and they decided to see this fortune-teller when the servant got back.
Thady at last arrived, and having reiterated his belief that this marvellous conjurer was the devil's own relative, the party set out to ascertain by what means they could prove the truth of the affinity between his infernal majesty and the sage descendant of the Magi.
Thady finally arrived, and after restating his belief that this amazing magician was definitely related to the devil, the group set out to find a way to prove the connection between his royal highness of hell and the wise descendant of the Magi.
Gaining the sublunary domicile of this mystical unraveller, which for the greater facility of communication with the stars he had fixed in the loftiest apartment of the house, our trio knocked at the door, which, after some hesitation, was opened by an ancient Sybil, who was presently joined by her counterpart, both “so withered and so wild in their attire,” that “they looked not like inhabitants o' th' earth, and yet were on it.” On the party requiring to see the Doctor, the two hags explained in a breath that the Doctor received only one visitor at a time; and while one gentleman went up stairs, the other two must remain below; and this arrangement being acquiesced in, Tom and Bob were shewn into a mean looking room on the ground floor, and Sir Felix followed the ascent of his conductor to the attic.
Gaining access to the mystical unraveling space of this mysterious figure, which he had set up in the highest room of the house for easier communication with the stars, our trio knocked on the door. After a moment of hesitation, it was opened by an elderly woman, who was soon joined by another, both "so withered and so wild in their clothes" that "they looked not like inhabitants of the earth, and yet were on it." When the party asked to see the Doctor, the two women explained in one breath that the Doctor only saw one visitor at a time; while one gentleman went upstairs, the other two had to stay below. Once this arrangement was agreed upon, Tom and Bob were shown into a shabby-looking room on the ground floor, while Sir Felix followed his guide up to the attic.
Entering the presence chamber,—“Welcome, sphinx,” exclaimed the Doctor.
Entering the presence chamber, “Welcome, sphinx,” said the Doctor.
“By the powers,” said the Baronet, “but you are right to a letter; the Sphinx is a monster-man, and I, sure enough, am a Munster-man.”
“By the powers,” said the Baronet, “but you’re exactly right; the Sphinx is a monster of a man, and I, without a doubt, am a Munster man.”
“I know it.—What would'st thou, Sir Felix O'Grady?”
“I know it. What do you want, Sir Felix O'Grady?”
[319] The Baronet felt surprised by this familiar recognition of his person, and replied by observing, that as the inquirer so well knew his name, he might also be acquainted with the nature of his business.
[319] The Baronet was surprised by this friendly acknowledgment of who he was and responded by noting that since the person asking already knew his name, they might also be aware of what he was there for.
“I partly guess it,” rejoined the Seer, “and although I cannot absolutely predict restitution of thy lost property, yet I foresee that accident will throw the depredator in thy way, when the suit may perhaps find its way back to thy wardrobe. Now, hence to thy business, and I to mine.”
“I kind of have an idea,” said the Seer, “and while I can’t say for sure that you’ll get your lost property back, I do see that chance will lead the thief your way, and when that happens, your stuff might find its way back to your closet. Now, you should get back to your work, and I’ll get back to mine.”
The Baronet having nothing further to ask, withdrew accordingly; and our Squire of Belville-hall was next ushered into the sanctum sanctorum.
The Baronet had no more questions, so he left; next, our Squire of Belville Hall was brought into the sanctum sanctorum.
Bob was at a loss what to say, not having prepared himself with any reasonable pretext of inquiry. A silence of a few moments was the consequence, and the Squire having first reconnoitred the person of the conjurer, who was arrayed in the appropriate costume of his profession, scrutinized the apartment, when the attention of the visitor and visited being again drawn to each other, the Soothsayer addressed himself to Tallyho in the following words:
Bob didn’t know what to say since he hadn’t come up with any good reason to ask a question. This led to a brief silence, and the Squire, after taking a moment to check out the conjurer, who was dressed in the typical attire for his job, examined the room. When both the visitor and the host focused on each other again, the Soothsayer spoke to Tallyho with these words:
The Squire was not prone to anger; but that this fellow should interfere with his private concerns, and impute to him the intention of forming a most preposterous connexion, under the influence of avarice, roused him into a whirlwind of passion.—“Rascal!” he exclaimed, “who take upon you to predict the fate of others, are you aware of your own! Vagabond! imposter! here I grasp you, nor will I quit my hold until I surrender you into the hands of justice!” And “suiting the action to the word,” he seized and shook the unfortunate Seer, to the manifest discomposure of his bones, who loudly and lamentably cried out for assistance. Alarmed by the clamour, Dashall and the Baronet rushed up stairs, to whom the Squire stated the aggravation [320] received, and at the same time his determination to bring the cheat to punishment. The trembling culprit sued for mercy, conscious that he was amenable to correction as a rogue and vagabond, and if convicted as such, would probably be sent to expiate his offence in the Treading-Mill at Brixton, a place of atonement for transgression, which of all others he dreaded the most.{1}
The Squire wasn't someone who usually got angry; however, that this guy would meddle in his personal matters and accuse him of wanting to get involved in a ridiculous connection for the sake of greed threw him into a fit of rage. “You scoundrel!” he shouted, “who do you think you are to predict other people's fates, when you should be worried about your own! You’re a bum! A fraud! I’m grabbing you now, and I'm not letting go until I hand you over to the authorities!” And in keeping with his words, he grabbed and shook the unfortunate Seer, causing clear distress to his bones, who cried out loudly and pathetically for help. Alarmed by the noise, Dashall and the Baronet rushed upstairs, where the Squire explained the provocation he had faced and his firm decision to see the con artist punished. The shaking culprit begged for mercy, aware that he was guilty as a rogue and vagrant, and if found guilty, he would likely be sent to serve his sentence on the Treading-Mill at Brixton, a place of retribution for misdeeds that he feared more than anything else. [320]{1}
[321] The two ancient Sybils from the lower regions having now ascended the scene of confusion, united their voices with that of the astrologer, and Dashall and Sir Felix also interceding in his behalf, the Squire yielded to the general entreaty, and promised the soothsayer forgiveness, on condition that he disclosed the source whence he derived information as to the Baronet's family concerns. The soothsayer confessed, that he had elicited intelligence from the servant, who in his simplicity had revealed so much of his master's affairs, as to enable him (the conjurer) to sustain his reputation even with Sir Felix himself, whom from description he recognized on his first entrance, and by the same means, and with equal ease, identified the person of the Squire of Belville-hall. He added besides, that he had frequently, by similar stratagem, acquired intelligence; that chance had more than once favoured him, by verifying his predictions, and thus both his fame and finances had obtained aggrandisement. He now promised to relinquish celestial for sublunary pursuits, and depend for subsistence rather on the exercise of honest industry than on public credulity.
[321] The two ancient Sybils from the lower regions had now stepped onto the chaotic scene, raising their voices alongside the astrologer. Dashall and Sir Felix also pleaded on his behalf, and the Squire eventually gave in to the collective request, agreeing to forgive the soothsayer on the condition that he revealed how he got information about the Baronet's family matters. The soothsayer admitted that he had gathered the information from a servant, who, in his innocence, had shared enough about his master's affairs to allow him (the conjurer) to maintain his credibility, even with Sir Felix himself, whom he recognized right away upon entering. Using the same approach, he easily identified the Squire of Belville-hall. He also mentioned that he had regularly obtained information through similar tricks, and that luck had often helped him by confirming his predictions, which had boosted both his reputation and finances. He now promised to give up celestial pursuits for earthly ones and to rely on honest work for his livelihood instead of public gullibility.
Thus far had matters proceeded, when the Baronet's servant Thady was announced. The triumvirate anticipating some extraordinary occurrence, desired the soothsayer to resume his functions, and give the valet immediate audience, while they retired into another apartment to wait the result. In a few minutes the servant was dismissed, and the party readmitted.
Matters had progressed this far when the Baronet's servant Thady was announced. The trio, expecting something unusual, asked the soothsayer to continue his work and give the valet immediate attention, while they stepped into another room to wait for the outcome. A few minutes later, the servant was sent away, and the group was let back in.
“Chance,” said the augurer, “has again befriended me. I told you, Sir Felix, that the depredator would be thrown in your way: my prediction is realized; he has been accidentally encountered by your servant, and is now in safe custody.”
“Luck,” said the fortune teller, “has smiled upon me once more. I told you, Sir Felix, that the thief would cross your path: my prediction has come true; your servant has run into him by chance, and he’s now in safe custody.”
On this information our party turned homewards, first leaving the astrologer a pecuniary stimulation to projected amendment of life.
On this information, our group headed home, first giving the astrologer a financial incentive for his proposed improvements in life.
“There seems nothing of inherent vileness,” said the Squire, as they walked onwards, “in this man's principles; he may have been driven by distress to his present pursuits; and I feel happy that I did not consign the poor devil to the merciless fangs of the law, as, in the moment of irritation, I had intended.”
“There doesn’t seem to be anything inherently wrong,” said the Squire as they continued walking, “with this man’s principles; he might have been pushed into his current situation out of desperation; and I’m glad that I didn’t send the poor guy to face the ruthless consequences of the law, as I had intended in my moment of frustration.”
“By my conscience,” exclaimed Sir Felix, “I cannot discover that he ought to be punished at all. He has been picking up a scanty living by preying on public credulity; and from the same source thousands in this metropolis derive affluent incomes, and with patronage and impunity.”
“Honestly,” exclaimed Sir Felix, “I can’t see why he should be punished at all. He’s been scraping by by taking advantage of people’s gullibility; and from the same source, thousands in this city make good incomes, and with support and without consequences.”
[322] “And,” added Dashall, “in cases of minor offence a well-timed clemency is frequently, both in policy and humanity, preferable to relentless severity."{1}
[322] “And,” Dashall added, “in cases of minor offenses, a timely act of mercy is often, both for strategic reasons and out of compassion, better than strict punishment."{1}
[324] On the arrival of the party at the lodgings of Sir Felix, they learned from the servant, that the latter having met the young swindler in the streets, Thady recognized and secured him; and he was now at the disposal of the Baronet, if he chose to proceed against him.
[324] When the group arrived at Sir Felix's place, they found out from the servant that he had run into the young scammer in the streets. Thady had recognized him and captured him, and now he was available for the Baronet to take action against if he wanted to.
The sprig of iniquity, when made forthcoming, did not deny the accuracy of the charge, neither did he offer any thing in exculpation. It was with much difficulty, however, and under the threat of his being immediately surrendered to justice, that he would disclose the name of his father, who proved to be a respectable tradesman residing in the neighbourhood. The unfortunate parent was sent for, and his son's situation made known to him. The afflicted man earnestly beseeched, that his son might not be prosecuted; he was not aware, he said, that the lad was habitually vicious; this probably was his only deviation from honesty; he, the father, would make every reparation required; but exposure would entail upon his family irretrievable ruin. It was elicited from the boy, amid tears and sobs of apparent contrition, that the articles of apparel were in pledge for a small sum; redemption, and every other possible atonement, was instantly proposed by the father: Sir Felix hesitated, was he justifiable, he asked, in yielding to his own wishes, by foregoing prosecution?—“The attribute of mercy,” said Dashall, “is still in your power.”—“Then,” responded the Baronet, “I shall avail myself of the privilege. Sir, (to the father), your boy is at liberty!” The now relieved parent expressed, in the most energetic manner, his gratitude, and retired. The prediction of the Seer was fully verified, for in the course of the evening the stray suit found its way back to the wardrobe of its rightful owner.
The troublemaker, when pressed, didn’t deny the accusations and didn’t offer anything to clear his name either. After much difficulty, and the threat of being immediately handed over to authorities, he finally revealed his father's name, who turned out to be a respectable tradesman living nearby. They called the distressed father and informed him about his son's situation. The heartbroken man pleaded that his son not be prosecuted; he claimed he had no idea his son was often up to no good. He insisted this was probably just a one-time mistake and promised to make all necessary amends, but said that public exposure would lead to his family’s complete ruin. The boy eventually admitted, through tears and apparent remorse, that the clothes had been pawned for a small amount of cash; his father immediately offered to redeem them and any other possible restitution. Sir Felix hesitated, questioning if it was right to give in to his own desires and drop the prosecution. “The power of mercy,” Dashall said, “is still in your hands.” “Then,” the Baronet replied, “I will take that opportunity. Sir,” he said to the father, “your son is free!” The relieved father expressed his gratitude enthusiastically and left. The Seer’s prediction came true, as by the end of the evening, the missing clothing returned to its rightful owner’s closet.
This business happily concluded, and the day not much beyond its meridian, the three friends again sallied forth in the direction of Bond-street, towards Piccadilly. As usual, the loungers were superabundant, and ridiculous. Paired together, and swerving continually from the direct line, it required some skilful manouvring to pass them. Our friends had surmounted several such impediments, when a new obstruction to their progress presented itself. A party of Exquisites had linked themselves together, and occupied the entire pavement, so that it was impossible to precede them without getting into the carriage-way, thus greatly obstructing and inconveniencing all other passengers. Lounging at a funeral pace, and leaving not the smallest opening, it was evident that [325] these effeminate animals had purposely united themselves for public annoyance. Sir Felix, irritated by this palpable outrage on decorum, stepped forward, with hasty determined stride, and coming unexpectedly and irresistibly in contact, broke at once the concatenated barrier, to the great amusement as well as accommodation of the lookers-on, and total discomfiture of the Exquisites, who observing the resolute mien and robust form of their assailant, not forgetting a formidable piece of timber, alias “sprig of shillaleagh,” which he bore in his hand, prudently consulted their safety, and forebore resentment of the interruption.{1}
This business was happily wrapped up and the day not much past noon, the three friends headed out again toward Bond Street and Piccadilly. As usual, there were plenty of people hanging around, being silly. Moving in pairs and constantly veering off the straight path, it took some skill to get around them. Our friends had navigated several of these obstacles when a new blockage to their path showed up. A group of snobby individuals had linked arms and took up the whole sidewalk, making it impossible to pass without stepping into the street, which really annoyed and inconvenienced all the other pedestrians. Moving at a snail's pace and leaving not the slightest gap, it was clear these pretentious people had intentionally grouped together to frustrate others. Sir Felix, irritated by this clear breach of decorum, stepped forward with a quick, determined stride, and unexpectedly broke through their linked-up wall, much to the amusement and relief of onlookers and the complete embarrassment of the snobs, who, noticing the confident stance and strong build of their challenger, not to mention the piece of wood he was holding, decided to back off and not retaliate against the disruption.
The Baronet's two associates very much approved of his spirited interference, and Dashall observed, that these insignificant beings, whom Sir Felix had so properly reproved, were to be seen, thus incommoding the public, in all parts of the metropolis; but more particularly westward; that in crowded streets, however, for instance, in the direct line from Charing Cross to the Royal Exchange, the apparent Exquisites are generally thieves and pickpockets, who find a harvest in this extensive scene of business, by artful depredation, either upon the unwary tradesman, or equally unsuspecting passenger, whose wiper or tattler, and sometimes both, becomes the frequent produce of their active ingenuity.
The Baronet's two friends really liked his bold intervention, and Dashall noted that these insignificant people, whom Sir Felix had rightly called out, could be found causing trouble for the public all over the city; but especially in the west. In busy streets, particularly along the route from Charing Cross to the Royal Exchange, the supposed gentlemen are usually thieves and pickpockets, who take advantage of this bustling area by cleverly stealing from the unsuspecting shopkeeper or equally unaware passerby, who often becomes a frequent target of their crafty schemes.
The morning had been wet, and although the flag-way was dry, yet the carriage-road was dirty. There are, in all parts of the metropolis, indigent objects of both sexes, who by sweeping the cross-way, pick up an eleemosynary livelihood. It not unfrequently happens, however, that a chariot, or other vehicle, is drawn up at one end of the cross-way directly athwart it, so as completely to intercept your way to the pavement. Exactly so situated were our pedestrians. They had availed themselves of a newly swept path, and were advancing towards the opposite side, [326]in Piccadilly, when, before they could effect their purpose, a carriage drew up, and effectually impeded further progress by the cross-way, so that there seemed no alternative between standing fast and gaining the pavement by walking through the mud. The coachman retained his position despite of remonstrance, and in this laudable stubbornness he was encouraged by a well-attired female inside the vehicle, for the carriage was a private one, and its ill-mannered inmate probably a lady of rank and fashion. Sir Felix, justly indignant at this treatment, set danger and inconvenience at defiance, and deliberately walking to the horses' heads, led the animals forward until the carriage had cleared the cross-way, maugre the threats of the lady, and the whip of the coachman, who had the audacity to attempt exercising it on the person of the Baronet, when Tallyho, dreading the consequences to the rash assailant, sprang upon the box, and arresting his hand, saved the honour of Munster! The transaction did not occupy above two minutes, yet a number of people had collected, and vehemently applauded Sir Felix; and the lady's companion now hastily re-entering the chariot from an adjacent shop, Mr. Jehu drove off rapidly, amidst the hoots and hisses of the multitude.{1}
The morning had been rainy, and while the footpath was dry, the road was muddy. In all parts of the city, there are people in need, both men and women, who earn a living by sweeping the sidewalks. However, it's not uncommon for a carriage or another vehicle to block one end of the sidewalk, completely blocking your path to the pavement. Our pedestrians found themselves in just such a situation. They took advantage of a freshly swept path and were moving toward the opposite side, [326] in Piccadilly, when a carriage pulled up, effectively stopping any further progress across the sidewalk. It left them with no choice but to either stand still or walk through the mud to reach the pavement. The coachman refused to move despite complaints, and his stubbornness was encouraged by a well-dressed woman inside the carriage, indicating it was a private vehicle, and its rude occupant was likely a lady of status. Sir Felix, justifiably angry at this treatment, disregarded the danger and inconvenience, and boldly walked to the horses' heads, leading them forward until the carriage cleared the sidewalk, despite the lady's threats and the coachman's attempt to use his whip against the Baronet. When Tallyho, fearing what could happen to the reckless attacker, jumped onto the box and stopped his hand, he saved Munster's reputation! This whole scene took no more than two minutes, yet a crowd had gathered, enthusiastically cheering for Sir Felix. Meanwhile, the lady's companion quickly returned to the carriage from a nearby shop, and Mr. Jehu drove off quickly, amidst the jeers and boos of the crowd.{1}
The poor street-sweeper having applied to Sir Felix for a mite of benevolence,—“And is it for letting the carriage block up the cross-way, and forcing me through the mud,” asked the Baronet;—” but whether or not, I have not got any halfpence about me, so that I must pay you when I come again.”—“Ah! your honour,” exclaimed the man, “it is unknown the credit I give in this way.” Sir Felix thrust his hand into his pocket, and rewarded the applicant with a tester.
The poor street sweeper asked Sir Felix for a little help. “Is it because the carriage is blocking the way and making me walk through mud?” the Baronet replied. “But regardless, I don’t have any change on me, so I’ll have to pay you next time.” “Ah! Your honor,” the man exclaimed, “you don’t know how much credit I give this way.” Sir Felix reached into his pocket and gave the man a coin.
[327] Proceeding along Piccadilly, our party were followed by a Newfoundland dog, which circumstance attracted the notice of the Baronet, to whom more than to either of his associates the animal seemed to attach itself. Pleased with its attention, Sir Felix caressed it, and when the triumvirate entered a neighbouring coffee-house, the dog was permitted to accompany them. Scarcely had the three friends seated themselves, when a man of decent appearance came into the room, and, without ceremony, accused the Baronet of having, by surreptitious means, obtained possession of his property; in other words, of having inveigled away his dog; and demanding instant restitution.
[327] While walking down Piccadilly, our group was followed by a Newfoundland dog, which caught the attention of the Baronet, who seemed to connect with the animal more than his companions did. Happy with the dog's attention, Sir Felix petted it, and when the three of them entered a nearby coffee shop, the dog was allowed to join them. Hardly had the friends settled in when a well-dressed man entered the room and, without any introduction, accused the Baronet of having sneakily taken his property; in other words, of stealing his dog, and demanded it be returned immediately.
Sir Felix fired at the accusation, divested as it was of the shadow of truth, yet unsuspicious of design, would have instantly relinquished his canine acquaintance, but for the interposition of Dashall, who suspected this intrusive personage to be neither more nor less than a dog-stealer, of whom there are many in London continually on the alert for booty. These fellows pick up all stray dogs, carry them home, and detain them until such time as they are advertised, and a commensurate reward is offered by the respective owners. If, then, the dog is intrinsically of no value, and consequently unsaleable, the adept in this species of depredation, finding he can do no better, takes the dog home, receives the promised reward, and generally an additional gratuity in compensation of keep and trouble; but, should it so happen, that the proffered remuneration is not equivalent to the worth of the animal, the conscientious professor of knavery carries his goods to a more lucrative market. At the instance of Dashall, therefore, Sir Felix was determined to retain the animal until the claimant brought irrefragable proof of ownership. The fellow blustered,—the Baronet was immovable in his resolution;—when the other threw off all disguise, and exhibiting himself in pristine blackguardism, inundated Sir Felix with a torrent of abuse; who disdaining any minor notice of his scurrility, seized the fellow, with one hand by the cape of his coat, with the other by the waistband of his breeches, and bearing him to the door, as he would any other noxious animal, fairly pitched him head foremost into the street, to the manifest surprise and dismay of the passengers, to whom he told a “pitiable tale,” when one of the crowd pronounced him to be a notorious dog-stealer, and the fellow, immediately on this recognition, made a precipitate retreat. [328] “I am glad,” said Dashall to his friends, who had witnessed the result of this affair from one of the windows of the coffee-room, “that our canine acquaintance (patting the animal at the same time) is now clearly exonerated from any participation of knavery. I had my suspicions that he was a well-disciplined associate in iniquity, taught to follow any person whom his pretended owner might point at, as a fit object of prey.”
Sir Felix reacted strongly to the accusation, which was completely unfounded, but he didn't suspect any ulterior motive. He would have quickly gotten rid of his dog friend if it weren't for Dashall stepping in, who thought this intrusive person was nothing more than a dog thief. There are plenty of them in London, always on the lookout for easy targets. These guys pick up stray dogs, take them home, and hold onto them until they're advertised, waiting for the rightful owners to offer a reward. If the dog isn't worth much and can't be sold, the thief, realizing he can't profit, takes the dog home, claims the offered reward, and often gets an extra tip for his trouble. But if the reward isn't worth the dog's value, the shady character takes his goods to a more profitable market. So, at Dashall's insistence, Sir Felix decided to keep the dog until the claimant could provide undeniable proof of ownership. The guy got aggressive, but the Baronet stood firm. Then the man dropped all pretense, showing his true low character and blasting Sir Felix with a stream of insults. Sir Felix, ignoring the insults, grabbed the guy by the collar and the waistband of his pants and, like he would a troublesome animal, tossed him headfirst into the street, surprising the passersby. He spun a "pitiable tale," but one person in the crowd called him out as a known dog thief, prompting the guy to make a quick getaway. [328] “I’m glad,” Dashall told his friends, who had watched the whole thing unfold from the window of the coffee room, “that our dog friend here” (giving the animal a pat) “is clearly proven innocent of any wrongdoing. I suspected he was a well-trained accomplice, taught to follow anyone his so-called owner pointed to as a target."
The Baronet and the Squire, particularly the latter, had heard much of the “Frauds of London,” but neither of them was aware that metropolitan roguery was carried on and accelerated through the medium of canine agency.
The Baronet and the Squire, especially the latter, had heard a lot about the "Frauds of London," but neither of them realized that city trickery was being conducted and sped up through the use of dogs.
In confirmation of this fact, however, Dashall mentioned two circumstances, both of which had occurred within these few years back, the one of a man who, in different parts of the suburbs, used to secrete himself behind a hedge, and when a lady came in view, his dog would go forth to rob her; the reticule was the object of plunder, which the dog seldom failed to get possession of, when he would instantly carry the spoil to his master. The other case was that of a person who had trained his dog to depredations in Whitechapel-market. This sly thief would reconnoitre the butcher's stalls, particularly on a Saturday night amidst the hurry of business, and carry off whatever piece of meat was most conveniently tangible, and take it home with all possible caution and celerity. We have heard of their answering questions, playing cards, and casting accompts,—in fact, their instinctive sagacity has frequently the appearance of reasoning faculties; they even now are competent to extraordinary performances, and what further wonders the ingenuity of man may teach them to accomplish, remains hereafter to be ascertained.{1}
To confirm this fact, Dashall mentioned two incidents that happened in recent years. One involved a man who used to hide behind a hedge in different parts of the suburbs. When a lady came into view, his dog would go out and steal from her; the target was her purse, which the dog rarely failed to grab before bringing it straight to his owner. The other case was about someone who trained his dog to steal in Whitechapel Market. This clever thief would scout the butcher's stalls, especially on busy Saturday nights, and snatch whatever piece of meat was easiest to grab, taking it home as quickly and carefully as possible. We've heard about them answering questions, playing cards, and doing calculations—in fact, their instinctive intelligence often seems like reasoning ability. They are still capable of remarkable feats, and what further wonders human ingenuity may teach them to achieve remains to be seen.{1}
[329] Emerging from the coffee-house, companied by their newly acquired canine friend, our observers proceeded along Piccadilly, when reaching its extremity, and turning into the Park by Constitution-hill, they were met by the servant, Thady.
[329] Coming out of the coffee shop, accompanied by their new dog, our observers walked along Piccadilly. When they reached the end and turned into the Park by Constitution Hill, they were greeted by the servant, Thady.
“Your honour,” said the valet, “haven't I been after soaking you, here and there, and every where, and no where at all, at all, vrid this letter, bad luck to it, becays of the trouble it may give you; and indeed I was sent after your honour by Miss Macgilligan;—there's ill luck at home, your honour.”
“Your honor,” said the valet, “haven't I been working hard to get you, everywhere and nowhere at all, with this letter, which is a pain because of the trouble it might cause you? I was actually sent to find you by Miss Macgilligan; there’s bad luck at home, your honor.”
“Then I shall not make any haste,” said Sir Felix, “to meet such a guest.”
“Then I won’t rush,” said Sir Felix, “to meet such a guest.”
He then read aloud the ominous epistle:—
He then read aloud the unsettling letter:—
“My dear Nephew.—A vexatious affair has occurred.—I shall be glad to see you, as soon as possible.—J. M.”
“My dear Nephew.—A frustrating situation has come up.—I will be happy to see you as soon as possible.—J. M.”
“Perhaps you can oblige us with the history,” said the Baronet, “of this same 'vexatious affair;' but observe me, let it be an abridgement,—Miss Macgilligan will favour us with it in detail.”
“Maybe you could share the history with us,” said the Baronet, “of this 'annoying issue;' but please make it brief—Miss Macgilligan will provide us with the full details.”
“Why then, your honour,” said the valet, “you had not gone out many minutes, when there came a rit-tat to the door, and a gintail good-looking gentleman inquired for Mr. A——a. Begging your pardon, says I, if it is my master vou mane, he does not belong to the family of the Misters at all; his name is Sir Felix O'Grady, of the province of Munster, Baronet, and I am his valet; long life and good luck to both of us!”
“Why then, Your Honor,” said the valet, “you hadn’t been gone more than a few minutes when there was a knock at the door, and a very handsome gentleman asked for Mr. A——a. Excuse me, I said, but if you mean my master, he doesn’t belong to the family of the Misters at all; his name is Sir Felix O'Grady from the province of Munster, Baronet, and I am his valet; may we both have a long life and good fortune!”
[330] “This is rather a tedious commencement,” observed Sir Felix to his marvelling associates,—“but I believe we must let the fellow tell the story in his own way.—Well, Tliady, what next?”
[330] “This is a pretty boring start,” Sir Felix said to his amazed friends, “but I think we should let the guy tell the story in his own style. — So, Tliady, what’s next?”
“So, your Honour, he inquired whether he could spaak wid you, and I told him that it was rather doubtful, becays you were not at home; but, says I, Miss Judy Macgilligan, his Honour's reverend aunt, is now in her dressing-room, and no doubt will be proud in the honour of your acquaintance.”
“So, your Honour, he asked if he could speak with you, and I told him it was unlikely since you weren’t home; but, I said, Miss Judy Macgilligan, your Honour's respected aunt, is currently in her dressing room and will surely be pleased to meet you.”
“My 'reverend aunt' certainly ought to feel herself very much obliged to you.—Well, Sir!”
“My 'reverend aunt' should really feel quite grateful to you.—Well, Sir!”
“And so, your Honour, the maid went for instructions, and Miss Macgilligan desired that the gentleman should be shewn into the drawing-room, until she could make her appearance. Well, then, after waiting some little time, he rings the bell, with the assurance of a man of quality, just as if he had been at home. So up stairs I goes, and meets him in the hall. 'Pray,' says he, 'have the goodness to present my best respects to the lady; I will not obtrude upon her at present, but shall call again tomorrow,' and away he walked; and that's all, your Honour.” “That's all! What am I to understand then by the 'vexatious affair' my aunt speaks of?”
"And so, Your Honor, the maid went to get instructions, and Miss Macgilligan wanted the gentleman to be showed into the drawing room until she could come out. Well, after waiting a little while, he rings the bell, with the confidence of a person of high status, just like he was at home. So I went upstairs and met him in the hall. 'Please,' he says, 'be so kind as to give my best regards to the lady; I won't intrude on her right now, but I’ll come back tomorrow,' and then he walked away; and that’s it, Your Honor." “That’s it! What am I supposed to understand by the 'troublesome matter' my aunt mentioned?”
“O,” exclaimed Thady, recollecting himself,—“may be she manes her gold watch, which the gentleman discovered in the drawing-room, and carried away in his pocket, by mistake!”
“O,” Thady exclaimed, remembering himself, “maybe she means the gold watch that the guy found in the living room and took by mistake!”
“Very well, Sir,” said the Baronet; “now that we have «orne to the finis, you may go home.”
“Alright, Sir,” said the Baronet; “now that we’ve come to the end, you may go home.”
It is evident the gentleman had availed himself of the Baronet's absence from home, and that the information derived from the communicative valet encouraged the hope of success which he so adroitly realized.
It’s clear that the gentleman took advantage of the Baronet being away from home, and that the information he got from the talkative valet fueled the hope for success that he skillfully achieved.
Dashall and his Cousin were about sympathizing with the Baronet on this new misfortune, when he gave vent to bis feelings by an immoderate fit of laughter!—“Miss Macgilligan has had the benefit of a practical lesson,” he exclaimed, “which she cannot fail to remember;—her vanity would not permit her seeing the stranger until the frivolities of the toilet were adjusted, and thus he made the most of a golden opportunity.”
Dashall and his cousin were about to express their sympathy to the baronet regarding this new misfortune when he burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter! “Miss Macgilligan just got a practical lesson,” he exclaimed, “that she won't forget; her vanity wouldn’t let her see the stranger until she had fixed her appearance, and so he took full advantage of a golden opportunity.”
[331] The three friends now retraced their steps along Piccadilly, until they arrived at the residence of Dashall, when they separated; the Baronet to condole with Miss Macgilligan, and the two Cousins to dress, preparatory to their dining with an eminent merchant in the city.
[331] The three friends walked back along Piccadilly until they reached Dashall's house, where they parted ways; the Baronet went to comfort Miss Macgilligan, while the two cousins got ready to have dinner with a well-known merchant in the city.
Leaving then, for the present, Sir Felix and his aunt to their own family cogitations, we shall accompany the Hon. Tom Dashall and the Squire of Belville-hall on their civic expedition.
Leaving Sir Felix and his aunt to their own thoughts for now, we will join the Hon. Tom Dashall and the Squire of Belville Hall on their civic adventure.
The wealthy citizen at whose table they were now entertained, rose, like many others, the children of industry, from comparative indigence to affluence, and from obscurity to eminence.
The wealthy citizen who was now hosting them rose, like many others, from relative poverty to wealth, and from being unknown to being well-known.
The party was select; the dinner was sumptuous, yet unostentatious; and the conversation, if not exactly in the first class of refinement, was to the two strangers interestingly instructive, as embracing topics of mercantile pursuit with which they had hitherto been unacquainted. It was also highly enlivened by the sprightly sallies of three beautiful and elegantly accomplished young ladies, the daughters of the amiable host and hostess; and to these fair magnets of attraction, whom Dashall happily denominated the Graces, our gallant cavaliers were particularly assiduous in their attentions. The party broke up, after an evening of reciprocal enjoyment; and Dashall on the way home expressed his belief that, with the solitary exception of one colossal instance of ignorance and brutality, “the very respectable man” in society is most generally to be found among the merchants of London.{1}
The gathering was exclusive; the dinner was lavish but not showy; and the conversation, while not exactly top-tier in sophistication, was engagingly informative to the two strangers, covering topics related to business that they were not familiar with before. It was also lively, thanks to the witty remarks of three beautiful and elegantly trained young women, the daughters of the friendly hosts; these charming ladies, whom Dashall aptly referred to as the Graces, received special attention from our dashing gentlemen. The evening concluded with mutual enjoyment; on the way home, Dashall shared his belief that, with the singular exception of one glaring moment of ignorance and cruelty, “the very respectable man” in society is most often found among the merchants of London.{1}
CHAPTER XXIV
[334] The long protracted visit to Vauxhall being at length finally arranged, our party soon found themselves in the midst of this gay and fascinating scene of amusement.
[334] After a lengthy and complicated planning process, our group finally arrived at Vauxhall and quickly found themselves immersed in this lively and captivating atmosphere of entertainment.
“These charming gardens,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “which you may perhaps have some recollection of upon a masquerade occasion, having lately fallen into new hands, have assumed, under their direction and management, a new appearance of additional splendour and magnificence perhaps scarcely ever surpassed, and the present proprietors appear to have studied the comfort and gratification of their visitors as well as their own advantage; but of this we shall be better judges before the night is spent.”
“These beautiful gardens,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “which you might remember from a masquerade event, have recently come under new ownership and have taken on a fresh look of added beauty and grandeur that may be hard to match. The current owners seem to have focused on the comfort and enjoyment of their guests as well as their own benefit; but we’ll have a better idea of that by the end of the night.”
“Right,” replied Sparkle, “I am not fond of far fetched descriptions, which may upon investigation prove to have originated more in the imagination of the author than in reality to exist.”
“Right,” replied Sparkle, “I'm not a fan of exaggerated descriptions, which might turn out to be more from the author's imagination than based on actual reality.”
“At all events,” continued Tom, “the Gardens themselves are beautiful and extensive, and contain a variety of walks, which, if but tastefully illuminated, and attended by rank, fashion, and beauty, can never fail to be attractive.”
“At any rate,” Tom continued, “the Gardens are beautiful and spacious, featuring a variety of paths that, if properly lit and graced by the presence of social status, style, and beauty, will always be appealing.”
[335] Our heroes rushed forward to the splendid scene of enchantment, which had drawn forth the previous observations, mingling with the crowds of well dressed persons, who like themselves were upon the alert to witness this delightful place of summer amusement in the new form which it has recently assumed: the virandas tastefully festooned with painted canvass—the brilliantly illuminated orchestra, and the animated countenances of the company, conspired to produce an effect almost inconceivable, while new objects of delight were continually bursting upon their view. The illuminated colonade newly decorated with carved and painted flowers, fruit, and foliage, and Mr. Singleton's original whole length transparent portrait of his Majesty in his coronation robes, alternately attracted attention, as well as the four cosmoramas constructed in various parts of the gardens, consisting of some very pretty views of the New Exchange at Paris, scenes in Switzerland, &c. In the musical department, Sparkle was much pleased to find some of the old favourites, particularly Mr. Charles Taylor and Mrs. Bland, as well as with the performance of a Miss Graddon, who possesses a rich voice, with considerable power and flexibility, and of Madame Georgina, an East Indian Lady, who afterwards sung very charmingly in the Rotunda, accompanying herself on the piano forte, in a style which proved her to be a most skilful performer.
[335] Our heroes hurried towards the amazing scene of enchantment that had inspired the previous comments, blending in with the crowd of well-dressed individuals who, like them, were eager to experience this delightful summer entertainment in its new form: the verandas beautifully decorated with painted canvas—the brightly lit orchestra, and the lively expressions of the guests combined to create an almost unbelievable atmosphere, with new sources of joy continuously coming into view. The illuminated colonnade, recently adorned with carved and painted flowers, fruits, and foliage, along with Mr. Singleton's original life-sized transparent portrait of His Majesty in his coronation robes, alternated in capturing attention, as did the four cosmoramas set up in different parts of the gardens, showcasing lovely views of the New Exchange in Paris, scenes in Switzerland, and more. In terms of music, Sparkle was delighted to find some old favorites, especially Mr. Charles Taylor and Mrs. Bland, as well as the performance of Miss Graddon, who has a rich voice with great power and flexibility, and Madame Georgina, an East Indian lady, who later sang charmingly in the Rotunda, accompanying herself on the piano in a way that showcased her as a highly skilled performer.
But the grand subject of their admiration was what is rather affectedly called “The Heptaplasiesoptron,” or fancy reflective proscenium, which is placed in the long room fronting the orchestra of the Rotunda. It is entirely lined with looking glass, and has in all probability originated in the curious effect produced by the kaleidoscope, and the looking glass curtains lately exhibited at our theatres. This splendid exhibition is fitted up with ornamented draperies, and presents a fountain of real water illuminated, revolving pillars, palm trees, serpents, foliage, and variegated lamps; and the mirrors are so placed as to reflect each object seven times. This novelty appeared to excite universal admiration, inspiring the company with ideas of refreshing coolness. The bubbling of water, the waving of the foliage, and the seven times reflected effulgence of the lamps, gave the whole an appearance of enchantment, which sets all description at defiance.
But the main thing everybody admired was what’s somewhat pretentiously called “The Heptaplasiesoptron,” or fancy reflective stage, located in the long room facing the orchestra of the Rotunda. It’s completely covered in mirrors and probably originated from the curious effect created by the kaleidoscope and the mirror curtains recently displayed at our theaters. This impressive display is decorated with fancy drapes and features a fountain of real water, illuminated revolving columns, palm trees, snakes, foliage, and colorful lamps; and the mirrors are arranged to reflect each object seven times. This attraction seemed to spark universal admiration, filling everyone with thoughts of refreshing coolness. The sound of bubbling water, the swaying leaves, and the seven-times reflected glow of the lamps created an enchanting scene that defies description.
[336] Having taken a complete circle through this round of delights, interrupted only by the congratulations and inquiries of friends, the appointed hour for exhibiting the fire-works arrived, when they were additionally gratified by a display of the most splendid description, and the famous ascent a la Saqui was admirably executed by Longuemarc; after witnessing which, they quickly retired to a box, where they gave directions for supper. It is but justice to say, that upon this being furnished, they found the refreshments to be of the best quality, and supplied upon moderate terms; the wines by the London Wine Company, and the viands by Mr. Wayte.
[336] After enjoying a full round of festivities, only paused by the congratulations and questions from friends, it was time for the fireworks display. They were treated to a spectacular show, and the famous ascent a la Saqui was skillfully performed by Longuemarc. After watching this, they quickly went to a private box where they ordered supper. It’s only fair to mention that once it arrived, they found the food to be excellent and reasonably priced; the wines provided by the London Wine Company, and the dishes by Mr. Wayte.
About two o'clock in the morning, our friends took their departure from this romantic spot, after an excursion fraught with pleasure and delight.
About two o'clock in the morning, our friends left this beautiful place after a trip full of enjoyment and happiness.
On the following morning, Sparkle received a letter from Merrywell, with information of the death of his uncle, and of his succession to the estate, having arrived just in time to prevent his decease without a will. This was a subject of exultation to all the party, though to none more so than Sparkle, particularly as the estate alluded to was situated in the neighbourhood of his own residence.
On the next morning, Sparkle got a letter from Merrywell, informing him of his uncle's death and his inheritance of the estate, arriving just in time to avoid his uncle passing away without a will. This was a cause for celebration among everyone in the group, but especially for Sparkle, since the estate in question was close to where he lived.
“Merrywell,” said Dashall, “will become a gay fellow now, as he will have ample means, as well as inclination (which I know he has never been wanting of) to sport his figure in good style, without resorting to any scheme to keep the game alive.”
“Merrywell,” said Dashall, “will become a fun guy now, since he’ll have plenty of money and the desire (which I know he’s always had) to show off his style without needing to come up with any tricks to stay in the spotlight.”
“True,” said Sparkle, “without crossing and jostling, and if he has his own good in view, he will reside chiefly in the country, choose an amiable partner for life, and only pay a visit to the metropolis occasionally; for to live in this land of temptations, where you can hardly step across the way without getting into error, must be baneful in effect to a young man like him, of an ardent mind. What say you, friend Tallyho?”
“True,” said Sparkle, “without any chaos or pushing around, and if he’s looking out for his own best interests, he will mostly live in the countryside, pick a nice lifelong partner, and only visit the city every now and then; because living in this tempting place, where it’s hard to avoid stumbling into trouble, must be harmful for a young guy like him with such an eager mind. What do you think, friend Tallyho?”
“I confess,” replied Bob, “that I entertain thoughts very similar to yours; besides, I apprehend that our old friend Merrywell has had sufficient experience himself to admit the justice of your observation.”
“I admit,” replied Bob, “that I have thoughts very similar to yours; plus, I believe our old friend Merrywell has enough experience himself to agree with your point.”
[337] “Pshaw,” rejoined Dashall, “you are getting completely unfashionable. What can be more bang up than a Life in London—high life and low life—shake the castor, tip the flash, and nibble the blunt. Look for instance at young Lord Lappit—cares for nothing—all blood and spirit—fire and tow—up to every thing, and down as a hammer.”
[337] “Come on,” replied Dashall, “you’re totally out of touch with what’s cool. What could be more exciting than a Life in London—mixing high society and the streets—dress sharp, show off a bit, and make some cash. Just look at young Lord Lappit—he doesn’t care about anything—full of energy and attitude—always up for anything, and hits hard.”
“His is a general case,” replied Sparkle, “and is only one among numerous others, to prove that many of the disorders which are daily visible in high life, may be traced to the education, or rather the want of education of the youthful nobility and gentry. It would be a shocking and insupportable degradation to send a sprig of fashion to school among common boys, where probably he might learn something really useful. No, no,—he must have a private tutor, who is previously instructed to teach him nothing more than what will enable him to pass muster, as not quite a fool. Under this guidance, he skims over a few authors almost without reading, and at all events without knowing what they have written, merely with a view to acquaint him that there were once such persons in existence; after which, this tutor accompanies him to one of the public schools, Westminster, Harrow, or Eton, where the tutor writes his thesis, translates the classics, and makes verses for him, as well as he is able. In the new situation, the scholar picks up more of the frailties of the living, than he does of the instructions of departed characters. The family connections and the power of purse, with which the students are aided, embolden them to assume an unbounded license, and to set at complete defiance all sober rules and regulations; and it may be justly remarked that our public seminaries are admirably situated for the indulgence of their propensities: for instance, Westminster School is fortunately situated in the immediate neighbourhood of a famous place of instruction called Tothill (vulgarly Tuttle) Fields, where every species of refined lewdness and debauchery, and manners the most depraved, are constantly exhibited; consequently they enjoy the great advantages of learning the slang language, and of hearing prime chaunts, rum glees, and kiddy catches, in the purest and most bang up style. He has likewise a fine opportunity of contracting an unalterable penchant for the frail sisterhood, blue ruin, milling, cock fighting, bull and badger baiting, donkey racing, drinking, swearing, swaggering, and other refined amusements, so necessary to form the character of an accomplished gentleman.”
“His situation is a common one,” replied Sparkle, “and it’s just one example among many that show how many of the problems seen in high society can be traced back to the education—or lack of it—of young nobles and gentry. It would be shocking and completely unacceptable to send a fashionable youth to school with regular boys, where he might actually learn something useful. No, no—he needs a private tutor, who is specifically told to teach him only enough to not seem like a complete fool. With this guidance, he skims through a few authors without really reading them and certainly without understanding what they wrote, just to be aware that those people once existed; after this, the tutor takes him to one of the public schools, like Westminster, Harrow, or Eton, where the tutor writes his thesis, translates classics, and crafts poetry for him as best he can. In this new environment, the student absorbs more of the flaws of the living than the lessons of those who have passed; the family connections and ample money the students have allow them to act with total freedom and completely disregard any serious rules and standards. It can be fairly noted that our public schools are perfectly located for indulging their behaviors: for instance, Westminster School is conveniently close to a well-known place of vice called Tothill (commonly Tuttle) Fields, where all kinds of sophisticated immorality and depraved behavior are on display; as a result, they benefit from learning the slang, as well as hearing popular songs, raucous drinking tunes, and playful catchphrases in the most refined style. He also has a great opportunity to develop a lasting fondness for the working girls, heavy drinking, gambling, cockfighting, bull and badger baiting, donkey racing, drinking, swearing, boasting, and other 'classy' pastimes so essential to shaping the character of a well-rounded gentleman.”
[338] “Again, Harrow School is happily so near to the metropolis, as to afford frequent opportunities for occasional visits to similar scenes of contagion and fashionable dissipation, that the scholars do not fail to seek advantages of taking lessons in all those delectable sciences.
[338] “Once again, Harrow School is ideally located close to the city, allowing for regular chances to visit places of infection and trendy indulgence, which the students eagerly take advantage of to learn all those delightful subjects.
“Eton, it is true, is somewhat farther removed from the nursery of improvement, but it is near enough to Windsor, of which place it is not necessary to say much, for their Bacchanalian and Cyprian orgies, and other fashionable festivities, are well known. So that notwithstanding they are not in the immediate vicinity of the metropolis, there can scarcely be a doubt of their being able to sport their figures to advantage, whenever they are let loose upon society.
“Eton, it's true, is a bit further away from the center of progress, but it's close enough to Windsor, about which there's not much need to say, since their wild parties and other trendy celebrations are famous. So even though they’re not right in the heart of the city, there's hardly any doubt that they can show off their style whenever they're out in public.”
“Cambridge is but a short distance from that place of sporting notoriety, Newmarket, consequently it is next to impossible but that a youth of an aspiring mind should be up to all the manouvres of a race course—understanding betting, hedging off, crossing and jostling, sweating and training—know all the jockeys—how to give or take the odds—lay it on thick, and come it strong. Some have an unconquerable ambition to distinguish themselves as a whip, sport their tits in tip top style, and become proficients in buckish and sporting slang—to pitch it rum, and astonish the natives—up to the gab of the cad. They take upon themselves the dress and manners of the Varment Club, yet noted for the appearance of their prads, and the dexterity with which they can manage the ribbons, and, like Goldfinch, pride themselves on driving the long coaches—'mount the box, tip coachee a crown, dash along at full speed, rattle down the gateway, take care of your heads—never kill'd but one woman and a child in all my life—that's your sort.'”
“Cambridge is just a short distance from the notorious racing hub, Newmarket, so it’s nearly impossible for an ambitious young person not to learn all about the racing scene—understanding betting, hedging, bumping into each other, sweating, and training—getting to know all the jockeys—how to handle the odds—lay it on thick, and play it strong. Some have an unbreakable desire to stand out as a top jockey, dress to impress, and become skilled in all the bold and sporty slang—to throw in some flair and surprise the locals—capable of chatting like a pro. They adopt the style and attitude of the Varment Club, known for how well they maintain their horses and their skill in handling the reins, and like Goldfinch, take pride in driving the long coaches—'hop on the box, give the driver a crown, speed along, rattle down the gate, watch your heads—only killed one woman and a child in my whole life—that's the way to do it.'”
“Fine pictures of a University Education,” said Tom, “but Sparkle always was a good delineator of real character; and there is one thing to be said, he has been an eye witness of the facts, nay a partaker of the sports.”
“Great examples of a University Education,” said Tom, “but Sparkle has always been great at capturing real character; and one thing is for sure, he has been there to witness the events, even taking part in the activities.”
“True,” continued Sparkle, “and, like many others, have had something like enjoyment in them too.”
“True,” continued Sparkle, “and, like many others, I’ve also found some enjoyment in them.”
“Aye, aye, no doubt of that,” said Bob, dryly,—“but how does it happen that you have omitted Oxford altogether?”
“Aye, aye, no doubt about that,” Bob said dryly, “but how come you completely left out Oxford?”
[339] “Nay,” said Sparkle, “there is not much difference in any of them. The students hate all learning but that which they acquire in the brothel, the ring, or the stable.
[339] “No,” said Sparkle, “there isn’t much difference between any of them. The students dislike all kinds of learning except for what they pick up in the brothel, the ring, or the stable.
They spend their terms somehow or other in or near the University, and their vacations at Jackson's Rooms in London; so that they know nothing more of mathematics than sufficient to calculate odds and chances. This, however, depends upon the wealth of the parties; for notwithstanding there are some excellent statutes by which they ought to be guided, a nobleman or wealthy commoner is indulged according to his titles or riches, without any regard to the rules and regulations in such cases made and provided.
They spend their time somehow at or near the University, and their vacations at Jackson's Rooms in London; so they know nothing about math except for figuring out odds and chances. This, however, depends on how wealthy the individuals are; because even though there are some good rules they should follow, a nobleman or wealthy commoner is treated based on their titles or riches, without any respect for the rules and regulations that are supposed to apply.
“From this situation they are at length let loose, thoroughly accomplished in every thing but what they ought to know. Some make their appearance as exquisites or dandies—a sort of indescribable being, if being such things may be called. Others take the example of the bang ups—make themselves perfect in milling, swearing, greeking, talking flash, and mail coach driving, until John Doe and Richard Roe drive them into Abbot's preserve, a circumstance which puts a temporary check upon the sports—though if the Collegian is but up to the logic, he is very soon down upon the coves his creditors,{1} bowls them out by harassing expenses, and walks out himself, up to snuff, and fly.”
“Eventually, they are set free, completely skilled in everything except what they should actually know. Some show up as trendy or stylish individuals—a kind of indescribable person, if such things can even be called that. Others follow the lead of the over-the-top crowd—perfecting their skills in showing off, swearing, boasting, talking big, and driving stagecoaches, until John Doe and Richard Roe push them into Abbot's preserve, which temporarily interrupts the fun—though if the student is sharp enough, he quickly gets the better of his creditors,{1} outmaneuvers them with mounting expenses, and walks away, fully alert and ready.”
[341] “I perceive,” said Tom, “that your imagination is flying away from your subject; though I admit the justice of your remarks, as generally applicable to what is termed the higher ranks of society, and that they are imitated or aped in succession to those of the lower orders; but we appear to have imperceptibly got into a long descriptive conversation, instead of pursuing our usual plan of drawing inferences from actual observation. Let us forth and walk awhile.”
[341] “I see,” said Tom, “that your imagination is drifting off topic; I agree with your points, which generally apply to what people call the higher classes, and how they are copied by those in the lower classes. However, it seems we’ve unknowingly gotten into a long descriptive chat instead of sticking to our usual approach of making observations and drawing conclusions. Let's go out for a walk for a bit.”
“With all my heart,” said Sparkle, “I see you wish to change the subject: however, I doubt not there will be a time when you will think more seriously, and act more usefully.”
“With all my heart,” said Sparkle, “I see you want to change the subject: however, I have no doubt that there will come a time when you will think more seriously and act more helpfully.”
By the time Bob had concluded his verse, they were on the move, and taking their direction through St. James's-street, turning the corner of which,—“there,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “that is the celebrated Lord Shampetre, of whose name and character you have before heard.”
By the time Bob finished his verse, they were on the move, heading down St. James's Street. Turning the corner, the Hon. Tom Dashall said, “There’s the famous Lord Shampetre, the one whose name and character you’ve heard about before.”
“Indeed,” said Bob. “Well, I must say, that if I met him in the street, I should have supposed him to be an old clothesman.”
“Yeah,” said Bob. “Honestly, I have to say that if I saw him on the street, I would have thought he was a secondhand clothes dealer.”
“Hush,” said Sparkle, “don't be too severe in your observations, for I have been given to understand his Lordship has expressed his indignation upon a former occasion at such a comparison; though I must acknowledge it is not altogether an unjust one; and if exalted, I beg pardon, I mean popular characters, will force themselves into public notice by their follies, their vices or their eccentricities, they can have no right to complain.”
“Hush,” said Sparkle, “don’t be too harsh in your observations, as I’ve been informed that his Lordship has previously expressed his anger about such comparisons; although I must admit it’s not entirely an unfair one. If influential, I apologize, I mean well-known figures, choose to draw public attention through their foolishness, vices, or odd behavior, they can’t complain.”
[342] “And pray,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “where is one to be found who has made himself more conspicuous than the one in question, and especially by a very recent occurrence. The fashionable world is full of the subject of his amatory epistles to the sister of a celebrated actress,{1} and her very 'commodious mother;' but I dare say
[342] “And tell me,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “who has made themselves more noticeable than the person we're discussing, especially due to a very recent event? The trendy crowd is buzzing about his love letters to the sister of a famous actress,{1} and her very 'accommodating mother;' but I bet
[343] his Lordship is displeased with no part of the eclat, except the quiz that his liberal offer of £500. would be about £25. per annum, or 9s. 7d. a week—a cheap purchase of a young lady's honour, and therefore a good bargain.”
[343] His Lordship isn't bothered by any of the attention, except for the fact that his generous offer of £500 would only amount to about £25 a year, or 9s. 7d. a week—an inexpensive way to buy a young lady's honor, making it a good deal.
“I believe,” continued Sparkle, “there is little about him, either as to person or to character, which entitles him to occupy more of our time, which may be better devoted to more agreeable and deserving subjects.”
“I believe,” continued Sparkle, “there isn’t much about him, either in terms of his personality or character, that deserves more of our time, which could be better spent on more enjoyable and worthy topics.”
“Apropos,” said Dashall, taking Sparkle at his word, “do you observe a person on the other side of the way with a blue nose and a green coat, cut in the true jockey style, so as to render it difficult to ascertain whether he is a gentleman or a gentleman's groom? That is Mr. Spankalong, who has a most unconquerable attachment to grooms, coachmen, and stable assistants; whose language and manners it is one of the principal studies of his life to imitate. He prides himself on being a good driver of four in hand, and tickling the tits along the road in a mail carriage, is the ne plus ultra of his ambition. He will take a journey of an hundred miles out of town, merely to meet and drive up a mail coach, paying for his own passage, and feeing the coachmen for their permission. Disguised in a huge white coat, with innumerable capes and mother o'pearl buttons, he seats himself on the box—Elbows square, wrists pliant—all right—Hayait—away they go. He takes his glass of gin and bitters on the [344] road—opens the door for the passengers to get in—with 'now my masters—you please;' and seems quite as much at home as Mr. Matthews at the Lyceum, with 'all that sort of thing, and every thing in the world.' He is, however, not singular in his taste, for many of our hereditary statesmen are to be found among this class, save and except that he carries his imitations to a farther extent than any person I ever knew; and it is a fact, that he had one of his fore teeth punched out, in order to enable the noble aspirant to give the true coachman's whistle, and to spit in a Jehu-like manner, so as to project the saliva from his lips, clear of the cattle and traces, into the hedge on the near side of the road.”
“Apropos,” said Dashall, taking Sparkle at his word, “do you see that person across the street with a blue nose and a green coat, styled like a jockey, making it hard to tell if he's a gentleman or a gentleman's groom? That’s Mr. Spankalong, who has an undeniable fondness for grooms, coachmen, and stable hands; he spends a lot of time trying to imitate their language and behavior. He takes pride in being a good driver of a four-in-hand, and teasing the horses along the road in a mail carriage is the peak of his ambition. He’ll travel a hundred miles out of town just to meet up with a mail coach, paying for his own passage and tipping the coachmen for the privilege. Dressed in a big white coat with lots of capes and shiny mother-of-pearl buttons, he sits on the box—elbows squared, wrists relaxed—all set—Hayait—off they go. He enjoys his gin and bitters on the road—opens the door for the passengers with a 'now my masters—you please;' and seems just as comfortable as Mr. Matthews at the Lyceum, with 'all that sort of thing, and everything in the world.' However, he's not alone in his taste, as many of our hereditary statesmen can be found among this crowd, though he takes his imitations further than anyone I’ve ever met; it’s a fact that he had one of his front teeth knocked out to let him give the true coachman's whistle and spit like a Jehu, sending saliva flying clear of the horses and traces into the hedge on the near side of the road.”
“Accomplishments that are truly deserving the best considerations of a noble mind,” rejoined Tallyho.
“Accomplishments that truly deserve the highest regard of a noble mind,” Tallyho replied.
“And absolutely necessary to the finished gentleman of the present day, of course,” continued Sparkle; “and as I have not had a lounge in these Corinthian regions for some little time, I am glad to be thus furnished with a key to characters that may be new to me.”
“And completely essential to the polished gentleman of today, obviously,” Sparkle continued; “and since I haven’t had a chance to relax in these Corinthian areas for a while, I’m happy to be given a key to understand characters that might be unfamiliar to me.”
“There is one on the opposite side of the way not altogether new, as he has made some noise in the world during his time—I mean the gentleman whose features exhibit so much of the rouge—it is the celebrated Sir George Skippington, formerly well known in Fop's Alley, and at the Opera; not so much on account of his elegant person, lively wit, or polished address, as for his gallantries, and an extraordinary affectation of dress, approaching very nearly to the ridiculous, the chief part of his reputation being derived from wearing a pea-green coat, and pink silk stockings: he has, however, since that time become a dramatic writer, or at least a manufacturer of pantomime and shew; and—ah, but see—speaking of writers—here we have a Hook, from which is suspended a certain scandalous Journal, well known for its dastardly attacks upon private character, and whose nominal conductors are at this moment in durance vile; but a certain affair in the fashionable way of defaulting, has brought him down a peg or two. His ingenuity has been displayed on a variety of occasions, and under varying circumstances. His theatrical attempts have been successful, and at Harrow he was called the Green Man, in consequence of his affected singularity of wearing a complete suit of clothes of that colour. He appears to act at all times upon the favourite recommendation of Young Rapid, 'keep moving;' for he is always in motion, in consequence of which it is said, that Lord Byron wittily remarked, 'he certainly was not the Green Man and Still.'”{1}
“There’s one on the other side of the way who isn’t completely new, as he has made a name for himself over time—I’m talking about the guy whose face shows a lot of makeup—it’s the famous Sir George Skippington, once well-known in Fop's Alley and at the Opera; not so much for his stylish looks, quick wit, or polished manners, but for his romantic escapades and an excessive fashion sense that’s almost ridiculous, with most of his fame coming from wearing a pea-green coat and pink silk stockings. Since then, he’s become a playwright, or at least a creator of pantomimes and shows; and—oh, speaking of writers—here we have a Hook, from which hangs a certain scandalous Journal, notorious for its cowardly attacks on personal character, and whose supposed leaders are currently in prison; but some kind of fashionable defaulting has knocked him down a peg or two. His creativity has been shown in various situations. His theater projects have done well, and at Harrow, he was known as the Green Man because of his odd habit of wearing a full outfit in that color. He always seems to follow the favorite advice of Young Rapid, 'keep moving;' so he’s always on the go, which is why it’s said that Lord Byron humorously noted, 'he certainly was not the Green Man and Still.'”{1}
[345] “Why,” cried Bob, “there seems to be as little of still life about him just now, as there is about Hookey Walker. But pray who is that dingy gentleman who passed us within the last minute, and who appeared to be an object of attraction to some persons on the opposite side—he appears to have been cut out for a tailor.”
[345] “Why,” shouted Bob, “he seems just as lively as Hookey Walker. But who is that grumpy-looking guy who just walked by us? He seemed to catch the attention of some people on the other side—he looks like he was meant to be a tailor.”
“That,” replied Tom, “is a Baronet and cornuto, who married the handsome daughter of a great Marquis. She, however, turned out a complete termagant, who one day, in the heat of her rage, d———d her rib for a sneaking puppy, dashed a cup of coffee in his face, and immediately after flew for protection to a Noble Lord, who entertained a penchant for her. This, however, proved to be a bad speculation on her part; and having seriously reflected on the consequences of such conduct, she made her appearance again at her husband's door a few nights afterwards, and in the spirit of contrition sought forgiveness, under a promise of never transgressing any more, little doubting but her claim to admission would be allowed. Here, however, it seems she had reckoned without her host,—for the Baronet differing in opinion, would not listen to her proposition: her entreaties and promises were urged in vain, and the deserted though still cara sposa, has kept the portals of his door, as well as the avenues to his heart, completely closed to her since.”
“That,” Tom replied, “is a Baronet and a cuckold, who married the beautiful daughter of a prominent Marquis. She, however, turned out to be a complete shrew, who one day, in a fit of rage, called her husband a sneaky puppy, threw a cup of coffee in his face, and immediately ran to a Noble Lord for protection, who had a crush on her. This, however, turned out to be a poor decision on her part; and after seriously considering the consequences of her actions, she showed up again at her husband’s door a few nights later, seeking forgiveness with a promise of never misbehaving again, fully expecting that she would be welcomed back. However, it seems she underestimated her husband—who, disagreeing with her, would not listen to her request: her pleas and promises were in vain, and the abandoned yet still beloved wife has kept the doors of his home, as well as the paths to his heart, completely shut to her since.”
At this moment they were interrupted by the approach of a gaily dressed young man, who seizing Dashall by the hand, and giving him a hearty shake, exclaimed,—
At that moment, they were interrupted by a brightly dressed young man, who grabbed Dashall's hand and gave it a firm shake, exclaiming,—
“Ha, my dear fellow, what Dashall, and as I live, Mr. Sparkle, you are there too, are you: d———me, what's the scent—up to any thing—going any where—or any thing to do—eh—d———me.”
“Ha, my dear friend, what Dashall! And I see you’re here too, Mr. Sparkle. Damn, what’s going on—doing anything—going anywhere—or anything to do—huh—damn.”
“Quite ad libitum,” replied Dashall, “happy to see Gayfield well and in prime twig,—allow me to introduce my Cousin, Robert Tallyho, Esq.”
“Just as I please,” replied Dashall, “glad to see Gayfield in good shape and full of life—let me introduce my cousin, Robert Tallyho, Esq.”
“You do me proud, my dear fellow. Any thing new—can't live without novelty—who's up, who's down—what's the wonder of the day—how does the world wag—where is the haven of destination, and how do you weather the point.”
“You make me proud, my friend. Anything new—I can’t live without excitement—who’s in, who’s out—what’s the latest buzz—how’s everything going—where’s the place everyone’s heading, and how are you handling it all.”
[346] “Zounds,” replied Tom, “you ask more questions in a breath than we three can answer in an hour.”
[346] “Wow,” replied Tom, “you ask more questions in one breath than we three can answer in an hour.”
“Never mind—don't want you to answer; but at all events must have something to say—hate idleness either in speech or action—hate talking in the streets, can't bear staring at like a new monument or a statue. Talking of statues—I have it—good thought, go see Achilles, the ladies man—eh! what say you. D———me, made of cannons and other combustibles—Waterloo to wit—Come along, quite a bore to stand still—yea or nay, can't wait.”
“Never mind—don't want you to answer; but I have to say something—hate doing nothing, whether in words or actions—can’t stand chatting on the streets, can’t stand being stared at like a new monument or statue. Speaking of statues—I got it—a good idea, let’s go see Achilles, the ladies' man—what do you say? Damn it, he’s made of cannons and other explosive stuff—like Waterloo, you know—Come on, it’s boring to just stand still—yes or no, can't wait.”
“With all my heart,” said Sparkle, twitching Dashall by the arm, “it is quite new since my departure from town; “and joining arms, they proceeded towards the Park.
“With all my heart,” said Sparkle, tugging at Dashall’s arm, “it’s completely new since I left town;” and linking arms, they headed toward the Park.
“Been out of town,” continued Gayfield,—“thought so—lost you all at once—glad you have not lost yourself. Any thing new in the country—always inquire—can't live without novelty—go to see every thing and every body, every where. Nothing new in the papers—Irish distresses old, but very distressing for a time: how the devil can you live in the country—can't imagine.”
“Been out of town,” continued Gayfield, “figured that out—lost touch with all of you suddenly—glad you haven’t lost your mind. Anything new in the area—always ask—can’t survive without some excitement—check out everything and everyone, everywhere. Nothing new in the news—Irish troubles are old, but still very upsetting for a while: how on earth can you live in the countryside—I can’t imagine.”
“And I apprehend,” replied Sparkle, “it will be of little use to explain; for a gentleman of so much information as yourself must know every thing.”
“And I get it,” replied Sparkle, “it won’t be very helpful to explain; for a guy as informed as you must know everything.”
“Good, but severe—never mind, I never trouble my head with other people's thoughts—always think for myself, let others do as they like. Hate inquisitive people, don't choose to satisfy all inquirers. Never ask questions of any one, don't expect answers. Have you seen the celebrated ventriloquist, Alexandre,—the Egyptian Tomb,—the———”
“Good, but strict—anyway, I don’t get caught up in other people's opinions—I always think for myself and let others do what they want. I dislike nosy people and don’t feel the need to answer everyone’s questions. I never ask anyone anything and don’t expect answers. Have you seen the famous ventriloquist, Alexandre—the Egyptian Tomb—the———”
Sparkle could hold no longer: the vanity and egotism of this everlasting prater, this rambler from subject to subject, without manner, method, or even thought, was too much; and he could not resist the temptation to laugh, in which he was joined by Tom and Bob.
Sparkle couldn't take it anymore: the arrogance and self-importance of this nonstop talker, this wanderer from topic to topic without any direction, organization, or even real thought, was just too much; and he couldn’t help but laugh, a reaction that Tom and Bob joined in on.
[347] “What is the matter,” inquired Gayfield, unconscious of being the cause of their risibility. “I see nothing to laugh at, d———me, but I do love laughing, so I'll enjoy a little with you at all events; “and immediately he became a participator in their mirth, to the inexpressible delight of his companions; “but,” continued he, “I see nothing to laugh at, and it is beneath the character of a philosopher to laugh at any thing.”
[347] “What’s going on?” asked Gayfield, unaware that he was the reason for their laughter. “I don’t see anything funny, damn it, but I do enjoy laughing, so I’ll join in with you anyway;” and right away he joined in their fun, much to the delight of his friends; “but,” he continued, “I really don’t see anything to laugh about, and it’s not appropriate for a philosopher to laugh at anything.”
“Never mind,” said Dashall, “we are not of that description—and we sometimes laugh at nothing, which I apprehend is the case in the present instance.”
“Never mind,” said Dashall, “we’re not like that—and sometimes we laugh at nothing, which is what I think is happening right now.”
“I perfectly agree with the observation,” rejoined Sparkle; “it is a case in point, and very well pointed too.”
“I totally agree with that observation,” replied Sparkle; “it's a perfect example, and it's pointed out very well too.”
“Nothing could be better timed,” said Tallyho.
“Nothing could be better timed,” said Tallyho.
“What than a horse laugh in the public streets! D———d vulgar really—-quite outre, as we say. No, no, you ought to consider where you are, what company you are in, and never laugh without a good motive—what is the use of laughing.”
“What’s worse than laughing like a horse in public? Truly vulgar—quite outre, as we say. No, no, you should think about where you are, who you’re with, and never laugh without a good reason—what’s the point of laughing?”
“A philosopher,” said Tom Dashall, “need scarcely ask such a question. The superiority of his mind ought to furnish a sufficient answer.”
“A philosopher,” said Tom Dashall, “should hardly need to ask such a question. The brilliance of his mind should provide a clear answer.”
“Then I perceive you are not communicative, and I always like to be informed; but never mind, here we shall have something to entertain us.”
“Then I see you’re not much of a talker, and I always like to be kept in the loop; but that’s okay, we’ll have something here to keep us entertained.”
“And at least,” said Sparkle, “that is better than nothing.”
“And at least,” said Sparkle, “that’s better than nothing.”
The observation, however, was lost upon the incorrigible fribble, who produced his snuff-box, and took a pinch, with an air that discovered the diamond ring upon his finger—pulled up his shirt collar—and at the same time forced down his waistcoat; conceiving no doubt that by such means he increased his consequence, which however was wholly lost upon his companions.
The observation, however, went over the head of the hopeless fop, who pulled out his snuff box, took a pinch with a flair that showcased the diamond ring on his finger—popped up his shirt collar—and simultaneously pushed down his waistcoat; clearly believing that by doing so he elevated his importance, which was completely lost on his friends.
“And this,” said Sparkle, “is the so much talked of statue of Achilles—The Wellington Trophy—it is placed in a very conspicuous situation, however—and what says the pedestal—
“And this,” said Sparkle, “is the much-discussed statue of Achilles—the Wellington Trophy. It’s located in a very prominent spot, though—what does the pedestal say—
[348] “Beautiful,” said Gayfield—“Elegant—superb.” “Bold,” said Dashall, “but not very delicate.” “A naked figure, truly,” continued Bob, “in a situation visited by the first circles of rank and fashion, is not to be considered as one of the greatest proofs either of modesty or propriety; but perhaps these ideas, as in many other instances, are exploded, or they are differently understood to what they were originally. A mantle might have been thought of by the ladies, if not the artist.”
[348] “Beautiful,” said Gayfield—“Elegant—stunning.” “Bold,” said Dashall, “but not very subtle.” “A naked figure, for sure,” continued Bob, “in a setting frequented by the elite of rank and fashion, isn't exactly one of the best examples of modesty or decency; but maybe these ideas, like many others, have fallen out of favor, or they’re understood differently now than they used to be. The ladies might have considered adding a cloak, if not the artist.”
“For my part,” said Sparkle, “I see but little in it to admire.”
“For my part,” said Sparkle, “I don’t see much in it to admire.”
During this conversation, Gayfield was dancing round the figure with his quizzing glass in his hand, examining it at all points, and appearing to be highly amused and delighted.
During this conversation, Gayfield was circling the figure with his monocle in hand, inspecting it closely from every angle, looking very entertained and pleased.
“It affords opportunities for a variety of observations,” said Dashall, “and, like many other things, may perhaps be a nine days wonder. The public prints have been occupied upon the subject for a few days, and I know of but one but what condemns it upon some ground or other."{1}
“It provides chances for a range of observations,” said Dashall, “and, like many other things, it might just be a passing curiosity. The news has been focused on the topic for a few days, and I know of only one source that doesn’t criticize it for one reason or another.”{1}
[349] On their return from the Park, our party looked in at Tattersal's, where it proved to be settling day. Dashall and his Cousin had previously made a trip to Ascot Races, to enjoy a day's sport, and were so fortunate as to let in a knowing one for a considerable sum, by taking the long odds against a favourite horse. They therefore expected now to toutch the blunt, and thus realize the maxim of the poet, by “uniting profit and delight in one.”
[349] On their way back from the Park, our group stopped by Tattersal's, where it turned out to be settling day. Dashall and his cousin had previously gone to the Ascot Races for a day of fun and were lucky enough to back a savvy bettor for a good amount by taking the long odds against a favorite horse. They were now looking forward to cashing in, fulfilling the poet's idea of “combining profit and delight in one.”
“Yonder,” says Dashall, pointing out to his Cousin a very stout man, “is H. R. H.; he is said to have been a considerable winner, both at the late, as well as Epsom races; but the whole has since vanished at play, with heavy additions, and the black legs are now enjoying a rich harvest. The consequences have been, not only the sale of the fine estate of O—t—ds by the hammer, but even the family plate and personal property have been knocked down to the highest bidders, at Robbins's Rooms.”
“Look over there,” says Dashall, pointing out a very heavyset man to his cousin, “that's H. R. H.; he used to win a lot, both at the recent races and Epsom too; but it all disappeared in gambling, along with some major losses, and now the bookies are having a great time. The fallout has been not only the auction of the beautiful estate of O—t—ds, but even the family silver and personal belongings have been sold to the highest bidders at Robbins's Rooms.”
“I should have expected,” replied Bob, “that so much fatal experience, which is said to make even fools wise, would have taught a useful lesson, and restrained this gambling propensity, however violent.”
“I should have expected,” replied Bob, “that so much tragic experience, which is said to make even fools wise, would have taught a useful lesson and held back this gambling urge, no matter how strong.”
[350] “Psha, man,” continued his Cousin, “you are a novice indeed to suppose any thing of the kind. No one uninitiated in these mysteries, can form an idea of the inextricable labyrinth, or the powerful spell which binds the votaries of play; and unfortunately this fatal passion seems to pervade in an unusual degree our present nobility: indeed it may be said there are comparatively but few of the great families who are not either reduced to actual poverty, or approximating towards it, in consequence of the inordinate indulgence of this vice.”
[350] “Come on, man,” his cousin continued, “you’re really naive to think that way. No one who isn’t familiar with these mysteries can fully grasp the complicated maze or the strong hold that gambling has on its followers; and unfortunately, this dangerous obsession seems to affect our current nobility more than ever. In fact, it could be said that there are hardly any major families left that aren’t either completely broke or getting close to it because of their extreme indulgence in this vice.”
[352] Having succeeded in their object, Dashall and his Cousin pursued their course homeward; and thus terminated another day spent in the developement of Real Life in the British Metropolis.
[352] Having achieved their goal, Dashall and his cousin headed homeward; and thus ended another day spent exploring real life in the British metropolis.
We cannot quit this subject without paying a compliment to the virtues of the Court. We understand there has not been one royal carriage seen in the Park since the erection of the statue; and if report speaks true, the Marchioness of C——-m's delicacy is so shocked, that she intends to quit Hamilton Place, which is close by, as early as a more modest site can be chosen!
We can't leave this topic without acknowledging the positive traits of the Court. We've heard that there hasn't been a single royal carriage in the Park since the statue was put up; and if the rumors are correct, the Marchioness of C——-m is so offended that she plans to leave Hamilton Place, which is nearby, as soon as a more fitting location can be found!
CHAPTER XXV
[353] Escorting to the ever-varying promenade of fashion, the Hon. Tom Dashall and his Cousin Bob, whose long protracted investigation of Life in London was now drawing to a close, proceeded this morning to amuse themselves with another lounge in Bond-street: this arcadia of dignified equality was thronged, the carriage-way with dashing equipages, and the pave with exquisite pedestrians. Here was one rouged and whiskered; there another in petticoats and stays, while his sister, like an Amazon, shewed her nether garments half way to the knee. Then “passed smiling by” a Corinthian bear, in an upper benjamin and a Jolliffe shallow. A noted milliner shone in a richer pelisse than the Countess, whom the day before she had cheated out of the lace which adorned it. The gentleman with the day-rule, in new buckskins and boots, and mounted on a thorough-bred horse, quizzed his retaining creditor, as he trotted along with dusty shoes and coat; the “lady of easy virtue” stared her keeper's wife and daughter out of countenance. The man milliner's shop-boy, en passant, jogged the duke's elbow; and the dandy pickpocket lisped and minced his words quite as well as my lord.
[353] Accompanying the constantly changing fashion scene, the Hon. Tom Dashall and his cousin Bob, who were wrapping up their extensive exploration of Life in London, decided this morning to enjoy another stroll down Bond Street. This hub of elegant equality was crowded, the roadway filled with flashy carriages and the sidewalk bustling with stylish pedestrians. Here was one man with makeup and a fancy beard; there was another in a dress and corset, while his sister, looking like a warrior, showed off her skirt halfway up to her knee. Then a flashy guy in a fancy coat and a trendy vest "passed by with a smile." A well-known hatmaker stood out in a more extravagant coat than the Countess, outshining her after having swindled her for the lace that decorated it just a day before. The gentleman with the latest fashion, in new leather pants and boots, rode a thoroughbred horse and made fun of his creditor as he trotted by with dusty shoes and coat; the "lady of loose morals" gave a challenging stare to her keeper's wife and daughter. The shop boy from the milliner’s, en passant, bumped into the duke's arm; and the flashy pickpocket spoke and walked with a flair just as refined as my lord’s.
Tom pointed out some of the more dashing exhibitants; and Bob inquiring the name of a fine woman, rather en bon point, with a French face, who was mounted on a chesnut hunter, and whom he had never before seen in the haunts [354] of fashion—“That lady,” said he, “goes by the name of Speculator; her real name is Mademoiselle Leverd, of the Theatre Français at Paris: she arrived in this country a month since, to “have an opportunity of displaying her superior talents; though it is whispered that the object of her journey was not altogether in the pursuit of her profession, but for the purpose of making an important conquest.”
Tom pointed out some of the more stylish people at the event; and Bob asked about the name of an attractive woman, rather curvy, with a French look, who was riding a chestnut horse and whom he had never seen before in fashionable circles—“That lady,” he said, “is known as Speculator; her real name is Mademoiselle Leverd, from the Théâtre Français in Paris: she arrived in this country a month ago to showcase her exceptional talents; though it’s rumored that her reason for coming was not entirely about her career but also to make a significant conquest.”
“And who is that charming woman,” continued Bob, “in the curricle next to L———d F———?”
“And who is that lovely woman,” continued Bob, “in the carriage next to L———d F———?”
“That,” returned Tom, “is Mrs. Orbery Hunter. The beautiful man next you, is the “commercial dandy,” or as Lord G——l styles him, Apollo; and his Lordship is a veracious man, on which account R——— calls G——— his lyre.”
“That,” Tom replied, “is Mrs. Orbery Hunter. The handsome guy next to you is the ‘commercial dandy,’ or as Lord G——l calls him, Apollo; and his Lordship is a truthful man, which is why R——— refers to G——— as his lyre.”
“Ah, do you see that dashing fellow in the Scotch cloak, attended by a lad with his arm in a sling? That is the famous Sir W. M———,who doubles his income by gambling speculations; and that's one of his decoys, to entrap young country squires of fortune to dine with him, and be fleeced. In return, he is to marry him (on condition of receiving £100. for every thousand) to an heiress, the daughter of his country banker.”
“Ah, do you see that handsome guy in the Scotch cloak, accompanied by a kid with his arm in a sling? That's the famous Sir W. M———, who boosts his income through gambling; and that's one of his traps to lure young wealthy country squires to dine with him and get taken advantage of. In exchange, he is supposed to marry him (on the condition of getting £100 for every thousand) to an heiress, the daughter of his country banker.”
“Why, all the first whips in the female world are abroad to-day. There is the flower of green Erin, Lady Foley. See with what style she fingers the ribbans. Equally dexterous at the use of whip and tongue; woe to the wight who incurs the lash of either.
“Why, all the top women in society are out today. There’s the best of green Erin, Lady Foley. Look at how stylishly she handles the ribbons. Just as skilled with the whip as with her words; poor soul who faces the sting of either.”
“That reverend divine in the span new dennet and the Jolliffe shallow, who squares his elbows so knowingly, as he rubs on his bit of blood, is Parson A———. He is the proprietor of the temple of gaming iniquity, at No. 6, Pall Mall. He is a natural son of Lord B———re, by whom he was brought up, liberally educated, and presented with church preferments of considerable value. He married, in early life, the celebrated singer, Miss M—h—n, whom he abandoned, with his infant family. This lady found a protector for herself and children in the person of the Rev. Mr. P———s, and having since obtained a divorce from her former husband, has been married to him. The parson boasts of his numerous amours, and, a few years since, took the benefit of the act. Before he ventured upon the splendid speculations at the Gothic Hall, with F———r T———n, Mr. Charles S———, and Lord D———, he used to frequent the most notorious g———g houses, [355] occasionally picking up a half crown as the pigeons were knocked down by the more wealthy players. But, chousing his colleagues out of their shares, and getting the Gothic Hall into his own hands, he has become the great man you see, and may truly be called by the title of autocrat of all the Greeks.
“That reverend guy in the shiny new coat and the shallow Jolliffe, who leans his elbows so knowingly as he rubs his little bit of blood, is Parson A———. He runs the temple of gambling at No. 6, Pall Mall. He’s the illegitimate son of Lord B———re, who raised him, gave him a good education, and set him up with valuable church positions. He married the famous singer, Miss M—h—n, when he was young, but then he abandoned her and their kids. This lady found a protector in the Rev. Mr. P———s, and after getting a divorce from her first husband, she married him. The parson loves to brag about his many affairs, and a few years back, he took advantage of the law. Before he jumped into the big-money ventures at the Gothic Hall with F———r T———n, Mr. Charles S———, and Lord D———, he often visited the most notorious gambling houses, occasionally picking up a half crown as the suckers were taken out by the richer players. But, cheating his partners out of their cuts and taking over the Gothic Hall, he has become the big shot you see now, and can truly be called the autocrat of all the Greeks."
“And who,” inquired Bob, “is that gay careless young fellow in the Stanhope, who sits so easy while his horse plunges?”
"And who," asked Bob, "is that carefree young guy in the Stanhope, who sits so casually while his horse bucks?"
“That,” replied Tom, “is the Hon. and Rev. Fitz S———, with the best heart, best hand, and the best leg in Bond-street. He is really one of the most fascinating men in polished society, and withal, the best judge of a horse at Tattersalls, of a dennet at Long Acre, or a segar in Maiden Lane.”
"That," replied Tom, "is the Hon. and Rev. Fitz S———, with the kindest heart, the strongest hand, and the best leg on Bond Street. He really is one of the most charming men in high society, and on top of that, he's the best judge of a horse at Tattersalls, a carriage at Long Acre, or a cigar in Maiden Lane."
“You need not tell me who that is on the roan horse, with red whiskers and florid complexion. (The Earl of Y———, of course). Madame B. tells a curious story of him and a filly belonging to Prince Paul. His Lordship had a great desire to ride the said filly, and sent Madam B. to know the terms. 'Well!' said his Lordship, when she returned—'Fifty pounds,' she replied.—'Hem!' said his lordship, 'I will wait till next year, and can have her for five-and-twenty.'”
“You don't need to tell me who that is on the chestnut horse, with the red beard and bright complexion. (The Earl of Y———, obviously). Madame B. shares an interesting story about him and a filly that belongs to Prince Paul. He really wanted to ride the filly, so he sent Madame B. to ask about the price. 'Well!' said his Lordship when she came back—'Fifty pounds,' she answered. 'Hmm!' he said, 'I'll wait until next year and get her for twenty-five.'”
“By this hand, another female equestrian de figure.' That tall young woman on the chesnut, is Lady Jane P———, sister of Lord U———. They say, that she has manifested certain pawnbroking inclinations, and has shewn a partiality in partnership at Almack's, to the golden balls. “That fine young woman, leaning out of the carriage window, whose glossy ringlets are of the true golden colour, so much admired by the dandies of old Rome, is his Lordship's wife. He's not with her. But you know he shot Honey at Cumberland Gate, when he was two hundred miles off, and therefore he may be in the carriage, though he's away.
“By this hand, another female rider de figure.' That tall young woman on the chestnut horse is Lady Jane P———, the sister of Lord U———. They say she has shown some interest in pawnbroking and has developed a taste for partnerships at Almack's, favoring the golden balls. “That beautiful young woman leaning out of the carriage window, with her sleek ringlets in that true golden color, so admired by the fops of ancient Rome, is his Lordship's wife. He’s not with her. But you know he shot Honey at Cumberland Gate when he was two hundred miles away, so he might be in the carriage even if he’s not.
“The person in the shabby brown coat is the Duke of Argyle. The pair of horses that draw his carriage is the only job that Argyle ever condescended to engage in.”
“The person in the worn brown coat is the Duke of Argyle. The team of horses that pulls his carriage is the only work that Argyle ever bothered to participate in.”
“And who is that fat ruddy gentleman, in the plain green coat, and the groom in grey?”
“And who is that chubby, red-faced guy in the plain green coat, and the groom in gray?”
[356] “What, you're not up to the change of colour? That's our old friend the Duke again, and the grey livery augurs, (if I mistake not), a visit to Berkeley square. His R——— H——— must take good care, or that bit of blood will be seized while standing at the door of the Circe, as his carriage was the other day, by the unceremonious nabman. But that's nothing to what used to occur to the Marquis of W———. They say, that if he deposited a broach, a ring, or a watch upon his table, a hand and arm, like that of a genius in a fairy tale, was seen to introduce itself bon-gre, mal-gre, through the casement, and instantly they became 'scarce.'”
[356] “What, you can't handle the color change? That’s our old buddy the Duke again, and the gray outfit probably means a trip to Berkeley Square. His R——— H——— needs to be careful, or that thoroughbred will get taken while just standing at the Circe, just like his carriage did the other day, by that rude guy. But that’s nothing compared to what used to happen to the Marquis of W———. They say that if he left a brooch, a ring, or a watch on his table, a hand and arm, like something out of a fairy tale, would appear through the window and instantly they would disappear.”
“But I have heard,” said Bob, “of a fashionable nabman asking the Duke the time, and politely claiming the watch as soon as it was visible.”
“But I have heard,” said Bob, “of a stylish guy asking the Duke for the time, and politely taking the watch as soon as it was in sight.”
The most prominent characters of the lounge had now disappeared, and Tom and Bob pursuing their course, found themselves in a few minutes in Covent Garden, from whence, nothing occurring of notice, they directed their steps towards Bow-street, with the view of deriving amusement from the proceedings of justice in the principal office on the establishment of the metropolitan police, and in this anticipation they were not disappointed.{1}
The main characters of the lounge had now left, and Tom and Bob went on their way, quickly finding themselves in Covent Garden. Since nothing noteworthy happened there, they headed towards Bow Street, hoping to get entertained by the legal proceedings at the main office of the metropolitan police, and they weren’t disappointed.{1}
[558] Pursuing their course homeward through St. James'-square: “Who have we here?” exclaimed Tom; “as I live, no other than the lofty Honoria, an authoress, a wit and an eccentric; a combination of qualities which frequently contribute to convey the possessor to a garret, and thence to an hospital or poor house. It is not uncommon to find attic salt in the first floor from heaven, but rather difficult to find the occupier enabled to procure salt whereby to render porridge palateable. The lady Honoria, who has just passed, resides in a lodging in Mary-le-bone. She having mistaken stature for beauty, and attitude for greatness, a tune on her lute for fascination, a few strange opinions and out of the way sayings for genius, a masculine appearance for attraction, and bulk for irresistibility, came on a cruise to London with a view to call at C———House, where she conceived she might be treated like a Princess.
[558] On their way home through St. James's Square, Tom exclaimed, “Who do we have here? Why, it's none other than the grand Honoria, an author, a witty person, and an eccentric—a mix of traits that often leads to someone ending up in a cramped room, and eventually in a hospital or a shelter. It’s not unusual to find a touch of refinement on the first floor from heaven, but it’s pretty hard to find someone who can afford the basics to make bland porridge taste good. The lady Honoria, who just passed by, lives in a flat in Marylebone. She has confused height for beauty, posture for greatness, a tune on her lute for charm, a few odd opinions and quirky sayings for genius, a masculine look for allure, and her size for irresistibility, all leading her to come to London hoping to visit C———House, where she believed she would be treated like a princess.
“She fondly fancied that a certain dignified personage who relieved her distress, could not but be captivated with the very description of her; in consequence of which, she launched into expenses which she was but ill able to bear, and now complains of designs formed against her and of all sorts of fabulous nonsense. It must, however, be acknowledged, that an extraordinary taste for fat, has been a great som-ce of inconvenience to the illustrious character alluded to, for corpulent women have been in the habit of daily throwing themselves in his way under some pretence or other; and if he but looked at them, they have considered themselves as favourites, and in the high road to riches and fame.
“She happily imagined that a certain dignified person who relieved her distress couldn’t help but be enchanted by her very description. As a result, she started spending money she could barely afford and now complains about schemes against her and all sorts of ridiculous nonsense. However, it must be noted that an unusual preference for overweight women has caused quite a bit of trouble for the distinguished character mentioned, as these women have routinely thrown themselves in his path for one reason or another. If he merely looked at them, they believed they were favorites and on the fast track to wealth and fame."
“It is well known that a certain French woman, with long flowing black hair, who lived not an hundred miles from Pimlico, was one who fell into this error. Her weight is about sixteen stone—and on that account she sets herself down as this illustrious person's mistress; nay, because he saw her once, she took expensive lodgings, ran deeply in debt, and now abuses the great man because he has not provided for her in a princely style, “pour se beaux yeux;” for it must be admitted, that she can boast as fine a pair of black eyes as ever were seen. The circumstance of this taste for materialism, is as unfortunate to the possessor, as a convulsive nod of the head once was to a rich gentleman, who was never without being engaged in some law suit or other, for lots knocked down to him at auctions, owing to his incessant and involuntary noddings at these places. The fat ladies wish the illustrious amateur to pay for peeping, just as the crafty knights of the hammer endeavoured to make the rich gentleman pay for his nodding at them.”
“It’s well known that a certain French woman with long, flowing black hair, who lived not far from Pimlico, was someone who fell into this trap. She weighs about sixteen stone—and because of that, she considers herself the mistress of this famous person; in fact, after he saw her once, she rented expensive lodgings, went deep into debt, and now complains about the great man for not supporting her in a lavish way, “pour se beaux yeux,” because, it must be said, she can boast of having a beautiful pair of black eyes. This obsession with material things is just as unfortunate for her as a man’s compulsive nodding was for a wealthy gentleman, who was always involved in some lawsuit or another, as he would constantly nod at auctions, causing lots to be sold to him. The large women want the distinguished amateur to pay for his attention, just as the clever auctioneers tried to make the rich gentleman pay for his nodding at them.”
“Fat, fair, and forty, then,” said Sparkle, “does not appear to be forgotten.”
“Fat, fair, and forty, then,” said Sparkle, “doesn’t seem to be forgotten.”
[360] “No,” was the reply, “nor is it likely: the wits of London are seldom idle upon subjects of importance: take for instance the following lines:—
[360] “No,” was the response, “and it probably won't be: the clever minds of London rarely sit around without thoughts on important topics: just look at these lines:—
By this time they were passing Grosvenor gate, when the Hon. Tom Dashall directed the attention of his Cousin to a person on the opposite side of the street, pacing along with a stiff and formal air.
By this time, they were passing Grosvenor gate when the Hon. Tom Dashall pointed out someone on the other side of the street, walking with a stiff and formal demeanor.
“That,” said he, “is a new species of character, if it may properly be so termed, of which I have never yet given you any account. Sir Edward Knowell stands, however, at the head of a numerous and respectable class of persons, who may be entitled Philosophic Coxcombs. He proceeds with geometrical exactness in all his transactions. You can perceive finery of dress is no mark of his character; on the contrary, he at all times wears a plain coat; and as if in ridicule of the common fop, takes care to decorate his menials in the most gorgeous liveries.
“That,” he said, “is a new kind of character, if I can put it that way, which I’ve never described to you before. Sir Edward Knowell is, however, at the forefront of a large and respected group of people who can be called Philosophic Coxcombs. He operates with mathematical precision in all his dealings. You can see that fancy clothing is not a reflection of his character; on the contrary, he always wears a simple coat, and as if to mock the typical dandy, he makes sure to dress his servants in the most elaborate uniforms.”
“The stiffness and formality of his appearance is partly occasioned by the braces which he very judiciously purchased of Martin Van Butchell, and partly by the pride of wealth and rank.
“The stiffness and formality of his appearance is partly due to the braces he wisely bought from Martin Van Butchell, and partly because of his pride in wealth and status.
“There is a pensiveness in his aspect, which would induce any one to imagine Sir Edward to be a man of feeling; but those who have depended upon outward appearances alone, have found themselves miserably deceived; for as hypocrisy assumes a look of sanctity, so your philosophic coxcomb's apparent melancholy serves only as a mask to cover his stupidity.
“There’s a thoughtful look about him that might lead anyone to think Sir Edward is a sensitive guy; but those who have relied only on appearances have discovered they were sadly mistaken. Just as hypocrisy wears a mask of righteousness, the supposed sadness of a shallow thinker only hides his ignorance.”
“Sir Edward is amorously inclined; but he consults his reason, or pretends to do so, and by that means renders his pleasures subservient to his health. It cannot be denied he sometimes manifests contortions of aspect not exactly in unison with happiness; but his feelings are ever selfish, and his apparent pain is occasioned by the nausea of a debauch, or perhaps by the pressure of a new pair of boots. If you are in distress, Sir Edward hears your tale with the most stoical indifference, and he contemplates your happiness with an equal degree of apathy—a sort of Epictetus, who can witness the miseries of a brother without agony or sympathy, and mark the elevation of a friend without one sentiment of congratulation: wrapt up in self, he banishes all feeling for others.
“Sir Edward is romantically inclined; however, he consults his reason, or pretends to, and by doing so makes his pleasures secondary to his health. It can't be denied that he sometimes shows expressions that don't quite match happiness; but his feelings are always selfish, and his apparent pain is usually caused by the effects of a binge, or maybe just the discomfort of a new pair of boots. If you're in distress, Sir Edward listens to your story with complete indifference, and he observes your happiness with the same lack of concern—like a modern-day Stoic, who can witness the suffering of others without any pain or sympathy, and acknowledge the success of a friend without a single thought of congratulations: wrapped up in himself, he pushes aside any feeling for others.”
[361] “This philosopher has a great number of imitators—perhaps not less than one thousand philosophic coxcombs visit London annually; and if Sir Edward were to die, they might all with great propriety lay claim to a participation in the property he might leave behind him, as near relations to the family of the Knowells. These gentlemen violate all the moral duties of life with impunity: they are shameless, irreligious, and so insignificant, that they seem to consider themselves born for no useful purpose whatever. Indeed they are such perfect blanks in the creation, that were they transported to some other place, the community would never miss them, except by the diminution of follies and vices. Like poisonous plants, they merely vegetate, diffuse their contagious effluvia around, then sink into corruption, and are forgotten for ever.”
[361] “This philosopher has a lot of followers—probably no less than a thousand pretentious thinkers visit London every year; and if Sir Edward were to pass away, they might all rightly claim a share in any wealth he might leave behind, as close relations to the Knowells family. These men break all moral duties without facing any consequences: they are shameless, irreligious, and so unimportant that they seem to think they're here for no real purpose. In fact, they are such complete nonentities that if they were taken away to another place, the community wouldn’t even notice, except for a decrease in foolishness and wrongdoing. Like poisonous plants, they just exist, spread their toxic influence around, then decay into nothingness, and are forgotten forever.”
“Whip me such fellows through the world,” exclaimed Sparkle, “I have no relish for them.”
“Throw me those kinds of people in the world,” exclaimed Sparkle, “I have no taste for them.”
On calling in at Long's Hotel, they were informed that Sparkle's servant had been in pursuit of his master, in consequence of letters having arrived from the country; and as Dashall knew that he had two excellent reasons why he should immediately acquaint himself with their contents, the party immediately returned to Piccadilly.
On stopping by Long's Hotel, they were told that Sparkle's servant had been looking for his boss because letters had come in from the countryside. Since Dashall knew he had two very good reasons to find out what those letters said, the group quickly headed back to Piccadilly.
CHAPTER XXVI
[362] The morning arose with smiles and sunshine, which appeared almost to invite our party earlier than they intended to the enjoyments of a plan which had occupied their attention on the previous evening, when Sparkle proposed a ride, which being consented to, the horses were prepared, and they were quickly on the road.
[362] The morning came with smiles and sunshine, almost inviting our group to enjoy a plan they had discussed the night before when Sparkle suggested a ride. Everyone agreed, the horses were readied, and they were soon on their way.
Passing through Somers Town, Sparkle remarked to his friend Dashall, that he could not help thinking that the manners and information of the rising generation ought to be greatly improved.
Passing through Somers Town, Sparkle told his friend Dashall that he couldn’t help thinking that the manners and knowledge of the younger generation needed to be significantly better.
“And have you not had sufficient evidence of the fact?” was the reply.
“And haven't you had enough proof of that?” was the reply.
“Why certainly,” continued Sparkle, “if the increase of public schools round the metropolis is in proportion to what has already met my eye during our present short ride, there is sufficient evidence that education is considered as it ought to be, of the first importance. Yet I question whether we are so much more learned than our ancestors, as to require such a vast increase of teachers. Nay, is not the market overstocked with these heads of seminaries, similar to the republic of letters, which is overwhelmed with authors, and clogged with bookmakers and books.”
“Of course,” Sparkle continued, “if the number of public schools around the city is as high as what I've already seen during our brief ride, there’s plenty of proof that education is viewed as it should be—extremely important. Still, I wonder if we’re really so much more educated than our ancestors that we need so many more teachers. Isn't the market flooded with these heads of schools, just like the literary world is swamped with authors and bogged down by publishers and books?”
[363] “This remark,” replied Tom, “might almost as well be made upon every trade and profession which is followed; in the present day there are so many in each, that a livelihood can scarcely be obtained, and a universal grumbling is the consequence.”
[363] “This comment,” replied Tom, “could easily apply to every trade and profession out there; these days, there are so many in each field that making a living is nearly impossible, and everyone is just complaining as a result.”
“Well,” said Bob, “I can with safety say there are but two trades or callings that I have met with since my arrival in London, to which I have discovered no rivalship.”
“Well,” said Bob, “I can confidently say there are only two jobs or professions that I’ve encountered since arriving in London that have no competition.”
This remark from Tallyho excited some surprise in the mind of his two friends, who were anxious to know to what he alluded.
This comment from Tallyho surprised his two friends, who were eager to find out what he was referring to.
“I mean,” continued he, “the doll's bedstead seller, who is frequently to be heard in the street of London, bawling with a peculiarity of voice as singular as the article he has for sale,—'Buy my doll's bedsteads;'—and the other, a well known whistler, whom you must both have heard.”
“I mean,” he continued, “the vendor of doll’s bedsteads, who can often be heard in the streets of London, shouting in a way that’s as unique as the item he’s selling—‘Buy my doll’s bedsteads;’—and the other one, a famous whistler, whom you both must have heard.”
“Egad you are right,” replied Sparkle; “and although I recollect them both, I must confess the observation now made has never so forcibly struck me before: it, however, proves you have not exhausted your time in town without paying attention to the characters it contains, nor the circumstances by which they obtain their livelihood; and although the introduction is not exactly in point with the subject of previous remarks, and ought not to cut the thread of our discourse, it has some reference, and conveys to my mind a novel piece of information. But I was about to consider what can be the causes for this extraordinary host of ladies of all ages, classes and colours, from the Honourable Mistress———to the Misses Stubbs, who have their establishment for the education of young ladies in a superior style; and whether in consequence of this legion of fair labourers in learning and science, our countrywomen (for I am adverting particularly to the softer sex) are chaster, wiser, and better, than their mammas and grand-mammas.”
“Wow, you’re right,” replied Sparkle. “And though I remember them both, I have to admit that what you just pointed out has never hit me quite like this before: it shows you haven’t spent your time in town without noticing the people here or how they make a living. Even though this introduction isn’t exactly aligned with our previous topics and shouldn’t interrupt our conversation, it’s somewhat relevant and gives me a fresh perspective. But I was just thinking about what could cause this incredible influx of women of all ages, backgrounds, and appearances, from the Honorable Mistress———to the Misses Stubbs, who run a school to educate young ladies in a high-quality way; and whether, thanks to this army of dedicated learners and thinkers, our women (and I'm specifically referring to the female sex) are purer, wiser, and better than their mothers and grandmothers.”
“A most interesting subject, truly,” replied Tom, “and well worthy of close investigation. Now for my part I apprehend that the increase of tutors arises from many other causes than the more general diffusion of knowledge.”
“A really interesting topic, for sure,” replied Tom, “and definitely worth a deeper look. From my perspective, I think the rise in tutors comes from many factors beyond just the wider spread of knowledge.”
[364] “There can be no doubt of it,” continued Sparkle, “and some of those causes are odd enough—very opposite to wisdom, and not more conducive to improvement; for amongst them you will find pride, poverty, and idleness.
[364] “There’s no doubt about it,” continued Sparkle, “and some of those reasons are pretty strange—totally against common sense, and not really helpful for improvement; because among them, you’ll find pride, poverty, and laziness.”
“For instance, you may discover that the proud partner of a shopkeeper in the general line, or more plainly speaking, the proprietor of a chandler's shop, is ambitious of having her daughter accomplished.
“For example, you might find that the proud partner of a shopkeeper in general goods, or more simply put, the owner of a candle shop, wants her daughter to be well-educated and talented.”
“Well, the accomplishments sought are music, dancing, French, and ornamental work; instead of learning the Bible, being brought up to domestic utility, cooking, washing, plain work, and the arithmetic necessary for keeping the accounts of her father's shop. What is the consequence?—the change in her education quite unfits Miss for her station in life; makes her look down on her unlettered Pa—and Ma—as persons too ignorant for her to associate with; while she is looking up with anxious expectation to marry a man of fortune (probably an officer); and is not unfrequently taken unceremoniously without the consent of her parents on a visit to the church.''
“Well, the things they aim for are music, dancing, French, and decorative arts; instead of learning the Bible, being prepared for home responsibilities, cooking, cleaning, basic tasks, and the math needed to manage her father's shop. What’s the result?—the shift in her education makes Miss completely unfit for her position in life; it causes her to see her uneducated dad—and mom—as people too ignorant for her to be around; meanwhile, she eagerly looks forward to marrying a wealthy man (likely an officer); and is often taken out without her parents' consent to visit the church.”
“You are pushing the matter as close as you can, Charles,” said Dashall; “though I confess I think, nay I may say indeed I know some instances in which such fatal consequences have been the result of the conduct to which you allude.”
“You're pressing the issue as much as you can, Charles,” said Dashall; “though I have to admit, I think, and I can actually say I know some cases where such devastating outcomes have resulted from the behavior you're referring to.”
“Well, then, suppose even that this superior style of education should not have the effect of turning the poor girl's head, and that she really has prudence and discretion enough to avoid the perils and snares of ambition; Miss Celestina is at least unfitted for a tradesman's wife, and she must either become a companion, or a governess, or a teacher at a school, or be set up as the Minerva of an evening school—half educated herself, and exposed in every situation for which she is conceived to be fitted, to numerous temptations, betwixt the teachers of waltzes and quadrilles—the one horse chaise dancing-masters—the lax-moraled foreign music-master—or the dashing Pa—of her young pupils (perhaps a Peer). Celibacy is not always so much an affair of choice as of circumstances, and sad difficulties are consequently thrown in the way of poor Miss So and So's path through life—all originating from pride.”
“Well, let's just say that even if this better way of educating her doesn’t make the poor girl lose her mind, and she truly has the common sense to steer clear of the dangers of ambition; Miss Celestina still isn’t cut out to be a tradesman’s wife. She’ll have to either be a companion, a governess, a schoolteacher, or be positioned as the wise woman of an evening school—partially educated herself and facing countless temptations in whatever role she’s meant for, like the dance teachers for waltzes and quadrilles, the one-horse carriage dance instructors, the morally loose foreign music teacher, or the charming dad of her young students (perhaps a nobleman). Being single isn’t always a choice; it often depends on circumstances, leaving poor Miss So-and-So to deal with the unfortunate challenges in her life—all stemming from pride.”
[365] “Well,” said Bob, “since you have been amusing us with this description, I have counted not less than eight seminaries, establishments, and preparatory schools.”
[365] “Well,” Bob said, “since you’ve entertained us with this description, I’ve counted at least eight seminaries, institutions, and prep schools.”
“I do not doubt it,” continued Sparkle; “and some of them on the meanest scale, notwithstanding the high sounding titles under which they are introduced to public notice: others presided over by sister spinsters, not unfrequently with Frenchified names; such, for instance, as 'Mesdames Puerdon's Seminary,' the lady's real name being Martha (or, if you please, Patty) Purton, and a deformed relative completing the Mesdames: the ?Misses de la Porte,' (whom nature had made simple Porter), and no great catch to obtain either: the 'Misses Cox's preparatory school for young gentlemen of an early age,' all seem to bespeak the poverty, false pride, and affectation of the owners. Notwithstanding the fine denominations given to some of these learned institutions, such as 'Bellevue Seminary'—'Montpeliere House'—'Bel Retiro Boarding School,' &c. &c.
“I don’t doubt it,” Sparkle continued. “Some of them are on such a small scale, despite the grand titles they use to present themselves to the public: others are run by single sisters, often with fancy names. For example, there's 'Mesdames Puerdon's Seminary,' where the lady's real name is Martha (or, if you prefer, Patty) Purton, and a deformed relative completes the 'Mesdames.' Then there are the 'Misses de la Porte,' who nature had dubbed simple Porter, and they're not particularly impressive either. The 'Misses Cox's preparatory school for young gentlemen of an early age' all reflect the owners' poverty, false pride, and pretentiousness. Despite the nice names given to some of these educational institutions, like 'Bellevue Seminary,' 'Montpeliere House,' 'Bel Retiro Boarding School,' etc., etc.”
“To such artifices as these are two classes of females compelled to resort, namely, reduced gentlewomen and exalted tradesmen's daughters, who disdain commerce, and hate the homely station which dame nature had originally intended them to move in. Such ladies (either by birth or adoption) prefer the twig to the distaff, the study to the shop, and experience more pleasure in walking out airing with their pupils, taking their station in the front, frequently gaudily and indiscreetly dressed, than to be confined to the counter, or the domestic occupations of the good old English housewife of former times.
"Two groups of women are forced into such schemes: impoverished gentlewomen and the daughters of well-to-do tradesmen, who look down on working in business and resent the simple life that nature initially intended for them. These women (whether by birth or circumstance) prefer socializing to traditional domestic roles, enjoy going out for fresh air with their students, often dress flamboyantly and without restraint, and would rather be at the forefront of public life than stuck behind a counter or tied to the duties of the classic English housewife of the past."
“Such ladies are frequently to be met with on all the Greens and Commons, from dirty Stepney or Bethnal, to the more sumptuous Clapham or Willisdon. Some of them are so occupied with self, that the random-shot glances of their pupils at the exquisites and the dandy militaires about town, do not come within the range of their notice, while others are more vigilant, but often heave a sigh at the thought that the gay and gallant Captain should prefer the ruddy daughter of a cheese-monger, to the reduced sprigs of gentility which they consider themselves.
“Such ladies can often be found on all the parks and open spaces, from rundown Stepney or Bethnal to the fancier Clapham or Willesden. Some are so wrapped up in themselves that the wandering glances of their students at the stylish men and dandy soldiers around town go completely unnoticed, while others are more observant but often sigh at the thought that the charming Captain would choose the rosy daughter of a cheese seller over the less fortunate members of gentility they consider themselves to be.”
[366] “At all events, many of these ladies,and worthy ones too, are placed, par force of poverty, in this avocation, unsuited to their abilities, their hearts, their habits, or their former expectations. The government of their young flock is odious to them, and although they may go through the duties of their situation with apparent patience, it is in fact a drudgery almost insupportable; and the objects nearest the governess's heart—are the arrival of the vacation, the entrance-money, the quarter's schooling, and a lengthy list of items: the arrival of Black Monday, or a cessation of holidays, brings depressed spirits, and she returns to her occupation, deploring her unlucky stars which placed her in so laborious a situation—envies her cousin Sarah, who has caught a minor in her net; nay even perhaps would be happy to exchange circumstances with the thoughtless Miss Skipwell, who has run away with her dancing-master, or ruined a young clergyman, of a serious turn, by addressing love-letters to him, copied from the most romantic novels, which have softened his heart into matrimony, and made genteel beggars of the reverend mistress, himself, and a numerous offspring.”
[366] “In any case, many of these ladies, who are certainly decent, find themselves, forced by poverty, in this job that doesn’t suit their skills, their feelings, their habits, or their previous expectations. Managing their young charges is unbearable for them, and although they may carry out the responsibilities of their position with a semblance of patience, it is really a nearly unbearable drudgery; and the things that matter most to the governess are the arrival of vacation, the entrance fees, the quarterly tuition, and a long list of expenses: the arrival of Black Monday, or the end of holiday breaks, brings a heavy gloom, and she goes back to her work, lamenting her unfortunate fate that put her in such a demanding situation—she envies her cousin Sarah, who has landed a nice match; or perhaps she would even be glad to trade places with the carefree Miss Skipwell, who has eloped with her dance teacher, or led a serious young clergyman astray by sending him love letters lifted from the most romantic novels, which have melted his heart into marriage, leaving the reverend and his wife both in genteel poverty with a large family to support.”
“Very agreeable, indeed,” cried Dashall.
"Very agreeable, indeed," exclaimed Dashall.
“Perhaps not,” said Tallyho, interrupting him, “to the parties described.”
“Maybe not,” said Tallyho, cutting him off, “to the parties mentioned.”
“You mistake me,” was the reply; “I meant the combination of air and exercise with the excellent descriptions of our friend Sparkle, who by the way has not yet done with the subject.”
“You've misunderstood me,” was the reply; “I was referring to the mix of fresh air and exercise along with the great descriptions from our friend Sparkle, who, by the way, isn't finished with the topic yet.”
“I am aware of it,” continued Sparkle, “for there is one part which I mentioned at the outset, which may with great propriety be added in the way of elucidation—I mean Idleness: it is the third, and shall for the present be the last subject of our consideration, and even this has contributed its fair proportion of teachers to the world. Miss Mel ta way, the daughter of a tallow-chandler, who ruined himself by dressing extravagantly his wife, and over educating his dear Caroline Matilda, in consequence of which he failed, and shortly afterwards left the world altogether,—was brought up in the straw line; but this was no solid trade, and could not be relied upon: however, she plays upon the harp and the guitar. What advantages! yet she also failed in the straw-hat line, and therefore Idleness prefers becoming an assistant teacher and music mistress, to taking to any more laborious, even though more productive mode of obtaining a livelihood.
“I know about it,” Sparkle continued, “because there’s one part I mentioned at the beginning that can be added for clarity—I’m talking about Idleness. It’s the third topic we’ll discuss, and for now, it will be the last. Even this has contributed its fair share of teachers to the world. Miss Meltaway, the daughter of a candle maker who went bankrupt by lavishly dressing his wife and over-educating his beloved Caroline Matilda, ended up failing and soon after left this world altogether. She was raised in the straw trade, but that wasn’t a stable job and couldn’t be counted on. Still, she plays the harp and the guitar. What skills! Yet she also didn’t succeed in the straw-hat business, which is why Idleness prefers to be an assistant teacher and music instructor rather than engaging in any strenuous, albeit more profitable, way to make a living.
[367] “Then Miss Nugent has a few hundred pounds, the remnant of Pa's gleanings (Pa having been the retired butler of a Pigeoned Peer.) A retail bookseller sought her hand in marriage, but she thought him quite a vulgar fellow. He had no taste for waltzing, at which she was considered to excel—he blamed her indulgence in such pleasures, and ventured to hint something about a pudding. Then again, he can't speak French, and dresses in dittoes. Now all this is really barbarous, and consequently Miss Nugent spurns the idea of such a connection.
[367] “So Miss Nugent has a few hundred pounds left from her father's earnings (her father was the retired butler of a wealthy nobleman). A local bookseller proposed to her, but she thought he was quite uncouth. He had no interest in dancing, which she was said to be great at—he criticized her enjoyment of such activities and even hinted at some comment about a dessert. Plus, he can't speak French and dresses in the same old style. All of this is really very rough, so Miss Nugent rejects the idea of being with him.”
“Let us trace her still further. In a short time she is addressed by a Captain Kirkpatrick Tyrconnel, who makes his approaches with a splendid equipage. The romantic sound of the former, and the glare of the latter, attract her attention. The title of Captain, however, is merely a nom de guerre, for he is only an ensign on half-pay. Miss is delighted with his attentions: he is a charming fellow, highly accomplished, for he sings duets, waltzes admirably, plays the German flute, and interlards his conversation with scraps of French and Spanish. Altogether he is truly irresistible, and she is willing to lay her person and her few hundreds at the feet of the conquerer. The day is appointed, and every preparation made for the nuptial ceremony; when ah! who can foresee,
“Let’s follow her a bit more. Soon she is approached by Captain Kirkpatrick Tyrconnel, who arrives in a flashy carriage. The romantic appeal of his title and the showiness of his ride catch her eye. However, the title of Captain is just a nom de guerre, since he’s really only an ensign on half-pay. She is thrilled by his attention: he’s a charming guy, quite talented—he sings duets, dances beautifully, plays the German flute, and spices up his conversations with bits of French and Spanish. Overall, he’s absolutely irresistible, and she’s ready to offer herself and her few hundred pounds to the conqueror. The day is set, and all preparations are made for the wedding ceremony; but oh! who could predict,
“The various turns of fate below.”
“The different twists of fate below.”
An athletic Hibernian wife, formerly the widow of Dennis O'Drumball, steps in between the young lady and the hymeneal altar, and claims the Captain as her husband—she being the landlady of a country ale-house where he had been quartered, whom he had married by way of discharging his bill. The interposition is fortunate, because it saves the Captain from an involuntary trip to Botany Bay, and Miss from an alliance of a bigamical kind; though it has at the same time proved a severe disappointment to the young lady.
An athletic Irish wife, who was previously the widow of Dennis O'Drumball, steps in between the young woman and the wedding altar, claiming the Captain as her husband—she being the landlady of a country pub where he had been stationed, whom he had married to settle his tab. This intervention is fortunate because it saves the Captain from an unwanted trip to Botany Bay, and the young woman from a bigamous marriage; however, it has also turned out to be a huge disappointment for her.
“Crossed in love—wounded in the most tender part—she forswears the hymeneal tie; and under such unfortunate circumstances she opens a Seminary, to which she devotes the remainder of her life.”
“Heartbroken—hurt in the most sensitive way—she gives up on marriage; and in light of these unfortunate events, she starts a school, dedicating the rest of her life to it.”
[368] “Pray,” said Bob, whose eyes were as open as his ears, “did you notice that shining black board, with preposterous large gold letters, announcing 'Miss Smallgood's establishment for Young Ladies,' and close alongside of it another, informing the passenger,—' That man-traps were placed in the premises.'”
[368] “Hey,” said Bob, whose eyes were as wide open as his ears, “did you see that shiny black sign with ridiculously large gold letters saying 'Miss Smallgood's School for Young Ladies,' and right next to it another sign that said, ‘Man-traps are set on the property.’”
“I did,” said Sparkle—“but I do not think that, though somewhat curious, the most remarkable or strange association. Young ladies educated on an improved plan, and man-traps advertised in order to create terror and dismay! For connected with this method of announcing places of education, is a recollection of receptacles of another nature.”
“I did,” said Sparkle, “but I don’t think that, while it’s a bit curious, it’s the most remarkable or strange connection. Young women educated in a better way, and traps advertised to instill fear and anxiety! Because linked to this way of promoting schools is a memory of containers of a different kind.”
“To what do you allude?” inquired Tallyho. “Why, in many instances, private mad-houses are disguised as boarding schools, under the designation of 'Establishment.' Many of these receptacles in the vicinity of the metropolis, are rendered subservient to the very worst of purposes, though originally intended for the safety of the individual, as well as the security of the public against the commission of acts, which are too frequently to be deplored as the effect of insanity. Of all the houses of mourning, that to which poor unhappy mortals are sent under mental derangement is decidedly the most gloomy. The idea strikes the imagination with horror, which is considerably increased by a reflection on the numerous human victims that are incarcerated within their walls, the discipline they are subjected to, and the usual pecuniary success which attends the keepers of such establishments,—where the continuance of the patient is the chief source of interest, rather than the recovery. That they are useful in some cases cannot be denied, but there are many instances too well authenticated to be doubted, where persons desirous of getting rid of aged and infirm relatives, particularly if they manifested any little aberration of mind (as is common in advanced age), have consigned them to these receptacles, from which, through the supposed kindness of their friends, and the management of the proprietors, they have never returned. If the parties ail nothing, they are soon driven to insanity by ill usage, association with unfortunates confined like themselves, vexation at the treatment, and absolute despair of escape; or if partially or slightly afflicted, the lucid intervals are prevented, and the disorder by these means is increased and confirmed by coercion, irritation of mind, and despair.”
“To what are you referring?” asked Tallyho. “Well, in many cases, private mental hospitals are disguised as boarding schools, labeled as 'Establishment.' Many of these places near the city are used for very harmful purposes, even though they were originally intended for individual safety and to protect the public from actions that are often sadly the result of insanity. Of all the places of sorrow, the one where unfortunate people are sent due to mental illness is definitely the most depressing. The thought strikes fear into the imagination, especially when reflecting on the many human victims trapped within those walls, the treatment they endure, and the usual financial success of the operators of these places—where keeping the patient there is more important than helping them recover. While they can be helpful in some cases, there are too many well-known instances where individuals eager to be rid of elderly and infirm relatives, especially if they show any signs of mental decline (which is common in old age), have sent them to these facilities, from which, due to the assumed kindness of their friends and the management of the owners, they never return. If the individuals are not sick at all, they are soon driven to madness by poor treatment, interaction with other unfortunate inmates, frustration over their treatment, and utter despair at the lack of escape; or if they are only mildly affected, their moments of clarity are disrupted, and their condition worsens through coercion, mental strain, and hopelessness.”
[369] “This is a deplorable picture of the state of things, indeed,” said Tallyho.
[369] “This is a really sad reflection of the situation, for sure,” said Tallyho.
“But it is unvarnished,” was the reply; “the picture requires no imaginary embellishment, since it has its foundation in truth. Then again, contrast the situation of the confined with the confinera. The relatives have an interest in the care of the person, and a control over the property, which in cases of death frequently becomes their own. The keepers of these receptacles have also an interest in keeping the relatives in a disposition to forward all their views of retaining the patient, who, under the representation of being seriously deranged, is not believed; consequently all is delusion, but the advantages which ultimately fall to the tender-hearted relative, or the more artful proprietor of the mad-house; and it is wonderful what immense fortunes are made by the latter; nay not only by the proprietors, but even the menials in their employ, many of whom have been known to retire independent, a circumstance which clearly proves, that by some means or other they must have possessed themselves of the care of the property, as well as that of the persons of their unfortunate victims.”
“But it's straightforward,” was the reply; “the picture doesn’t need any imaginary enhancements since it’s based on truth. Also, compare the situation of the confined with that of the confiner. The relatives have a stake in the care of the person and control over the property, which often becomes theirs in the event of death. The keepers of these facilities also benefit from keeping the relatives inclined to support their plans to retain the patient, who, under the guise of being seriously disturbed, is not believed; thus, everything is an illusion except for the benefits that ultimately go to the caring relative or the more cunning owner of the asylum. It’s astonishing how immense fortunes are made by the latter; not just by the owners, but even by the workers they employ, many of whom have been known to retire financially secure, which clearly shows that somehow, they must have managed to take control of the property, as well as the individuals of their unfortunate victims.”
“This is a dull subject,” said Dashall, “though I confess that some exposures which have been made fully justify your observations; but I am not fond of looking at such gloomy pictures of Real Life.”
“This is a boring topic,” said Dashall, “although I admit that some revelations that have come to light really support your points; but I’m not a fan of staring at such bleak depictions of Real Life.”
“True,” replied Sparkle; “but it connects itself with the object you have had in view; and though I know there are many who possess souls of sensibility, and who would shrink from the contemplation of so much suffering humanity, it is still desirable they should know the effects produced almost by inconceivable causes. I know people in general avoid the contemplation, as well as fly from the abodes of misery, contenting themselves by sending pecuniary assistance. But unfortunately there are a number of things that wear a similarity of appearance, yet are so unlike in essence and reality, that they are frequently mistaken by the credulous and unwary, who become dupes, merely because they are not eye witnesses of the facts. But if the subject is dull, let us push forward, take a gallop over Hampstead Heath, and return.”
“True,” replied Sparkle; “but it relates to the point you have in mind; and while I know there are many who have sensitive hearts and would shy away from seeing so much suffering humanity, it’s still important they understand the effects caused by almost unimaginable reasons. I know people generally avoid facing this, as well as distance themselves from places of misery, preferring to just send money. But unfortunately, there are a lot of things that appear similar but are actually very different in essence and reality, which leads the gullible and unsuspecting to be misled simply because they aren't direct witnesses to the facts. But if this topic is boring, let’s move on, take a ride over Hampstead Heath, and come back.”
[370] “With all my heart,” cried Dashall, giving a spur to his horse, and away they went.
[370] “With all my heart,” shouted Dashall, urging his horse forward, and off they went.
The day was delightfully fine; the appearance of the country banished all gloomy thoughts from their minds; and after a most agreeable ride, they returned to Piccadilly, where finding dinner ready, they spent the remainder of the evening in the utmost hilarity, and the mutual interchange of amusing and interesting conversation, principally relative to Sparkle's friends in the country, and their arrangements for the remainder of their time during their stay in the metropolis.
The day was wonderfully nice; the scenery of the countryside chased away any gloomy thoughts they had. After a really pleasant ride, they returned to Piccadilly, where they found dinner ready. They spent the rest of the evening having a great time, sharing entertaining and interesting conversations, mostly about Sparkle's friends in the countryside and their plans for the rest of their time in the city.
CHAPTER XXVII
[371] THE post of the following morning brought information for Dashall and his friends, and no time was lost in breaking open the seals of letters which excited the most pleasing anticipations. A dead silence prevailed for a few minutes, when, rising almost simultaneously, expressions of satisfaction and delight were interchanged at the intelligence received.
[371] The following morning's mail brought news for Dashall and his friends, and they quickly tore open the seals of letters that promised exciting possibilities. There was a brief moment of silence, and then, almost at the same time, they all stood up, exchanging looks of satisfaction and joy over the information they received.
Merry well's success had proved more than commensurate with his most sanguine expectations. He had arrived at the residence of his dying relative, just time enough to witness his departure from this sublunary sphere, and hear him with his expiring breath say,—“All is thine;” and a letter to each of his former friends announced the pleasure and the happiness he should experience by an early visit to his estate, declaring his determination to settle in the country, and no more become a rambler in the labyrinths of London.
Merry Well's success turned out to be more than he had ever hoped for. He arrived at his dying relative's home just in time to see him pass away and heard him take his last breath say, “Everything is yours.” A letter was sent to each of his old friends, sharing the joy and happiness he would feel from visiting his estate soon. He mentioned his decision to settle in the countryside and promised not to roam the complex streets of London anymore.
This was a moment of unexpected, though hoped for gratification. Sparkle applauded the plan he intended to pursue.
This was a moment of unexpected, but anticipated satisfaction. Sparkle cheered the plan he meant to follow.
Tallyho confessed himself tired of this world of wonders, and appeared to be actuated by a similar feeling: he conceived he had seen enough of the Life of a Rover, and seemed to sigh for his native plains again.
Tallyho admitted he was tired of this amazing world and seemed to feel the same way: he thought he had seen enough of the life of a wanderer and appeared to long for his home again.
[372] Dashall's relish for novelty in London was almost subdued; and after comparing notes together for a short time, it was mutually agreed that they would dine quietly at home, and digest a plan for future proceedings.
[372] Dashall's enthusiasm for new experiences in London was almost dampened; and after sharing thoughts for a little while, they both agreed to have a calm dinner at home and come up with a plan for what to do next.
“Never,” said Tom, “did I feel so strong an inclination to forego the fascinating charms of a London Life as at the present moment; and whether I renounce it altogether or not, we will certainly pay a congratulatory visit to Merry well.”
“Never,” said Tom, “have I felt such a strong urge to give up the alluring charms of life in London as I do right now; and whether I give it up completely or not, we will definitely pay a congratulatory visit to Merrywell.”
“Example,” said Sparkle, endeavouring to encourage the feeling with which his friend's last sentiment was expressed, “is at all times better than precept; and retirement to domestic felicity is preferable to revelry in splendid scenes of dissipation, which generally leads to premature dissolution.”
“Example,” said Sparkle, trying to support the feeling behind his friend's last comment, “is always better than instruction; and staying at home in happiness is better than partying in extravagant places, which usually leads to an early downfall.”
“Agreed,” said Tom; “and happy is the man who, like yourself, has more than self to think for.—Blest with a lovely and amiable wife, and an ample fortune, no man upon earth can have a better chance of gliding down the stream of life, surrounded by all the enjoyments it can afford—while I———”
“Agreed,” said Tom; “and happy is the man who, like you, has more than just himself to think about. Blessed with a beautiful and kind wife, and a comfortable fortune, no one on earth has a better chance of going through life, surrounded by all the happiness it can bring—while I———”
“Oh, what a lost mutton am I!”
“Oh, what a lost sheep am I!”
Sparkle could scarcely forbear laughing at his friend, though he was unable to discover whether he was speaking seriously or ironically; he therefore determined to rally him a little.
Sparkle could hardly hold back his laughter at his friend, though he couldn't tell if he was being serious or sarcastic; so he decided to tease him a bit.
“How,” said he, “why you are growing serious and sentimental all at once: what can be the cause of this change of opinion so suddenly?”
“How,” he said, “are you getting serious and sentimental all of a sudden? What’s behind this sudden change of mind?”
“My views of life,” replied Dashall, “have been sufficient to convince me that a Like in London is the high road to Death. I have, however, tried its vagaries in all companies, in all quarters; and, as the Song says,
“My views on life,” replied Dashall, “have convinced me that life in London is a sure path to misery. I have, however, experienced its ups and downs in every situation, everywhere; and, as the song says,
“Having sown my wild oats in my youthful days, I wish to live happily now they are done.”
“Having lived my youthful adventures, I want to be happy now that they’re behind me.”
By this time Sparkle was convinced that Dashall was speaking the real sentiments of his mind, and congratulated him upon them.
By this point, Sparkle was sure that Dashall was expressing his true thoughts, and he congratulated him for it.
[373] Tallyho expressed himself highly delighted with the information he had acquired during his stay in London, but could not help at the same time acknowledging, that he had no wish to continue in the same course much longer: it was therefore agreed, that on that day fortnight they would leave the metropolis for the residence of Merrywell, and trust the future guidance of their pursuits to chance.
[373] Tallyho expressed how thrilled he was with what he had learned during his time in London, but he couldn’t deny that he didn’t want to keep going in the same direction for much longer. So, they agreed that in two weeks they would leave the city for Merrywell's place and leave their future plans to fate.
“It would argue a want of loyalty,” said Tom, “if we did not witness the royal departure for Scotland before we quit town; and as that is to take place on Saturday next, we will attend the embarkation of his Majesty at Greenwich, and then turn our thoughts towards a country life.”
“It would show a lack of loyalty,” said Tom, “if we didn't see the royal departure for Scotland before we leave town; and since that's happening next Saturday, we’ll go to watch the King embark at Greenwich, and then we can focus on country life.”
Sparkle was evidently gratified by this determination, though he could hardly persuade himself it was likely to be of long duration; and Bob inwardly rejoiced at the expression of sentiments in exact accordance with his own. At a moment when they were all absorbed in thoughts of the future, they were suddenly drawn to the present by a man passing the window, bawling aloud—“Buy a Prap—Buy a Prap.”
Sparkle clearly felt pleased with this decision, although he could hardly convince himself that it would last. Bob secretly celebrated the fact that their feelings were in perfect sync. Just as they were all lost in thoughts about the future, they were suddenly brought back to reality by a man walking by the window, shouting loudly, “Buy a Prap—Buy a Prap.”
“What does the fellow mean?” interrupted Tallyho.
“What does that guy mean?” interrupted Tallyho.
“Mean,” said Dashall, “nothing more than to sell his clothes props.”
“Mean,” said Dashall, “just to sell his clothes and gear.”
“Props,” replied Bob, “but he cries praps; I suppose that is a new style adopted in London.”
“Props,” replied Bob, “but he cries probably; I guess that’s a new style adopted in London.”
“Not at all,” continued Sparkle; “the alteration of sound only arises from an habitual carelessness, with which many of what are termed the London Cries are given; a sort of tone or jargon which is acquired by continually calling the same thing—and in which you will find he is not singular. The venders of milk, for instance, seldom call the article they carry for sale, as it is generally sounded mieu, or mieu below, though some have recently adopted the practice of crying mieu above. The sort of sing-song style which the wandering vendera of different goods get into as it were by nature, is frequently so unintelligible, that even an old inhabitant of the town and its environs can scarcely ascertain by the ear what is meant; and which I apprehend arises more from the sameness of subject than from any premeditated intention of the parties so calling. Other instances may be given:—the chimney-sweeper, you will find, instead of [374] bawling sweep, frequently contracts it to we-ep or e-ep; the former not altogether incompatible with the situation of the shivering little being who crawls along the streets under a load of soot, to the great annoyance of the well dressed passengers; however, it has the effect of warning them of his approach. The dustman, above curtailment, as if he felt his superiority over the flue-faker, lengthens his sound to dust-ho, or dust-wo; besides, he is dignified by carrying a bell in one hand, by which he almost stuns those around him, and appears determined to kick up a dust, if he can do nothing else. The cries of muffins in the streets it is difficult to understand, as they are in the habit of ringing a tinkling bell, the sound of which can scarcely be heard, and calling mapping ho; and I remember one man whom I have frequently followed, from whom I could never make out more than happy happy happy now. There is a man who frequently passes through the Strand, wheeling a barrow before him, bawling as he moves along, in a deep and sonorous voice, smoaking hot, piping hot, hot Chelsea Buns; and another, in the vicinity of Covent Garden, who attracts considerable notice by the cry of—Come buy my live shrimps and pierriwinkles—buy my wink, wink, wink; these, however, are exceptions to those previously mentioned, as they have good voices, and deliver themselves to some tune; but to the former may be added the itinerant collector of old clothes, who continually annoys you with—Clow; clow sale. The ingenious Ned Shuter, the most luxuriant comedian of his time, frequently entertained his audience on his benefit nights with admirable imitations of the Cries of London, in which he introduced a remarkable little man who sold puffs, and who, from the peculiar manner of his calling them, acquired the name of Golly Molly Puff; by this singularity he became a noted character, and at almost every period some such peculiar itinerant has become remarkable in the streets of London. Some years back, a poor wretched being who dealt in shreds and patches, used to walk about, inviting people by the following lines—
“Not at all,” Sparkle continued, “the change in sound just comes from a habitual carelessness with which many of the so-called London Cries are shouted. It’s a kind of tone or slang that develops from repeatedly calling the same thing—though he’s not alone in this. For example, milk vendors rarely refer to what they’re selling as it’s usually pronounced mieu or mieu below, though some have recently started saying mieu above. The sing-song style that wandering vendors of various goods fall into seems almost instinctual; it’s often so unclear that even longtime residents can barely tell what’s being said. I think this confusion is more about the repetitive nature of the subject rather than any deliberate intention from those making the calls. There are other examples: the chimney sweeper, instead of loudly calling sweep, often reduces it to we-ep or e-ep; the first is somewhat fitting for the poor little guy who crawls through the streets covered in soot, much to the annoyance of well-dressed passersby; however, it does let them know he’s coming. The dustman, feeling superior to the chimney sweep, stretches his call to dust-ho or dust-wo; he also carries a bell in one hand, ringing it loudly to nearly stun those around him and seems determined to raise dust if nothing else. The cries for muffins in the streets are tough to understand since they often ring a tinkling bell that’s barely audible, calling mapping ho; I remember one guy I’d often follow who only ever shouted something that sounded like happy happy happy now. There’s a man who often rolls a barrow through the Strand calling out in a deep, resonant voice, smoking hot, piping hot, hot Chelsea Buns; and another near Covent Garden who grabs attention with the cry of—Come buy my live shrimps and pierriwinkles—buy my wink, wink, wink; however, these are exceptions to the others since they have good voices and pitch their calls to a tune. But to the previous examples, you can add the traveling collector of old clothes, who constantly bothers you with—Clow; clow sale. The clever Ned Shuter, the most flamboyant comedian of his time, often delighted his audience on his benefit nights with brilliant imitations of the London Cries, introducing a peculiar little man who sold puffs, and who, due to his unique way of calling them, earned the nickname Golly Molly Puff; this oddity made him a well-known figure, and at almost any time, some unique street vendor like him has become famous in London. A few years ago, a poor wretched soul who sold scraps and patches used to walk around, inviting people with these lines—
[375] Another, a sleek-headed whimsical old man, appeared, who was commonly called the Wooden Poet, from his carrying wooden ware, which was slung in a basket round his neck, and who chaunted a kind of song in doggerel rhyme, somewhat similar to the following—
[375] Another old man, with a smooth head and a quirky personality, showed up. He was often referred to as the Wooden Poet because he carried wooden items in a basket around his neck and sang a kind of song in playful, uneven rhyme, somewhat like this—
“Very well, indeed, for a wooden poet,” exclaimed Bois; “he certainly deserved custom at all events: his rivals, Walter Scott or Lord Byron, would have turned such a poetical effusion to some account—it would have been dramatized—Murray, Longman, &c. would have been all in a bustle, puffing, blowing, and advertising. We should have had piracies, Chancery injunctions, and the d———1 to pay; but alas! it makes all the difference whether a poet is fashionable and popular or not."{1}
“Very well, for a wooden poet,” Bois exclaimed. “He definitely deserved some attention; his rivals, Walter Scott or Lord Byron, would have made something out of such a poetic work—it would have been turned into a play—Murray, Longman, and others would have been in a frenzy, promoting, advertising, and making a big deal out of it. We would have seen piracy, legal injunctions, and all sorts of trouble; but sadly, it really matters whether a poet is trendy and popular or not.”{1}
[377] “Then,” continued Sparkle, “there was a rustic usually mounted on a white hobby, with a basket on one arm, who used to invade the northern purlieus of London, mumbling Holloway Cheesecakes, which from his mode of utterance, sounded like 'Ho all my teeth ake.'”
[377] “Then,” continued Sparkle, “there was a country man usually riding a white pony, with a basket on one arm, who would come into the northern edges of London, mumbling about Holloway Cheesecakes, which sounded like 'Ho all my teeth ache' based on how he spoke.”
“Ha! ha! ha!” vociferated Tallyho, unable to restrain his risibility.
“Ha! Ha! Ha!” shouted Tallyho, unable to hold back his laughter.
“Numerous other instances might be adduced,” continued Sparkle: “among many there was a noted Pigman, whose pigs were made of what is called standing crust, three or four inches long, baked with currant sauce in the belly, who used to cry, or rather sing,—
“Numerous other examples could be mentioned,” continued Sparkle: “among many there was a famous Pigman, whose pigs were made of something called standing crust, three or four inches long, baked with currant sauce inside, who used to cry, or rather sing,—
There was another singular character, who used to be called Tiddy-doll, a noted vender of gingerbread at Bartholomew, Southwark, and other fairs; who to collect customers round his basket used to chaunt a song, in which scarcely any thing was distinctly articulated but the cant expression Tiddy-doll: he used to wear a high cocked hat and feather, with broad scolloped gold lace on it; and last, though not least, was Sir Jeffery Vunstan, of Garrat fame, who used to walk about the streets in a blue coat with gold lace, his shirt bosom open, and without a hat, accompanied by his daughter, Miss Nancy, crying ould wigs.”
There was another unique character known as Tiddy-doll, a famous gingerbread seller at Bartholomew, Southwark, and other fairs. To draw customers to his cart, he would sing a tune where the only clear words were the catchy phrase "Tiddy-doll." He wore a tall, stylish hat with a feather and broad, scalloped gold lace on it. Lastly, but equally notable, was Sir Jeffery Vunstan, known from Garrat, who would stroll the streets in a blue coat adorned with gold lace, his shirt open at the collar and without a hat, accompanied by his daughter, Miss Nancy, calling out for old wigs.
“Old wigs,” reverberated Bob, “an extraordinary article of merchandize!”
“Old wigs,” echoed Bob, “are an amazing item for sale!”
“Not more extraordinary than true,” replied Dashall; “but come, I suppose we shall all feel inclined to write a few lines to the country, so let us make the best of our time.”
“Not more extraordinary than true,” replied Dashall; “but come on, I guess we’ll all want to write a few lines to the folks back home, so let’s make the most of our time.”
Upon this signal, each flew to the exercise of the quill, and indulged his own vein of thought in writing to his friend; and the day closed upon them without any further occurrence deserving of particular remark.
Upon this signal, each went to writing, expressing his own train of thought to his friend; and the day ended for them without anything else worth noting.
CHAPTER XXVIII
[378] The morning arose with a smiling and inviting aspect; and as it had been previously rumoured that his Majesty would embark from Greenwich Hospital at half-past eight o'clock, on his intended voyage to Scotland, our party had arranged every thing for their departure at an early hour, and before seven o'clock had seated themselves in a commodious and elegant barge moored off Westminster Bridge, intending, if possible, to see the City Companies, headed by the Lord Mayor and Court of Aldermen, start, as had been proposed, from the Tower. They were shortly afterwards gliding on the surface of the watery element towards the scene of action: by this time the numerous parties in pursuit of the same object were on the alert; and from almost every part of the shore as they passed along, gaily dressed company was embarking, while merry peals of bells seemed to announce approaching delight. The steeples on shore, and the vessels in the river, exhibited flags and streamers, which gave an additional splendour to the scene. All was anxiety and expectation; numerous barges and pleasure-boats, laden with elegant company, were speeding the same way, and every moment increasing, so that the whole view displayed a combination of beauty, fashion, and loyalty not often surpassed.
[378] The morning began with a cheerful and inviting vibe; and since it had been rumored earlier that His Majesty would leave from Greenwich Hospital at half-past eight for his planned trip to Scotland, our group had organized everything for an early departure. By seven o'clock, they had settled into a comfortable and stylish barge moored near Westminster Bridge, hoping to catch sight of the City Companies, led by the Lord Mayor and the Court of Aldermen, starting from the Tower as planned. Soon after, they were gliding over the water toward the action: by now, many others with the same goal were on the move; from nearly every part of the shore they passed, elegantly dressed people were boarding vessels, while cheerful bell peals seemed to signal the excitement to come. The steeples on land and the boats in the river displayed flags and streamers that added to the spectacle. There was a buzz of anticipation; countless barges and pleasure boats filled with stylish guests rushed in the same direction, growing in number with each passing moment, creating a scene of beauty, fashion, and loyalty rarely seen.
[379] On arriving off the Tower, it was soon ascertained that the Lord Mayor and City Companies had got the start of them, and consequently they proceeded on their journey, not doubting but they should overtake them before reaching Greenwich; and in this expectation they were not disappointed; for soon after passing Rotherhithe Church, they came up with the City State Barge, which was towed by a steam boat, accompanied by several other state barges, the whole filled with company. The brightness of the morning, and the superb appearance of these gaily manned, and it might be added gaily womaned gallies, (for a numerous party of fashionably attired ladies added their embellishing presence to the spectacle) formed altogether a picture of more than ordinary interest and magnificence.
[379] When they arrived near the Tower, they quickly realized that the Lord Mayor and City Companies had gotten ahead of them. So, they continued on their journey, confident they would catch up before reaching Greenwich. They were right; shortly after passing Rotherhithe Church, they caught up with the City State Barge, which was being towed by a steam boat and followed by several other state barges, all filled with people. The bright morning and the stunning sights of these lively manned and, you could say, lively womaned galleys—since a large group of stylishly dressed ladies added their charm to the scene—created a remarkable and magnificent spectacle.
“This Royal Visit to Scotland,” said Sparkle, “has for some time past been a prevailing topic of discussion from one end of the Land of Cakes to the other, and the preparations for his Majesty's reception are of the most splendid description—triumphal arches are to be erected, new roads to be made, banquets to be given, general illuminations to take place, body guards of royal archers to be appointed, and the dull light of oil lamps to be totally obscured by the full blaze of Royal Gas. Then there are to be meetings of the civil and municipal authorities from every town and county, presenting loyal and dutiful addresses; and it is expected that there will be so much booing among the “Carle's when the King's come,” that the oilmen are said to be not a whit disconcerted at the introduction of gas lights, the unctuous article being at present in great demand, for the purpose of suppling the stiff joints of the would-be courtiers, who have resolved to give a characteristic specimen of their humble loyalty, and to oulboo all the hooings of the famed Sir Pertinax.”
“This Royal Visit to Scotland,” said Sparkle, “has been a hot topic of conversation from one end of the Land of Cakes to the other for quite a while, and the preparations for His Majesty's reception are truly spectacular—triumphal arches will be built, new roads will be paved, banquets will be held, general illuminations will occur, bodyguards of royal archers will be appointed, and the dim light of oil lamps will be completely overshadowed by the bright glow of Royal Gas. There will also be meetings of civil and municipal authorities from every town and county, presenting loyal and dutiful addresses; and it's expected that there will be so much booing among the ‘Carle’s when the King arrives’ that the oilmen are reportedly not worried at all about the introduction of gas lights, as the greasy product is currently in high demand to help ease the stiff joints of the would-be courtiers, who have decided to show a characteristic example of their humble loyalty and to outboo all the cheers for the famous Sir Pertinax.”
“However,” observed Dashall, “it is not very likely they will be able to equal the grace with which it is acknowledged the King can bow; and he is to be accompanied by the accomplished Sir Billy, of City notoriety; so that admirable examples are certain of being presented to the Scottish gentry: reports state [380] that the worthy Baronet, who is considered to be of great weight wherever he goes, is determined to afford his Majesty, in this visit to Edinburgh, the benefit of that preponderating loyalty which he last year threw into the scale of the Dublin Corporation; and that he has recently purchased from a Highland tailor in the Hay market, a complete suit of tartan, philebeg, &c. with which he means to invest himself, as the appropriate costume, to meet his royal master on his arrival at Edinburgh.”
“However,” Dashall noted, “it’s pretty unlikely they’ll be able to match the grace with which everyone agrees the King can bow; plus, he’ll be joined by the talented Sir Billy, known around the City; so we can definitely expect some impressive examples to be shown to the Scottish gentry. Reports say [380] that the esteemed Baronet, who is seen as significant wherever he goes, is set on showing his Majesty, during this visit to Edinburgh, the kind of overwhelming loyalty he previously offered the Dublin Corporation last year; and that he has recently bought a complete tartan outfit, including a philebeg, from a Highland tailor in Haymarket, which he plans to wear as the fitting attire to greet his royal master upon his arrival in Edinburgh.”
“In that case,” said Sparkle, “there is one circumstance greatly to be regretted, considering the gratification which our northern neighbours might have derived, from ascertaining the precise number of cwts. of the most weighty of London citizens. I remember reading a day or two back that the weigh-house of the City of Edinburgh was disposed of by public roup, and that a number of workmen were immediately employed to take it down, as the whole must be cleared away by the 6th of August, under a penalty of 50L.: what a pity, that in the annals of the weigh-house, the Scotch could not have registered the actual weight of the greatest of London Aldermen.”
“In that case,” said Sparkle, “there's one thing we really regret, considering how much our northern neighbors might have enjoyed finding out the exact number of hundredweights of the heaviest London citizens. I remember reading a day or two ago that the weigh-house in the City of Edinburgh was sold off at public auction, and that a bunch of workers were immediately hired to take it down, since everything has to be cleared out by August 6th, or there’s a £50 penalty: what a shame that in the history of the weigh-house, the Scots couldn’t have recorded the actual weight of the largest of London’s Aldermen.”
Tom and Bob laughed heartily at their friend Sparkle's anticipations respecting the worthy Baronet; while Bob dryly remarked, “he should think Sir Willie would prove himself a honnie lad among the lasses O; and nae doubt he would cut a braw figure in his Highland suit.”
Tom and Bob laughed loudly at their friend Sparkle's hopes about the respectable Baronet; meanwhile, Bob commented dryly, "You'd think Sir Willie would be a great guy with the ladies, and no doubt he would look dashing in his Highland outfit."
“But,” continued Dashall, “we are indulging in visions of fancy, without paying that attention to the scene around us which it deserves, and I perceive we are approaching Greenwich Hospital. There is the royal yacht ready prepared for the occasion; the shores are already crowded with company, and the boats and barges are contending for eligible situations to view the embarkation. There is the floating chapel; and a little further on to the right is the Marine Society's School-ship, for the education of young lads for his Majesty's service. The Hospital now presents a grand and interesting appearance. What say you, suppose we land at the Three Crowns, and make inquiry as to the likely time of his Majesty's departure.”
“But,” Dashall continued, “we're getting lost in our imaginations without really paying attention to the scene around us, which deserves it. I can see we're getting close to Greenwich Hospital. Look, there's the royal yacht prepared for the occasion; the shores are already packed with people, and the boats and barges are fighting for good spots to watch the embarkation. There’s the floating chapel, and a little further to the right is the Marine Society's school ship, which trains young boys for His Majesty's service. The Hospital looks really grand and interesting right now. What do you think? Should we dock at the Three Crowns and ask about when His Majesty is expected to leave?”
“With all my heart,” replied Sparkle, “and we can then refresh, for I am not exactly used to water excursions, and particularly so early in the morning, consequently it has a good effect on the appetite.”
“Absolutely,” replied Sparkle, “and then we can grab a bite to eat, since I’m not really used to water outings, especially this early in the morning, so it really helps with my appetite.”
[381] By this time the City Barges had taken positions in the front of the Hospital, and our party passed them to gain the proposed place of inquiry: here, however, all was conjecture; the people of Greenwich Hospital appeared to know as little of the time appointed as those of the metropolis; and finding they had little chance of accommodation in consequence of the great influx of company, they again embarked, and shortly after attacked the produce of their locker, and with an excellent tongue and a glass of Madeira, regaled themselves sufficiently to wait the arrival. Time, however, hung heavily on their hands, though they had a view of thousands much worse situated than themselves, and could only contemplate the scene with astonishment, that serious mischiefs did not accrue, from the immense congregated multitude by which they were surrounded.
[381] By this point, the City Barges had taken positions in front of the Hospital, and our group passed them to reach the intended spot of investigation. However, here everything was uncertain; the people at Greenwich Hospital seemed to know as little about the scheduled time as those in the city. Realizing they had little chance of finding accommodations due to the large number of visitors, they boarded their boats again. Shortly after, they opened their supplies and, with some good food and a glass of Madeira, treated themselves well enough to wait for their arrival. Time, however, dragged on, even though they could see thousands of people in situations much worse than their own. They could only watch in amazement that serious problems didn’t arise from the massive crowd surrounding them.
Anxiety and anticipation were almost exhausted, and had nearly given place to despondency, when about three o'clock the extraordinary bustle on shore announced the certainty of the expected event being about to take place; and in about half an hour after, they were gratified by seeing his Majesty descend the steps of the Hospital, attended by the noblemen, &c. under a royal salute, and rowed to the vessel prepared to receive him. The royal standard was immediately hoisted, and away sailed the King, amidst the heartfelt congratulations and good wishes of his affectionate and loyal people, the firing of cannon, the ringing of bells, and every other demonstration of a lively interest in his safety and welfare: leaving many to conjecture the feelings with which the heart must be impressed of a person so honoured and attended, we shall select a few descriptive lines from the pen of a literary gentleman, in his opinion the most likely to be expressive of the sentiments entertained on the occasion.
Anxiety and anticipation were almost drained, and had nearly turned into hopelessness, when around three o'clock, the unusual hustle on shore confirmed that the expected event was about to happen; and about half an hour later, they were pleased to see His Majesty come down the steps of the Hospital, accompanied by noblemen, etc., under a royal salute, and rowed to the ship waiting for him. The royal standard was immediately raised, and off sailed the King, amidst the heartfelt congratulations and good wishes of his loving and loyal subjects, the sound of cannon fire, the ringing of bells, and every other sign of genuine concern for his safety and well-being. While many speculated about the feelings of someone so honored and attended, we will share a few descriptive lines from a writer who, in his view, is best able to express the sentiments felt during this event.
The gay assemblage before them, and the ceremony of the embarkation, the sound of music, and the shouts of the populace, and animated appearance of the river, which by this time seemed all in motion, amply repaid our friends for the time they had waited; and after watching the departure of the Royal Squadron, they returned to town; and as they passed the London Docks, it occurred to the mind of the Hon. Tom Dashall, that his Cousin had not yet paid a visit to these highly interesting productions of human genius; and it was agreed that a day should be devoted to their inspection before his departure from the Metropolis.
The colorful gathering in front of them, the departure ceremony, the music, the cheers from the crowd, and the lively river, which seemed to be in constant motion, made it all worth it for our friends after their wait. After watching the Royal Squadron set off, they headed back to the city. As they passed the London Docks, the Hon. Tom Dashall thought about how his cousin had yet to check out these fascinating feats of human creativity. They all agreed to dedicate a day to explore them before his cousin left the city.
CHAPTER XXIX
[383] According to arrangements previously made, our friends met in the morning with a determination to shape their course eastward, in order to take a survey of the Commercial Docks for the accommodation of shipping, and the furtherance of trade; and the carriage being ordered, they were quickly on their way towards Blackwall.
[383] As planned, our friends met in the morning with the intention of heading east to check out the Commercial Docks for shipping needs and to boost trade; with transport arranged, they were soon on their way to Blackwall.
“The Docks of the Port of London,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “are of the highest importance in a commercial point of view, and are among the prominent curiosities of British Commerce, as they greatly facilitate trade, and afford additional security to the merchants.”
“The Docks of the Port of London,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall, “are extremely important for commerce and are one of the key highlights of British trade, as they significantly help facilitate trade and provide extra security for merchants.”
“Yes,” said Sparkle, “and it is to be presumed, no small profit to the share-holders of the Companies by which they were established; but I expect your Cousin will derive more gratification from a sight of the places themselves, than from any description we can give, and the time to explain will be when we arrive on the spot; for it is scarcely possible for any one to conceive the immensity of buildings they contain, or the regularity with which the business is carried on.—” How do ye do?” (thrusting his head out of the window, and moving his hand with graceful familiarity,)—“I have not seen Sir Frederick since my matrimonial trip, and now he has passed by on horseback I really believe without seeing me; Dashall, you remember Sir Frederick Forcewit?”
“Yes,” said Sparkle, “and it’s safe to say that the shareholders of the companies that created them are making a nice profit. But I think your cousin will get more joy from actually seeing the places than from any description we can give, and we can explain things better once we get there. It’s hard for anyone to truly understand the scale of the buildings or how smoothly everything operates.” —“How are you?” (he said, sticking his head out of the window and waving his hand in a friendly way) —“I haven’t seen Sir Frederick since my wedding trip, and now that he just rode by on horseback, I don’t think he even noticed me. Dashall, you remember Sir Frederick Forcewit?”
“Perfectly well,” replied Tom; “but I was paying so much attention to you, that I did not notice him. The liveliest fellow, except yourself, in the whole round of my acquaintance.”
“Absolutely,” replied Tom; “but I was so focused on you that I didn’t notice him. He’s the most vibrant person I know, apart from you.”
[384] “And you are one of the best I ever met with to gain a point by a good turn; but take it, and make the most you can of it—I may have an opportunity of paying you off in your own coin.”
[384] “And you're one of the best I've ever met at getting ahead with a favor; but go ahead, and make the most of it—I might get a chance to return the favor.”
Tallyho laughed heartily at the manner in which Sparkle had altogether changed the conversation, but could not help remarking that Sir Frederick had not given a specimen of his politeness, by avoiding a return of Sparkle's salutation.
Tallyho laughed loudly at how Sparkle had completely changed the topic, but couldn’t help pointing out that Sir Frederick hadn’t shown his politeness by not replying to Sparkle's greeting.
“And yet,” continued Sparkle, “he is one of the most polished men I know, notwithstanding I think his upper story is not a bit too well furnished: he has a handsome fortune, and a pretty wife, who would indeed be a lovely woman, but for an affectation of manners which she assumed upon coming to the title of Lady Forcewit: their parties are of the most dashing order, and all the rank and fashion of the metropolis visit their mansion.”
“And yet,” continued Sparkle, “he’s one of the most refined guys I know, even though I think his intellect could use some improvement: he has a good fortune and a beautiful wife, who would truly be a stunning woman if it weren’t for the pretentious behavior she adopted when she became Lady Forcewit. Their parties are incredibly fashionable, and all the elite and trendy folks in the city come to their house.”
Sparkle, who was in his usual humour for conversation and description, now entertained his friends with the following account of a party with whom he had spent an evening just previous to his departure from town.
Sparkle, in his typical mood for chatting and storytelling, now shared with his friends the following account of a party he had spent an evening with just before leaving town.
“Mrs. Stepswift is the widow lady of a dancing-master, who having acquired some little property previous to his decease, left his partner in possession of his wealth and two daughters, though the provision for their education and support was but scanty. The mother had the good luck a few years after to add to her stock ten thousand pounds by a prize in the lottery, a circumstance which afforded her additional opportunities of indulging her passion for dress, which she did not fail to inculcate in her daughters, who, though not handsome, were rather pleasing and agreeable girls; and since the good fortune to which I have alluded, she has usually given a ball by way of introduction to company, and with the probable view, (as they are now marriageable), to secure them husbands. It was on one of these occasions that I was invited, and as I knew but one of the party, I had an excellent opportunity of making my uninterrupted remarks.”
“Mrs. Stepswift is the widow of a dance teacher who had saved up some money before he passed away, leaving her with his wealth and two daughters, even though the funds for their education and support were pretty limited. A few years later, she got lucky and won ten thousand pounds in the lottery, which gave her more chances to indulge her love for fashion—a passion she made sure to pass on to her daughters. Although they weren’t conventionally beautiful, they were quite pleasant and charming. Since her good fortune, she typically hosted a ball to introduce them to society, likely hoping to help them find husbands now that they're of marrying age. It was at one of these events that I received an invitation, and since I only knew one person there, I had the perfect chance to share my unfiltered thoughts.”
“Then,” said Dashall, “I'll wager my life you acted the part of an observant quiz.”
“Then,” said Dashall, “I bet my life you played the role of a keen observer.”
“And I should think you would be likely to win,” observed Tallyho.
“And I think you have a good chance of winning,” Tallyho remarked.
[385] “I am bound to consider myself obliged,” continued Sparkle, “for the bold construction you are kind enough to put upon my character and conduct by your observations; but never mind, I am not to be intimidated by the firing of a pop-gun, or a flash in the pan, therefore I shall proceed. Upon my introduction I found the widow playing a rubber with a punchy parson, a lean doctor, and a half-pay officer in the Guards; and consequently taking a friend I knew by the arm, I strolled through the rooms, which were spacious and well furnished. In the ball-room I found numerous couples 'tripping it on the light fantastic toe,' to the tune of 'I'll gang no more to yon town,' and displaying a very considerable portion of grace and agility. In the other room devoted to refreshments and cards, I met with several strollers like myself, who being without partners, or not choosing to dance with such as they could obtain, were lounging away their time near the centre of the room. I was introduced to the two young ladies, who behaved with the utmost politeness and attention, though I could easily perceive there was a considerable portion of affectation mingled with their manners; and I soon discovered that they operated as the load-stone of attraction to several dandy-like beaux who were continually flocking around them.
[385] “I feel obligated,” Sparkle continued, “for the flattering way you interpret my character and actions based on your observations; but never mind, I won’t be intimidated by a pop-gun or a flash in the pan, so I’ll carry on. Upon my arrival, I found the widow in a card game with a slick parson, a skinny doctor, and a retired officer from the Guards. So, I took a friend I recognized by the arm and strolled through the spacious, well-furnished rooms. In the ballroom, I saw numerous couples dancing lightly to the tune of ‘I’ll gang no more to yon town,’ showing a good deal of grace and agility. In the other room set up for refreshments and cards, I encountered a few other guys like me who, lacking partners or not wanting to dance with those available, were just hanging out near the center of the room. I was introduced to two young ladies who were extremely polite and attentive, although I could easily tell there was a fair amount of affectation in their behavior; and I soon noticed that they attracted several dandy-like suitors who were constantly circling them.
?"My dear Miss Eliza,' said a pug-nosed dandy, whom I afterwards understood to be a jeweller's shopman, 'may I be allowed the superlative honor and happiness of attending you down the next dance?' The manner in which this was spoken, with a drawling lisp, and the unmeaning attitude of the speaker, which was any thing but natural, provoked my risibility almost beyond forbearance; his bushy head, the fall of his cape, and the awkward stick-out of his coat, which was buttoned tight round his waist; the drop of his quizzing glass from his bosom, and the opera hat in his hand, formed altogether as curious a figure as I ever recollect to have seen; though my eyes were immediately directed to another almost as grotesque, by the young lady herself, who informed the applicant that she had engaged herself with Captain Scrambleton, and could not avail herself of his intended honor; while the captain himself, with a mincing gait, little compatible with the line of life to which it was to be presumed he was attached, was advancing and eyeing the would-be rival with all the apparent accuracy of a military scrutiny. The contrast of the two figures is [386] inconceivable—the supplicating beau on the one hand, half double, in the attitude of solicitation, and the upright position of the exquisite militaire, casting a suspicious look of self-importance on the other, were irresistible. I was obliged to turn on one side to prevent discovering my impulse to laughter. The captain, I have since learned, turned out to be a broken-down blackleg, seeking to patch up a diminished fortune by a matrimonial alliance, in which he was only foiled by a discovery just time enough to prevent his design upon Miss Eliza.”
"My dear Miss Eliza," said a pug-nosed dandy, who I later learned was a jeweler's shop assistant, "may I have the absolute honor and pleasure of accompanying you for the next dance?" The way he spoke, with a drawn-out lisp, and his totally unrealistic posture made me want to laugh almost uncontrollably; his bushy hair, the way his cape fell, and the awkward way his coat stuck out, tightly buttoned around his waist, formed a picture that was one of the oddest I had ever seen. Just then, my attention was drawn to another equally strange sight: the young lady herself told the suitor that she was already engaged to Captain Scrambleton and could not accept his offer. Meanwhile, the captain, with a dainty walk that didn't quite match the military life he was supposed to lead, approached, sizing up the would-be rival as if he were under military inspection. The contrast between the two was unbelievable—on one side, the begging dandy, half-bent in a pleading stance, and on the other, the upright figure of the dapper soldier, casting a self-important, suspicious look—was too much. I had to turn away to hide my amusement. I later found out that the captain was actually a failed gambler trying to restore his lost fortune through marriage, only to be thwarted just in time to prevent his scheme with Miss Eliza.
“Mere butterflies,” exclaimed Dashall, “that flutter for a time in sunshine with golden wings, to entrap attention, while the rays fall upon them, and then are seen no more! but I always like your descriptions, although you are usually severe.”
“Mere butterflies,” exclaimed Dashall, “that flit around in the sunlight with their golden wings, to grab attention while the rays shine on them, and then they disappear! But I always enjoy your descriptions, even though you’re usually harsh.”
“As soon as I could recover my solemnity, I found a little gentleman, who reminded me strongly of cunning little Isaac in the Duenna, advancing towards Miss Amelia with true dancing-master-like precision. I soon discovered, by her holding up her fan at his approach, that she held him in utter aversion, and found he received a reply very derogatory to his wishes; when stepping up to her by the introduction of my friend, I succeeded m obtaining her hand for the dance, to the great mortification and discomfiture of Mr. O'Liltwell, who was no other than an Irish dancing-master in miniature. There is always room enough for observation and conjecture upon such occasions. There were, however, other characters in the rooms more particularly deserving of notice. In one corner I found Lord Anundrum, the ex-amateur director, m close conversation with Mr. Splitlungs, a great tragedian, and Tom Little, the great poet, on the subject of a new piece written by the latter, and presented for acceptance to the former by. Mr. Splitlungs, the intermediate friend of both. I discovered the title of this master-piece of dramatic literature to be no other than 'The Methodical Madman, or Bedlam besieged.' A little further on sat Dr. Staggerwit, who passes for a universal genius: he is a great chemist, and a still greater gourmand, moreover a musician, has a hand in the leading Reviews, a share m the most prominent of the daily papers; is president of several learned institutions, over the threshold of which he has never passed, and an honorary member of others which have long been defunct: he appeared to be absorbed in contemplation, and taking but little notice of the gaieties by which he was surrounded. My friend informed me he was just then endeavouring to bring before Parliament his coup de maître, which was a process for extracting a nourishing diet for the poor from oyster shells.”
“As soon as I could regain my composure, I saw a little gentleman who strongly reminded me of the sly Isaac from The Duenna, approaching Miss Amelia with the precise elegance of a dance instructor. I quickly realized, by the way she raised her fan as he came near, that she utterly disliked him. He received a response that was quite disappointing to his hopes; then, stepping up to her with the help of my friend, I managed to get her hand for a dance, much to the dismay and embarrassment of Mr. O’Liltwell, who was actually a tiny Irish dance teacher. There’s always ample opportunity for observation and speculation in such situations. However, there were other noteworthy characters in the room. In one corner, I found Lord Anundrum, the former amateur director, deep in conversation with Mr. Splitlungs, a prominent tragedian, and Tom Little, the celebrated poet, discussing a new play written by the latter and presented for approval by Mr. Splitlungs, who was the mutual friend of both. I discovered that the title of this dramatic masterpiece was none other than 'The Methodical Madman, or Bedlam Besieged.' A bit further away sat Dr. Staggerwit, who is regarded as a universal genius: a skilled chemist, an even greater food enthusiast, a musician, a contributor to leading reviews, a writer for the most prominent daily papers, the president of several learned institutions he has never attended, and an honorary member of others that have long ceased to exist. He seemed completely absorbed in thought, hardly paying attention to the festivities around him. My friend told me he was currently trying to present his coup de maître to Parliament, which was a method for extracting a nutritious diet for the poor from oyster shells.”
[387] “What the devil is the matter?” exclaimed Dashall, thrusting his head out of the carriage window upon hearing a sudden crash.
[387] “What on earth is going on?” exclaimed Dashall, poking his head out of the car window upon hearing a sudden crash.
“Matter enough, your honour,” bawled an athletic Irishman in the habit of a sailor; “by the powers, here's Peg Pimpleface, the costermonger's great grand-daughter, at sea without a rudder or compass, upset in a squall, and run bump ashore; and may I be chained to the toplights if I think either crew or cargo can be saved.”
“Matter enough, your honor,” shouted an athletic Irishman dressed like a sailor; “by the powers, here’s Peg Pimpleface, the costermonger’s great-granddaughter, at sea without a rudder or compass, caught in a storm, and run aground; and I swear I’d rather be chained to the mast if I think either the crew or the cargo can be saved.”
It appeared that Peg Pimpleface had been round Poplar, Limehouse, and their vicinities, to sell her cargo of greens, potatoes, and other vegetables; and having met with tolerable success, she had refreshed herself a little too freely with the juniper, and driving her donkey-cart towards Whitechapel, with a short pipe in her mouth, had dropped from her seat among the remains of her herbage, leaving her donkey to the uncontrolled selection of his way home. A Blackwall stage, on the way to its place of destination, had, by a sudden jerk against one of the wheels of Peg's crazy vehicle, separated the shafts from the body of the cart, and the donkey being thus unexpectedly disengaged from his load, made the best of his bargain, by starting at full speed with the shafts at his heels, while the cart, by the violence of the concussion, lay in the road completely topsy turvey; consequently Tom looked in vain for the fair sufferer who lay under it.
It seemed that Peg Pimpleface had been around Poplar, Limehouse, and nearby areas to sell her load of greens, potatoes, and other vegetables. Having had decent success, she had indulged a bit too much in the gin, and while driving her donkey cart toward Whitechapel, with a short pipe in her mouth, she tumbled from her seat among the leftover vegetables, leaving her donkey to find its own way home. A Blackwall bus, on its route to its destination, had suddenly bumped into one of the wheels of Peg's rickety cart, separating the shafts from the cart's body. With the donkey unexpectedly freed from his load, he took off at full speed, dragging the shafts behind him, while the cart lay completely overturned in the road due to the force of the impact. As a result, Tom searched in vain for the unfortunate Peg, who was trapped underneath.
“Poor Peg,” continued the Irishman, “by the powers, if her nose comes too near the powder magazine, the whole concarn will blow up; and as I don't think she is insured, I'll be after lending her a helping hand; “and with this, setting his shoulders to the shattered machine, at one effort he restored it to its proper position, and made a discovery of Peg Pimpleface, with her ruby features close to a bunch of turnips, the whiteness of which served to heighten in no small degree their effect: the fall, however, had not left her in the most delicate situation for public inspection; the latter part of her person presenting itself bare, save and except that a bunch of carrots appeared to have sympathized in her misfortune, and [388] kindly overshadowed her brawny posteriors. As she lay perfectly motionless, it was at first conjectured that poor Peg was no longer a living inhabitant of this world: it was, however, soon ascertained that this was not the fact, for the Hibernian, after removing the vegetables, and adjusting her clothes, took her up in his arms, and carried her with true Irish hospitality to a neighbouring public-house, where seating her, she opened her eyes, which being black, shone like two stars over the red protuberance of her face.
“Poor Peg,” continued the Irishman, “if her nose gets too close to the powder magazine, everything will blow up; and since I don’t think she’s insured, I’ll give her a helping hand.” With that, he pushed against the broken machine and, in one effort, got it back to its original position. He then discovered Peg Pimpleface, with her red face nearly touching a bunch of turnips, whose whiteness only highlighted her features even more. The fall, however, had left her in a pretty humiliating position for anyone to see; the lower part of her body was mostly exposed, except for a bunch of carrots that seemed to have joined in her misfortune, conveniently covering her muscular backside. As she lay completely still, it was initially thought that poor Peg might no longer be alive. However, it soon became clear that wasn’t the case because the Irishman, after removing the vegetables and adjusting her clothes, picked her up and carried her with genuine Irish hospitality to a nearby pub. Once seated, she opened her eyes, which were dark and sparkled like two stars above the red roundness of her face.
“By J———s,” says Pat, “Peg's a brilliant of the first water; give her a glass of max, and she'll be herself in two minutes:” at the sound of this, animation was almost instantaneously restored, and Tom and his friends having ascertained that she had sustained no bodily harm, gave the generous Irishman a reward for his attentions, jumped into the carriage, and proceeded on their journey.
“By J———s,” says Pat, “Peg's a real gem; give her a glass of max, and she'll be back to herself in no time.” At this, her spirits were almost instantly lifted, and after Tom and his friends confirmed that she was physically fine, they gave the kind Irishman a reward for his help, hopped into the carriage, and continued on their way.
They were not long on their journey to Black wall; where having arrived, the first object of attention was the East India Docks, to which they were introduced by Mr. M. an acquaintance of Dashall's.
They didn’t take long on their trip to Blackwall; upon arriving, the first thing that caught their attention was the East India Docks, which they were shown by Mr. M., a friend of Dashall's.
“These Docks,” said Tom to his Cousin, “are a noble series of works, well worthy of the Company which produced them, though they generally excite less interest than the West India Docks, which are not far distant, and of which we shall also have a sight.”
“These Docks,” Tom said to his cousin, “are an impressive series of structures, truly deserving of the company that built them, even though they usually attract less interest than the nearby West India Docks, which we'll also see.”
“It should be remembered,” observed Mr. M. “that these docks are solely appropriated to the safe riding of East Indiamen. The import dock is 1410 feet long, 560 wide, and 30 feet deep, covering an area of 18 acres and a half. The export dock is 780 feet long, 520 feet wide, and 30 feet deep, covering nine acres and a half, with good wharf, and warehouse room for loading and unloading.”
“It’s important to remember,” Mr. M noted. “that these docks are exclusively for the safe docking of East Indiamen. The import dock is 1,410 feet long, 560 feet wide, and 30 feet deep, covering an area of 18 and a half acres. The export dock is 780 feet long, 520 feet wide, and 30 feet deep, covering 9 and a half acres, with a solid wharf and warehouse space for loading and unloading.”
“Pray,” said Bob, “what are those immense caravans, do they belong to the shew-folk, the collectors of wild beasts and curiosities for exhibition at the fair? or———”
“Pray,” said Bob, “what are those huge caravans? Do they belong to the show people, the ones who gather wild animals and curiosities for display at the fair? Or———”
“They are vehicles of considerable utility, Sir,” replied Mr. M.; “for by means of those covered waggons, all the goods and merchandize of the East India Company are conveyed to and from their warehouses in town, under lock and key, so as to prevent fraud and smuggling. They are very capacious, and although they have a heavy and cumbrous appearance, they move along the road [389] with more celerity than may be imagined; and the high wall with which the docks are surrounded, prevents the possibility of any serious peculation being carried on within them. The Company are paid by a tonnage duty, which they charge to the owners. Coopers, carpenters, and blacksmiths, are continually employed in repairing the packages of goods, landing, and snipping; and a numerous party of labourers are at all times engaged in conveying the merchandize to and from the shipping, by which means hundreds of families are provided for. The Company is established by Act of Parliament, and for the convenience of the merchants they have an office for the transaction of business in town.”
“They are very practical vehicles, Sir,” replied Mr. M.; “because those covered wagons transport all the goods and merchandise of the East India Company to and from their warehouses in the city, securely locked up to prevent fraud and smuggling. They are quite spacious, and even though they look heavy and bulky, they move along the road [389] faster than you might think; and the high wall surrounding the docks makes it impossible for any major theft to happen inside. The Company collects a tonnage fee, which they charge to the owners. Coopers, carpenters, and blacksmiths are always busy repairing the packages, unloading, and trimming; and a large group of laborers is constantly engaged in moving the merchandise to and from the ships, which supports hundreds of families. The Company is established by Act of Parliament, and to assist the merchants, they have a business office in town.”
“It is a very extensive concern,” said Tallyho, “and is doubtless of very great utility.”
“It’s a really big issue,” said Tallyho, “and it’s definitely very useful.”
Having satisfied themselves by looking over these extensive works, Mr. M. informed them, that adjoining the Docks was a ship-building yard, formerly well known as Perry's Yard, but now the property of Sir Robert Wigram. “Probably you would like to take a view round it.”
Having checked out these extensive works, Mr. M. told them that next to the Docks was a shipbuilding yard, once known as Perry's Yard, but now owned by Sir Robert Wigram. “You probably want to take a look around it.”
To this having replied in the affirmative, they were quickly introduced.
Having agreed to this, they were quickly introduced.
“Sir Robert,” said Mr. M. “has been, and I believe still is, a considerable managing owner of East India Shipping, whose fortune appears to have advanced as his family increased, and perhaps few men have deserved better success; he was born at Wexford, in Ireland, in the year 1744, and was brought up under his father to the profession of a surgeon: he left Ireland early in life, to pursue his studies in England, and afterwards obtained an appointment as surgeon of an East Indiaman, and remained some years in the service: he married Miss Broadhurst, the youngest daughter of Francis Broadhurst, of Mansfield, in Nottinghamshire, an eminent tanner and maltster; soon after which he commenced his career as owner of East India Shipping. The General Goddard, commanded by William Taylor Money, Esq. sailed under his management, and was fortunate enough during the voyage to capture eight Dutch East Indiamen, of considerable value, off St. Helena; since which he has been one of the most eminent ship-owners in the City of London.”
“Sir Robert,” said Mr. M., “has been, and I believe still is, a significant owner and manager of East India Shipping, whose wealth seems to have grown as his family expanded, and few people have deserved success more than he has. He was born in Wexford, Ireland, in 1744, and was raised by his father to become a surgeon. He left Ireland early in life to continue his studies in England, and later got a job as a surgeon on an East Indiaman, serving for several years. He married Miss Broadhurst, the youngest daughter of Francis Broadhurst, an accomplished tanner and maltster from Mansfield in Nottinghamshire. Soon after that, he started his journey as an owner of East India Shipping. The General Goddard, commanded by William Taylor Money, Esq., sailed under his management and was fortunate enough to capture eight Dutch East Indiamen of significant value off St. Helena during the voyage. Since then, he has become one of the most prominent shipowners in the City of London.”
[390] “A proof,” said Sparkle, “of the advantages to be derived from perseverance, and the active exercise of an intelligent mind.”
[390] “This is proof,” said Sparkle, “of the benefits that come from perseverance and actively using a smart mind.”
“His first wife,” continued the informant, “died in the year 1786, leaving him five children; and in the following year he married Miss Eleanor Watts, daughter of John Watts, Esq. of Southampton, many years Secretary to the Victualling Office, who is the present Lady Wigram, the benevolence of whose heart, and gentleness of manners, have not only endeared her to her husband, but gained her the esteem and regard of all who know her, and by this lady he has had seventeen children.”
“His first wife,” the informant continued, “died in 1786, leaving him with five children. The following year, he married Miss Eleanor Watts, the daughter of John Watts, Esq. of Southampton, who was for many years the Secretary to the Victualling Office. She is now Lady Wigram, and her kindness and gentle nature have not only made her beloved by her husband but have also earned her the respect and admiration of everyone who knows her. Together, they have had seventeen children.”
“Zounds!” said Bob, “a man ought to have a mine of wealth to support such a numerous progeny.”
“Wow!” said Bob, “a guy should have a ton of money to support such a big family.”
“They are, however, all of them well provided for; and Sir Robert has the happiness, at an advanced age, to find himself the father of a happy family; he rejoices once a year to have them all seated at his own table; and has in many instances surprised his friends by an introduction. It is related, that a gentleman from the Isle of Wight met him near the Exchange, and after mutual salutations were passed, he invited the gentleman to dine with him, by whom an excuse was offered, as he was not equipped for appearing at his table. 'Nonsense,' said Sir Robert, 'you must dine with me; and I can assure you there will be only my own family present, so come along.' Guess the surprise of his visitor, on being introduced to a large party of ladies and gentlemen. He was confused and embarrassed. He begged pardon, and would have retired, declaring that Sir Robert had informed him that none but his own family were to be present. This Sir R. affirmed he had strictly adhered to, and introduced his friend to his sons and daughters by name, which it may fairly be presumed, though it explained, did not exactly tend to decrease his visitor's embarrassment.”
“They are, however, all well taken care of; and Sir Robert has the joy, at an older age, of finding himself the father of a happy family. He looks forward once a year to having them all gathered at his table; and he has often surprised his friends with introductions. It’s said that a gentleman from the Isle of Wight ran into him near the Exchange, and after exchanging greetings, he invited the gentleman to dinner, to which the gentleman declined, saying he wasn’t properly dressed for the occasion. 'Nonsense,' said Sir Robert, 'you have to join me; I can assure you there will only be my own family present, so come on.' Imagine the surprise of his guest when he was introduced to a large gathering of ladies and gentlemen. He felt confused and awkward. He apologized and tried to leave, insisting that Sir Robert had told him only his family would be there. Sir Robert insisted he had strictly stuck to that, and he introduced his friend to his sons and daughters by name, which, while informative, certainly didn’t help ease his guest’s embarrassment.”
“And these premises,” inquired Bob, “belong to the man you have described?”
“And these premises,” asked Bob, “belong to the man you described?”
“The same,” said Mr. M.; “they are managed and conducted under the superintendence of two of his sons. Here, East India ships are built, launched, and repaired: there are two on the stocks now of considerable magnitude; the premises are extensive and commodious, and that high building which you see is a mast-house, and the other buildings about the yard are devoted to sail lofts, and shops for the various artizans, requisite to complete the [391] grand design of building and fitting out a ship for sea. From this yard you have a fine view over the marshes towards Woolwich, and also a commanding prospect of Greenwich Hospital. The various vessels and boats passing and repassing at all times, give variety to the scene before you; and when a launch takes place, the whole neighbourhood represents something of the nature of a carnival; the river is covered with boats filled with company, and every part of the shore near the spot from which the magnificent piece of mechanism is to burst upon its native element, is equally occupied; temporary booths are erected upon each side of what is termed the cradle, for the accommodation of invited visitors; bands play as she moves, and a bottle of wine is thrown at her head as she glides from the stocks, when her name is pronounced amidst the universal shouts of huzza.”
“The same,” said Mr. M.; “they're run and managed by two of his sons. Here, East India ships are built, launched, and repaired: there are two large ones under construction right now; the premises are spacious and well-equipped, and that tall building you see is a mast-house, while the other buildings around the yard are used for sail lofts and workshops for the various craftsmen needed to complete the [391] grand plan of building and preparing a ship for the sea. From this yard, you have a great view over the marshes towards Woolwich, and you can also see Greenwich Hospital from here. The different vessels and boats passing by all the time add variety to the scene in front of you; and when a launch happens, the whole neighborhood feels like a carnival; the river fills up with boats carrying people, and every part of the shore near where the stunning piece of machinery is about to splash into its natural element is packed as well; temporary stalls are set up on each side of what’s called the cradle for the comfort of invited guests; bands play as it moves, and a bottle of wine is tossed at its bow as it slides off the stocks, while its name is called out amidst the loud cheers.”
“It must be a most gratifying sight,” observed Bob, “to see her cleave the watery world; indeed it is a very pleasing view we have already had of these floating castles, though I must also remark, that your descriptions have added greatly to the enjoyment, and I think we are much indebted for your kindness.”
“It must be a really satisfying sight,” Bob remarked, “to see her slice through the water; it’s truly a lovely view we've already had of these floating castles, though I also have to say that your descriptions have greatly enhanced the experience, and I believe we owe you a lot for your kindness.”
They now parted with Mr. M.; and after refreshing with a glass of wine and a sandwich at the Plough, they proceeded to the West India Docks, the entrance to which required no introduction. “Here,” said Dashall, “you will find a much longer space occupied than at the East India Docks. These were undertaken according to an Act of Parliament passed in 1799, and the place was formerly called the Isle of Dogs, though it might almost as appropriately have been called the Isle of Boys. Upon the wharfs and quays adjoining, all West India ships unload and load their cargoes.”
They said goodbye to Mr. M. and after grabbing a glass of wine and a sandwich at the Plough, they headed to the West India Docks, which didn’t need any introduction. “Here,” Dashall said, “you'll see a lot more space used than at the East India Docks. These were established under an Act of Parliament passed in 1799, and the area used to be called the Isle of Dogs, though it could just as easily have been named the Isle of Boys. All the West India ships unload and load their cargoes on the wharfs and quays nearby.”
“And exclusively, I suppose,” interrogated Tallyho, “for the accommodation of West India Shipping?”
"And just for the convenience of West India Shipping, I guess?" Tallyho asked.
“Exactly so,” continued Tom; “the West India Trade generally arrives in fleets, and formerly used to create much crowding, confusion, and damage in the river; but these ships being now disposed of in the docks, the overgrown trade of the port is carried on with pleasure and convenience; for notwithstanding they have occasioned a very important trade to be removed to a considerable and even inconvenient distance from the metropolis, yet the advantages to the Port of London are upon the whole incalculable.
“Exactly,” Tom continued, “the West India Trade usually comes in fleets, which used to cause a lot of crowding, confusion, and damage in the river. But now that these ships are docked, the booming trade in the port operates smoothly and comfortably. Even though this has caused a significant trade to move to a considerable and sometimes inconvenient distance from the city, the overall benefits to the Port of London are immeasurable.”
[392] “The Northern Dock for unloading inwards is 2600 by 510 feet, and 29 feet deep, covering a space of 30 acres, and capable of containing from two to three hundred sail of vessels, in greater security than the river could afford them; and the West India Dock Company are reimbursed for the accommodation by a tonnage of 6s. upon the burthen of every ship which enters the docks; besides which they are entitled to charge for wharfage, landing, housing, weighing, cooperage, and warehouse room; certain rates upon all goods that are discharged, such as 8d. per cwt. upon sugar; 1d. per gallon upon rum; Is. 6d. per cwt. upon coffee; 2s. 6d. per cwt. upon cotton, wool, &c.: and all this immense business is conducted with a general order and regularity which greatly facilitates the business of the merchant.”
[392] “The Northern Dock for unloading goods is 2,600 by 510 feet and 29 feet deep, covering an area of 30 acres. It can accommodate two to three hundred ships, providing more security than the river can offer. The West India Dock Company is compensated for this accommodation with a fee of 6 shillings per ton for every ship that enters the docks. Additionally, they can charge for wharfage, landing, storage, weighing, cooperage, and warehouse space; specific rates apply to all goods that are unloaded, such as 8 pence per hundredweight for sugar, 1 penny per gallon for rum, 1 shilling 6 pence per hundredweight for coffee, and 2 shillings 6 pence per hundredweight for cotton, wool, etc. All this extensive operation is managed with a level of organization and efficiency that greatly benefits merchants.”
“But,” said Sparkle, “I apprehend it subjects him to something more of expense than he incurred by the former mode of proceeding.”
“But,” said Sparkle, “I think it makes him spend more than he did with the previous approach.”
“I am not able decidedly to answer,” continued Tom; “but in the main, I expect that if so, it is well worth what is paid to have the additional security. The forms of conducting the business may sometimes be attended with considerable trouble, but there are persons so well acquainted with them by habitual practice, that there cannot be much difficulty at this period. This is the Export Dock, which covers an area of 24 acres, and is 2600 by 400 feet, and 29 deep. The immense buildings round the two docks, are warehouses for the reception of goods, and are of the most substantial description; and to enable shipping in their passage up and down the Thames to avoid the circuitous and inconvenient course round the Isle of Dogs, a canal has been cut across this peninsula, through which, upon paying certain moderate rates, all ships, vessels, and craft, are permitted to pass in their passage up and down the river. In seeing this, and the East India Docks, you have seen pretty well the nature of the whole, for they are all of a similar construction, for similar purposes, and under similar management: but we will now look in at the London Docks, which are situated between Ratcliffe Highway and the Thames, then home to dinner, and to dress for Lady M.'s party in the evening.”
"I can't give a definite answer," Tom continued, "but generally, I think if that's the case, it's definitely worth the cost to have the extra security. Running the business might sometimes be quite a hassle, but there are people who are so familiar with it through constant practice that it shouldn't be too difficult right now. This is the Export Dock, which spans 24 acres, measuring 2600 by 400 feet and 29 feet deep. The huge buildings surrounding the two docks serve as warehouses for storing goods and are very sturdy. To help ships navigate up and down the Thames without having to take the long, inconvenient route around the Isle of Dogs, a canal has been dug through this peninsula, allowing all ships and vessels to pass for a small fee. By seeing this and the East India Docks, you'll have a good idea of the whole setup since they're all built for similar purposes and managed in the same way. But now let’s check out the London Docks, located between Ratcliffe Highway and the Thames, and then head home for dinner and to get ready for Lady M.'s party tonight."
[393] Thus saying, they took their way towards the place he had mentioned. It would, however, be extending description more than necessary, after the preceding observations of the Hon. Tom Dashall, except to state that the Dock covers 20 acres of ground, and is 1262 feet long, 699 feet wide, and 27 deep. The warehouses, situated at the eastern extremity, are two in number, appropriated for the reception of tobacco; the largest 762 feet long, and 160 feet wide, equally divided by a strong partition wall, with double iron doors; the smallest is 250 feet by 200. They consist of a ground floor and vaults, the latter of which are devoted to the care and housing of wines, in which are usually 5000 pipes. They are solely under the control of the Customs, and the proprietors of the Docks have nothing more to do with them than to receive the rent. Other warehouses are devoted to the reception of the various articles of commerce, and the small buildings situated near the edge are appropriated to counting-houses for clerks and officers, and for weighing and pileing the goods, workshops, &c. as in the West India Docks. The capital of the Company is about £2,000,000, and the ultimate profits are limited to 10 per cent. The building was commenced in 1802, and the grand dock was opened in 1805. In the immense subterraneous caverns under the warehouses, all wines imported by the London merchant are deposited, without paying the import duty, until it is fully disposed of by the owner: a practice which is termed bonding, and saves the proprietor the advance of the duty to government out of his capital. When the merchant finds a person likely to become a purchaser, he directs a written order to the cellarman, to peg certain pipes which are a part of his stock, in order that the visitor may taste the various samples, and select from them such as he is most agreeable to purchase.”
[393] After saying this, they headed towards the location he had mentioned. However, it would be overly detailed to describe it further, following the previous comments of Hon. Tom Dashall, except to note that the Dock spans 20 acres, measuring 1,262 feet long, 699 feet wide, and 27 feet deep. At the eastern end, there are two warehouses designated for storing tobacco; the larger one is 762 feet long and 160 feet wide, divided in half by a sturdy wall with double iron doors, while the smaller one measures 250 feet by 200 feet. They each have a ground floor and basements, with the latter used for storing wines, typically housing around 5,000 pipes. These warehouses fall solely under Customs control, and the Dock owners only collect the rent. Other warehouses are used for storing various commercial goods, and the small buildings near the edge are designated as offices for clerks and officials, as well as spaces for weighing and stacking goods, similar to the West India Docks. The Company’s capital is approximately £2,000,000, with profits capped at 10 percent. Construction started in 1802, and the main dock opened in 1805. In the large underground spaces under the warehouses, all wines brought in by London merchants are stored without paying import duties until sold by the owner: this process is known as bonding and helps the owner avoid paying upfront duties out of their own capital. When a merchant identifies a potential buyer, they send a written order to the cellarman to tap certain pipes from their stock so that the visitor can sample various options and choose which ones they’d like to buy.
“And no small convenience, of course,” said Bon, “and of course the goods are not allowed to be removed till the duties and charges are paid by the purchaser.”
“And it's definitely a nice convenience,” said Bon, “and of course the goods can't be taken until the buyer pays the duties and fees.”
“Certainly,” was the reply; “they are held as a security for their ultimate payment; but come, as we have already seen enough of docks, let us make the best of our way home.”
“Sure,” was the response; “they are kept as a guarantee for their eventual payment; but come on, since we've seen enough of the docks, let’s head home.”
[394] Upon arrival in Piccadilly, a letter from Merrywell reminded Tom of his proposed journey to the country, with the additional attraction of Merrywell's description of the parson's daughter, whom he suggested might in all probability become his wife.
[394] When Tom arrived in Piccadilly, a letter from Merrywell reminded him of his planned trip to the countryside, along with the added appeal of Merrywell's details about the parson's daughter, who he suggested might very well become his wife.
Sparkle likewise received a letter from home, reminding him of the expectations entertained of his early arrival. After dinner the evening was spent in the most agreeable and pleasant way, where our friends engaged themselves with tripping it on the light fantastic toe at Lady M.'s, till the beams of the morning darted upon them.
Sparkle also got a letter from home, reminding him of the hopes for his early arrival. After dinner, they spent the evening in a very enjoyable and pleasant way, where our friends danced the night away at Lady M.'s until the morning light shone down on them.
CHAPTER XXX
[395] The proposed time for departure having pressed hard upon our friends, (who though determined to quit the gaieties of London, still seemed to linger, like the moth about the candle, unwilling to separate themselves from its delights,) preparations were at length decided and acted upon; the Hon. Tom Dashall having ordered his servants to proceed on the road with the carriage, horses, and other appendages of his rank, giving time for arrival at the place of destination by easy stages, in order to avoid over fatiguing either his attendants or his horses, an example which was followed by Sparkle and Tallyho, who had mutually agreed to travel by the Mail; for which purpose places were accordingly taken at the Bull and Mouth, which being announced to Tallyho, he took occasion to ask his Cousin for an explanation of so singular a sign for an Inn.
[395] With the planned departure time approaching, our friends, although eager to leave the lively scene of London, hesitated like a moth drawn to a flame, reluctant to part with its pleasures. Eventually, they settled on preparations; the Hon. Tom Dashall instructed his servants to head out with the carriage, horses, and other necessities fitting his status. He aimed for a relaxed journey to their destination, to avoid tiring out his staff or horses. This approach was also adopted by Sparkle and Tallyho, who decided to take the Mail, booking their spots at the Bull and Mouth. When Tallyho learned this, he asked his cousin to explain the unusual name of the Inn.
“As far as I am able to learn,” replied Tom, “it was originally the Mouth of Boulogne Harbour, or Boulogne Mouth,—and from thence corrupted to the Bull and Mouth. There are, however, many curious signs, to trace the original derivation of which, has afforded me many amusing moments during my perambulation through the streets of the metropolis; indeed it has often struck me, that the signs in many instances are so opposite to the several professions they are intended to designate, that some remedy should certainly be applied.”
“As far as I know,” replied Tom, “it was originally the Mouth of Boulogne Harbour, or Boulogne Mouth—and from there it got corrupted to the Bull and Mouth. However, there are many interesting signs, and tracing their original meanings has given me a lot of amusing moments while walking through the streets of the city; in fact, I’ve often thought that the signs in many cases are so different from the various professions they’re meant to represent that some solution should definitely be found.”
[396] “And how,” said Sparkle, “would you propose to have the exhibition of signs regulated?”
[396] “And how,” Sparkle asked, “do you suggest we regulate the display of signs?”
“That,” said Dashall, “as a subject of deep importance, ought to be subjected to the legislative body for decision: it will be enough for me to point out a few instances which have come under my own immediate notice.
"That," said Dashall, "is a matter of great importance and should be brought before the legislative body for a decision: I will only highlight a few examples that I've personally observed.
“A short time back, as I was passing near Smithfield, I was surprised at observing the sign of 'The Cow and Snuffers;' and whilst I was endeavouring to throw some light upon this subject, and puzzling myself in endeavouring to discover how it was possible for a Cow to snuff a Candle, or even a farthing rushlight; nay, even how it could happen that so strange an association should take place, I was diverted from my study on turning round, to find that some artist had exercised his ingenuity in painting a Goat in Jack Boots. At first I conceived this must be intended as a satire on our old debauchees, many of whom hide their spindled shanks in the tasselled hessian. These proving inexplicable to my shallow understanding, I pursued my walk, and observed against a strong newbuilt house—'A Hole in the Wall;' and not far from the Fleet Prison, I perceived, with some surprise, 'A Friend at Hand.' Over a house kept by Nic. Coward, I saw 'The Fighting Cocks;' and at a crimping rendezvous, remarked, 'The Tree of Liberty.'—'The Jolly Gardeners' were stuck up at a purl house; and I can assure you, it was with much mortification I detected 'The Three Graces' at a gin shop.”
"A little while ago, as I was walking near Smithfield, I was surprised to see the sign for 'The Cow and Snuffers.' While trying to figure out this name and puzzling over how a cow could possibly snuff a candle or even a penny candle, I got distracted when I turned around and saw that some artist had creatively painted a goat in jack boots. At first, I thought this must be a joke about our old drunks, many of whom hide their skinny legs in fancy hessian boots. Finding this too confusing for my limited understanding, I continued my walk and saw a sign on a newly built house that read 'A Hole in the Wall.' Not far from the Fleet Prison, I was surprised to see 'A Friend at Hand.' Above a house run by Nic. Coward, I noticed 'The Fighting Cocks,' and at a gathering place, I saw 'The Tree of Liberty.' There was also a sign for 'The Jolly Gardeners' at a pub, and I have to say, it was quite disheartening to find 'The Three Graces' at a gin shop."
“Ha, ha, ha,” said Tallyho, laughing, “very natural combinations of characters and subjects for a contemplative philosopher like yourself to exercise your ingenuity upon.”
“Ha, ha, ha,” said Tallyho, laughing, “very natural combinations of characters and topics for a thoughtful philosopher like you to use your creativity on.”
“Passing by a public-house,” continued Tom, “the landlady of which was exercising her tongue with the most clamorous volubility, I could scarcely credit my eyes to find the sign of 'The Good Woman,' or, in other words, a woman without a head. Entering a house for refreshment, I was told, after calling the waiter for near an hour, that I was at the sign of 'The Bell;' and upon desiring the master of 'The Hen and Chickens,' to send [397] me home a fine capon, he shewed me some cambric, and assured me it was under prime cost. The most ominous sign for a customer, I thought, was 'The Three Pigeons;' and I own it was with considerable astonishment when, after ordering a bed at 'The Feathers,' I was compelled to pass the night on a straw mattrass. I have breakfasted at ?The Red Cow,' where there was no milk to be had; and at the sign of 'The Sow and Pigs,' have been unable to procure a single rasher of bacon. At ?The Bell Savage,' (which by the way is said to be a corruption of La Belle Sauvage, or 'The Beautiful Savage,') I have found rational and attentive beings; and I have known those who have bolted through 'The Bolt in Tun,' in order to avoid being bolted in a prison.”
“Passing by a pub,” continued Tom, “where the landlady was chatting away loudly, I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw the sign for 'The Good Woman,' or, in other words, a woman without a head. After entering a place for a drink, I was told, after waiting nearly an hour for the waiter, that I was at 'The Bell;' and when I asked the owner of 'The Hen and Chickens' to send me home a nice capon, he showed me some cambric and assured me it was at a fair price. The most uninviting sign for a customer, I thought, was 'The Three Pigeons;' and I admit I was quite surprised when, after asking for a bed at 'The Feathers,' I had to spend the night on a straw mattress. I've had breakfast at 'The Red Cow,' where there was no milk available; and at 'The Sow and Pigs,' I couldn't get a single strip of bacon. At 'The Bell Savage' (which, by the way, is said to be a corruption of La Belle Sauvage, or 'The Beautiful Savage'), I found reasonable and attentive people; and I've known those who rushed through 'The Bolt in Tun' to avoid being locked up in jail.”
“Vastly well, indeed,” exclaimed Sparkle; “and after all there is much to be done by a sign as well as by an advertisement in the newspapers, however inappropriate. The custom is of very ancient date, having been made use of even by the Romans; and not many years back a bush of ivy, or a bunch of grapes, was used for the purpose; nay, to the present day they may be met with in many places. The Bush is perhaps one of the most ancient of public-house signs, which gave rise to the well-known proverb,
“Very well, indeed,” exclaimed Sparkle; “and after all, there’s a lot that can be done with a sign just like with an ad in the newspapers, no matter how out of place. This practice goes way back, dating even to the Romans; and not too long ago, a bush of ivy or a bunch of grapes was used for this purpose; in fact, you can still find them in many places today. The Bush is likely one of the oldest pub signs, which led to the famous proverb,
“Good wine needs no bush.”
“Good wine speaks for itself.”
That is to say, it requires nothing to point out where it is sold. At country fairs, you will frequently see the houses in its vicinity decorated with a Bush or a Bough, from which they are termed Bough Houses, where accommodation may be found. This practice, I know, is still in use at Boroughbridge, in Yorkshire, during their annual fair in June, which lasts a week or ten days. But putting up boughs as a sign of any thing to be sold, was not confined to alehouses; for in old times, such as sold horses were wont to put flowers or boughs upon their heads, to reveal that they were vendible.{1}
That is to say, it doesn’t take much to show where it’s sold. At country fairs, you often see the nearby houses decorated with a bush or a branch, which is why they’re called Bough Houses, where you can find a place to stay. I know this practice is still used in Boroughbridge, Yorkshire, during their annual fair in June, which lasts a week or ten days. But putting up branches as a sign of something for sale wasn’t limited to pubs; back in the day, people selling horses would often wear flowers or branches on their heads to signal that they were for sale.{1}
[398] In Scotland, a wisp of straw upon a pole, is or was some years ago the indication of an alehouse; and to this day a ship or vessel for sale may be discovered by a birch broom at the mast head. I remember reading, that in Fleet Market, on the eastern side, there were some small houses, with a sign post, representing two hands conjoined, with words, “Marriages performed within” written beneath them, whilst a dirty fellow assailed the ears of the passengers with the reiterated and loud address of, “Sir, will you walk in and be married,” (as if the dread of any stoppage in the trade of conjugality was threatening mankind with premature extinction,) and the parson was seen walking before his shop, ready to couple you for a dram of gin or a roll of tobacco.”
[398] In Scotland, a piece of straw on a pole used to signal the location of a pub; and even today, you can spot a ship or vessel for sale by looking for a birch broom at the top of the mast. I remember reading that in Fleet Market, on the eastern side, there were some small buildings with a signpost featuring two hands joined together, with the words, “Marriages performed here” written underneath. Meanwhile, a scruffy guy would shout at passersby, repeatedly saying, “Sir, will you come in and get married?” (as if the fear of halting the marriage business was threatening humanity with extinction), and the priest could be seen standing in front of his shop, ready to marry you for a shot of gin or a roll of tobacco.
“Those were the times for getting married,” exclaimed Bob, “no affidavits, certificates, and exposures at church doors!”
“Those were the days for getting married,” Bob exclaimed, “no affidavits, certificates, and announcements at the church doors!”
“No,” continued Sparkle, “those are signs of altered times. A witty wigmaker adopted the sign of Absolom hanging to a tree, with King David lamenting at a distance, who was represented with a label issuing from his mouth, containing these words—
“No,” continued Sparkle, “those are signs of changed times. A clever wigmaker used the image of Absolom hanging from a tree, with King David mourning in the background, who was shown with a label coming out of his mouth, saying these words—
This sign, if I remember right, was to be seen a few years since in Union-street, Borough, and is not uncommon even now in France, where you may also find the 'Cochon sans Tete,' (the pig without a head,) which is generally a restaurateur's sign, indicating that 'good pork is here—the useless animal's head is off,' illustrative of the Negro's opinion of a pig in England—“de pig,” said Mungo, “is de only gentleman in England—man workee, woman workee, horse workee, ass workee, ox workee, and dog workee—pig do nothing but eat and sleep—pig derefore de only gentleman in England.'”
This sign, if I remember correctly, was seen a few years ago on Union Street in the Borough, and it’s still not uncommon in France, where you can also find the 'Cochon sans Tete' (the pig without a head), which is usually a restaurant sign indicating that 'good pork is here—the useless animal's head is gone.' This reflects the view of a pig in England according to a Black man named Mungo, who said, “The pig is the only gentleman in England—men work, women work, horses work, donkeys work, oxen work, and dogs work—pigs do nothing but eat and sleep—so the pig is therefore the only gentleman in England.”
[399] The conversation increased in interest as they proceeded, and Tallyho was all attention; for it must be observed, that as his inquiry had occasioned it, he was willing to listen to all that could be advanced on the subject; and the Hon. Tom Dashall determined to have his share in the explanation.
[399] The conversation got more interesting as they went on, and Tallyho was fully engaged; since his question had sparked the discussion, he was eager to hear everything that could be said about it. The Hon. Tom Dashall also decided he wanted to contribute to the explanation.
“The 'Man in the Moon,'” said he, “is derived from the old observation, that a tipsy person is 'in the wind,' or 'in the moon,' (a lunatic.) The sign may therefore be thought to give this advice, 'Here is good drink, gentlemen, walk in and taste it; it will make you as happy as the man in the moon; that is to say, steep your senses in forgetfulness.'—'The Bag of Nails' was the sign of an Inn at Chelsea, which may perhaps be noticed as the ne plus ultra of ludicrous corruption, having originally been a group of Bacchanals.”
“The 'Man in the Moon,'” he said, “comes from the old saying that a drunk person is 'in the wind' or 'in the moon,' (like a lunatic). So this sign could be taken as advice, 'Here’s some great drinks, gentlemen, come in and enjoy; it will make you as happy as the man in the moon; that is, drown your senses in forgetfulness.'—'The Bag of Nails' was the name of an inn in Chelsea, which might be noted as the ne plus ultra of ridiculous corruption, having originally been a group of Bacchanals.”
Here risibility could no longer be restrained, and a general laugh ensued.
Here, laughter could no longer be held back, and everyone started laughing.
“A group of Bacchanals, however,” continued Tom, “is certainly not an out of the way sign for an Inn, nor do I conceive its corruption so very outre', when we look at others that have suffered much stranger metamorphoses; for who would have thought that time could have performed such wonderful changes as to have transformed a view of Boulogne Harbour into a Black Bull, and a tremendous mouth sufficiently large to swallow its neighbours, horns and all; or the name La Belle Sauvage, or Beautiful Savage, into a bell, and a gigantic wild man of the woods.”
“A group of Bacchanals, however,” continued Tom, “is definitely not an unusual sign for an Inn, nor do I think its transformation is all that outre', considering others that have gone through much stranger changes; for who would have imagined that time could create such amazing transformations as turning a view of Boulogne Harbour into a Black Bull, with a huge mouth big enough to swallow its neighbors, horns and all; or the name La Belle Sauvage, or Beautiful Savage, into a bell, and a giant wild man of the woods.”
“Then again,” said Sparkle, “taking up the subject, “the pole and bason, though no longer the exhibited emblems of a barber's occupation in London, are still very often to be met with in its environs and in the country, where they are ostentatiously protruded from the front of the house, and denote that one of those facetious and intelligent individuals, who will crop your head or mow your beard, 'dwelleth here.' Like all other signs, that of the barber is of remote antiquity, and has been the subject of many learned conjectures: some have conceived it to originate from the word poll, or head; but the true intention of the party-coloured staff, was to indicate that the master of the shop practised surgery, and could breathe a vein, as well as shave a beard; such a staff being to this day used by practitioners, and put into the hand of the patient while undergoing the operation of phlebotomy: the white band, which no doubt you have observed encompassing the staff, was meant to represent the fillet, thus elegantly twined about it.
“Then again,” said Sparkle, “getting back to the topic, the barber pole and basin, even though they’re no longer the obvious symbols of a barber’s business in London, can still frequently be found in the surrounding areas and in the countryside, where they’re proudly displayed at the front of a house, indicating that one of those witty and skilled individuals, who will cut your hair or trim your beard, ‘lives here.’ Like all other signs, the barber’s has a long history and has been the subject of many scholarly theories: some believe it comes from the word poll, or head; but the real purpose of the striped pole was to show that the shop owner practiced surgery and could let blood as well as shave a beard; that same pole is still used by medical professionals today and is placed in the hand of the patient during a bloodletting procedure: the white band, which you’ve probably noticed wrapped around the pole, was meant to represent the fillet, elegantly twisted around it.”
[400] “And this,” said Sparkle, “appears to be the most reasonable conjecture of any I ever heard, as it is well known the two businesses were in former times incorporated together, and the practiser was termed 'A Barber Surgeon.' Then as to their utility: the choice of a witty device, or splendid enluminure, was formerly thought of great consequence to a young beginner in the world; and I remember reading of an Innkeeper at Cassel, who having considerably profited by his numerous customers under the sign of 'The Grey Ass,' supposing himself well established in his trade and his house, began to be tired of the vulgar sign over his door, and availed himself of the arrival of the Landgrave of Hesse, to make (as he thought) a very advantageous change. In an evil hour, therefore, 'The Grey Ass' was taken down and thrown aside, in order to give place to a well painted and faithful likeness of the Prince, which was substituted for it as a most loyal sign.
[400] “And this,” said Sparkle, “seems to be the most reasonable guess I've ever heard, considering it’s well known that the two businesses were once combined, and the practitioner was called 'A Barber Surgeon.' As for their usefulness: choosing a clever slogan or a beautiful illustration was once seen as very important for a young person starting out; I remember reading about an innkeeper in Cassel who profited greatly from his many customers under the sign of 'The Grey Ass.' Believing he was well-established in his business and his establishment, he grew tired of the common sign over his door and took advantage of the Landgrave of Hesse's arrival to make what he thought was a smart change. So, at a bad moment, 'The Grey Ass' was taken down and tossed aside to make way for a well-painted and accurate likeness of the Prince, which he used as a more loyal sign.
“A small and almost unfrequented house in the same town, immediately took up the discarded sign, and speculatively hoisted 'The Grey Ass.' What was the consequence? Old codgers, married men with scolding Avives at home, straggling young fellows, and all the 'fraternity of free topers,' resorted to the house, filled the tap-room, crammed the parlour, and assailed the bar: the Grey Ass had the run, and was all the vogue; whilst the venerable Prince of Hesse swung mournfully and deserted at the other place, and enticed no visitors, foreign or domestic; for it should be observed, that 'The Grey Ass' had such reputation all over Germany, that every foreign nobleman or gentleman who came to Cassel, was sure to order his coach or chaise to be driven to the inn of that name; and this order of course was still continued, for how was it to be known by travellers coming from Vienna, Hungary, or Bohemia, that a certain innkeeper at Cassel had altered his sign? To the inn, therefore, which was denominated ?The Grey Ass,' they still went.
A small and rarely visited house in the same town quickly picked up the abandoned sign and casually put up 'The Grey Ass.' What happened next? Old geezers, married guys with nagging wives at home, wandering young men, and all the 'bunch of free drinkers' flocked to the place, filling the taproom, crowding the parlor, and crowding the bar: the Grey Ass was the place to be and all the rage; meanwhile, the old Prince of Hesse hung sadly and empty at the other location, attracting no visitors, whether local or from abroad. It's worth noting that 'The Grey Ass' had such a reputation across Germany that every foreign noble or gentleman who came to Cassel was sure to have their coach or carriage sent to that inn; and this practice continued, as how would travelers from Vienna, Hungary, or Bohemia know that a certain innkeeper in Cassel had changed his sign? So, they kept going to the inn known as 'The Grey Ass.'
“What could the poor deserted innkeeper do in such a case? To deface the fine portrait of his master, would have been high treason; yet losing his customers on the other hand was downright starvation. In this cruel dilemma he dreamt of a new scheme, and had it executed.
“What could the poor abandoned innkeeper do in such a situation? Damaging the beautiful portrait of his master would have been a serious crime; yet losing his customers meant he would be starving. In this harsh dilemma, he came up with a new plan and put it into action.”
[401] The portrait of the Prince was preserved, but he had written under it, in large characters,
[401] The portrait of the Prince was kept safe, but he had written beneath it, in big letters,
?This is the Original Grey Ass.'
?This is the Original Grey Ass.'
“Excellent!” exclaimed the Hon. Tom Dashall, “though I must confess you have travelled a long way for your illustration, which is quite sufficient to shew the utility of signs. But I would ask you if you can explain or point out the derivation of many we have in London—such for instance as 'The Pig and Tinder-Box'—'The Prad and Blower'—'The Bird and Baby'—'The Tyrant and Trembler'—'The Fist and Fragrance'”
“Excellent!” exclaimed the Hon. Tom Dashall, “but I have to admit you’ve gone a long way for your example, which is more than enough to show the usefulness of signs. But I would like to know if you can explain or identify the origins of many we have in London—like 'The Pig and Tinder-Box'—'The Prad and Blower'—'The Bird and Baby'—'The Tyrant and Trembler'—'The Fist and Fragrance'.”
“Hold,” cried Sparkle, “I confess I am not quite so learned.”
“Wait,” shouted Sparkle, “I admit I’m not really that knowledgeable.”
“They are novel at least,” observed Tallyho, “for I do not recollect to have met with any of them.”
“They are definitely new,” Tallyho remarked, “because I don’t remember running into any of them before.”
“Ha, ha, ha!” exclaimed Tom, “then you are not fly, and I must add something to your stock of knowledge after all. The Pig and Tinder-Box is no other than the Elephant and Castle—The Prad and Blower, the Horse and Trumpeter—The Bird and Baby, the Eagle and Child—The Tyrant and Trembler, the Lion and Lamb—The Fist and Fragrance, the Hand and Flowers. Then we have the Book, Bauble, and holler, which is intended to signify the Bible, Crown, and Cushion.”
“Ha, ha, ha!” Tom laughed, “so you’re not in the know, and I guess I need to add to your knowledge after all. The Pig and Tinder-Box is really just the Elephant and Castle—the Prad and Blower, the Horse and Trumpeter—the Bird and Baby, the Eagle and Child—the Tyrant and Trembler, the Lion and Lamb—the Fist and Fragrance, the Hand and Flowers. Then we also have the Book, Bauble, and holler, which is meant to represent the Bible, Crown, and Cushion.”
At this moment a thundering knock at the door announced a visitor, and put an end to their conversation.
At that moment, a loud knock at the door announced a visitor and interrupted their conversation.
In a few minutes a letter was delivered to Dashall, which required an immediate answer: he broke the seal, and read as follows:—
In just a few minutes, a letter was delivered to Dashall that needed an immediate response: he broke the seal and read as follows:—
“Dear Tom, “Come to me immediately—no time to be lost—insulted and abused—determined to fight Bluster—You must be my second—I'll blow his blustering brains out at one pop, never fear. At home at 7, dine at half-past; don't fail to come: I will explain all over a cool bottle of claret—then I shall be calm, at present I am all fire and fury—don't fail to come—half-past seven to a moment on table. You and I alone—toe to toe, my boy—I'll finish him, and remain, as ever,
“Dear Tom, “Come to me right away—there’s no time to waste—I’m feeling insulted and mistreated—I’m ready to take on Bluster—you have to be my second. I’ll take him down in one shot, don’t worry. I’ll be home at 7, dinner’s at half-past; you can’t miss it: I’ll explain everything over a nice bottle of claret—then I’ll be calm, right now I’m just full of rage—don’t miss it—be here at half-past seven sharp. Just you and me—face to face, my friend—I’ll take care of him, and remain, as always,
“Yours, sincerely,
Best regards,
“Lionel Laconic.”
“Lionel Laconic.”
[402] “Here's a breeze,” said Tom; “desire the messenger to say I shall attend at the appointed hour. Death and the devil, this defeats all previous arrangement; but Laconic is an old college friend, whom I dare not desert in a moment of emergency. I fear I shall not be able, under such circumstances, to leave town so early as was proposed.”
[402] “Here’s a breeze,” said Tom; “tell the messenger to let them know I’ll be there at the scheduled time. This messes up all our plans; but Laconic is an old college friend, and I can’t just abandon him in a crisis. I’m afraid I won’t be able to leave town as early as we originally planned.”
“Sorry for it,” replied Sparkle, “and more sorry to be deprived of your company now our time is so short; however, I depart according to the time appointed.”
“Sorry about that,” replied Sparkle, “and even more sorry to be missing your company now that our time is so short; however, I’m leaving as planned.”
“And I,” said Tallyho, “having no honorable business to detain me in town, intend to accompany you.”
“And I,” said Tallyho, “with no important business keeping me in town, plan to go with you.”
“If that be the case,” said Tom, “I may perhaps be almost obliged to delay a few days, in order to adjust this difference between Bluster and Laconic, and will follow at the earliest moment. It is, however, a duty we owe each other to render what assistance we can in such cases.” “I thought,” continued Tallyho, “you were no friend to duelling.”
“If that’s the case,” said Tom, “I might have to postpone for a few days to sort out this disagreement between Bluster and Laconic, but I’ll follow as soon as I can. However, it’s our duty to help each other out in situations like this.” “I thought,” Tallyho added, “you were against dueling.”
“By no means,” was the reply; “and that is the very reason why I think it necessary to delay my departure. I know them both, and may be able to bring matters to an amicable conclusion; for to tell you the truth, I don't think either of them particularly partial to the smell of powder; but of that I shall be able to inform you hereafter; for the present excuse me—I must prepare for the visit, while you prepare yourselves for your departure.”
“Not at all,” was the response; “and that's exactly why I think it's necessary to postpone my departure. I know both of them, and I might be able to help settle things peacefully; to be honest, I don't think either of them is really fond of the smell of gunpowder. But I’ll be able to give you more details later; for now, excuse me—I need to get ready for the visit, while you get ready for your departure.”
Sparkle and Tallyho wished Tom a pleasant evening, took their dinner at the Bedford Coffee-house, and spent the evening at Covent-Garden Theatre, much to their satisfaction, though not without many anticipations as to the result of their friend's interference between the two hot-headed duellists.
Sparkle and Tallyho wished Tom a good evening, had their dinner at the Bedford Coffee-house, and enjoyed the evening at Covent-Garden Theatre, which they found very satisfying, although they were often anxious about what would happen with their friend's involvement between the two hot-headed duelists.
CHAPTER XXXI
[403] Dashall being wholly occupied by the unexpected affair noticed in our last Chapter, had left his Cousin and friends to amuse themselves in the best way they could, prior to the completion of the necessary arrangements for quitting the metropolis. The party were undecided upon what object to fix their choice, or how to bend their course; and while warmly discussing the subject, were suddenly interrupted by the appearance of Gayfield, who learning that Dashall was from home, and upon what occasion, broke out with his usual volubility.
[403] Dashall, completely focused on the unexpected situation mentioned in our last chapter, had left his cousin and friends to entertain themselves as best as they could while waiting for the final arrangements to leave the city. The group was unsure about what destination to choose or which direction to take, and while they were passionately debating the matter, they were abruptly interrupted by Gayfield, who, upon discovering that Dashall was away and why, began speaking quickly as usual.
“Well, these affairs of honor certainly are imperious, and no doubt ought to take precedence of every thing else. My object in calling was chiefly to give him a description of the Countess of ———'s rout on Saturday last, in Berkeley-square, where I intimated I should be, when I last fell in with him. 'Oh Ciélo Empireo.' I'm enchanted yet, positively enchanted! I ought to have Petrarch's pen to describe such a scene and such dresses. Then should a robe of Tulle vie with that of Laura at the church door—that dress of 'Vert parsemée de violets.' But softly, let us begin with the beginning, Bélier mon ami. What a galaxy of all the stars of fashion! It was a paradise of loveliness, fit for Mahomet. All the beauties of the Georgian Æra were present. Those real graces, their Graces of A——— and R——— were among the number.
“Well, these matters of honor are certainly urgent and should take priority over everything else. The main reason I came by was to tell him about the Countess of ———'s gathering last Saturday in Berkeley Square, where I mentioned I would be when I last ran into him. 'Oh Ciélo Empireo.' I'm still enchanted, absolutely enchanted! I need Petrarch's pen to describe such a scene and those outfits. Then a Tulle gown would compete with Laura's at the church door—that dress of 'Vert parsemée de violets.' But let’s start from the beginning, Bélier mon ami. What a collection of all the fashion stars! It was a paradise of beauty, perfectly fit for Mahomet. All the beauties of the Georgian Era were there. Those true graces, the Duchess of A——— and the Duchess of R———, were among them.”
[404] The Countess of L——— and Lady F——— O——— would make one cry heresy when the poets limit us to a single Venus. And then the Lady P———'s. Heaven keep us heart-whole when such stars rain their soft influence upon us. As to the Countess of B———, with her diamond tiara, and eyes brighter than her diamonds, she looked so goddess-like, that I was tempted to turn heathenish and worship. Indeed, that bright eyes should exert their brilliancy amid the dazzling brightness of our fair and elegant hostess's rooms, is no trifle. Dancing commenced at eleven; and, although my vanity allured me to think that the favorable glances of more than one would-be partner were directed towards me, I felt no inclination to sport a toe in the absence of Lady L. M. By-the-by, Count C——— told me, with a profusion of foreign compliment, that I and the 'observed of all observers,' Lord E———h, were the best drest male personages at the rout.
[404] The Countess of L——— and Lady F——— O——— would totally make one cry heresy when poets limit us to just one Venus. And then there's Lady P———. May we stay true to ourselves when such stars shower their gentle influence upon us. As for the Countess of B———, with her diamond tiara and eyes that shine brighter than her diamonds, she looked so goddess-like that I was tempted to turn heathen and worship her. Honestly, for bright eyes to stand out among the dazzling beauty of our elegant hostess's rooms is no small feat. Dancing started at eleven; and even though my vanity led me to believe that more than one eagerly wants to dance with me, I had no desire to show off my moves without Lady L. By the way, Count C——— told me, with an abundance of foreign compliments, that I and the 'observed of all observers,' Lord E———h, were the best-dressed men at the party.
Thanks to the magical operation of the Schneider, who makes or mars a man.
Thanks to the magical workings of the Schneider, who can make or break a person.
“The coup d'oil of the scene was charming. Cétoit un vrai délice—that atmosphere of light, of fragrance, and of music—gratifying all the senses at once. Oh! what bosoms, arms, and necks were thronging round me! Phidias, had he attempted to copy them, would have forgotten his work to gaze and admire. Description fails in picturing the tout ensemble,—the dazzling chandeliers blazing like constellations—the richly draperied meubles—the magnificent dresses—and then so many eyes, like stars glittering round one; like 'Heaven,' as Ossian says, ?beaming with all its fires.'
The coup d'oil of the scene was charming. It was truly delightful—that atmosphere of light, fragrance, and music—pleasing all the senses at once. Oh! what bosoms, arms, and necks were crowding around me! Phidias, had he tried to replicate them, would have forgotten his work to stare and admire. Description falls short of capturing the tout ensemble—the dazzling chandeliers shining like constellations—the richly draped meubles—the magnificent dresses—and then so many eyes, sparkling like stars surrounding you; like 'Heaven,' as Ossian says, ?beaming with all its fires.'
“In the midst of my admiration, I was accosted by Caustic, and expressed my surprise at finding him in such a scene—'A rout,' he replied, 'is just one of those singular incoherences which supply me with laughter for a month. Was there ever such a tissue of inconsistencies assembled as in these pleasure hunts? On stepping from your carriage, you run the gauntlet through two lines of quizzing spectators, who make great eyes, as the French term it, at you, and some of whom look as if they took a fancy to your knee buckles. A double row of gaudy footmen receive you in the blazing hall, and make your name echo up the stairs, as you ascend, in a voice of thunder. Your tête s'exalte, and when you expect to be ushered into the Temple of Fame, you find yourself embedded (pardon the metaphor) in a parterre of female beauty.'
“In the middle of my admiration, I was approached by Caustic, and I shared my surprise at seeing him in such a situation—'A party,' he replied, 'is just one of those strange contradictions that gives me laughs for a month. Has there ever been such a collection of inconsistencies gathered together as in these social gatherings? When you step out of your carriage, you navigate through two lines of staring spectators, who look at you with wide eyes, as the French say, and some of whom seem to have a thing for your knee buckles. A double row of flashy footmen welcomes you in the bright hall and makes your name echo up the stairs, like thunder, as you climb. Your tête s'exalte, and when you expect to be led into the Temple of Fame, you instead find yourself surrounded (forgive the metaphor) by a parterre of female beauty.'”
[405] “As for me,” I replied, interrupting the satirist, “I delight in such things. I believe that fashion, like kings, can do no wrong.”
[405] “As for me,” I said, cutting off the satirist, “I really enjoy these things. I think fashion, just like kings, can do no wrong.”
“And so you would rather have your ribs beat in, than your name left out. But look round you, in God's name! what is the whole scene but & fashionable mob met together to tread on each other's heels and tear each other's dresses? Positively, you cannot approach the mistress of the mansion to pay those common courtesies which politeness in all other cases exacts. And how so many delicate young creatures can bear a heat, pressure and fatigue, which would try the constitution of a porter, is incroyable. Talk of levelling! This 'is the chosen seat of égalité.' All distinctions of age, grace, rank, accomplishment, and wit, are lost in the midst of a constantly accumulating crowd. What nerves but those of pride and vanity, can bear the heat, the blaze of light, the buzz of voices above, and the roar of announcements from below?”
“And so you'd rather have your ribs broken than have your name left out. But look around you, for heaven's sake! What is this whole scene but a trendy crowd gathered to step on each other's toes and rip each other's dresses? Honestly, you can't even approach the lady of the house to offer the usual courtesies that politeness requires in every other situation. And how so many delicate young people can withstand the heat, pressure, and exhaustion that would challenge a laborer's stamina is unbelievable. Talk about equality! This is the chosen place of equality. All distinctions of age, grace, status, skill, and wit are lost in the midst of this ever-growing crowd. What nerves, except those of pride and vanity, can withstand the heat, the blinding lights, the chatter of voices above, and the noise of announcements from below?”
“While Caustic was speaking, his reasoning received a curious and apposite illustration. Three or four ladies near us began fainting, or affected to faint, and hartshorn and gentlemen's arms were in general requisition. Notwithstanding his acerbity, Caustic, like a preux chevalier, pressed forward to offer his aid where the pressure was most oppressive, and where the fainting ladies were dropping by dozens, like ripe fruit in autumn. As for myself, I was just in time to receive in my arms a beautiful girl who was on the point of sinking, and, being provided with hartshorn, my assistance was so effectual, with the aid of a neighbouring window, that I had the satisfaction of restoring her in a few minutes to her friends, who did all they could, by crowding round her with ill-timed condolements, to prevent her recovery. By this time the rest of the ladies took warning from these little misadventures to retire. Caustic, in his sardonic way, would insist upon it, that they retired to avoid that exposure of defects in beauty, which the first ray of morning produces. I took my congé among the rest, and found the hubbub which attended my entrance, increased to a tenfold degree of violence at my exit; for the uproar of calling 'My Lord This's carriage,' and 'My Lady That's chair,' was nothing in comparison to the noise produced [406] by servants quarrelling, police officers remonstrating, carriages cracking, and linkboys hallooing. Some of the mob had, it appeared, made an irruption into the hall, to steal what great-coats, cocked hats, or pelisses they could make free with. This was warmly protested against by the footmen and the police, and a regular set-to was the consequence. Through this 'confusion worse confounded' I with difficulty made my way to the carriage, and was not sorry, as the slang phrase is, to make myself scarce.”
“While Caustic was speaking, his argument got a strange and fitting illustration. A few ladies nearby began to faint, or pretended to, and people were generally calling for hartshorn and gentlemen's help. Despite his sharpness, Caustic, like a true knight, hurried to offer assistance where the pressure was heaviest, as ladies were fainting in swarms, like ripe fruit in autumn. As for me, I was just in time to catch a beautiful girl who was about to collapse, and with the hartshorn I had, my help was so effective, with the support of a nearby window, that I was able to bring her back to her friends within a few minutes. They did everything they could, by crowding around her with poorly timed condolences, to hinder her recovery. By that point, the other ladies took note of these little mishaps and decided to leave. Caustic, in his sarcastic way, insisted that they left to avoid exposing their beauty flaws that the first light of morning reveals. I took my congé along with the rest and found that the chaos that greeted me upon entering had increased tenfold by the time I left; the uproar of people calling for 'My Lord This's carriage' and 'My Lady That's chair' was nothing compared to the racket created by servants arguing, police officers protesting, carriages clattering, and linkboys shouting. Some of the crowd had apparently burst into the hall to grab whatever greatcoats, cocked hats, or pelisses they could get away with. This was strongly protested by the footmen and the police, leading to a full-on altercation. Through this 'confusion worse confounded,' I struggled to make my way to the carriage and was glad, as the slang expression goes, to make myself scarce.”
The party could not feel otherwise than amused by Gayfield's description of the rout; and the conversation taking a turn on similar subjects, Sparkle, ever ambitious of displaying his talent for descriptive humour, gave the following sketch of a fashionable dinner party:—
The group couldn't help but be entertained by Gayfield's account of the chaos, and as the conversation shifted to similar topics, Sparkle, always eager to show off his knack for descriptive humor, offered the following depiction of a trendy dinner party:—
“I went with Colonel A———, by invitation, to dine with Lord F., in Portman Square. Lord F. is a complete gentleman; and, though sadly inconvenienced by the gout, received me with that frank, cordial, and well-bred ease which always characterizes the better class of the English nobility. The company consisted of two or three men of political eminence; Lord Wetherwool, a great agriculturist; Viscount Flash, an amateur of the Fancy; Lord Skimcream, an ex-amateur director of a winter theatre; Lord Flute, an amateur director of the Opera, whose family motto, by a lucky coincidence, is 'Opera non Verba.' There were, moreover, Mr. Highsole, a great tragedian, and my friend Tom Sapphic, the dandy poet; one of those bores, the 'Lions' of the season. He had just brought out a new tragedy, called the 'Bedlamite in Buff,' under the auspices of Lord Skimcream; and it had been received, as the play-bills announced, with 'unprecedented, overwhelming, and electrifying applause.' Of course I concluded that it would live two nights, and accounted for the dignified hauteur of my friend Tom's bow, as he caught my eye, by taking into consideration the above-named unprecedented success. There was also present the universal genius, Dr. Project, to whom I once introduced you. He is a great chymist, and a still greater gourmand; moreover, a musician; has a hand in the leading reviews; a share in the most prominent of the daily papers. “Little was said till the wine and desert were introduced; and then the conversation, as might naturally be expected from the elements of which the party was composed, split itself into several subdivisions. As I sat [407] next to Colonel A., I had the advantage of his greater familiarity with the personages at table. Lord Wetherwool was as absurd as he could possibly be on the subject of fattening oxen. Lord Flute and Viscount Flash laid bets on the celerity of two maggots, which they had set at liberty from their respective nut-shells. The noble ex-director, Highsole and Sapphic, were extremely warm in discussing the causes of the present degradation of the stage; each shuffling the responsibility from the members of their own profession and themselves. Dr. Project entertained his noble host with an interminable dissertation upon oxygen, hydrogen, and all the gens in the chemical vocabulary; for patience in enduring which his Lordship was greatly indebted to his preparatory fit of the gout. Meanwhile, the lordling exquisites only fired off a few 'lady terms,' like minute guns and 'angel visits,' with long intervals between, filling up the aforesaid intervals by sipping Champagne and eating bonbons. The essence of what they said, amounted to mutual wonder at the d———d run of luck last night, in King-street; or mutual felicitation on the new faces which had appeared that day, for the first time, among the old standing beauties who charm Bond-street, at lounge hours, either in curricle or on foot. For my part, I was attracted towards the discussion of the dramatic trio, not because I affect, as the cant of the day is, to have a particular attrait towards the belles lettres, but merely because the more plebeian disputants were vociferous, (a thing not often observed among fashionables) and outré in their gesticulations, even to caricature. 'What do you think of their arguments?' I inquired, sotte voce, of Colonel A. 'If we are to be decided by their conjoint statements, no one is to blame for the degradation of the stage.'
“I went with Colonel A———, by invitation, to have dinner with Lord F. at his place in Portman Square. Lord F. is a true gentleman; and although he suffers greatly from gout, he welcomed me with that genuine, warm, and well-mannered charm that always characterizes the more distinguished segments of the English nobility. The guest list included a few notable figures in politics; Lord Wetherwool, a prominent farmer; Viscount Flash, an enthusiast of the arts; Lord Skimcream, a former amateur director of a winter theater; and Lord Flute, an amateur director of the opera, whose family motto, by a fortunate coincidence, is 'Opera non Verba.' Additionally, there was Mr. Highsole, a famous tragedian, and my friend Tom Sapphic, the fashionable poet; one of those tedious 'Lions' of the season. He had just premiered a new tragedy titled the 'Bedlamite in Buff,' backed by Lord Skimcream; and it had received, as the playbills stated, 'unprecedented, overwhelming, and electrifying applause.' Naturally, I assumed it would only run for two nights, and I attributed the dignified hauteur of my friend Tom's bow, as he noticed me, to his aforementioned remarkable success. Also present was the multi-talented Dr. Project, whom I once introduced you to. He is an excellent chemist and an even better gourmand; he also plays music, contributes to the leading reviews, and has a stake in the most influential daily papers. “Little was said until the wine and dessert were served; then the conversation, as might be expected from the mix in the room, broke into several subtopics. Sitting [407] next to Colonel A., I benefited from his better acquaintance with the people at the table. Lord Wetherwool was as ridiculous as one could be about fattening cattle. Lord Flute and Viscount Flash made bets on the speed of two maggots they had freed from their respective shells. The noble ex-director, Highsole, and Sapphic were passionately debating the reasons behind the current decline of theater; each shifting the blame away from their profession and themselves. Dr. Project entertained his noble host with an endless talk about oxygen, hydrogen, and all the other gens in the chemical lexicon; for which his Lordship's endurance was greatly aided by his earlier bout with gout. Meanwhile, the young nobles only tossed around a few 'lady terms,' like minute guns and 'angel visits,' with long pauses in between, filling those intervals by sipping Champagne and eating bonbons. The essence of their chatter boiled down to mutual surprise over the dreadful luck the night before in King Street; or mutual congratulation on the new faces that had appeared that day for the first time among the usual beauties who grace Bond Street during lounge hours, either in a carriage or on foot. As for me, I was drawn into the conversation about the drama, not out of any supposed fascination with belles lettres, as is the current trend, but simply because the more ordinary debaters were loud (something not often seen among the fashionable) and exaggerated in their gestures, almost to the point of caricature. 'What do you think of their arguments?' I asked sotte voce, of Colonel A. 'If we go by their combined statements, no one is to blame for the decline of the theater.'”
“'They are all in the right,' returned he, '(excuse the paradox,) because they are all in the wrong. There is a rottenness in the whole theatrical system, which, unless it terminate, like manure thrown at the root of trees, in some new fructification of genius, will end by rendering the national theatres national nuisances. With reference to the interests of literature, they are a complete hoax. To please the manager, the object which the writer must have in view, he must not paint nature or portray character, but write up, as the cant phrase is, to the particular forte of Mr. So and So, or Miss Such-a-one. The consequence is, that the public get only one species of fare, and that is pork, varied indeed, as broiled, baked, roasted, and boiled; but still pork, nothing but pork.'
“They're all right," he replied, "(forgive the contradiction,) because they're all wrong. There's something seriously flawed in the entire theater system, which, unless it leads to something new and brilliant, like fertilizer benefiting trees, will eventually turn national theaters into a national burden. Regarding the interests of literature, they're a total scam. To satisfy the manager, the writer has to focus not on portraying reality or character but on catering to the specific strengths of Mr. So and So, or Miss Such-a-one. As a result, the audience ends up with only one type of dish, and that's pork—albeit prepared in different ways like grilled, baked, roasted, and boiled; but still pork, nothing but pork.”
[408] “'But surely,' I rejoined, 'Mr. Sapphic and Mr. Highsole are gentlemen of high acquirements, independently of their several professions, or a nobleman of Lord F———'s taste and discrimination—'
[408] “'But surely,' I replied, 'Mr. Sapphic and Mr. Highsole are highly accomplished individuals, apart from their respective careers, or a nobleman like Lord F——— with such taste and discernment—'
“'There you are falling into an error,' returned the colonel, interrupting me; 'it is the fashion to introduce actors at the tables of our great men; but, in my opinion, it is a 'custom more honored in the breach than the observance.' I have known several good actors on the stage, very indifferent actors in society, and large characters in the play-bills, as well as loud thunders from the gods, may be earned by very stupid, very vulgar, and very ill-bred companions. The same may be said of poets. We are poor creatures at best, and the giant of a reviewer very often cuts but a very sorry figure when left to the ricketty stilts of his own unsupported judgment in a drawing-room. You are tolerably familiar with our political parties; but you are yet to be acquainted with our literary squads, which are the most bigotted, selfish, exclusive, arrogant, little knots of little people it is possible to conceive.'
“'There you go making a mistake,' the colonel replied, interrupting me; 'it's trendy to have actors at the tables of our influential people; but in my view, it's a custom more respected when avoided than actually followed.' I've known several talented actors on stage, who turned out to be pretty average in social settings, and big names on playbills, as well as loud praises from critics, can come from really dull, really crude, and really rude individuals. The same goes for poets. We’re pretty pathetic overall, and the big-name reviewer often looks quite foolish when relying solely on his own shaky opinions in a social gathering. You know a bit about our political parties; but you’re still to learn about our literary groups, which are some of the most narrow-minded, selfish, exclusive, arrogant, little cliques you could ever imagine.'”
“By the time that Colonel A———had ended his short initiation into these various arcana, the company broke up; the doctor to give a lecture on egg-shells at the Committee of Taste; Lord Flute to visit the Opera; Lord Skimcream to the Green Boom; Lord Flash to 'Fives Court,' to see a set-to by candle-light; the exquisites to Bouge et Noir or Almack's; and Lord Wetherwool to vote on an agricultural question, without understanding a syllable of its merits.
“By the time Colonel A———finished his brief introduction to these various mysteries, the gathering broke up; the doctor went off to give a lecture on egg-shells at the Committee of Taste; Lord Flute headed to the Opera; Lord Skimcream went to the Green Boom; Lord Flash went to 'Fives Court' to catch a match by candlelight; the trendsetters headed to Bouge et Noir or Almack's; and Lord Wetherwool went to vote on an agricultural issue, without grasping a single word of its significance.”
“Nevertheless,” I soliloquized as I rode home, “his Lordship will be surprised and gratified, I dare say, to find himself a perfect Demosthenes in the newspaper reports of to-morrow morning. Hems, coughs, stammerings, blowing of the nose, and ten-minute lapses of memory, all vanish in passing through the sieves and bolters of a report. What magicians the reporters are! What talents, what powers of language they profusely and gratuitously bestow! Somnus protect me from hearing any but some half dozen orators in both houses! The reader, who peruses the report, has only the flour of the orator's efforts provided for him. But Lord help the unfortunate patient in the gallery, who, hopeless of getting through the dense mass which occupy the seats round him, is condemned to sit with an ?aching head,' and be well nigh choaked with the husks and the bran.”
“Still,” I thought as I rode home, “his Lordship will be surprised and pleased, I bet, to see himself portrayed as a perfect Demosthenes in tomorrow's newspaper reports. Hems, coughs, stammering, nose blowing, and those ten-minute memory lapses all disappear when filtered through the reporters’ processes. What magicians they are! What incredible talents and language skills they freely offer! I pray I only hear from a few speakers in both houses! The reader who goes through the report only gets the polished version of the speaker's efforts. But God help the poor person in the gallery, who, unable to get through the dense stuff around him, is stuck dealing with a ‘throbbing headache’ and nearly choked by the scraps and leftovers.”
[409] Our party felt so much amused by these lively and characteristic pictures of real life among the Corinthians of the Metropolis, that all thoughts of seeking amusement out of doors appeared for the present relinquished; and Sparkle, to keep the subject alive, resumed as follows.
[409] Our group was so entertained by these lively and relatable scenes of real life among the Corinthians of the Metropolis that the idea of looking for fun outside seemed to be set aside for now; and Sparkle, to keep the conversation going, continued with the following.
“In order to give some shade and variety to this sketch of society in the west, we will now, if agreeable, travel eastward as far as the entrance to the City, where I will introduce you, in fancy, to what must (at least to our friend Tallyho) afford both novelty and surprise.
“In order to add some shade and variety to this sketch of society in the west, we will now, if that’s okay, travel eastward as far as the entrance to the City, where I will invite you, in imagination, to what must (at least to our friend Tallyho) provide both novelty and surprise.
“Some time ago, and before I was quite so well versed in the knowledge of Life in London as at present, through the medium of one of the 'young men of genius about town,' I became a member of a new philosophical society called the Socratics, held at a certain house near Temple Bar. Having been plucked by several kind friends, till I resembled the 'man of Diogenes,' I concluded that here, at least, my pockets might be tolerably safe from the diving of a friendly hand. Philosophers, I was told by my friend the introducer, had souls above money; their thoughts were too sublime and contemplative for such worldly-minded concerns. I should have a great deal of instruction for little or nothing; I had only to pay my two guineas per annum, and the business was done; the gate of science was open, and nothing farther was requisite than to push forward and imitate Socrates. But how strangely do our anticipations mislead our sober judgments!
“Some time ago, and before I was as familiar with Life in London as I am now, I became a member of a new philosophical society called the Socratics, through the help of one of the 'genius young men around town.' After being helped out by several kind friends until I felt like the 'man of Diogenes,' I figured that my pockets might at least be safe from someone’s friendly reach here. My friend who introduced me told me that philosophers had souls that transcended money; their thoughts were too elevated and reflective for such material concerns. I would gain a lot of knowledge for a little cost; I just had to pay my two guineas a year, and it was all set; the door to knowledge was open, and all I had to do was push forward and emulate Socrates. But how oddly do our expectations lead our rational judgments astray!”
“The proprietor of the institution was rather courtier-like in making promises, which the managers of course considered as much too common-place and mechanical to be kept. It professed to exclude politics and religion from the touch of its scientific paws; in other words, from its discussions; but, alas!
“The owner of the institution was quite smooth in making promises, which the managers obviously saw as far too ordinary and robotic to actually follow through on. It claimed to keep politics and religion out of its scientific discussions, but, unfortunately!
[410] “The only subjects which it did not exclude were politics and religion. Neither could it be said that either of these subjects received more benefit from the way in which they were handled, than a white dress would from the handling of a chimney-sweeper, the first being made as black as possible in the form of Tom-Payneism, and the latter served up in the improved shape of Hartleyism or Atheism. Under such instruction it was scarcely possible but that I should, in process of time, become qualified, not only for a philosopher, but a legislator of the first water; and I had serious thoughts of offering my services, for the purpose of drawing up a code of laws, to the Otaheitans or the Calmucks. If I had gone on improving as I did, I might, perhaps, have carried out to some Backwood settlement or Atlantic island, as pretty a Utopian prescription, under the designation of a constitution, as could well be desired in the most philosophical community. But one of those sad trifles which suffocate great ideas, and sometimes terminate in suffocating philosophers, put a stop to my further enlightenment for the present, by drying up the treasury of the Socratics. The philosophers were the most civil as well as the most unfortunate people in the world. One or other of them was always in want of money, either to perfect some great scheme, or to save him from the unscientific 'handling' of a bailiff. It was enough to move a mile-stone, to think how the progress of improvement, or 'march of mind,' as it is called, might be delayed by being too cold-hearted; and it did move my purse to such a degree, that at length I had the satisfaction of discerning truth, sitting sola, at the bottom of it. My pocket consumption, however, was not instant, but progressive; it might be called a slow fever. Some of the philosophers visited me for a loan, like a monthly epidemy; others drained me like a Tertian; and one or two came upon me like an intermittent ague, every other day. Among these was Mr. Hoaxwell, the editor, as he called himself, of a magazine. This fellow had tried a number of schemes in the literary line, though none had hitherto answered. But he had the advantage and credit of shewing in his own person, the high repute in which literature is held in London, for he could seldom walk the streets without having two followers at his heels, one of whom frequently tapped him on the shoulder, no doubt, to remind him of mortality, like the slave in the [411] Roman triumphs. The favourite thesis of this gentleman, was the 'march of mind;' and on this subject he would spout his half hour in so effectual a manner, as to produce two very opposite effects; viz. the closing of the eyes of the elder philosophers, and the opening of mine, which latter operation was usually rendered more effectual by his concluding inquiry of ?have you such a thing as a pound note about you?'
[410] “The only topics that weren’t off-limits were politics and religion. It couldn’t be said that either of these subjects benefited from how they were approached; it was like a white dress being handled by a chimney sweep, the first becoming as black as possible through Tom-Payneism, and the latter presented in the more refined versions of Hartleyism or Atheism. With such education, it was almost inevitable that I would eventually become qualified not just as a philosopher but also as a top-tier legislator. I even considered offering my services to the Otaheitans or the Calmucks to draft a set of laws. If I had continued to improve as I had been, I might have taken an idealistic constitution to some remote settlement or Atlantic island, perfectly suited for the most philosophical community. But one of those unfortunate little things that stifle grand ideas—and sometimes suffocate the philosophers themselves—halted my progress for now by emptying the treasury of the Socratics. Philosophers were the most polite yet the most unfortunate people on earth. One or another was always in need of money, either to fund a grand scheme or to fend off the unscientific touch of a bailiff. Just thinking about how the progress of improvement, or the 'march of mind' as it’s called, could be hindered by a lack of compassion was enough to move me, and in the end, I found a sense of truth, sitting alone, at the bottom of my purse. The depletion of my funds, however, was not sudden but gradual; it could be called a slow fever. Some philosophers came to me for a loan like a monthly epidemic; others drained me like a recurring illness; and a few showed up like an intermittent fever, every other day. Among these was Mr. Hoaxwell, who called himself the editor of a magazine. This guy had tried a number of literary ventures, but none had worked out so far. Still, he had the advantage of demonstrating how highly literature is regarded in London, as he could barely walk the streets without two followers trailing behind him, one often tapping him on the shoulder, no doubt to remind him of his mortality, like the slave in the [411] Roman triumphs. This gentleman's main theme was the 'march of mind,' and he could talk about it for half an hour so effectively that it had two very different effects: it closed the eyes of the older philosophers and opened mine, particularly after his usual concluding question: ‘Do you happen to have a pound note on you?’”
“This was the treasurer of the Socratics, Thomas Carney Littlego, Esq. and a treasure of a treasurer he was. This gentleman was a pupil of Esculapius, and united in his own person the various departments of dentist, apothecary, and surgeon. It is presumed that he found the employment of drawing the eye teeth of Philosophical Tyros more profitable, and bleeding the young Socratics more advantageous, than physicking his patients. In his lectures he advocated the system of research, and admired deduction; and this I, among many others, had reason, at last, to know. It was very odd, but so it was, that some two or three hundred per annum, subscribed by the members of the society, vanished into the worthy treasurer's pocket, as it were a Moskoestron, and then disappeared for ever.
“This was the treasurer of the Socratics, Thomas Carney Littlego, Esq., and he was a fantastic treasurer. This gentleman was a student of Esculapius and combined the roles of dentist, pharmacist, and surgeon. It seems he found it more profitable to pull the eye teeth of Philosophical Tyros and to bleed the young Socratics than to provide proper medical care to his patients. In his lectures, he promoted the system of research and praised deduction; and this I, along with many others, ultimately came to realize. It was quite strange, but nonetheless true, that a couple of hundred dollars a year, contributed by the members of the society, would seemingly vanish into the worthy treasurer's pocket like a magic trick, and then disappear forever.”
“Another of the Socratics was called Epictetus Moonshine, Esquire. This gentleman was a tall spider-like man, with lantern jaws, hatchet face, and a mouth—the chief characteristic of which was, that it made a diagonal line from the bottom of the face to the eyebrow. He was a great speculator, and had taken it into his head, that beyond the blue mountains in New South Wales, was the real El Dorado. But as he possessed, according to the usual phrase, more wit than money, and no one will discount a check from the aforesaid wit on change, the zeal of Epictetus Moonshine, some time after the breaking up of the Socratic institution for benefitting the human race, so much got the better of self-love, that he committed several petty larcenies in hopes of being transported thither; but whether his courage or his luck failed him, certain it is that he never reached the proper degree of criminality, and only succeeded in visiting by turns the various penitentiaries in London and its vicinity.
“Another of the Socratics was named Epictetus Moonshine, Esquire. This guy was a tall, spider-like man with a long jaw, a sharp face, and a mouth that created a diagonal line from the bottom of his face to his eyebrow. He was a big thinker and convinced himself that beyond the blue mountains in New South Wales was the real El Dorado. But since he had, as the saying goes, more cleverness than cash, and no one would accept a check written in cleverness, Epictetus Moonshine’s enthusiasm, some time after the Socratic institution aimed at helping humanity fell apart, overwhelmed his self-interest. He ended up committing several minor thefts hoping to get sent there; but whether he ran out of courage or luck, it’s clear he never reached the level of criminality needed and only managed to spend time in various prisons in London and the surrounding area.”
[412] “'You mistake greatly, Sir,' said he, to one of the visiting governors of Bridewell, who condoled with a man of his talents in such a position, 'if you think a residence in this sequestered haunt a subject of regret. The mind, as Milton says, is its own seat, and able of itself to make—
[412] “'You are very mistaken, Sir,' he said to one of the visiting governors of Bridewell, who expressed sympathy for a man of his talents in such a position, 'if you believe that living in this secluded place is something to be sorry about. The mind, as Milton puts it, is its own seat and has the power to create—
And now I am on the subject of stoicism, permit me to shew you a picture which I have just chalked out, wherein I prove that there is no such thing as pain in the world. That all which we now feel is imagination; that the idea of body is deception. I have had it printed, —written in fourteen languages, and presented to all the sovereigns of Europe, with a new code of laws annexed to it. I'll bring it in a minute, if you'll excuse me.' So saying, the pupil of Zeno disappeared, wrapping his blanket round him; but other speculations of 'matters high' no doubt attracted him from the remembrance of his promise, (just as he forgot to pay some score pounds he borrowed of me) for the visitor saw no more of him.
And now that I’m on the topic of stoicism, let me show you a drawing I just made, where I argue that there’s no such thing as pain in the world. Everything we feel is just imagination; the idea of a physical body is a trick. I’ve had it printed, written in fourteen languages, and given to all the rulers of Europe, along with a new set of laws. I’ll grab it in a minute, if you don’t mind.” With that, Zeno's pupil disappeared, wrapping himself in his blanket. But other high-minded thoughts surely distracted him from remembering his promise (just like he forgot to pay back the few hundred pounds he borrowed from me), because the visitor never saw him again.
“The mention of El Dorado brings to my recollection another member, Mr. Goosequill, who came to town with half-a-crown in his pocket, and his tragedy called the 'Mines of Peru,' by which he of course expected to make his fortune. For five years he danced attendance on the manager, in order to hear tidings of its being 'cast,' and four more in trying to get it back again. During the process he was groaned, laughed, whistled, and nearly kicked out of the secretary's room, who swore (which he well might do, considering the exhausted treasury of the concern) that he knew nothing about nor ever heard of the 'Mines of Peru.' At last Mr. Goosequill, being shewn into the manager's kitchen, to wait till he was at leisure, had the singular pleasure of seeing two acts of the 'Mines of Peru,' daintily fastened round a savory capon on the spit, to preserve it from the scorching influence of the fire.
“The mention of El Dorado reminds me of another guy, Mr. Goosequill, who arrived in town with a couple of shillings in his pocket and his play called 'Mines of Peru,' which he naturally hoped would make him rich. For five years, he kept hanging around the manager, trying to find out if it was going to be produced, and then he spent four more years trying to get it back. During that time, he was groaned at, laughed at, whistled at, and nearly kicked out of the secretary's office, who swore (which he had every right to, given the company's drained finances) that he knew nothing about the 'Mines of Peru.' Eventually, Mr. Goosequill, after being shown into the manager's kitchen to wait until he was free, had the unique experience of seeing two acts of the 'Mines of Peru' cleverly wrapped around a delicious chicken on the spit, to protect it from getting burnt by the fire."
“This was foul treatment, I observed, as he concluded his tale, and I ventured to ask how he had subsisted in the meanwhile? 'Why,' said he, 'I first made an agreement with a printer of ballads, in Seven Dials, who finding my inclinations led to poetry, expressed his satisfaction, telling me that one of his poets had lost his senses, and was confined in Bedlam; and another was become dozed with [413] drinking drams. An agreement was made,' continued he, 'and I think I earned five-pence halfpenny per week as my share of this speculation with the muses. But as my profits were not always certain, I had often the pleasure of supping with Duke Humphrey, and for this reason I turned my thoughts to prose; and in this walk I was eminently successful, for during a week of gloomy weather, I published an apparition, on the substance of which I subsisted very comfortably for a month. I have often made a good meal upon a monster. A rape has frequently afforded me great satisfaction, but a murder well-timed was a never-failing resource.'
“This was terrible treatment, I noted, as he finished his story, and I dared to ask how he had managed to get by in the meantime? 'Well,' he said, 'I first made a deal with a ballad printer in Seven Dials, who, noticing my interest in poetry, expressed his approval, telling me that one of his poets had lost his mind and was locked up in Bedlam; and another had become sluggish from drinking heavily. We struck a deal,' he continued, 'and I think I earned five and a half pence per week as my share of this project with the muses. But since my earnings weren't always reliable, I often dined with Duke Humphrey, which is why I turned my focus to prose; and I was quite successful in that area, for during a week of dreary weather, I published a ghost story, on which I lived fairly well for a month. I've often had a good meal thanks to a monster. A rape has frequently brought me great satisfaction, but a well-timed murder was an unfailing source.'”
“But to return to the catastrophe of the Socratics: “By the time that the philosophical experiments in 'diving without hydraulics' had cleaned me entirely out, it was suggested that any thing in the shape of a loan would be desirable; they were not nice—not they; a pair of globes; a set of catoptric instruments; an electrical apparatus; a few antique busts; or a collection of books for the library;—any old rum, as Jack.'said, would do; and all and every of the before-mentioned loans would be most punctually taken care of. And truly enough they were, for the lender was never destined to cast an eye on any portion of the loan again. I was, indeed, so fortunate as to catch a glimpse of my globes and instruments at a pawnbroker's, and the fragments of my library at sundry book-stalls. It was now high time to cut the connection, for the Socratics were rapidly withdrawing. The association, for want of the true golden astringent, like a dumpling without its suet, or a cheap baker's quartern loaf without its ?doctor,' (i.e. alum), was falling to pieces. The worthy treasurer had retired, seizing on such articles as were most within reach; and when I called upon him with my resignation, I had the pleasure of seeing my own busts handsomely lining the walls of the toothdrawer's passage. I waited on the Socratics for the Bums they had been so polite as to borrow.—One, to shew that he had profited by studying Socrates, threatened to accuse me and the society of a plot to overturn the government, if a syllable more on so low a subject as money was mentioned. Another told me that he was just going on a visit to Abbot's Park for three months, and should be glad to see me when he came back. A third, an unwashed artificer,' was so kind as to inform me that [414] he 'had just got white-washed, and he did not care one straw for my black looks.' And a fourth, an index-maker, when presented with his acceptance, kindly indicated that he had not the slightest recollection of the thing, and that, if I persisted in compelling payment, he would bring a philosophical gentleman from Cold Bath Fields, and two honest men from Newgate, to swear that it was not his hand-writing.
“But to get back to the disaster of the Socratics: “By the time the philosophical experiments in 'diving without hydraulics' had completely drained me, it was suggested that anything in the form of a loan would be welcome; they weren’t picky—not at all; a pair of globes; a set of optical instruments; an electrical device; a few antique busts; or a collection of books for the library;—any old junk, as Jack said, would do; and all of the aforementioned loans would be taken care of promptly. And indeed they were, for the lender was never meant to lay eyes on any part of the loan again. I was actually lucky enough to spot my globes and instruments at a pawn shop, and the remnants of my library at various book stalls. It was now high time to sever ties, for the Socratics were quickly pulling away. The association, lacking the true golden astringent, like a dumpling without its suet, or a cheap baker's loaf without its 'doctor' (i.e., alum), was falling apart. The worthy treasurer had departed, seizing whatever items were easiest to grab; and when I visited him to resign, I had the pleasure of seeing my own busts nicely lining the walls of the dentist's corridor. I approached the Socratics about the loans they had so politely borrowed.—One, to show that he had benefited from studying Socrates, threatened to accuse me and the society of plotting to overthrow the government if I mentioned anything as lowly as money again. Another told me he was about to visit Abbot's Park for three months and would be happy to see me when he returned. A third, an unwashed craftsman, kindly informed me that he had just been whitewashed and didn’t care at all for my grim expression. And a fourth, an index-maker, when given his acceptance, casually indicated that he had no recollection of it whatsoever, and that if I kept insisting on payment, he would bring a philosophical gentleman from Cold Bath Fields and two honest men from Newgate to swear it wasn’t his handwriting.”
“The drop-curtain being thus let down on the last act of the farce, there was no alternative between being queerly plundered, or instantly laying a horse-whip over the hungry philosophers. To sue them reminded me of the proverb—'Sue a beggar,' &c. To crack a baculine joke over their sconces would involve an expense which the worthy philosophers were not worth. I had done an imprudent thing in joining the 'march of mind,' and all that I could do was to brush the dust from my coat and the mud from my shoes: 'he that touches pitch,' says Solomon, 'shall he not be denied thereby?' Mr. Treasurer, therefore, remained in quiet possession of the busts—the book-stall displayed the properly appreciated volumes—and the Socratic borrowers took all the care in the world of 'value received.'”
“The drop curtain fell on the last act of the farce, leaving me with no choice but to either get weirdly ripped off or immediately whip the greedy philosophers. Suing them reminded me of the saying, 'Sue a beggar,' and so on. Making a sarcastic joke at their expense would cost more than those philosophers were worth. I had made a foolish decision by joining the 'march of mind,' and all I could do was brush the dust off my coat and the mud off my shoes: 'He that touches pitch,' says Solomon, 'will he not be stained?' So, Mr. Treasurer remained in quiet possession of the busts—the book stall featured the appropriately valued volumes—and the Socratic borrowers took all the care in the world of 'value received.'”
Thus the day, which it was intended to have been spent in amusements out of doors, was passed in animated and amusing conversation over the hospitable and convivial board, and a fresh zest was added to wit and humour by the exhilarating influence of the rosy god.
Thus the day, which was supposed to be spent enjoying outdoor fun, was instead filled with lively and entertaining conversations around the welcoming and festive table, and a new excitement was added to the jokes and humor by the invigorating presence of the cheerful god.
CHAPTER XXXII
[415] The following morning was one of unusual bustle, activity, and anxiety, the originally intended movements of the party being thus unexpectedly interrupted. Dashall had arisen before his usual hour, and departed from home before the appearance of Sparkle and Bob to breakfast: it was, of course, supposed that the promised duel would have decided the fate of one of the antagonists before they should see him again.
[415] The next morning was unusually busy, filled with activity and anxiety, as the group's planned movements were unexpectedly disrupted. Dashall woke up earlier than usual and left home before Sparkle and Bob arrived for breakfast. Everyone assumed that the expected duel would determine the fate of one of the opponents before they saw him again.
In this conjecture, however, they were pleasingly disappointed by his arrival about half past eleven o'clock.
In this situation, however, they were pleasantly surprised by his arrival at around 11:30.
“Well,” said Sparkle, “it is all over—who has fallen—which is the man—how many shots—what distance—who was the other second—and where is the wounded hero?”
“Well,” said Sparkle, “it’s all over—who has fallen—who’s the man—how many shots—what distance—who was the other second—and where is the wounded hero?”
“Nay,” said Tom, “you are before-hand with me; I have none of the intelligence you require.—I have been in search of Lord Bluster, who left town this very morning, three hours before my arrival, for Edinburgh; and consesequently, I suppose, either has no intimation of Laconic's intention to seek, or if he has—is determined to be out of the way of receiving a regular challenge; so that, in all probability, it will end, like many other duels, in smoke.”
“Nah,” said Tom, “you’re ahead of me; I don’t have the info you need. I’ve been looking for Lord Bluster, who left town just this morning, three hours before I got here, for Edinburgh; so I guess he either hasn’t heard about Laconic’s intention to challenge him or, if he has, he’s planning to avoid getting a formal challenge. So, it’s likely this will end, like many other duels, with nothing happening.”
[416] “Notwithstanding your friend's letter was so full of fire,” observed Tallyho.
[416] “Even though your friend's letter was so passionate,” noted Tallyho.
“But perhaps he became more cool over a bottle of claret—toe to toe, my boy,” continued Sparkle.
“But maybe he loosened up more after a bottle of claret—step for step, my boy,” continued Sparkle.
This conversation was interrupted by a letter, which being delivered to Tom, he read aloud, interrupted only by laughter, which he could not restrain.
This conversation was interrupted by a letter, which when delivered to Tom, he read aloud, only pausing for laughter that he couldn’t hold back.
“Dear Tom, “Don't like fighting in England—am off directly for Cork.—Tell Bluster I'll wait there till he comes—but if he values his life, not to come at all.—-Please do the needful in despatching my servants, &c. within two days, for I am in such a passion I can't wait a moment.—So adieu.
“Dear Tom, “I don’t like fighting in England—I’m heading straight to Cork. Tell Bluster I’ll wait there until he arrives—but if he values his life, he shouldn’t come at all. Please take care of sending my servants, etc. within two days, because I’m so angry I can’t wait a second. So goodbye.
“Yours, sincerely, Laconic.”
"Best, Laconic."
“Excellent, upon my word,” said Sparkle; “here are two men of honour determined upon meeting, running away from each other even before the preliminaries are arranged.”
“Excellent, I swear,” said Sparkle; “here are two honorable men who are set on meeting, but they're running away from each other even before the details are worked out.”
“There is novelty in it at least,” said Tom, “though I am by no means astonished at the end of it; for I before observed, I do not think either of them over fond of powder. Laconic pretended that nothing would satisfy him but fighting immediately, provided Bluster was to be found: any person to whom bis character was not known would have expected some spilling of blood before this time. But it is now plain that this blustering was the effect of the wine, and the man's cooler judgment has extinguished the flame of his irritability.”
“There’s at least something new in it,” said Tom, “though I’m not really surprised by the outcome; as I mentioned earlier, I don’t think either of them is very fond of fighting. Laconic acted like nothing would satisfy him except for an immediate brawl, as long as Bluster was around: anyone who didn’t know him would have expected there to be some bloodshed by now. But it’s clear that this bravado was just the result of the wine, and now that he’s calmed down, his cooler judgment has put out the flames of his anger.”
“I think,” said Tallyho, “it would be well to advise them to meet half-seas over, and draw a cork together by way of settling their differences.”
“I think,” said Tallyho, “it would be a good idea to suggest they meet halfway and open a bottle together to resolve their differences.”
“Curse their differences,” replied Dashall, “I'll have nothing more to do with them: upon the whole, I am glad now that I could not meet with Bluster, or I should have looked like a fool between the two; and as it is, I am not much pleased with the adventure, particularly as it must necessarily delay me, and I hate the idea of travelling alone. I should very much have liked to start with you; but as Laconic has made me fully acquainted with his affairs, in case he should fall in the intended duel, I must even comply with the contents of his note; though, if he had not actually departed, you may rest assured I would have nothing to do with him or his concerns.”
“Curse their differences,” replied Dashall. “I want nothing more to do with them. Honestly, I'm glad I didn't end up meeting Bluster, or I would have looked like a fool caught between the two. As it stands, I'm not very happy about this situation, especially since it’s going to delay me, and I really dislike the idea of traveling alone. I would have loved to start this journey with you, but since Laconic has filled me in on his situation—just in case he falls in that duel—I have to go along with what his note says. If he hadn’t actually left, you can be sure I would avoid him and his issues.”
[417] “Come, come,” cried Sparkle, “grumbling is of no use now; and as the circumstances are not made public, the duellists will escape being laughed at. There is no harm done—we must be upon the alert—we shortly bid adieu to London, and shall not be so well pleased to leave you behind; but remember you promise to follow as quickly as possible.—Now, how shall we dispose of the remainder of the time?”
[417] “Come on,” Sparkle said, “complaining isn't going to help now; and since the details aren’t public, the duelists won’t be ridiculed. No harm done—we need to stay alert—we're leaving London soon, and we’d prefer not to leave you behind; but remember, you promised to catch up as quickly as you can.—So, how should we spend the rest of our time?”
“Zounds,” replied Tom, “all my plans are deranged by this foolish affair of Laconic's, and I can hardly tell which way to move.—However, I shall not devote myself to his affairs to-day; therefore I am at your service; and as time is but short with us, let us make good use of it. The tragedy of the duel having ended most comically, I am prepared for any thing farcical; therefore say the word, and I am your man for a toddle, east, west, north, or south.”
“Wow,” replied Tom, “this silly situation with Laconic has messed up all my plans, and I can barely figure out what to do. Anyway, I'm not going to focus on his issues today; so I'm ready to help you. Since we don’t have much time, let's use it wisely. The duel ended in such a funny way that I'm up for anything ridiculous; just say the word, and I’m in for a stroll, whether it's east, west, north, or south.”
Upon this intimation, our friends sallied forth upon a sort of Quixotic excursion in search of adventures, for neither could make up his mind as to the precise place of their destination, when the first object that attracted their particular notice was a large printed bill, announcing to the public, “That the sale at Fonthill Abbey, advertised for the 8th of October, would not take place, in consequence of the property being disposed of by private contract."{1}
Upon hearing this, our friends set out on a somewhat whimsical adventure in search of excitement, as neither of them could decide on a specific destination. The first thing that caught their attention was a big printed poster, informing the public, “That the sale at Fonthill Abbey, scheduled for October 8th, would not happen due to the property being sold through a private contract."{1}
[418] “Thousands of people,” says Dashall, “who had been flocking to that neighbourhood, intending to obtain a view of the premises, will, by this event, be disappointed. Several of my friends have paid a visit to it, and describe it as a most princely mansion.”
[418] “Thousands of people,” says Dashall, “who had been coming to that area, hoping to get a look at the place, will be let down by this event. Several of my friends have visited it and describe it as an incredibly grand mansion.”
“And pray,” inquired Sparkle, “what is the cause of its being sold at all 1 It has always been reported that Mr. Beckford was a man of very extensive property.”
“And please,” asked Sparkle, “what’s the reason it’s being sold at all? It’s always been said that Mr. Beckford had a lot of property.”
“That appears to be a little mysterious, and report, who is always a busy fellow on extraordinary occasions, has not been idle: by some it is stated, that Mr. Beckford suffered great and irreparable losses in his West India property, and that there are in the Abbey at this moment executions to the amount of eighty thousand pounds; that the view of the effects has taken place entirely under the control of the sheriffs: by others it is asserted that no such embarrassment exists. However, be that as it may, the public have been highly gratified for some time past in being permitted to view the estate and the valuable curiosities it contains; and the produce of the admission tickets, which has probably netted twenty thousand pounds, goes to the liquidation of the debts.”
“That seems a bit mysterious, and the reporter, who is always busy during unusual events, hasn’t been resting: some say that Mr. Beckford faced huge and irreversible losses on his West India property, and that right now there are executions at the Abbey amounting to eighty thousand pounds; that the inventory of the assets has been entirely managed by the sheriffs. However, others claim that there’s no such financial trouble. Regardless, the public has been quite pleased to have the chance to explore the estate and the valuable curiosities it holds for some time now; and the proceeds from the admission tickets, which probably total around twenty thousand pounds, go toward paying off the debts.”
[419] “And an excellent plan for raising the wind too,” said Tallyho; “the example, I suppose, has been taken from Wanstead House.”
[419] “And it's a great idea for getting some cash too,” said Tallyho; “I guess the inspiration came from Wanstead House.”
“Most likely,” was the reply; “but if it is true that the disposal of the property is occasioned by the embarrassment of its owner, it cannot but excite painful and melancholy reflections on the tenure by which men hold the goods of this life. Those who were acquainted with Mr. Beckford's circumstances some years ago, thought him so secured in the enjoyment of a princely income, that he was absolutely out of the reach of ill fortune, being at one time in the actual receipt of one hundred thousand pounds a year. It cannot be said of him that he has wasted his inheritance at the gaming-table. The palace which he raised on a barren mountain, the greater part of those vast plantations which surround it, the collection of books, and of rare specimens of art, and the superb furniture, which gives such peculiar dignity and splendour to the interior of his residence, speak at once the immensity of his means, and attest the propriety and gracefulness of their application.”
“Most likely,” was the reply; “but if it’s true that the sale of the property is due to the owner’s financial struggles, it can’t help but provoke painful and sad thoughts about how people hold onto the possessions of this life. Those who knew Mr. Beckford's situation a few years ago thought he was so secure in his lavish income that he was completely safe from misfortune, as he was once actually receiving a hundred thousand pounds a year. It can’t be said that he squandered his inheritance at the gambling table. The palace he built on a barren mountain, most of the vast plantations surrounding it, his collection of books, rare art pieces, and the exquisite furniture that gives such unique dignity and splendor to the interior of his home all showcase the vastness of his resources and demonstrate the appropriateness and elegance of their use.”
“We ought to have taken a trip there to have seen this earthly paradise,” rejoined Tallyho; “but now I suppose it is all over.”
“We should have taken a trip there to see this earthly paradise,” replied Tallyho; “but now I guess it’s all over.”
“Certainly,” was the reply; “and it is a circumstance for which the people in the neighbourhood appear to have been totally unprepared. They were led to believe, from the beginning, that the mere luxuries of the place were to be sold, and the public announcement of this had the effect of filling the county of Wilts with pleasure-hunters from all quarters. He was fortunate who, for some time past, could find a vacant chair within twenty miles of Fonthill: the solitude of a private apartment was a luxury which few could hope for; and an old friend of mine informs me, in one of his letters, that, coming from London, travellers first met their troubles about Salisbury, The languages of France, of Holland, and of Germany, the peculiarities (in tongue) of Scotland and Ireland, the broad dialect of Somersetshire, the tinckling accent of Wales, and the more polished tones of metropolitan residents, were all, at the same moment, to be heard clashing and contending. There were bells ringing, and chamber-maids screaming—horses prancing, and post-boys swearing—wheels clattering, and waiters jostling—guests threatening, and hubbub and confusion the orders of the day:—and all this to see something which half of them, when they got there, if they were so fortunate, could not obtain a sight of. So that, perhaps, we have been quite as well off in remaining at home.”
“Sure,” was the reply; “and it’s something the folks in the area seem to have been completely unprepared for. They were led to think, from the start, that only the nice things in the place were up for sale, and the public announcement of this filled the county of Wilts with pleasure-seekers from all over. It was a stroke of luck for anyone who, for some time now, could find an open seat within twenty miles of Fonthill: a quiet private room was a luxury few could hope for; and an old friend of mine tells me in one of his letters that, coming from London, travelers first encountered their troubles around Salisbury. You could hear the languages of France, Holland, and Germany, the unique dialects of Scotland and Ireland, the broad accent of Somersetshire, the ringing accent of Wales, and the more refined tones of city residents all clashing at once. There were bells ringing, chambermaids yelling—horses prancing, and post-boys cursing—wheels clattering, and waiters bumping into each other—guests arguing, with chaos and confusion reigning:—and all this just to see something which half of them, if they were lucky enough to get there, wouldn’t even get a glimpse of. So maybe we’ve been just as well off staying at home.”
[420] “That was spoken like a philosopher,” said Sparkle, dryly.—“But pray, who is to be the future possessor of this fine estate?”
[420] “That sounded like something a philosopher would say,” Sparkle replied dryly. “But seriously, who is going to own this amazing estate in the future?”
“A Mr. Farquhar, who, according to the best information I have obtained, is a man of an extraordinary character, and has given 330,000L. for it as it stands, with every article in the Abbey except the family plate and pictures, and a few very favourite rarities. Some interesting particulars of the purchaser have recently been made known; from which it appears, that he is a native of Aberdeen, and went out early in life to India, where he was employed in the medical department. Chemical research was his favourite pursuit: there was some defect in the manner of manufacturing gunpowder, and Mr. Farquhar was selected to give his assistance. By degrees, he obtained the management of the concern, and finally he became the sole contractor to the government. In this way wealth and distinction rapidly poured in upon him. After some years of labour, he returned to England with half a million of money; and it is somewhat curious that a man possessed of so much money upon his arrival at Gravesend, should, merely to save the expense of coach-hire, walk up to London; which, however, it appears he did, when his first visit, very naturally, was to his banker. Without waiting for refreshment or alteration of attire, full of dust and dirt, with clothes not worth a guinea, he presented himself at the counter, and asked for Mr. Coutts. The clerks, not much prepossessed in his favour by his appearance, disregarded his application; and he was suffered to remain in the cash-office under the idea of his being some poor petitioner, until Mr. Coutts, passing through it, recognized his Indian customer, the man whom he expected to see with all the pomp of a nabob. Mr. Farquhar requested to have five pounds; which having received, he took his departure. This anecdote strongly marks the character and habits of the man. He soon afterwards settled in Upper Baker-street, where his house was to be distinguished by its dingy appearance, uncleaned windows, and general neglect. An old woman was his sole attendant; and his apartment, to which a brush or broom was never applied, was kept sacred from her care. His neighbours were not acquainted with his character; and there have been instances of some of them offering him money as an object of charity.”
“A Mr. Farquhar, who, according to the best information I have, is a man of extraordinary character, paid £330,000 for it as it stands, acquiring every item in the Abbey except for the family silver and paintings, along with a few prized rarities. Some intriguing details about the buyer have recently come to light; it turns out that he is originally from Aberdeen and left for India early in his life, where he worked in the medical department. His favorite pursuit was chemical research: there was an issue with how gunpowder was being made, and Mr. Farquhar was chosen to help. Gradually, he took control of the operation and eventually became the sole contractor for the government. Wealth and recognition quickly followed. After several years of hard work, he returned to England with half a million pounds; it’s somewhat surprising that a man with so much money would, upon arriving at Gravesend, choose to walk to London just to save on coach fare, which he did. His first stop was, of course, his banker. Without waiting for refreshments or a change of clothes, covered in dust and dirt, wearing clothes worth less than a guinea, he went up to the counter and asked for Mr. Coutts. The clerks, not impressed by his appearance, ignored his request, and he was left hanging in the cash office, mistaken for a poor beggar, until Mr. Coutts walked through and recognized his Indian client, whom he expected to see in the full splendor of a wealthy man. Mr. Farquhar requested five pounds, and after receiving it, he left. This story illustrates his character and habits. He soon settled in Upper Baker Street, where his house stood out for its shabby look, dirty windows, and overall neglect. An old woman was his only helper, and his room, which never saw a broom or brush, was kept untouched by her care. His neighbors didn’t know his true character, and there were instances of some offering him money as a charitable gesture.”
[421] “An admirable tenant for such a place as Fonthill, truly,” observed Sparkle.—“Why, what the devil will he do with it now he has got it?”
[421] “A great tenant for a place like Fonthill, really,” Sparkle remarked. “So, what on earth is he going to do with it now that he has it?”
“Perhaps,” said Dashall, “I ought to refer you to the man himself for an answer to such a question, for I am at a loss to guess; he is now sixty-five years of age, and still in single blessedness.”
“Maybe,” said Dashall, “I should direct you to the man himself for an answer to that question, because I can’t figure it out; he’s now sixty-five years old and still happily single.”
“A very enviable situation,” remarked Sparkle, “However,” continued Tom, “he has done some good in the world, and may live to do more. He became a partner in the great agency house in the City, of Basset, Farquhar, and Co.; besides which, he purchased the late Mr. Whitbread's share in the brewery. Part of his great wealth was devoted to the purchase of estates; but the great bulk was invested in stock, and suffered to increase on compound interest. He is deeply read in ancient and modern literature, and has a mind of extraordinary vigour and originality; his conversation of a superior order, impressive and animated on every subject. His sentiments are liberal, and strangely contrasted with his habits. His religious opinions are peculiar, and seem to be influenced by an admiration of the purity of the lives and moral principles of the Brahmins. It is said that he offered 100,000L. to found a college in Aberdeen, with a reservation on points of religion; to which, however, the sanction of the legislature could not be procured, and the plan was dropped. He has been residing in Gloucester-place, where he has furnished a house in a style of modern elegance, and, so far as appearances are concerned, indulges in several luxuries; but his domestic habits are still the same, and his table seldom labours with the pressure of heavy dishes. He has one nephew, to whom he allows, or did allow, 300L. per year; has but few other claims of family; and it is probable that his immense wealth will be bequeathed to charitable purposes, as the great object of his ambition is to leave his name to posterity as the founder of some public institution. To that passion may, perhaps, be attributed the purchase of Fonthill Abbey; for his age and infirmities totally unfit him for the enjoyment of such [422] a place. He is diminutive in person, and by no means prepossessing in appearance; his dress has all the qualities of the antique to recommend it; and his domestic expenditure, until the last year, has not exceeded 200L. per annum, although his possessions, money in the funds, and capital in trade, are said to amount to a million and a half!”
“A very enviable situation,” said Sparkle. “However,” Tom continued, “he has done some good in the world and may live to do more. He became a partner in the prestigious agency firm in the city, Basset, Farquhar, and Co.; in addition, he bought the late Mr. Whitbread's share in the brewery. Some of his considerable wealth was used to buy estates, but most of it was invested in stocks and allowed to grow through compound interest. He's well-read in both ancient and modern literature, with a mind that’s incredibly sharp and original; his conversations are of a high standard, engaging and lively on any topic. His views are progressive, which is quite at odds with his habits. His religious beliefs are unique and seem to be influenced by admiration for the purity of the lives and moral values of the Brahmins. It’s said that he offered £100,000 to establish a college in Aberdeen, with some reservations on religious matters; however, he couldn't get the necessary approval from the legislature, so the plan fell through. He has been living in Gloucester Place, where he furnished his home in a modern elegant style, and, at least from appearances, enjoys several luxuries; yet his home life remains the same, and his table rarely features an abundance of dishes. He has one nephew whom he gives £300 per year; he has few other family obligations, and it's likely that his massive fortune will be left for charitable causes, as his main goal is to leave a legacy as the founder of some public institution. This passion might explain his purchase of Fonthill Abbey, as his age and health make him unfit to enjoy such a place. He's small in stature and not particularly attractive in appearance; his clothing has a vintage flair to it, and until last year, his household expenses were only about £200 per year, even though his assets, including savings and business investments, are said to add up to one and a half million!”
“Why, he is an oddity indeed,” exclaimed Tallyho, “and I think he ought to be exhibited as the eighth wonder of the world.”
“Wow, he’s really something else,” said Tallyho, “and I think he should be showcased as the eighth wonder of the world.”
“Certainly we cannot look upon the like every day: there are instances, it is said, of his having returned letters merely because the postage was not paid, although he has, on more than one or two occasions, given away, at once, for praise-worthy purposes, ten and twenty thousand pounds.”
“Surely we don’t see this every day: there are reports that he returned letters just because the postage wasn’t paid, even though he has, on several occasions, generously donated ten and twenty thousand pounds at once for worthy causes.”
“Then,” rejoined Sparkle, “he is a trump, and deserves to be respected:—but where are we bound to?”
“Then,” replied Sparkle, “he’s a standout and deserves respect:—but where are we headed?”
“Nay,” replied Tom, “I have no choice upon the subject.”
“Nah,” replied Tom, “I don’t have any say on the matter.”
“Nor I neither,” said Gayfield, stepping smartly up to him, and catching him by the hand—“so come along—I'll guide you to good quarters and comfortable accommodation.—Dine with me, and we will have a cut in at whist.—What say you?”
“Neither will I,” said Gayfield, stepping up to him quickly and grabbing his hand. “So come on—I’ll take you to a nice place with comfortable rooms. Dine with me, and we can play a round of whist. What do you say?”
This proposition was acceded to, and away they went to Gayfield's apartments, where a very hospitable and friendly entertainment was presented to them with every mark of a hearty welcome. In the evening, the glass circulated freely, and cards being introduced, they enjoyed an agreeable and pleasant game, at which nothing particular occurred; after which they jumped into a rattler, and were conveyed home, very well satisfied with every attention they had received from Gayfield, except the eternal rattle of his tongue.
This suggestion was accepted, and off they went to Gayfield's place, where they were greeted with a warm and friendly gathering. In the evening, the drinks flowed easily, and with the addition of card games, they had a fun and enjoyable time, nothing noteworthy happened during the games; afterward, they hopped into a cab and were taken home, very pleased with all the attention they had received from Gayfield, except for his incessant chatter.
CHAPTER XXXIII
[423] Next morning, while our party were at breakfast, who should make his appearance but Gayfield, whose elasticity of spirits, and volubility of tongue, appeared, if possible, to have acquired an additional impulse of action.
[423] The next morning, while we were having breakfast, who should show up but Gayfield, whose high spirits and chattiness seemed to have gained an extra boost of energy.
“My dear fellow,” he commenced, addressing Bob, “as you are so soon about to leave us, I feel anxious you should carry with you all the information possible on that interesting subject, Life in London. Long as your stay in the Metropolis has been, still, where the subjects are so varying—so ever varying—so multifarious—and the field for observation so unlimited, it is impossible but that something must have escaped your notice.
“My dear friend,” he began, speaking to Bob, “since you’re about to leave us soon, I want to make sure you take with you as much information as possible on the fascinating topic of Life in London. Even though you’ve been in the city for a long time, with so many different subjects—constantly changing—and such an endless opportunity for observation, it’s impossible that you haven’t missed something.”
“I have been scribbling to a friend in the country, whom I occasionally endeavour to amuse with “Sketches of Scenes in London;” and, as I flatter myself, it exhibits something of novelty both in character, situation, and incident, you shall hear it.”
“I've been writing to a friend in the country, whom I sometimes try to entertain with “Sketches of Scenes in London;” and, as I like to think, it shows some originality in character, setting, and events, so you’ll get to hear it.”
“Dear Dick—I told you that I was about to have the honour of being introduced to tin; celebrated Dr. Kitchen. 'He was a man, take him for all in all, I ne'er shall look upon his like again.' It was evidently one of ?Nature's worst journeymen' that made him; for he has not a limb which appears to appertain to his body; they look precisely as if they were purchased at an auction. This little man, who seems born to be 'girded at' by jokers of all classes, sharing the prevalent rage for notoriety, has written two works, one in the character of a gourmand, and the other of a musician. But not content with the fame he has thus acquired, he has persuaded himself that he is an excellent singer. Nay, it was given out lately, by his own concurrence, that he intended to sing at a concert at the Argyle Rooms; and although he has no more voice than a [424] cat, he was under the full impression that his Majesty, at the conclusion of the last court-day, intended to call upon him for a song. The Doctor asked me and Caustic to one of his literary dinners; and as T have supplied you with a sketch of a cook-shop gourmand, I make no apology for shewing up a more elevated class of gastronomes, by reporting the Doctor's speech on this occasion.—
“Dear Dick—I mentioned that I was about to have the honor of being introduced to the famous Dr. Kitchen. 'He was a man, take him for all in all, I shall never see his like again.' Clearly, he’s one of those 'worst journeymen' of Nature, since he doesn’t seem to have limbs that actually fit his body; they look like they were bought at an auction. This little guy, who seems destined to be mocked by jokers from all walks of life, caught up in the current craze for fame, has written two works—one as a gourmand and the other as a musician. But not satisfied with the reputation he’s gained, he has convinced himself that he’s a fantastic singer. In fact, it was recently announced, with his agreement, that he planned to sing at a concert at the Argyle Rooms; and even though he has no more voice than a [424] cat, he truly believed that the King, at the end of the last court day, intended to call on him for a song. The Doctor invited me and Caustic to one of his literary dinners; and since I’ve already given you a glimpse into a cook-shop gourmand, I won’t apologize for giving you a look at a more sophisticated group of gastronomes by sharing the Doctor’s speech from this occasion.—
“'On entering the world, the acuteness of my palate and vigour of digestion disposed me to conceive that I should excel in the fraternal sciences of eating and drinking; and I entertained no doubt but my vapid organs would be considerably improved by frequent exercise. Taste has various departments—painting, architecture, sculpture, &c.; but impressed with the conviction that my only office in this world was to invent new dishes and devour them, I collected all the culinary writers from Caxton to Mons. Ude, of modern celebrity. As science proceeds by gradual advances, I frequented the better sort of coffee-houses, to initiate myself in the correct nomenclature of different dishes, and to judge of their skilful preparation. These, to be sure, are proper schools for a beginner; but I soon discovered that these victuallers, on account of their numerous visitants, who are disposed to eat much and pay little, could not afford to furnish the most costly and exquisite entrees. Sometimes I found that the same turkey had been twice subjected to the spit; a sole that had been broiled the day before, underwent the operation of frying on the following. Cold meat appeared as hot pie, with many other curious and ingenious devices. Then the wine was so adulterated, compelled, like a melancholic patient, to look old before its time, and fitted, like a pauper, with a ready-made coat perceptibly impregnated with bad brandy, and tasted of every thing but the grape, that, in about six months, I sickened, and no longer frequented these tasteless and inhospitable retreats for the hungry.
“Upon entering the world, my keen sense of taste and strong digestion led me to believe that I would excel in the art of eating and drinking; I had no doubt that my bland palate would greatly improve with regular practice. Taste encompasses various fields—like painting, architecture, sculpture, etc.—but convinced that my sole purpose in this life was to create and enjoy new dishes, I gathered all the culinary writers from Caxton to the well-known Mons. Ude. As knowledge advances gradually, I often visited the better coffee houses to learn the correct names of different dishes and assess their skillful preparation. These, indeed, are suitable places for a novice; however, I soon realized that these eateries, due to their many customers who wanted to eat a lot for little money, couldn't provide the finest and most exquisite entrees. Sometimes I noticed that the same turkey had been roasted twice; a sole that was grilled the day before would be fried the next day. Cold meat appeared as hot pie, along with many other curious and clever tricks. The wine was so watered down that it resembled a gloomy patient, looking old before its time, and like a beggar, dressed in a cheap coat tainted with bad brandy, tasting of everything but the actual grape. Eventually, after about six months, I became sick of this and stopped going to these tasteless and unwelcoming places for the hungry.”
“'To view the ordinary arrangements of a modern dinner is a “sorry sight:”—a dozen articles placed at once upon the table—then, on the removal of the covers, comes the ferocious onset; some tremulous paralytic serving the soup, and scattering it in all directions, excepting into the plate where it ought to be delivered; [425] then an unhandy dandy mutilates the fish by cutting it in a wrong direction; here, an officious ignoramus tears asunder the members of a fowl as coarsely as the four horses dragged Ravillac, limb from limb; there, another simpleton notching a tongue into dissimilar slices, while a purblind coxcomb confounds the different sauces, pouring anchovy on pigeon-pie, and parsley and butter on roast-beef. All these barbarisms are unknown at my table.
“To see the typical setup for a modern dinner is a disappointing sight: a dozen dishes all laid out at once on the table—then, when the covers are removed, the chaotic rush begins; some shaky server spills the soup everywhere except into the bowl it’s supposed to go in; [425] then an awkward show-off ruins the fish by cutting it the wrong way; here, a clueless helper tears apart the pieces of a chicken as clumsily as the four horses dragged Ravillac, limb from limb; there, another fool slices a tongue into uneven pieces, while a blind idiot mixes up the sauces, pouring anchovy sauce on pigeon pie and butter and parsley on roast beef. All these disasters never happen at my table.”
“'Perhaps one of the most gratifying things in nature, far beyond any thing hitherto conveyed by landscape or historical painting, is to behold my guests in silence sip their wine. As the glass is held up, the eye and the orient liquor reciprocally sparkle; its bouquet expands the nostrils, elevates the eyebrow to admiration, and composes the lips to a smile. When its crystal receptacle, which is as thin as Indian paper, (for observe, to use a thick wine-glass is to drink with a gag in your mouth) touches the lips, they become comprest, to allow the thinnest possible stream to enter, that its flavour be thoroughly ascertained, and that successive perceptions of palateable flavour may terminate in the gulph of ecstacy.
“Maybe one of the most satisfying things in nature, far beyond anything captured by landscapes or historical paintings, is watching my guests silently sip their wine. As the glass is raised, both the eye and the vibrant liquid sparkle in response; its aroma fills the nostrils, raises the brows in admiration, and brings a smile to the lips. When its crystal-clear container, as thin as rice paper (because using a thick wine glass is like trying to drink with a gag in your mouth), touches the lips, they become pursed to let in the smallest stream, allowing the flavor to be fully enjoyed, leading to a culmination of delightful taste that ends in bliss.
“'I am fully aware that the pleasures of the table cannot be indulged without some hazard to the constitution; it is therefore the business of my serious reflections to counteract the invasions of disease, and provide timely remedies for its attack. A gold box is always placed on the table with the desert, containing a store of pills, which are of a very moving quality and speedy operation, called “Peristaltic persuaders.” In an adjoining room, there is a basin, as large as an ordinary washing-tub, with a copper of chamomile-tea; and a cupper is engaged to be in constant attendance till the guests depart.
“I know that enjoying good food can come with some risks to health; so it's my serious job to fight off disease and have quick remedies ready. There's always a gold box on the table with dessert, filled with pills that work fast and effectively, known as “Peristaltic persuaders.” In a nearby room, there's a basin as big as a regular laundry tub, filled with chamomile tea, and a cupper is there to help until the guests leave.”
“'Gentlemen, I once became a member of a fashionable dinner-club, managed by a superintending committee, who purchased their own wine, and engaged a culinary artist of established reputation. This club was a diversified assemblage, consisting of some sprigs of the nobility and a few old standards; several members of Parliament, who became very troublesome by repeating the speeches that had been uttered in the house, and were, besides, always attempting to reform the club. But this was less offensive to me than others, as I make it a [426] rule never to attend to conversation unless it relates to improvements in cookery. The remainder of our club was composed of a few hungry querulous lawyers, two or three doctors, who had increased the means of gratifying their appetites by destroying the digestive faculties of their patients. There is nothing permanent in the world; therefore, in about two years, the club dwindled away; a set of rascally economists complained of expense; the cook, a very honest man and skilful professor, was accused of peculation by the reformers, and turned adrift for modestly demonstrating that he could not make turtle out of tripe, nor convert sprats into red mullet. Several members moved off without paying their arrears. The managing committee disposed of the premises, plate, furniture, and wines, and pocketed the money; and thus the club was dissolved.'
“Gentlemen, I once joined a trendy dinner club run by a supervising committee that bought their own wine and hired a well-known chef. This club was a mixed group, made up of some young nobles and a few established members; several members of Parliament, who became quite annoying by repeating their speeches from the house and were always trying to reform the club. But this bothered me less than others, as I have a rule to only pay attention to conversation if it’s about improving food. The rest of our club included a few grumpy lawyers and a couple of doctors, who managed to satisfy their cravings by messing up their patients' digestion. Nothing lasts forever; so, after about two years, the club faded away. A bunch of stingy members complained about the costs; the chef, a very honest and skilled professional, was accused of stealing by the reformers and let go for simply showing that he couldn’t turn tripe into turtle soup or sprats into red mullet. Several members left without paying their bills. The managing committee sold the property, silverware, furniture, and wine, and kept the money; and that’s how the club ended.”
“It was on this occasion that the Doctor proposed his celebrated ?committee of taste,' with the proceedings of which I shall, perhaps, have occasion, at some future time, to make you acquainted.”
“It was on this occasion that the Doctor suggested his famous 'committee of taste,' and I might share more about its activities with you at some point in the future.”
Gayfield's humorous epistle amused the party much, and Bob felt complimented by the attention paid to the finish of his studies of Metropolitan Life and Manners. The fine appearance of the morning determined them on a stroll through the leading thoroughfares, as it would afford Tallyho the opportunity of completing such purchases as were necessary prior to his departure for the country. In passing Covent Garden, their attention was attracted by a numerous and grotesque assemblage, in which they soon mixed, and were highly diverted by the following whimsical exhibition, displaying the astonishing sagacity and feelings of the monkey species. An itinerant showman, who for some time past exhibited two dancing monkeys about the town, had pitched his stage in a part of the Market. When his poles and cords were fixed, and the monkeys in their full dress were about to commence, the celebrated flying pieman came by with his basket, and, having furnished himself with a bottle of gin, he leaped upon the stage, and treated the showman and one of the monkeys with a glass each; the other monkey however declined taking any, and was leaping about to avoid it; but the pieman served out the second glass, and the former monkey took his with apparent gladness. The pieman again seized the monkey [427] who declined it before, but he still scorned to take any. The by-standers called out to the pieman to throw it at him, and the pieman flung it in his face. Instantly, the monkey who drank the gin, and who was half drunk by this time, to resent the injury, sprang upon the pieman, seized him by the arm, and would have torn that piece of the flesh entirely out, only for its master, who with much difficulty made him relinquish his hold. The pieman was dangerously wounded, and was carried to a doctor's shop to get his arm dressed.
Gayfield's funny letter entertained everyone, and Bob felt flattered by the attention to his studies of city life and manners. The nice weather encouraged them to take a walk through the main streets so Tallyho could finish his shopping before heading to the countryside. As they passed Covent Garden, they noticed a large, amusing crowd, and they quickly joined in, enjoying a quirky show that highlighted the surprising intelligence and emotions of monkeys. An itinerant performer, who had been showcasing two dancing monkeys around town, had set up his stage in the market. Once everything was ready and the monkeys were dressed to perform, the famous flying pie seller came by with his basket and, after grabbing a bottle of gin, jumped onto the stage. He offered a drink to both the showman and one of the monkeys; however, the other monkey refused and jumped around to avoid it. Still, the pie seller insisted and the first monkey drank his with delight. He then tried to get the other monkey, but it still refused. The onlookers urged the pie seller to throw the drink at him, and he did, hitting the monkey in the face. Immediately, the monkey who had drunk the gin, now half drunk, got angry and jumped on the pie seller, grabbing his arm and nearly tearing a chunk of flesh off, only to be pulled away by his master with great effort. The pie seller ended up seriously injured and was taken to a doctor to have his arm treated.
Passing on, the next object of attention was the Police office, Bow Street. Here the party determined to rest for a short time, and after listening to several uninteresting cases relating to hackney coach fares, they were at length rewarded for their lost time and patience, by a case, in which the tables were completely turned upon Mr. Jehu, and which we hope will act as a caution to others of the profession who have a taste for swearing and abuse.
Moving on, the next focus was the Police office on Bow Street. The group decided to take a break for a bit, and after enduring several dull cases about taxi fares, they were finally rewarded for their wasted time and patience with a case where Mr. Jehu got a taste of his own medicine. We hope this serves as a warning to others in the profession who enjoy swearing and mistreating others.
CHAPTER XXXIV
[428] The arrival of the day for separation was anticipated, and the morning arose upon Dashall with a gloomy aspect, originating in the temper of his mind; for he was by no means pleased with the adventure of Laconic, which operated to prevent his departure with his friends. Sparkle and Tallyho were, however, upon the alert, and determined on pursuing their original intentions. Tom had none of his usual vivacity about him. In vain he tried to muster up his spirits, his attempts at wit were pointless and did not escape the notice of Sparkle, who secretly enjoyed his chagrin, feeling assured that as it was created by their departure, he would not delay joining them longer than necessity absolutely required. “Why how now, Tom,” said Sparkle, “you are out, and seem to be in queer stirrups, as if you had an uneasy saddle. You seem to part with your cousin as a young man would with the beloved of his heart.” “I confess I am disappointed,” replied Tom.
[428] The day of separation was on the horizon, and the morning came for Dashall with a gloomy vibe, reflecting his mindset; he was not at all happy with Laconic's adventure, which kept him from leaving with his friends. However, Sparkle and Tallyho were ready and determined to stick to their original plans. Tom was lacking his usual energy. He tried in vain to lift his spirits, but his attempts at humor fell flat and didn't go unnoticed by Sparkle, who secretly enjoyed Tom's misery, confident that since it stemmed from their departure, he wouldn’t delay joining them longer than absolutely necessary. “What’s up, Tom?” Sparkle said, “You look out of sorts, as if you're riding an uncomfortable horse. You seem to be parting from your cousin like a young man would from his beloved.” “I admit I’m disappointed,” Tom replied.
[429] “I am determined to spend the last moments with you—so start off the rattle traps, the upper toggery's and travelling caps, we will take a last turn together, and a parting dinner and glass of wine at the Bull and Mouth, and I'll warrant you I won't be long behind. All I regret is, I can't accompany you at present.” Upon this intimation, the remainder of their luggage and clothing were despatched by a servant, with an order to provide a good dinner for them at half past five.
[429] “I’m set on spending my last moments with you—so get the stuff ready: the rattling carts, the fancy clothes, and travel hats. We’ll take one last trip together, have a farewell dinner, and share a glass of wine at the Bull and Mouth. I promise I won’t be far behind. The only thing I regret is that I can’t join you right now.” With that announcement, the rest of their luggage and clothes were sent off by a servant, with instructions to arrange a nice dinner for them at half past five.
Things were now all m a fair train, and this business being despatched, all was anxiety for the arrival of the moment, though with different sensations; Sparkle to meet his wife, Bob to return to his native home, and Tom displeased and disappointed in every way, although he determined to be as agreeable as he could under existing circumstances. Time however being heavy on their hands, but as Bob was anxious to make a few more purchases for presents on his return home, they started early for the Bull and Mouth.
Things were now on the right track, and with this matter sorted, everyone was eagerly waiting for the moment to arrive, though they felt different emotions; Sparkle was excited to meet his wife, Bob was eager to return to his hometown, and Tom was frustrated and disappointed in every way, even though he resolved to be as pleasant as possible under the circumstances. However, with time dragging on, and since Bob wanted to pick up a few more gifts for his return home, they set out early for the Bull and Mouth.
“You have now,” said Dashall to his cousin, “had some experience in REAL LIFE IN LONDON, and I have reason to think you will not return to the country a worse man than you left it. Variety is charming, and the change from one to the other will give additional zest and pleasure.”
“You have now,” said Dashall to his cousin, “gained some experience in REAL LIFE IN LONDON, and I believe you won’t go back to the country a worse person than you were before. Variety is delightful, and switching from one to the other will bring added excitement and enjoyment.”
“I have reason,” replied Bob, “to feel myself under a very particular obligation to you for the excellent care, kindness and attention, as well as information I have derived, and it cannot easily be obliterated from my recollection; but I at the same time must observe, that I have no very great relish for London as a continual residence. When you arrive in the country I will try if I cannot be as explanatory and amusing. At all events I expect you will give me the trial.
“I feel that I owe you a huge debt of gratitude for the excellent care, kindness, and attention, along with the information I've gained, and I won't forget it easily. However, I should mention that I’m not very keen on living in London all the time. When you come to the countryside, I’ll do my best to be just as informative and entertaining. In any case, I hope you’re willing to give me that chance.”
“I'll give you a chevy over the hills, a pop at the pheasants, and a pick at them afterwards; besides which, you know, we have some very pretty lasses in our neighbourhood, to whom you have already been introduced, and to whom you shall be better known.”
“I'll take you for a drive over the hills, shoot at some pheasants, and we can check them out afterwards; plus, you know we have some really cute girls in our neighborhood that you've already met, and you'll get to know them better.”
“I know, I know,” said Tom, in a hurried manner, which strongly indicated some other motive for regret than that which arose from mere disappointment at not being a partner in their journey, and from which Sparkle did not fail to draw an inference, that some roguish eyes had been darting their beams into the bosom of his friend.
“I know, I know,” said Tom, quickly, making it clear that he was upset about more than just not being part of their trip. Sparkle picked up on this and inferred that some sneaky eyes had been taking an interest in his friend.
[430] “I see how it is now,” cried Sparkle, “Tom is not cut but caught, and I'll sport a fifty, that the Evergreen Tom Dashall, of London, will be transplanted to entwine with some virgin blossom of the country, before another twelve months.”
[430] “I get it now,” Sparkle exclaimed, “Tom isn’t just a player; he’s actually taken. I’ll bet fifty bucks that the Evergreen Tom Dashall from London will be moving on to hook up with some country girl before another year goes by.”
Tom was silent.
Tom was quiet.
Tallyho smiled in accordance with the sentiment of Sparkle, and declared he would not take the bet.
Tallyho smiled in agreement with Sparkle and said he wouldn't take the bet.
“It's of very little use,” cried Dashall, recovering himself after a short pause, “I may as well make a merit of necessity. I confess I have a sort of a liking for the gay and sprightly Lydia Forcetext, the parson's daughter; and if—but curse if's—I hate if, I wish there was no such word in the English language.”
“It's pretty useless,” Dashall exclaimed, regaining his composure after a brief pause. “I might as well make the best of it. I admit I have a bit of a crush on the lively and cheerful Lydia Forcetext, the parson's daughter; and if—but forget the ifs—I hate if, I wish there wasn't such a word in the English language.”
“Ha, ha, ha!” exclaimed Sparkle, “I thought we should find you out—but come, I think I may say there is not much for you to fear—if you are but serious.”
“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed Sparkle, “I knew we would figure you out—but come on, I think I can say there’s not much for you to worry about—if you’re just being serious.”
“It is a serious subject, and if we continue, this conversation I shall grow downright sentimental—so no more at present—we have not much time to spare—and as I mean to make use of every minute, let us look around for any novelty that may occur before your departure.”
“It’s a serious topic, and if we keep going, I’ll definitely get sentimental—so let’s pause for now—we don’t have much time left—and since I plan to make the most of every minute, let’s look for anything new that might come up before you leave.”
“Well,” said Sparkle, “I must say I do not know of any thing so new to me as the very subject we were upon—but as you wish it dropped—why e'en let it be so—I have no desire to be either particular or personal.”
“Well,” said Sparkle, “I have to say I’ve never come across anything as new to me as the topic we were discussing—but if you want to drop it—then let’s just do that—I don’t want to be either picky or intrusive.”
“Good,” said Tom, “and as the lines are extemporaneous we will not be over-nice in the criticism.”
“Good,” said Tom, “and since the lines are spontaneous, we won’t be too picky with the criticism.”
“At least,” continued Sparkle, “you will admit it is better to be a bad poet—than a bad man.”
“At least,” continued Sparkle, “you’ll agree it’s better to be a bad poet than a bad person.”
“Agreed—agreed,” replied Tom.—“But who in the name of wonder have we here—the emperor of hair-dressers and head-cutters turned print-seller—Why, this was Money's, where I have, before now, had a clip.”
“Agreed—agreed,” replied Tom. “But who in the world do we have here—the emperor of hairstylists and barbers turned print-seller—Wow, this was Money's, where I have, in the past, gotten a haircut.”
[431] “Nay, nay,” said Sparkle, “don't be in a hurry to form your judgment—his ingenuity is at work, and really it will be worth while to have a cut all round; for I find he gives a portrait, displaying the most fashionable Parisian dresses to every customer. Some you know present bank, or, more properly speaking, flush notes upon these occasions; but certainly this is a less exceptionable plan.—What say you?”
[431] “No, no,” said Sparkle, “don’t rush to judge—he’s being clever, and it’s definitely worth getting a full look; I see he offers a portrait, showcasing the trendiest Parisian outfits to every customer. Some, you know, bring cash, or more accurately, large bills for these occasions; but this is definitely a less questionable approach.—What do you think?”
“With all my heart:” and into the Magazin de Mode they marched; to which they were welcomed by the artist himself—ushered up stairs with all due politeness, and in two minutes Sparkle was under his incomparable hands, while Tom and Bob amused themselves with a peep at the newspapers and the Gazette of Fashion.
“With all my heart,” they said, and marched into the Magazin de Mode; they were greeted by the artist himself—politely shown upstairs, and within two minutes Sparkle was in his skilled hands, while Tom and Bob entertained themselves with a look at the newspapers and the Gazette of Fashion.
“Fine morning, gentlemen,” said the friseur.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” said the barber.
“Is there any news?” asked Sparkle.
“Is there any news?” asked Sparkle.
“We have the Paris papers, Sir, regularly, and a constant supply of drawings of the newest fashion.”
“We get the Paris papers, Sir, regularly, and we have a steady stream of sketches of the latest fashion.”
“I am more for domestic or home news,” continued Sparkle.
“I prefer news about home and family,” continued Sparkle.
“Not aware, Sir, of any thing particular—oh, yes; I recollect I was told last night, over at the Haunch, that the mermaid is discovered.”
“Not aware, Sir, of anything specific—oh, yes; I remember I was told last night, over at the Haunch, that the mermaid has been found.”
“What,” said Tom, “discover a mermaid over a haunch!” laying down the paper.
“What,” said Tom, “find a mermaid over a leg of lamb!” putting down the paper.
“Beg pardon, Sir, beg pardon, a trifling mistake, Sir—nothing more—I usually pass a recreative hour, after my daily studies, at the Haunch of Venison, over the way: the landlord is an intelligent, accommodating, and agreeable sort of man, and we have many gentlemen of considerable consequence, both literary and scientific, who meet there of an evening to pass a convivial hour—to hear and impart the news; and, Sir, as I was saying, the mermaid is stated to be a fine hoax upon the credulity of John Bull, being nothing more than the body or skin of a smoke-dried old woman, ingeniously connected with the tail of a fish. I don't vouch for the truth of the report, I only state what I hear, and can only assert with confidence what I am acquainted with in my own business.”
“Excuse me, sir, excuse me, just a small mistake, sir—nothing more—I usually spend my free time after studying at the Haunch of Venison across the street: the owner is a smart, helpful, and pleasant guy, and we have many important gentlemen, both in literature and science, who gather there in the evening for a good time—to share and hear the news; and, sir, as I was saying, the mermaid is said to be a clever trick played on the gullibility of John Bull, being nothing more than the body or skin of a smoke-dried old woman cleverly attached to the tail of a fish. I can't guarantee the truth of that claim, I’m just sharing what I’ve heard, and I can only confidently state what I know about my own work.”
“I suspected the mermaid from the first,” answered Tom, “I thought there was some deceit in it.”
“I suspected the mermaid right from the start,” replied Tom, “I figured there was some trickery involved.”
“There is a great deal of deceit in the world, Sir,” replied the active clipper.—“A little Circassian cream, Sir—acknowledged to be the best article ever produced for the preservation and restoration of hair.”
“There’s a lot of deceit in the world, Sir,” replied the energetic clipper. “A bit of Circassian cream, Sir—recognized as the best product ever made for hair preservation and restoration.”
“Certainly,” said Sparkle.
"Sure," said Sparkle.
[432] In this way our friends obtained a portion of amusement, and a Corinthian clip from the intelligent and communicative Mr. Money, of Fleet Street notoriety, in return for which he touched their coin.
[432] In this way, our friends got some entertainment, along with a Corinthian tale from the clever and talkative Mr. Money, who was famous in Fleet Street, and in exchange, he took some of their money.
“Now,” said Dashall, “we will make the best of our way and just call, by way of taking a lunch, among the lads of Newgate Market. There is a house where I have been before, in which we can have some very fine home-brewed ale, &c; and besides, according to the landlord's advertisements, he has opened an academy, and gives instruction in the art of brewing. The College of Physicians is just opposite, and I suppose this wag of a landlord has taken the hint, and opposed his beer to their physic—perhaps you may wish to carry his valuable receipt into the country with you?”
“Now,” said Dashall, “let’s make our way and stop for a bite to eat at Newgate Market. There’s a place I’ve been to before where we can get some really good home-brewed ale, etc.; and besides, according to the landlord's ads, he's opened a school to teach brewing. The College of Physicians is right across the street, and I guess this clever landlord took the hint and is countering their medicine with his beer—maybe you’d like to take his valuable recipe back with you?”
“I have no inclination to turn brewer,” replied Sparkle, “but I must confess I like the idea of a little genuine beer—free from the poisonous ingredients of the public brewer.”
“I don’t really want to be a brewer,” Sparkle replied, “but I have to admit I like the idea of some real beer—free from the toxic ingredients of the commercial brewer.”
“And so do I,” continued Tallyho. “Come along, then,” said Tom, “the Bell in Warwick Lane is the shop, where you may be served to a shaving.” In passing along Warwick Lane, Bob observed he thought his friend was leading him through a not very agreeable neighbourhood.
“And so do I,” continued Tallyho. “Come on, then,” said Tom, “the Bell in Warwick Lane is the place where you can get a shave.” As they walked through Warwick Lane, Bob noticed that he thought his friend was taking him through a not-so-nice neighborhood.
“This place is filled with slaughter-houses, and is to be sure a great nuisance to the City; yet such places are necessary, therefore bear up a few minutes, and you will have comfortable house-room and agreeable refreshment.” Entering the Bell, they were met by the landlord of the house, a round-faced, good-natured, real John-Bull-looking man, who knowing his customer Dashall, immediately ushered them into the coffee-room, where being supplied with stout and mutton-chops in high perfection, they enjoyed themselves with their regale. This done, they had an opportunity of looking about them.
“This place is full of slaughterhouses and is definitely a major annoyance to the City; however, such places are necessary, so hang in there for a few minutes, and you’ll have a cozy place to stay and a nice meal.” Upon entering the Bell, they were greeted by the landlord, a round-faced, cheerful man who looked just like a typical Englishman. Recognizing his customer Dashall, he promptly led them to the coffee room, where they were served rich stout and perfectly cooked mutton chops, allowing them to enjoy their meal. After that, they had a chance to look around.
In one corner sat two or three tip-top salesmen of the market, conversing on the price of meat, while they were devouring a succession of rump-steaks with most voracious and insatiable appetites. In another was a hungry author, bargaining with a bookseller of Paternoster Row, for the sale of a manuscript, by which he expected to realise a dinner. While near them was an undertaker and a master-builder, vociferating at each other for interference [433] with their respective trades, and so far attracting the attention of the bookseller from the work of the author, that he wished, from the bottom of his heart, “that one would build a coffin to bury the other:” while the salesmen laughed so loud at the observations of the controversialists, as almost to make them wish the subject dead without the hope of resurrection.
In one corner sat two or three top salesmen from the market, chatting about meat prices while devouring a series of rump steaks with an insatiable hunger. In another spot was a starving author, haggling with a bookseller from Paternoster Row over the sale of a manuscript, hoping it would secure him a dinner. Nearby, an undertaker and a master builder were loudly arguing with each other over interference in their respective trades, catching the bookseller's attention away from the author's work to the point where he wished, with all his heart, that “one would build a coffin to bury the other.” Meanwhile, the salesmen laughed so loudly at the two men bickering that it almost made them wish the topic was dead for good. [433]
Bob liked the stout—ordered a replenish, and asked the landlord to partake.
Bob liked the stout—ordered another round, and asked the bartender to join him.
“With all my heart—gentlemen—good health—real malt and hops, gentlemen—nothing else—all brewed under my own eye—good ordinary at two—excellent fare—good treatment—comfortable beds—happy to see you at all times at the Bell brewery.”
“With all my heart—gentlemen—cheers to good health—real malt and hops, gentlemen—nothing else—all brewed under my own watch—good standard at two—excellent food—great service—comfortable beds—always happy to see you at the Bell brewery.”
Having proceeded on their journey they shortly found themselves near Bull and Mouth Street.
Having continued on their journey, they soon found themselves near Bull and Mouth Street.
On their way to the Bull and Mouth, Sparkle made a proposal, which was cordially acquiesced in by Dashall and his cousin, and a mutual pledge was given to carry it into effect: this was no other than an agreement to take a trip over to Dublin in the course of the ensuing winter, in order to acquire some knowledge of LIFE IN IRELAND.
On their way to the Bull and Mouth, Sparkle made a suggestion, which Dashall and his cousin happily agreed to, and they all promised to follow through: this was nothing less than a plan to take a trip to Dublin during the upcoming winter to learn about LIFE IN IRELAND.
“I have lately,” said Sparkle, “been almost convulsed with laughter, even to the danger of a locked-jaw, by the perusal of a work under this title. The author, nephew to a late Irish chancellor, is an old acquaintance; added to which, and the genuine irresistible humour that runs throughout the work, I feel determined to visit, and have ocular demonstration of some of the places where these scenes of humour are so admirably described.”
“I have recently,” said Sparkle, “been almost doubled over with laughter, even to the point of risking a locked jaw, from reading a book with this title. The author, who is the nephew of a former Irish chancellor, is an old friend of mine; along with that, and the genuinely irresistible humor that flows throughout the book, I’m determined to visit and see for myself some of the places where these funny scenes are so brilliantly depicted.”
On entering Bull and Mouth Street—“Bless me,” cried Bob, “this is a very confined street for such an inn.”
On entering Bull and Mouth Street—“Wow,” exclaimed Bob, “this is a really narrow street for such an inn.”
“Hoy,” cried a coachman, rattling along the street in double quick time.
“Hey,” yelled a driver, speeding down the street.
“By your leave,” bawled a porter with a heavy chest on his back.
“Excuse me,” shouted a porter with a heavy chest on his back.
“We shall certainly either be knocked down, or run over,” exclaimed Tallyho.
“We're definitely going to get knocked down or run over,” exclaimed Tallyho.
“Never fear,” said Tom, “do but keep your ogles in action, all's right enough, and we shall soon be safely housed out of the bustle; but before we enter the house we will just cast our eyes about us. On the right, after passing the gate, is the coach-offices for receiving, booking, [434] and delivering parcels, and taking places for passengers by the various vehicles which start from this place. On the left is the hotel and coffee-house, where every refreshment and accommodation may be obtained. The remaining part of the building, together with several others adjoining, which almost occupy the whole of this side of the street, are devoted to stables, waggon and coach-houses, and out-offices.”
“Don't worry,” said Tom, “just keep your eyes open, everything will be fine, and we'll be safely inside away from all the chaos soon. But before we go in, let's take a look around. On the right, after passing the gate, is the coach office for receiving, booking, [434] and delivering parcels, as well as reserving seats for passengers on the different vehicles that leave from here. On the left is the hotel and coffee shop, where you can get any food and accommodation you need. The rest of the building, along with several others next to it that take up almost the entire side of the street, is used for stables, wagon and coach houses, and other outbuildings.”
“It is an extensive concern then,” said Tallyho, “though it stands in such an out of the way obscure situation.”
“It’s a significant issue, then,” said Tallyho, “even though it’s in such a remote and hidden spot.”
“Why you are already aware that situation is not absolutely necessary to success in all cases in London,” was the reply. “The extensive circulation of a name or a sign are sometimes sufficient to obtain business;—and who has not heard of the Bull and Mouth, or the name of Willan—from the former runs a considerable number of long stages and mail coaches, daily and nightly, the proprietor being a contractor with Government; and upon one occasion it is said, he was in treaty to supply an immense quantity of horses to convey troops to the coast, on the threatened invasion by Buonaparte, so that the epithet patriotic might properly be applied to him. He however is lately deceased, and supposed to have left a considerable fortune.—But come, dinner is ready—now for the parting meal, and then heaven speed ye to your destined homes.”
“Why, you're already aware that it's not absolutely necessary to have a situation to succeed in all cases in London,” was the reply. “Sometimes, just having a well-known name or sign is enough to attract business;—and who hasn't heard of the Bull and Mouth or the name Willan? The former operates a significant number of long stages and mail coaches, both daily and nightly, with the owner being a contractor for the Government. It’s said that at one point, he was negotiating to supply a huge number of horses to transport troops to the coast during the threat of invasion by Napoleon, so the term patriotic could definitely apply to him. However, he recently passed away, and it’s believed he left behind a considerable fortune. —But come, dinner is ready—now for the farewell meal, and then best of luck on your journeys home.”
After partaking of a hearty dinner, and a bottle or two of generous wine—“Come,” said Dashall, “it is time we are alive and look out, for the yard is all in a bustle; here are lots of coaches preparing for a start, so let us get out, look around, and see what is going forward.”
After having a hearty dinner and a couple of bottles of good wine—“Come on,” said Dashall, “it’s time we got moving and checked things out, because the yard is buzzing; there are lots of coaches getting ready to leave, so let’s head out, look around, and see what’s happening.”
Upon this intimation, they sallied forth to the yard, where the confusion created by the arrival of one coach heavily laden, and the preparation of two for departure, afforded a scene for a quiet contemplatist, which however it is not easy to describe.
Upon hearing this, they rushed out to the yard, where the chaos caused by the arrival of one heavily loaded coach and the preparation of two others for departure created a scene for a calm observer, which is difficult to describe.
“Coachman,” said an antiquated lady, just alighting, “I paid my fare.”
“Driver,” said an old lady getting off, “I paid my fare.”
“Yes Ma'am, that's all fair,” said coachy.
“Yes, ma'am, that’s totally fair,” said coachy.
“Mind how you hand my dear little boy out of the coach, poor little fellow he is quite dizzy with riding.”
“Be careful when you help my dear little boy out of the coach; the poor thing is feeling quite dizzy from the ride.”
[435] “I thinks as how you had better have brought a man with you, for you want taking care of yourself,” grumbled coachy, as he handed the young one out.—“There he is Ma'am—stand upon your pins, my man.”
[435] “I think you should have brought a man with you, since you need someone to look out for you,” grumbled the coachman as he helped the young man out. —“There he is, ma'am—stand up straight, my man.”
“Come Charley—Oh coachy you have got my box in your boot.”
“Come on, Charley—Oh, coach, you have my box in your trunk.”
“Aye, aye, Ma'am, I know it, I wish my boot was in your box—here it is Ma'am.”
“Aye, aye, Ma'am, I get it, I wish my boot was in your box—here it is, Ma'am.”
“Stand bye,” said a Jack Tar, “let's have a little sea room, and no squalls.”
“Stand by,” said a sailor, “let's have a little space on the sea, and no storms.”
“Coachy, what a rude fellow that is, he says I squalls.”
“Coachy, that guy is so rude, he says I scream.”
“Never mind him, Ma'am, he is as rough as the element he belongs to—thank ye Ma'am—that's the time o' day,” pocketing a half-crown which she had just given him.
“Don't worry about him, Ma'am, he's as tough as the environment he comes from—thank you Ma'am—that's just how it is,” he said, pocketing the half-crown she had just given him.
“Here Bill, take this lady's luggage out of the way.”
“Here, Bill, take this woman's luggage out of the way.”
“Just going off, Sir—do you go by me?”
“Just heading out, Sir—are you coming with me?”
“Yes,” replied Sparkle, “how many have you inside?”
“Yes,” replied Sparkle, “how many do you have in there?”
“Only four, Sir, and you two make up the number—all ready—Jem, bear up the leaders.”
“Only four, Sir, and you two complete the group—all set—Jem, lift the leaders.”
At this moment a hackney coach stopped at the gate, and out jumps a gentleman who immediately entered into conversation with the coachman.
At that moment, a cab pulled up to the gate, and a man jumped out and started talking to the driver.
“Can't do it, Sir,” said coachy,—“all full—I might manage to give you an outside passage to be sure.”
“Can't do it, Sir,” said the coachman, “it's all full—I might be able to give you an outside passage, for sure.”
“Well, well, I will make that do, perhaps you can afford an inside birth part of the journey.”
“Well, well, I guess that will work; maybe you can get an inside berth for part of the trip.”
“I'll see what I can do, but can't promise—now gentlemen.”
“I'll see what I can do, but I can't promise—now, gentlemen.”
“Here coachman,” said the person desirous of obtaining a passage, tipping coachy some money.
“Hey, coachman,” said the person wanting a ride, handing some cash to the driver.
“Aye, aye, that's the way to look at the matter.”
“Aye, aye, that’s the way to see it.”
By this time Tom discovered it was no other than Van Butchell,{1} whom he observed to Bob, there was little doubt had been summoned on some desperate case, and must go at all events.
By this time, Tom realized it was none other than Van Butchell,{1} whom he noted to Bob, and there was little doubt he had been called in for some urgent matter and had to go no matter what.
“Now, gentlemen, you brush in and I will brush on. Shut the door Dick, all right—ya—hip.”
“Alright, guys, you start painting and I’ll keep going. Close the door, Dick, got it—yep—let’s go.”
“Adieu, dear Tom,” exclaimed Bob.
“Goodbye, dear Tom,” exclaimed Bob.
[436] “Zounds,” exclaimed Tom, “the coachman will hardly allow him to say good bye—well, the dearest friends must part, so good bye, heaven protect you both.”
[436] “Wow,” Tom said, “the coachman won’t even let him say goodbye—well, the closest friends have to part, so goodbye, may heaven protect you both.”
By this time the vehicle was out of the yard.
By this point, the vehicle was out of the yard.
“I don't like it,” continued Tom, soliloquizing with himself; “but, however, as I have bid them adieu for the present, the best thing I can do is to arrange Laconic's affairs, and then bid adieu to Life in London.”
“I don’t like it,” Tom said to himself. “But since I’ve said goodbye for now, the best thing I can do is sort out Laconic’s affairs and then say goodbye to Life in London.”
The End
The End
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