Real Life In London, Volumes I. and II.
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!”--
“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.”
“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}
~124~~ This eccentric wish elicited a look of surprise from the Squire,
which Sir Felix observing,--
“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.”
This ludicrous finis excited the laughter of the company--
“But lo! the clouds break off, and sideways run,
Out from his shelter lively looks the sun:”
and the united observers of Real Life hailing the favorable presage,
resumed their perambulation.--
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.
1 On the subject of “convenient accommodation for ladies
who wish privately to ly in,” if we might hazard an opinion,
it would be in coincidence with that of our friend Dashall.
These establishments' are certainly an encouragement to
licentiousness, and it is well known, that in many of these
receptacles, “where the strictest honor and secrecy may be
relied on,” the allurement of _abortion_ is held out to the
unhappy female, if she declines the anticipation of maternal
solicitude.
2 Thirty-Two Great Personages! Anecdote of the Duke of
Wellington,--His Grace, the Duke of Wellington, when last in
the Netherlands, and travelling without attendants, in a
part of the country where his multitudinous titles were not
well understood, was overtaken on the road by a veteran
officer, whose route lay in the same direction with that of
his Grace. The Duke having occasion to stop; and as the
officer would reach a certain town several hours before him,
he requested that the veteran would take the trouble of
ordering dinner for him, at the principal Inn. The old
officer made his congee, and pro-ceeded on his mission. “I
am desired to order dinner here,” said he, to the landlord;
“but stay, I had better state who for.” Then calling for
pen and ink, he presented the astonished and delighted host
with the following list of his forthcoming illustrious
guests.
The Prince of Waterloo!
The Duke of Wellington.--The Duke of Ciudad Rodrigo,
and The Duke of Vittoria.
The Marquis of Douro, and a Marshal General of France.
Master General of the Ordnance.
Colonel of the Royal Regt. of Horse Guards, Blue.
Colonel of the Rifle Brigade.
The Lord Lieutenant of Hampshire.--And
The Governor of Plymouth.
Field Marshal of Austria,
--------------------Russia,
--------------------Prussia,
--------------------France,
--------------------England, and
--------------------The Netherlands.
A Grandee of the Highest Class.
A Captain General of Spain.
Knights of the Orders of
The Garter, in England.--St. Andrew, in Russia.--The Black
Eagle, in Russia.--Charles III. in Spain.--St. Ferdinand and
Merit, in Spain.--The Golden Fleece, in Spain.--Maximilian
Joseph, in Bavaria.--St. Maria Theresa, in Austria.--The
Sword, in Spain.--St. Esprit, in France.--St. George, in
Russia.--The Tower and Sword, in Portugal.
And, (to bring up the rear,)
A Doctor of Civil Laws!
“Mon Dieu!” exclaimed the host, in extacy, “what a noble
company!” He then began to tell them over;--“One Prince,”
he continued,--“Three Dukes--One Marquis--A Marshal General
of France--An English Governor--An English Lord Lieutenant--
The Master General of the Ordnance, and Two English
Colonels--Six Field Marshals--One Grandee of the Highest
Class--A Captain General of Spain--Twelve Knights, and a
Doctor of Civil Laws!.'--_Mon Dieu!_ Thirty-two Great
Personages!!”
All the provisions of the town, all the delicacies of the
season and all the celebrated wines, were immediately put in
requisition for the illustrious company in expectancy.
At last the Duke of Wellington arrived, and was ushered into
a spacious dining-room, where a cloth was laid with thirty-
two covers. The person of the Duke was unknown to the
Innkeeper, who, full of important preparations for the
Thirty-two Great Personages, thought not of any thing
else.--“I ordered dinner here,” said his Grace.--“Mon
Dieu!” responded the Innkeeper, “are you one of the Thirty-
two Great Personages?” presenting the list at same time. His
Grace glanced his eye over it,--“they are all here!” said
he, “so send up the dinner immediately.” The Inn-keeper
stood aghast with amazement; at last finding utterance, he
ventured to express a hope that his Grace would be pleased
to take into consideration, that he (the Innkeeper,) had, at
great trouble and expence, provided a most sumptuous
entertainment for Thirty-two Great Personages. “D----n
the Thirty-two Great Personages,” exclaimed the Duke, “Send
up the dinner, and your bill.--Thus I must pay the penalty,”
said he, “for not having invited the old veteran to be of
the party!!”
~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.
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.
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.
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 devil you have!” ejaculated 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.”
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!!!
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}
1 The human subjects for these Theatres of Anatomy and
private dissection, are chiefly supplied by
“Resurrectionists;” a class of depraved wretches whose only
employment is that of body-snatching, or robbing the graves
of their dead; from which they derive a ready and lucrative
emolument. The anatomists are ready at all hours to receive,
without questions asked, and with prompt remuneration, the
produce of these unsanctified depredations.--Dreadful must
be the feelings of the fond relatives of a departed friend,
to learn that the sanctuary of the grave has been violated,
and the body of perhaps a beloved wife, sister, or other
revered female, exposed to the gaze, and subjected to the
scalping-knife, of these butchers.
Iron Coffins have been resorted to as a safe-guard, which