Real Life In London, Volumes I. and II.
glances from her beautiful dark eyes, that when purposely directed for
observation, spoke volumes to the heart. Unadorned by the feathers
which waved in majestic splendor over the temples of her sister as
she threaded through the mazy windings of the dance, she attracted
the attention of the company in a much greater degree than the
dress-delighted Caroline. Her figure was neither well nor ill formed,
but the open and animated expression of her countenance, together with
the graces of her mind, would in the opinion of all judicious thinkers,
have been considered as a compensation for the absence of beautiful
form. Her whole appearance however, was not only pleasing, it was
prepossessing, while her manners and conversation were captivating. Bob
gazed and admired, listened and was charmed.
The Hon. Tom Dashall was at the same time fully occupied in his
attentions to the other sister, but could not occasionally help a sly
glance at Bob, indicative of the pleasure he derived from seeing his
cousin thus engaged.
The Quadrille being over, “Come,” said Col. Maitland, “we must go and
have a peep at the Card Tables, and enquire how the cash moves, for you
know if your aunt is losing her money, she will be as cross as the----”
“Silence Charles,” said his sister, “remember you have no occasion to
make such observations here, why you might almost as well entertain us
with a pedigree of the family, as expose the tempers and dispositions
of your relations; besides I am sure the party alluded to would feel
herself very much offended to hear such conversation in a Ball room.
It is neither a fit time or place;”--and with ~152~~ this, each of
his sisters seizing an arm, led him towards the Card Room, alternately
schooling him as they passed along, and leaving our Heroes to draw their
own conclusions from what had occurred.
“Thus it is,” said Tom, “that a Commander in the field is obliged to be
an obedient in the Ball Room, he is however a very poor creature at the
best of times, and depends more upon the abilities of others than his
own for the appearance he makes in the world, and is rather to be looked
at than admired and esteemed. Here,” continued he, “I shall have an
opportunity of introducing you to a character of another kind, here is
my friend Dick Distich, a logger of Rhyme, a poet and a contemplative
philosopher, he is recently married, but appears to be without his rib.”
“My dear friend Dashall,” exclaimed a tall thin man advancing and
catching him by the hand, “I am glad to see you, for I am bewildered and
lost.”
“Good,” replied Tom, “then I am very glad to have found you, what is
the Reward--are you advertised--are your manuscripts stolen, or is your
Library on Fire? Has the good woman brought forth twins or disappointed
your hopes?”
“Walk this way,” replied the other, “you are a happy fellow, always
gamesome and gay, but I know you have a fellow feeling for all mankind,
and will pour the balm of pity into a wounded heart.”
“Zounds,” said Tom, “you attack a body with a mouthful of pity, and a
heart full of wounds at a strange time, for the introduction of such
subjects. What can you mean, probably you appear here as the knight of
'the woeful countenance, with a determination to support the character
to the end of the chapter. Why you look as melancholy as a mute, and one
would almost fancy you were making a funeral visit, instead of attending
a Mask'd
“I have enough to make me so,” was the reply, “I shall be brief in my
narrative, in order that I may not interfere with your enjoyments, and
you know that mine are of another kind. I am routed from home.”--
“How do you mean?”
“Thus it is then, you know I am a plain man, a quiet man, a civil and
humble man. I hate Balls and Routs, but my wife and I differ in taste.
She has determined ~153~~ on having a Rout at home, and it proves no
misnomer with me, for Heaven knows they rout me from Study to Drawing
Room, from Drawing Room to Chamber, and all because truly my little
woman must have her party.”
“And why not?” enquired Tom.
“Why man for this reason, you must know I had myself the sweetest
little sanctuary in the world. I had gothicised my Study, its walls
were painted in imitation of oak, my books were arranged with the
most unauthor-like neatness, my prints hung, my casts and models all
bracketed, and all have vanished like the
--baseless fabric of a vision.”
“And is this your misery,” said Tom, “upon my soul I began to think you
had lost your wife; but it seems you have only lost your wits. What the
devil did you expect when you joined issue--to live as you have done
like a hermit in a cell? Well if this is all I do pity you indeed.”
“But you have not heard half yet. The whole house is transformed.”
“And I think you ought to be reformed,” continued Tom.
Notwithstanding the lightness and satire with which our Hero appeared to
treat the subject, poor Distich was not to be stayed in his course.
“Ah!” said he, with a sigh, “In vain did Cicero strain his neck to
peep over Burke on the Sublime and Beautiful--Shakespeare beard Blair's
Sermons and Humphrey Glinkert or Milton's sightless balls gleam over Sir
Walter Scott's Epics--all, all, is chaos and misrule. Even my greenhouse
over my head which held three ci-devant pots of mignonette, one decayed
mirtle, a soi-disant geranium and other exotics, which are to spring
out afresh in the summer--my shrubs are clapped under my couch, and
my evergreens stuck over the kitchen fire place, are doomed to this
unpropitious hot-bed, in order to make room for pattens, clogs, cloaks,
and shawls, for all the old maids in Town.”
Tom bit his lip to stifle a laugh, and treading lightly on the toe of
his cousin, had so strongly excited Tallyho's risibility, that it was
with difficulty he resisted the momentary impulse.
The routed Benedict continued--“Our Drawing Room, ~154~~which
conveniently holds ten persons, is to be the black hole for thirty--My
study, dear beloved retreat, where sonnets have been composed and novels
written--this spot which just holds me and my cat, is to be the scene of
bagatelle, commerce, or any thing else that a parcel of giggling girls
may chuse to act in it,--my statues are converted--Diabolus is made to
hold a spermaceti candle, while the Medicean nymph, my Apollo Belvidere,
and my dancing fawn, being too bulky to move, are adorned with aprons
of green silk, because forsooth Betty says they are vastly undecent with
nothing on them, and my wife is quite certain “that no one will visit
us, unless we do as other people do.” Alas! until the success of my last
poem, we never cared about other people, and I am now absolutely turned
out, to make room for them, and advised to come here to-night in order
to prepare myself for the approaching festivity.”
Dashall was unable to contain himself longer, and Bob, who had been for
some time stuffing his white cambric handkerchief into his mouth, could
no longer resist the laugh he had been trying to avoid. They look'd
alternately at each other, and then at the doleful complainant, who with
unaltered features sat for a moment between his laughing companions,
till perceiving the ridiculous situation he was in, he rose from his
seat and hastily left the room.
Our friends then took a further survey of the company without making
any additional remark except upon the view of the various elegant and
tasteful dresses exhibited, the grace and agility of the dancers, and
the brilliance of the decorations, when supper was announced.
Moving onward to the Supper Room, they again encountered poor Distich,
who although he had no relish for the generality of the amusements,
declared he would not quit till he had supped: after which, Tom
determined if possible to drive away the blue devils, who seemed to
have occupied his brain. For this purpose he listened to his additional
complaints, and filling his glass at every pause, became lively and
agreeable, as the toast was circulated, till the invigorating effects
of the bottle sunk him again, and at length putting him into a hackney
coach, they dispatched him in good order to his Rib; after which they
took their departure towards Piccadilly.~155~~
CHAPTER XI
“I be one of they sailors who think 'tis no lie
That for every wherefore there should be a why,
That by fortune's strange weather a calm or a squall,
Our births, good or bad are chalk'd out for us all:
That the stays and the braces of Life will be found
To be some of 'em rotten, and some of 'em sound.
Thus the good we should cherish, the bad never seek,
For death will too soon bring each anchor apeak.”
IT was half past eleven o'clock before our friends approaching the
breakfast parlour, had an opportunity of congratulating each other on
the amusements of the previous evening, when the Hon. Tom Dashall ever
upon the active look-out for the most pleasureable amusements to occupy
the mind and attention of his cousin, observing it was a very tine
morning, proposed a ride to Greenwich, and with this object in view all
being prepared, it was not long before they were seated in the curricle.
“Greenwich,” said Tom, “is not a very long journey, nor do I know,
speaking of the town itself, independent of its surrounding attractions,
particularly to be admired, though it is a neat town, about five miles
from London Bridge, in the county of Kent, with a market on Wednesdays
and Saturdays. It is however, famous for an hospital for decayed Seamen,
the brave defenders of their native soil, who have fought and bled for
their king and country; thought to be the finest structure of the kind
in the world, and for an observatory built by Charles II. on the summit
of a hill, called Flamstead Hill, from the great astronomer of that
name, who was here the first astronomer Royal: and we compute the
longitude from the meridian of this place. It is also a place of great
resort at holiday time, for being so near London. The Lads and Lasses
move off in groups to Greenwich fair, and the amusements at those times
are of so varying a kind as almost to defy description.
“The hills and dales are lined
With pretty girls all round.”
~156~~And there are but few who have had an opportunity, but have
occasionally enjoyed a roll down this hill. The roads leading to the
sporting spot are to be seen clogged with coaches, carts, and waggons,
decorated with laurel, and filled with company, singing their way down
or up to participate in the frolics of Greenwich fair. It is however,
much more celebrated for its once having been a Royal Palace, in which
Edward VI. died, and Queen Mary and Queen Elizabeth were born. On a part
of the site of it, now stands the house belonging to the Ranger of the
Park at Greenwich, also a College called the Duke of Norfolk's College,
for the maintenance of 20 decayed Housekeepers, and another called Queen
Elizabeth's, as well as a Royal Naval asylum for the orphans of Sailors
and Marines; and although we are going down when there is no fair to
attract multitudes to the spot, I can still promise you more solid
entertainment in a review of these truly splendid and useful national
establishments, besides which, the town affords plenty of good
accommodation for refreshment and comfort.”
By this time they had passed Westminster Bridge on their road. Bob
thanked his cousin for the information he had imparted, but as the
objects and subjects directly under his eye generally engrossed his
immediate attention, he could not resist the impulse of the moment,
as they turned the corner of the asylum wall, to remark that he had
witnessed in many instances before, a practice which appeared in and