Real Life In London, Volumes I. and II.
conveyance gliding to and fro', and shooting, in the distance, through
one or other of the lofty arches of Waterloo Bridge, produced an effect
imposingly grand, and was dwelt upon by our hero of Belville Hall,
particularly with mingled sensations of surprise, admiration, and
delight.
Silence had prevailed for some time, with the exception of the waterman,
who now and then carroll'd a stanza responsive to the stroke of the oar,
when the attention of his fare was drawn towards him.
“You seem to enjoy a merry life, my good friend,” said the Squire.
“Ay, ay, your honour, God bless you, why should not I? At my poor home,
and your honour knows that the cottage of the peasant is equally dear to
him as is the Palace to the Prince, there is my old woman, with her five
little ones, all looking forward to the happiness of seeing me in the
evening, after the labours of the day; and to feel that one is cared
for by somebody, is a sweet consolation, amidst all our toils,--besides,
your honour, the old times are partly come round again; half-a-crown
will go farther, aye, thrice-told, now, than it did a few ~168~~years
ago;--then hang sorrow, I am a contented waterman, your honour; so
d----n the Pope, long life to King George the Fourth, and success to
the land that we live in!” “Here,” said Dashall, “is an heterogeneous
mixture of prejudice, simplicity and good nature.”
“You are but a young man, and cannot long have followed your present
profession.--Is it from choice that you continue it.”
“Why, your honour, I served an apprenticeship to it, am not long out
of my time, and continue it as well from choice as necessity; the first
because I like it, and lastly, as our parson says, because in any other
situation I could serve neither my neighbour nor myself.”
By this time the tiny bark had shot the centre arch of Waterloo; and new
scenes of interest presented themselves, in ever-varying succession, as
they proceeded towards Blackfriars. Somerset House wore, particularly,
an aspect of great and imposing effect, and not less, as they ploughed
the liquid element, was the interest excited, and the reminiscence
of the Squire brought into action by the appearance of the Temple
Gardens.--The simple, yet neatly laid out green-sward, reminded him of
the verdant slope on part of his domains at Belville Hall, but here the
resemblance finished; a diminutive, although pure and limpid rivulet
only, passed the slope alluded to, and here was a world of waters, into
which the influx of ten thousand such rivulets would produce no apparent
increase. Amidst these cogitations by the Squire, and others of an
unknown description by Dashall, the boat passed underneath Blackfriars'
Bridge, and the lofty doom of St. Paul burst upon the view of the two
associates, with gigantic majesty, and withdrew from their minds every
impression save that of the towering object in view, superseding the
consideration of all else, either present or retrospective.
“Rest on your oars,” was the order now given by the two friends, and
while the waterman implicitly obeyed the mandate, they gazed with
enthusiasm, on the stupendous edifice, seen perhaps, to better advantage
from the river than from any other station, and felt proud in
their affinity to a country and countryman, capable, the former of
instituting, and the latter of carrying into effect so august an
undertaking.{1}
1 During the building of St. Paul's Church, a country
carpenter applied to the Overseer of the workmen for
employment as a carver. The Overseer smiling at the man's
temerity, hearing he had never worked in London, it was
observed by Sir Christopher Wren, who was present, who
calling the man to him, asked him what he had chiefly worked
at in the country? “Pig-troughs, &c.” was his answer. “Well
then,” says Sir Christopher, “let us see a specimen of your
workmanship in a sow and pigs.” The man returned in a few
days, having performed his part with such exquisite skill,
that he was immediately employed; and in tine, executed some
of the most difficult parts of the Cathedral, to the great
astonishment of all that knew the circumstance. So true it
is that genius is often lost in obscurity.
169~~ Again proceeding on their way, they arrived in a few minutes, at
another amongst the many in the metropolis, of those surprising works
of public utility which reflect the highest honor on the laudable
enterprize of the present times,--the Iron Bridge, known as Southwark
Bridge, leading from the bottom of Queen Street, Cheapside to
the Borough. It is constructed of cast-iron, and, from the river
particularly, presents an appearance of elegance and magnificence;
consisting of three arches only, the spacious span of each, stretching
across the Thames in towering majesty, affords an aquatic vista equally
novel and interesting.
Gliding on the pacific wave, the “trim-built wherry” now passed under
the lofty elevation of the centre arch; and our observers were struck
with the contrast between the object of their admiration and its ancient
neighbour, London Bridge, that “nameless, shapeless bulk of stone and
lime,” with its irregular narrow arches, through which the pent-up
stream rushes with such dangerous velocity.
“This gothic hulk,” said the Squire, “is a deformity in the aspect of
the river.” “And ought at least to be pulled down, if not rebuilt,”
added his Cousin. “Even on the principle of economy, the large and
incessant expenditure in support of this decayed structure, would
be much more profitably applied in the erection of a new bridge of
correspondent grandeur with the first metropolis in the universe; but
the citizens seem inclined to protract the existence of this heavy
fabric, as a memento of the bad taste of their progenitors.”
“Full many a gem of purest ray serene,
The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear;
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness in the desert air.'
~170~~ The indefatigable waterman continued to ply his oars, sans
intermission, and in a few minutes our two associates in adventure
were safely landed a short distance westward of the bridge. After
remunerating the waterman, they ascended the stairs with an appetite
quickened by the water breeze, and retired into the Shades, close at
hand, for refreshment, previous to a renewal of their excursion.
The Shades, near London Bridge, is a house, or rather cellar, much
resorted to by respectable citizens of “sober fame,” induced chiefly by
the powerful attraction of genuine wines, which may here be had either
drawn immediately from the wood, and served in regular standard pewter
measures, or in bottles, also of full measure, containing the pure
beverage, of various age and vintages. To these cellars numbers of
the most respectable mercantile characters adjourn daily; enjoying
the exhilarating juice of the grape, and further attracted by the
pleasantness of situation, as commanding a full view of the river,
whence the refreshing breeze is inhaled and enjoyed.
Here then, our heroes recruited; and while taking their wine, Bob was
much gratified by the performance of an itinerant band of musicians,
playing outside, some of the latest and most popular airs, in a masterly
style of execution. “Among other numerous refinements and improvements
of the age,” observed Dashall, “may be considered that of our itinerant
metropolitan musicians, for instead of the vile, discordant and grating
hurdy-gurdy; the mechanical organ grinder, and the cat-gut scraper,
“sawing a tune,” we have now parties who form themselves into small
bands of really scientific and able performers, who from instruments
well selected produce a combination of delightful melody; and this
progress of harmony is equally evident with respect to vocalists, who
frequently posting themselves opposite some well frequented tavern or
coffee-house, amuse the inmates with catches, glees, duets, &c. and
trust to the liberal feelings which the “concord of sweet sounds may
have inspired, for remuneration and encouragement.”
Scarcely had Dashall concluded his remarks, when the musical
party ceased their instrumental exertions, and, diversifying the
entertainment, one of the performers struck up a song, which we here
present to the reader as a subject not inapplicable to our work.~171~~
In London where comical jokes go free,
There are comical modes of cheating,
Birch-brooms are cut up for Souchong and Bohea,
And plaster for bread you are eating!
And plaster for bread you are eating!
(Spoken) “How do you do, Mrs. Caphusalent I hope you
approved of the genuine tea.” “O yes, new brooms sweep
clean, and I have no occasion to buy birch ones, while I
deal at your shop for tea.” “There's nothing like my cheap
bread,” says Doughy the baker. “O yes,” says Neddy, “you
forget plaster of Paris is very like it.”
What are you at? each knave may cry,
Who feels my honest rhymes;
What are you after's? my reply,--
There never were such times!
There never were such times!
In Accum's test you'll find it clear,
For spirits of wine read Royal gin!
Quashee and drugs they call strong beer,
And Turtle soup is Ox's shin!
And Turtle soup is Ox's shin!
(Spoken) “By the powers of Moll Kelly, Mr. Max, but you've
murdered my dear friend Patrick O'Shaughnessy, for after
taking a noggin of your blue ruin, he went to blow out the
candle on stepping into bed, when the poor dear creature
went off in a blaze, and set fire to the house. Its all
nothing at all but spirits of wine, you bog-trotting
swindler!”
Moist sugar is made from the best red sand,
New milk from whiting and water!
Sloe juice poisons half the land,
And the weights get shorter and shorter!
And the weights get shorter and shorter!
(Spoken) “I hope,” says Mr. Deputy Doublethroat, “you found
the port I sent you last of the right sort: six years in
bottle, Sir, I warrant it made your heart glad.” “You mean
my bowels sad, Mr. Deputy. Out of six friends whom I invited
to partake of it four have already been booked inside
passengers for the other world, and my dear Mrs. Fribble and
me have been confined with inflammation ever since. Instead
of importer of foreign wines, Mr. Deputy, I'd have you write
up retailer of English poisons.” {1}
1 The following receipt is copied from a book, which is
there said to be worth the price of the volume. “What is
drank as port wine, is very often only a mixture of malt
liquors, red wine, and turnip juice. For the benefit of
economical readers, the following are the proportions: forty-
eight gallons of liquor pressed from turnips, eight gallons
of malt spirits, and eight gallons of good port wine,
coloured with cochineal, and roughened with elder tops. It
should stand two years in casks, and one in bottles. If
rough cider is substituted for turnip juice, and Coniac
brandy for malt spirits, the wine will be the better.”
Turkey-coffee is Horse-beans ground,
Irish eggs are boil'd in lime:
In every trade deception's found,
Except it be in yours or mine!
Except it be in yours or mine!
(Spoken) “There's more milk drank in London in a week than
all the Cows in England could give in a fortnight;” says
Blunderskull. “How can that be?” “Why to be sure, because
two-thirds of it is white-wash!”