Real Life In London, Volumes I. and II.
here,” said Tallyho; “at all events, your ranks are not deficient of
officers.”
“But then,” said Dashall, “they are out of commission 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.”
1 Inspector of the pavement, or knapp'd the stoop--Cant term
for the pillory.
“Humph,” ejaculated Tom; “Cash down, and no grumbling.”
“D----n severity,” was the reply; “no more of that, or we cut: touch my
honour, 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.
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.
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.
“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.”
~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.”
They now pursued their way along the London Road and over Westminster
Bridge, till Tom called a halt 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.”
“What!” enquired 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.”
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.
“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.”
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.
~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.”
“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.”
“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}
1 Stick him in the nitch--Send him to Coventry.
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.
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.
“Silence, silence! vy don't you all be more quieter when I am going to
begin?”
“Order, order, chair, chair!” now resounded from every one.
“Vell, you know its no use at all for to make me take this here chair,
because vy--I an't got no woice.”
“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.”
~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.
“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.”
“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.
“Vhat a hearty blade am I,
Care ca'nt never touch my heart,
Every trouble I defy,
Vhile I views the foaming quawt.
A very good song, and very well sung;
Jolly kimpanions, every one,
Clap your hats on, keep your heads vann,
A little more liquor will do us no harm.
Blankets and pins, blankets and pins,
When a man's married his sorrow begins.”
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.
“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?”
“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.”
The toast being drank,
“Who is ve to call on now, Bill?”
“Vy, Bob Martlet's the boy to come it strong.”
Bob Martlet was accordingly called upon, but requested a few minutes to
prepare himself, as he was rather 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.
~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,
Lovely nymph! assuage my anguish,
At thy feet a tender swain,
Prays you will not let him languish,
One kind look would ease his pain.
Did you know the lad who courts you,
He not long need sue in vain--
Prince of song and dance--you
Scarce will meet his like again!
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.
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.
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