Real Life In London, Volumes I. and II.
the door; some Lord, or Nobleman, I'll be bound for it--We can't be seen
in this deshabille, I shall make my escape.” And saying this, he was
hastening out of the room.
“Ha! ha! ha!” exclaimed Tom, “you need not be so speedy in your flight.
This is one of the fashionable requisites of London, with whom you
must also become acquainted; there is no such thing as doing without
them--dress and address are indispensables. This is no other than one of
the decorators.”
“Decorators!” continued Bob, not exactly comprehending him.
“Monsieur le Tailleur--'Tin Mr. W----, from Cork Street, come to
exhibit his Spring patterns, and turn us out with the new cut--so pray
remain where you are.”
“Tailor--decorator,” said Bob--“Egad! the idea is almost as ridiculous
as the representation of the taylor riding to Brentford.”
By this time the door was opened, and Mr. W. entered, making his bow
with the precision of a dancing-master, and was followed by a servant
with pattern-books, the other apparatus of his trade. The first
salutations over, large pattern-books were displayed upon the table,
exhibiting to view a variety of fancy-coloured cloths, and measures
taken accordingly. During which time, Tom, as on the former occasion,
continued his enquiries relative to the occurrences in the fashionable
world.
“Rather tame, Sir, at present: the Queen's unexpected visit to the two
theatres was for a time a matter of surprise--the backwardness of Drury
Lane managers to produce 'God Save the King,' has been construed into
disloyalty to the Sovereign--and a laughable circumstance took place on
his going to the same house a few nights back, which has already been
made the subject of much merriment, both in conversation and caricature.
It appears that Mr. Gloss'em, who is a _shining character_ in the
theatrical world, at least among the minors of the metropolis; and whose
father was for many years a wax-chandler in the neighbourhood of Soho,
holds a situation as clerk of the cheque to the Gentlemen Pensioners
of his Majesty's household, as well as that of Major Domo, manager and
proprietor of a certain theatre, not half a mile from Waterloo Bridge.
~60~~A part of his duty in the former capacity is to attend occasionally
upon the person of the King, as one of the appendages of Royalty; in
which _character_ he appeared on the night in question. The servants
of the attendants who were in waiting for their masters, had a room
appropriated to their use. One of these latter gentry, no other than
Gloss'em's servant, being anxious to have as near a view of the sacred
person of his Majesty as his employer, had placed himself in a good
situation at the door, in order to witness his departure, when a Mr.
Winpebble, of mismanaging notoriety, and also a ponderous puff, assuming
managerial authority, espying him, desired the police-officers and
guards in attendance to turn out the lamp-lighter's boy, pointing to
Gloss'em's servant. This, it seems, was no sooner said than done, at the
point of the bayonet. Some little scuffle ensued--His Majesty and suite
departed--Hold up your arm, Sir.”
“But did the matter end there?” enquired Dashall.
“O dear, no--not exactly.”
“Because if it did,” continued Tom, “in my opinion, it began with a wax
taper, and ended in the smoke of a farthing rushlight. You have made it
appear to be a gas-receiver without supplies.”
“I beg pardon,” said Mr. W.; “the pipes are full, but the gas is not yet
turned on.”
This created a laugh, and Mr. W. proceeded:--
“The next day, the servant having informed his Master of the treatment
he had received, a gentleman was dispatched from Gloss'em to Winpebble,
to demand an apology: which being refused, the former, with a large
horsewhip under his arm, accosted the latter, and handsomely belaboured
his shoulders with lusty stripes. That, you see, Sir, sets the gas all
in a blaze.--That will do, Sir.--Now, Sir, at your service,” addressing
himself to Tallyho.
“Yes,” said Tom, “the taper's alight again now; and pray what was the
consequence?”
“Winpebble called for assistance, which was soon obtained, and away they
went to Bow-street. Manager Taper, and Manager Vapour--the one blazing
with fire, and the other exhausted with thrashing;--'twas a laughing
scene. Manager Strutt, and Manager Butt, were strutting and butting
each other. The magistrate heard the case, and recommended peace and
quietness between ~61~~them, by an amicable adjustment. The irritated
minds of the now two enraged managers could not be brought to consent
to this. Gloss'em declared the piece should be repeated, having been
received with the most rapturous applause. Winpebble roundly swore that
the piece was ill got up, badly represented, and damn'd to all intents
and purposes--that the author had more strength than wit--and though
not a friend to injunctions himself, he moved for an injunction against
Gloss'em; who was at length something like the renowned John Astley with
his imitator Rees:
“This great John Astley, and this little Tommy Rees, Were both bound
over to keep the King's Peas.”
Gloss'em was bound to keep the peace, and compelled to find security
in the sum of twenty pounds. Thus ended the farce of _The Enraged
Managers--Drury Lane in a Blaze, or Bow Street bewildered._”
“Ha! ha! ha! an animated sort of vehicle for public amusement truly,”
said Tom, “and of course produced with new scenery, music, dresses, and
decorations; forming a combination of attractions superior to any ever
exhibited at any theatre--egad! it would make a most excellent scene in
a new pantomime.”
“Ha! ha! ha!” said Mr. W. “true, Sir, true; and the duel of Lord
Shampetre would have also its due portion of effect; but as his
Lordship is a good customer of mine, you must excuse any remarks on that
circumstance.”
“We have already heard of his Lordship's undaunted courage and firmness,
as well as the correctness of his aim.”
“He! he! he!” chuckled W.; “then I fancy your information is not very
correct, for it appears his lordship displayed a want of every one of
those qualities that you impute to him; however, I venture to hope no
unpleasant measures will result from the occurrence, as I made the very
pantaloons he wore upon the occasion. It seems he is considerably _cut
up_; but you must know that, previous to the duel, I was consulted
upon the best mode of securing his sacred person from the effects of a
bullet: I recommended a very high waistband lined with whale-bone, and
well padded with horse-hair, to serve as a breast-plate, and calculated
at once to produce warmth, and resist ~62~~penetration. The pantaloons
were accordingly made, thickly overlaid with extremely rich and
expensive gold lace, and considered to be stiff enough for any
thing--aye, even to keep his Lordship erect. But what do you suppose was
the effect of all my care? I should not like to make a common talk
of it, but so it certainly was: his Lordship had no objection to the
whalebone, buckram, &c. outside of him, but was fearful that if his
antagonist's fire should be well-directed, his tender body might be
additionally hurt by the splinters of the whalebone being carried along
with it, and actually proposed to take them off before the dreadful hour
of appointment came on. In this however he was fortunately overruled by
his Second, who, by the by, was but a goose in the affair, and managed
it altogether very badly, except in the instance of being prompt with
the smelling-bottle, which certainly was well-timed; and it would have
been a hissing hot business, but for the judicious interference of the
other Second.”
A loud laugh succeeded this additional piece of information relative
to the _affair of honour_; and Snip having finished his measurement,
colours were fixed upon, and he departed, promising to be punctual in
the delivery of the new habiliments on the next day.
“I am now convinced,” said Bob, “of the great importance and utility of
a London tradesman, and the speed of their execution is wonderful!”
“Yes,” replied Tom, “it is only to be equalled by the avidity with which
they obtain information, and the rapidity with which they circulate
it--why, in another half hour your personal appearance, the cut of
your country coat, your complexion and character, as far as so short
an interview would allow for obtaining it, will be known to all his
customers--they are generally quick and acute discerners. But come,
we must be making ready for our walk, it is now half-past ten
o'clock--Sparkle will be here presently. It is time to be dressing, as I
mean to have a complete ramble during the day, take a chop somewhere
on the road, and in the evening, my boy, we'll take a peep into the
theatre. Lord Byron's tragedy of Marino Faliero is to be performed
to-night, and I can, I think, promise you a treat of the highest kind.”
Tallyho, who had no idea of dressing again, having already been obliged
to dress twice, seemed a little surprised at the proposition, but
supposing it to be the ~~63~~custom of London, nodded assent, and
proceeded to the dressing-room. As he walked up stairs he could not help
casting his visual orbs over the banisters, just to take a bird's eye
view of the scene of his morning disasters, of which, to his great
astonishment and surprise, not a vestige remained--a new lamp had been
procured, which seemed to have arisen like a phoenix from its ashes, and
the stone passage and stairs appeared as he termed it, “as white as a
cauliflower.” At the sight of all this, he was gratified and delighted,
for he expected to find a heap of ruins to reproach him. He skipped, or
rather vaulted up the stairs, three or four at a stride, with all the
gaiety of a race-horse when first brought to the starting-post. The
rapid movements of a Life in London at once astonished and enraptured
him; nor did he delay his steps, or his delight, until he had reached
the topmost story, when bursting open the door, lie marched boldly into
the room. Here again he was at fault; a female shriek assailed his ear,
which stopped his course, and looking around him, he could not find from
whence the voice proceeded. “Good God!” continued the same voice, “what
can be the meaning of this intrusion?--Begone, rash man.” In the mean
time, Tom, who was in a room just under the one into which he had
unfortunately made so sudden an entrance, appeared at the door.
“What the devil is the matter now?” said Tom; when spying his cousin
in the centre of the room, without seeming to know whether to return or
remain, he could not restrain his laughter. Tallyho looked up, like one
in a dream--then down--then casting his eyes around him, he perceived
in the corner, peeping out from the bed-curtains in which she had
endeavoured to hide her almost naked person, the head of the old
Housekeeper. The picture was moving, and at the same time laughable.
The confusion of Bob--the fright of the Housekeeper, and the laughter of
Tom, were subjects for the pencil of a Hogarth!
“So,” said Tom, “you are for springing game in all parts of the house,
and at all times too. How came you here?”--“Not by my appointment, Sir,”
replied the old lady, who still remained rolled up in the curtain. “I
never did such a thing in all my born days: I'm an honest woman, and
mean to remain so. I never was so ashamed in all my life.”
~64~~“I believe the house is enchanted,” cried Bob; “d---- me, I never
seem to step without being on a barrel of gunpowder, ready to ignite
with the touch of my foot. I have made some cursed blunder again, and
don't seem to know where I am.”
“Come, come,” said Dashall, “that won't do--I'm sure you had some design
upon my Housekeeper, who you hear by her own account is a good woman,
and won't listen to your advances.”