Real Life In London, Volumes I. and II.
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?
~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?”
“I believe so too,” said Tom--“but don't you cut the duel so short--who
were the parties?”
“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.”
“What, was he wounded?” enquired 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.”
“Ha! ha! ha!” said Tom, “then it was a bloodless battle--but I should
like to know more of the particulars.”
“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