Real Life In London, Volumes I. and II.
chevy for the remainder of the day; and for this purpose, it being on
a Friday, he proposed a stroll among the Prad-sellers in Smithfield,
where, after partaking of a steak and a bottle at Dolly's, they
accordingly repaired.
“You will recollect,” said Tom, “that you passed through Smithfield
(which is our principal cattle market) during the time of Bartholomew
Fair; but you will now find it in a situation so different, that you
would scarcely know it for the same place: you will now see it full
of horse-jockeys, publicans, pugilists, and lads upon the lark like
ourselves, who having no real business either in the purchase or sale of
the commodities of the market, are watching the manners and manouvres of
those who have.”
As Tom was imparting this piece of information to his attentive Cousin,
they were entering Smithfield by the way of Giltspur-street, and were
met by a man having much the appearance of a drover, who by the dodging
movements of his stick directly before their eyes, inspired our friends
so strongly with the idea of some animal being behind them which they
could not see, and from which danger was to be apprehended, that they
suddenly broke from each other, and fled forward for safety, at which
a roar of laughter ensued from the byestanders, who ~~217~~~ perceiving
the hoax, recommended the dandies to take care they did not dirty their
boots, or get near the hoofs of the _prancing prads_, Tom was not much
disconcerted at this effort of practical jocularity, though his Cousin
seemed to have but little relish for it.
“Come along,” said Tom, catching him by the arm, and impelling him
forward, “although this is not Bartholomew Fair time, you must consider
all fair at the horse-fair, unless you are willing to put up with a
horse-laugh.”
Struggling through crowds who appeared to be buying, selling, or
bargaining for the lame, the broken winded, and spavined prads of
various sizes, prices, and pretensions,
“There is little difference,” said Tom, “between this place as a market
for horses, and any similar mart in the kingdom,
Here the friend and the brother
Meet to humbug each other,
except that perhaps a little more refinement on the arts of gulling
may be found; and it is no very uncommon thing for a stolen nag to
be offered for sale in this market almost before the knowledge of his
absence is ascertained by the legal owner.--I have already given you
some information on the general character of horse-dealers during our
visit to Tattersal's; but every species of trick and low chicanery is
practised, of which numerous instances might be produced; and though I
admit good horses are sometimes to be purchased here, it requires a
man to be perfectly upon his guard as to who he deals with, and how he
deals, although the regulations of the market are, generally speaking,
good.”
“I wouldn't have him at no price,” said a costermonger, who it appeared
was bargaining for a donkey; “the h------y sulkey b------ von't budge,
he's not vorth a fig out of a horses------.”
“I knows better as that 'are,” cried a chimney-sweeper; “for no better
an't no vare to be had; he's long backed and strong legged. Here, Bill,
you get upon him, and give him rump steaks, and he'll run like the devil
a'ter a parson.”
Here Bill, a little blear-eyed chimney-sweeper, mounted the poor animal,
and belaboured him most unmercifully, without producing any other effect
than kicking up behind, and most effectually placing poor Bill in the
~~218~~~ mud, to the great discomfiture of the donkey seller, and the
mirth of the spectators. The animal brayed, the byestanders laughed, and
the bargain, like poor Bill, was off.
After a complete turn round Smithfield, hearing occasionally the
chaffing of its visitants, and once or twice being nearly run over,
they took their departure from this scene of bustle, bargaining, and
confusion, taking their way down King-street, up Holborn Hill, and along
Great Queen-street.
“Now,” said Tom, “we will have a look in at Covent Garden Theatre; the
Exile is produced there with great splendour. The piece is certainly got
up in a style of the utmost magnificence, and maintains its ground in
the theatre rather upon that score than its really interesting dialogue,
though some of the scenes are well worked up, and have powerful claims
upon approbation. The original has been altered, abridged, and (by some
termed) amended, in order to introduce a gorgeous coronation, a popular
species of entertainment lately.”
Upon entering the theatre, Tallyho was almost riveted in attention
to the performance, and the latter scene closed upon him with all its
splendid pageantry before he discovered that his Cousin had given him
the slip, and a dashing cyprian of the first order was seated at his
elbow, with whom entering into a conversation, the minutes were not
measured till Dashall's return, who perceiving he was engaged, appeared
inclined to retire, and leave the cooing couple to their apparently
agreeable tete-a-tete. Bob, however, observing him, immediately wished
his fair incognita good night, and joined his Cousin.
“D------d dull,” said Tom,--“all weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable.”
“But very grand,” rejoined Bob.
“I have found nothing to look at,” replied Tom; “I have hunted every
part of the House, and only seen two persons I know.”
“And I,” said Tallyho, “have been all the while looking at the piece.”
“Which piece do you mean, the one beside you, or the one before you?”
“The performance--The Coronation.”
“I have had so much of that,” said Tom, “that finding you so close in
attention to the stage, that I could get no ~~219~~~ opportunity of
speaking to you, I have been hunting for other game, and have almost
wearied myself in the pursuit without success; so that I am for quitting
the premises, and making a call at a once celebrated place near at hand,
which used to be called the Finish. Come along, therefore, unless you
have 'mettle more attractive;' perhaps you have some engagements?”
“None upon earth to supersede the one I have with you,” was the reply.
Upon which they left the House, and soon found themselves in Covent
Garden Market. “This,” said Tom, “has been the spot of many larks and
sprees of almost all descriptions, ana election wit has been as cheap
in the market as any of the vegetables of the venders; but I am going
to take you to a small house that has in former times been the resort of
the greatest wits of the age. Sheridan, Fox, and others of their time,
have not disdained to be its inmates, nor is it now deserted by the
votaries of genius, though considerably altered, and conducted in
a different manner: it still, however, affords much amusement and
accommodation. It was formerly well known by the appellation of the
_Finish_, and was not opened till a late hour in the night, and, as at
the present moment, is generally shut up between 11 and 12 o'clock,
and re-opened for the accommodation of the market people at 4 in the
morning. The most respectable persons resident in the neighbourhood
assemble to refresh themselves after the labours of the day with a glass
of ale, spirits, or wine, as they draw no porter. The landlord is a
pleasant fellow enough, and there is a pretty neat dressing young lass
in the bar, whom I believe to be his sister--this is the house.”
“House,” said Bob, “why this is a deviation from the customary buildings
of London; it appears to have no up stairs rooms.”
“Never mind that,” continued Dashall, “there is room enough for us, I
dare say; and after your visit to the Woolpack, I suppose you can stand
smoke, if you can't stand fire.”
By this time they had entered the Carpenter's Arms, when turning short
round the bar, they found themselves in a small room, pretty well filled
with company, enjoying their glasses, and puffing their pipes: in the
right hand corner sat an undertaker, who having just obtained a victory
over his opposite neighbour, was humming a stave ~~220~~~ to himself
indicative of his satisfaction at the result of the contest, which it
afterwards appeared was for two mighty's;{1} while his opponent was
shrugging up his shoulders with a feeling of a very different kind.
“It's of no use,” said Jemmy,{2} as they called him, “for you to enter
the lists along with me, for you know very well I must have you at
last.”
“And no doubt it will prove a good fit,” said an elderly shoemaker
of respectable appearance, who seemed to command the reverence of the
company, “for all of us are subject to the _pinch_.”
“There's no certainty of his assertion, however,” replied the
unsuccessful opponent of Jemmy.
“Surely not,”{3} said another most emphatically, taking a pinch of
snuff, and offering it to the shoemaker; “for you know Jemmy may come to
the finch before John.”
1 “Mighty.”--This high sounding title has recently been
given to a full glass of ale,--the usual quantity of what is
termed a glass being half a pint, generally supplied in a
large glass which would hold more--and which when filled is
consequently subjected to an additional charge.
2 To those who are in the habit of frequenting the house,
this gentleman will immediately be known, as he usually
smokes his pipe there of an afternoon and evening.
“With his friend and his pipe puffing sorrow away, And with
honest old stingo still soaking his clay.”
With a certain demonstration before him of the mortality of
human life, he deposits the bodies of his friends and
neighbours in the earth, and buries the recollection of them
in a cloud, determined, it should seem, to verify the words
of the song, that
“The right end of life is to live and be jolly.”
His countenance and manners seldom fail to excite
risibility, not-withstanding the solemnity of his calling,
and there can be little doubt but he is the finisher of
many, after the Finish; he is, however, generally good
humoured, communicative, and facetious, and seldom refuses
to see any person in company for a mighty, usually
concluding the result with a mirthful ditty, or a doleful
countenance, according to the situation in which he is left
as a winner or a loser; and in either case accompanied with
a brightness of visage, or a dull dismal countenance,
indicative of the event, which sets description at defiance,
and can only be judged of by being seen.
3 “Surely not,” are words in such constant use by one
gentleman who is frequently to be met in this room, that the
character alluded to can scarcely be mistaken: he is partial
to a pinch of snuff, but seldom carries a box of his own. He
is a resident in the neighbour-hood, up to snuff, and
probably, like other men, sometimes snuffy; this, however,
without disparagement to his general character, which is
that of a respectable tradesman. He is fond of a lark, a
bit of gig, and an argument; has a partiality for good
living, a man of feeling, and a dealer in felt, who wishes
every one to wear the cap that fits him.
~~221~~~ “Never mind,” continued Jemmy, “I take my chance in this life,
and sing _toll de roll loll_.”
By this time our friends, being supplied with mighties, joined in the
laugh which was going round at the witty sallies of the speakers.
“It is possible I may go first,” said the undertaker, resuming his pipe;
“and if I should, I can't help it.”
“Surely not,--but I tell you what, Jemmy, if you are not afraid, I'll
see you for two more mighties before I go, and I summons you to shew
cause.”
“D------n your summons,”{1} cried the former unsuccessful opponent of