Real Life In London, Volumes I. and II.

P >> Pierce Egan >> Real Life In London, Volumes I. and II.

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CHAPTER II

"The panting steed the hero's empire feel,
Who sits triumphant o'er the flying wheel,
And as he guides it through th' admiring throng,
With what an air he holds the reins, and smacks the silken thong!"

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 acme of perfection,
without regard to ulterior consequences, or minor pursuits.

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.

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.

"----A merrier man

Within the limit of becoming mirth,
I never spent an hour's talk withall:
His eye begets occasion for his wit;
For every object that the one doth catch
The other turns to a mirth-moving jest."

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."

"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."

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.

"If e'er a pleasant mischief sprang to view,
At once o'er hedge and ditch away he flew,
Nor left the game till he had run it down."

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?"

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.

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_,

1 It would be injustice to great talents, not to notice,
among other important discoveries and improvements of the
age, the labours of Lloyd, who has classified and arranged
whatever relates to that necessary article of personal
elegance, the Hat. He has given the world a volume on the
subject of Hats, dedicated to their great patron, the Head,
in which all the endless varieties of shape, dependent
before on mere whim and caprice, are reduced to fixed
principles, and designated after the great characters by
which each particular fashion was first introduced. The
advantages to gentlemen residing in the country must be
incalculable: they have only to refer to the engravings in
Mr. Lloyd's work, where every possible variety is clearly
defined, and to order such as may suit the rank or character
in life they either possess, or wish to assume. The
following enumeration comprises a few of the latest fashions:
--The Wellington--The Regent--The Caroline--The
Bashful--The Dandy--The Shallow--The Exquisite--The Marquis
--The New Dash--The Clerieus--The Tally-ho--The Noble Lord--
The Taedum--The Bang-up--The Irresistible--The Bon Ton--The
Paris Beau--The Baronet--The Eccentric--The Bit of Blood,
&c.

~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:

"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."

"Can it be that game-cock, the gay Lothario," said Tom, "who sports an
immensity 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.

"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."

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.

"And pray what character did this gentleman enact at Drury-lane
Theatre?"

"Hamlet, Prince of Denmark," answered Mr. Mist--"Shakespeare is his
favourite author."

"And what said the critics--'to be, or not to be'--I suppose he repeated
the character?"

"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."

"Then the gentlemen of the Free List," remarked Bob, "are free and
easy?"

"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."

"The British press!--Oh! you mean the newspapers," exclaimed Tom--"then
I dare say they were very favourable to 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"--

"King Richard!" What ambition! thought Bob to himself--"late 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"--

"Looks up to Heaven!" exclaimed Tom; "then this London star makes a
solecism 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--

"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."

While returning to the inn, our heroes mutually commented on the
ambition and folly of those amateurs of fashion, who not only sacrifice
time and property, but absolutely take abundant pains to render
themselves ridiculous. "Certainly," says Tom, "this _cacoethes ludendi_
has made fools of several: this infatuated youth though not possessed
of a single requisite for the stage, no doubt flatters himself he is
a second Kean; and, regardless ~15~~of his birth and family, he will
continue his strolling life

Till the broad shame comes staring in his face,
And critics hoot the blockhead as he struts."

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.

CHAPTER III

"Round, round, and round-about, they whiz, they fly,
With eager worrying, whirling here and there,
They know, nor whence, nor whither, where, nor why.
In utter hurry-scurry, going, coming,
Maddening the summer air with ceaseless humming."

~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."

[Illustration: page16 Hyde-Park]

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
_ennuyee_, beyond measure, on that day, and find no little difficulty in
getting through it without a fit of the horrors.

"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."

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.

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:

"That gaudy dress and decorations gay,
The tinsel-trappings of a vain array.
The spruce trimm'd jacket, and the waving plume,
The powder'd head emitting soft perfume;
These may make fops, but never can impart
The soldier's hardy frame, or daring heart;
May in Hyde-Park present a splendid train,
But are not weapons for a dread campaign;
May please the fair, who like a tawdry beau,
But are not fit to check an active foe;
Such heroes may acquire sufficient skill
To march erect, and labour through a drill;
In some sham-fight may manfully hold out,
But must not hope an enemy to rout."

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.