Real Life In London, Volumes I. and II.

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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.

"His years but young, but his experience old,
His heart unmellow'd, though his judgment ripe,
And in a word, (for far behind his worth
Come all the praises that we now bestow)
He is complete in conduct and in mind,
With all good grace, to grace a gentleman."

~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.

"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,

"Would you see the world in little,
Ye curious here repair;"

it is the acme of perfection, the "_summum bonum_" of style---indeed,
there is a certain affectation 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 are a bit of a wag," replied Sparkle, "but I am up to your gossip,
and can serve you out in your own style."

"Every body," says Tallyho, "appears to live in style."

"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!"

"Admirable!" said Tom.

"Wonderful, indeed!" 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."

"Go along 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.

"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 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?'

"Prime of life to go it, where's a place like London? Four in hand
to-day, the next you may be undone."

[Illustration: page44 Epson Racers]

"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

1 Mr. Wilson's flaming bills of "Dancing at the Old Bailey,"
which are so profusely stuck up about the city, are said to
have occasioned several awkward jokes and blunders; among
others related, is that of a great unintellectual Yorkshire
booby, who, after staring at the bills with his mouth open,
and his saucer eyes nearly starting out of his head with
astonishment, exclaimed, "Dang the buttons on't, I zee'd urn
dangling all of a row last Wednesday at t' Ould Bailey, but
didn't know as how they call'd that danzing,--by gum there
be no understanding these here Lunnun folk!"

~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.

"So much for living in style, and good breeding."

"That's your true breeding--that's your sort my boys--
Fun, fire, and pathos--metre, mirth, and noise;
To make you die with laughter, or the hiccups,
Tickle your favourites, or smash your tea-cups."

"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

"In this gay age--in Taste's enlighten'd times,
When Fashion sanctifies the basest crimes;
E'en not to swear and game were impolite,
Since he who sins in _style_ must sure be right."

A well-bred person must learn to smile when he is angry, and to laugh
even when he is vexed to the very soul.

"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.

"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."

"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."

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--

"Perchance to sleep, perchance to dream."

CHAPTER VI

"The alarm was so strong.
So loud and so long,
'Twas surely some robber, or sprite,
Who without any doubt
Was prowling about
To fill ev'ry heart with affright."

~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_.

"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.

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!"

"Is't Love's unhallow'd flame invites to roam,
And bids you from your pillow creep?
Or say, why thus disturb my peaceful home,
Like Macbeth, who doth murder sleep."

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.

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}

"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

1 Mr. Winsor, the original lecturer on the powers of gas, in
Pall Mall.

~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.

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--

"Hills over hills, and Alps on Alps arise."

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,

"And all with attention would eagerly mark:
When he cheer'd up the pack--Hark! to Rockwood hark! hark!"

At the sight of Dashall, he recovered himself from his embarrassment,
and descended with him to the breakfast-parlour.

"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.

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

Pope in the following lines:

"But all my praises, why should lords engross?
Bise, honest Muse, and sing the man of Boss."

"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_.

1 The progress of taste and refinement is visible in all
situations, and the language of putting has become so well
understood by all ranks of society, that it is made use of
by the most humble and obscure tradesmen of the metropolis.
One remarkable instance ought not to be omitted here. In a
narrow dirty street, leading from the Temple towards
Blackfriars, over a small triangular-fronted shop, scarcely
big enough to hold three persons at a time, the eye of the
passing traveller is greeted with the following welcome
information, painted in large and legible characters, the
letters being each nearly a foot in size:--

HAIR CUT AND MODERNIZED!!!

This is the true "_Multum in parvo_ "--a combination of
the "_Utile et dulce_," the very acme of perfection.
Surely, after this, to Robinson, Vickery, Boss, and Cryer, we
may say--"Ye lesser stars, hide your diminished heads."

The art of puffing may be further illustrated by the
following specimen of the Sublime, which is inserted here
for the information of such persons as, residing in the
country, have had no opportunity of seeing the original.
"R---- makes gentlemen's and ladies' perukes on an entire
new system; which for lightness, taste, and ease, are
superior to any other in Europe. He has exerted the genius
and abilities of the first artists to complete his
exhibition of ornamental hair, in all its luxuriant
varieties, where the elegance of nature and convenience of
art are so blended, as at once to rival and ameliorate each
other. Here his fair patrons may uninterruptedly examine the
effects of artificial tresses, or toupees of all
complexions, and, in a trial on themselves, blend the
different tints with their own!"

The strife for pre-eminence in this art is not however
confined to this country; for we find an instance recorded
in an American newspaper, which may perhaps be equally
amusing and acceptable:--

"A. C. D. La vigne, having heard of the envious expressions
uttered by certain common barbers, miserable chin-scrapers,
and frizulary quacks, tending to depreciate that superiority
which genius is entitled to, and talents will invariably
command, hereby puts them and their vulgar arts at defiance;
and, scorning to hold parley with such sneaking imps,
proposes to any gentleman to defend and maintain, at his
shop, the head quarters of fashion, No. 6, South Gay Street,
against all persons whomsoever, his title to supremacy in
curlery, wiggery, and razory, to the amount of one hundred
dollars and upwards. As hostile as he is to that low style
of puffery adopted by a certain adventurer, 'yclept Higgins,
Lavigne cannot avoid declaring, in the face of the world,
that his education has been scientifical; that after having
finished his studies at Paris, he took the tour of the
universe, having had the rare fortune of regulating the
heads of Catherine the Second, and the Grand Turk; the King
of Prussia, and the Emperor of China; the Mamelukes of
Egypt, and the Dey of Algiers; together with all the ladies
of their respective Courts. He has visited the Cape of Good
Hope, India, Java, Madagascar, Tartary, and Kamschatka,
whence he reached the United States by the way of Cape Horn.
In England he had previously tarried, where he delivered
Lectures on Heads in great style. He has at last settled in
Baltimore, determined to devote the remainder of his days to
the high profession to which his des-tiny has called him;
inviting all the literati, the lovers of the arts and
sciences, to visit him at his laboratory of beauty, where he
has separate rooms for accommodating ladies and gentlemen,
who desire to adorn their heads with _hair_udition. "Can
France, England--nay, the world itself, produce such
another specimen of puffing and barberism?