Real Life In London, Volumes I. and II.

Then flies again with pleasure to his book. The tradesman hastes away from Care's rude gripe, To meet the neighbouring club and smoke his pipe. All this is well, in decent bounds restrained, No health is injured, and no mind is pain'd. But constant travels in the paths of joy, Yield no delights but what in time must cloy; Though novelty spread all its charms to view, And men with eagerness those charms pursue; One truth is clear, that by too frequent use, They early death or mis'ry may produce.” ~~371~~~ THE post of the following morning brought information for Dashall and his friends, and no time was lost in breaking open the seals of letters which excited the most pleasing anticipations. A dead silence prevailed for a few minutes, when, rising almost simultaneously, expressions of satisfaction and delight were interchanged at the intelligence received. Merry well's success had proved more than commensurate with his most sanguine expectations. He had arrived at the residence of his dying relative, just time enough to witness his departure from this sublunary sphere, and hear him with his expiring breath say,--“All is thine;” and a letter to each of his former friends announced the pleasure and the happiness he should experience by an early visit to his estate, declaring his determination to settle in the country, and no more become a rambler in the labyrinths of London. This was a moment of unexpected, though hoped for gratification. Sparkle applauded the plan he intended to pursue. Tallyho confessed himself tired of this world of wonders, and appeared to be actuated by a similar feeling: he conceived he had seen enough of the Life of a Rover, and seemed to sigh for his native plains again. ~~372~~~ Dashall's relish for novelty in London was almost subdued; and after comparing notes together for a short time, it was mutually agreed that they would dine quietly at home, and digest a plan for future proceedings. “Never,” said Tom, “did I feel so strong an inclination to forego the fascinating charms of a London Life as at the present moment; and whether I renounce it altogether or not, we will certainly pay a congratulatory visit to Merry well.” “Example,” said Sparkle, endeavouring to encourage the feeling with which his friend's last sentiment was expressed, “is at all times better than precept; and retirement to domestic felicity is preferable to revelry in splendid scenes of dissipation, which generally leads to premature dissolution.” “Agreed,” said Tom; “and happy is the man who, like yourself, has more than self to think for.--Blest with a lovely and amiable wife, and an ample fortune, no man upon earth can have a better chance of gliding down the stream of life, surrounded by all the enjoyments it can afford--while I------” “Oh, what a lost mutton am I!” Sparkle could scarcely forbear laughing at his friend, though he was unable to discover whether he was speaking seriously or ironically; he therefore determined to rally him a little. “How,” said he, “why you are growing serious and sentimental all at once: what can be the cause of this change of opinion so suddenly?” “My views of life,” replied Dashall, “have been sufficient to convince me that a Like in London is the high road to Death. I have, however, tried its vagaries in all companies, in all quarters; and, as the Song says, “Having sown my wild oats in my youthful days, I wish to live happily now they are done.” By this time Sparkle was convinced that Dashall was speaking the real sentiments of his mind, and congratulated him upon them. ~~373~~~ Tallyho expressed himself highly delighted with the information he had acquired during his stay in London, but could not help at the same time acknowledging, that he had no wish to continue in the same course much longer: it was therefore agreed, that on that day fortnight they would leave the metropolis for the residence of Merrywell, and trust the future guidance of their pursuits to chance. “It would argue a want of loyalty,” said Tom, “if we did not witness the royal departure for Scotland before we quit town; and as that is to take place on Saturday next, we will attend the embarkation of his Majesty at Greenwich, and then turn our thoughts towards a country life.” Sparkle was evidently gratified by this determination, though he could hardly persuade himself it was likely to be of long duration; and Bob inwardly rejoiced at the expression of sentiments in exact accordance with his own. At a moment when they were all absorbed in thoughts of the future, they were suddenly drawn to the present by a man passing the window, bawling aloud--“Buy a Prap--Buy a Prap.” “What does the fellow mean?” interrupted Tallyho. “Mean,” said Dashall, “nothing more than to sell his clothes props.” “Props,” replied Bob, “but he cries praps; I suppose that is a new style adopted in London.” “Not at all,” continued Sparkle; “the alteration of sound only arises from an habitual carelessness, with which many of what are termed the London Cries are given; a sort of tone or jargon which is acquired by continually calling the same thing--and in which you will find he is not singular. The venders of milk, for instance, seldom call the article they carry for sale, as it is generally sounded _mieu_, or _mieu below_, though some have recently adopted the practice of crying _mieu above_. The sort of sing-song style which the wandering vendera of different goods get into as it were by nature, is frequently so unintelligible, that even an old inhabitant of the town and its environs can scarcely ascertain by the ear what is meant; and which I apprehend arises more from the sameness of subject than from any premeditated intention of the parties so calling. Other instances may be given:--the chimney-sweeper, you will find, instead of ~~374~~~ bawling sweep, frequently contracts it to we-ep or e-ep; the former not altogether incompatible with the situation of the shivering little being who crawls along the streets under a load of soot, to the great annoyance of the well dressed passengers; however, it has the effect of warning them of his approach. The dustman, above curtailment, as if he felt his superiority over the flue-faker, lengthens his sound to dust-ho, or dust-wo; besides, he is dignified by carrying a bell in one hand, by which he almost stuns those around him, and appears determined to kick up a dust, if he can do nothing else. The cries of muffins in the streets it is difficult to understand, as they are in the habit of ringing a tinkling bell, the sound of which can scarcely be heard, and calling mapping ho; and I remember one man whom I have frequently followed, from whom I could never make out more than happy happy happy now. There is a man who frequently passes through the Strand, wheeling a barrow before him, bawling as he moves along, in a deep and sonorous voice, smoaking hot, piping hot, hot Chelsea Buns; and another, in the vicinity of Covent Garden, who attracts considerable notice by the cry of--Come buy my live shrimps and pierriwinkles--buy my wink, wink, wink; these, however, are exceptions to those previously mentioned, as they have good voices, and deliver themselves to some tune; but to the former may be added the itinerant collector of old clothes, who continually annoys you with--Clow; clow sale. The ingenious Ned Shuter, the most luxuriant comedian of his time, frequently entertained his audience on his benefit nights with admirable imitations of the Cries of London, in which he introduced a remarkable little man who sold puffs, and who, from the peculiar manner of his calling them, acquired the name of Golly Molly Puff; by this singularity he became a noted character, and at almost every period some such peculiar itinerant has become remarkable in the streets of London. Some years back, a poor wretched being who dealt in shreds and patches, used to walk about, inviting people by the following lines-- “Linen, woollen, and leather, Bring 'em out altogether.” ~~375~~~ Another, a sleek-headed whimsical old man, appeared, who was commonly called the Wooden Poet, from his carrying wooden ware, which was slung in a basket round his neck, and who chaunted a kind of song in doggerel rhyme, somewhat similar to the following-- “Come, come, my worthy soul, Will you buy a wooden bowl? I am just come from the Borough, Will you buy a pudding stirrer. I hope I am not too soon, For you to buy a wooden spoon. I've come quick as I was able, Thinking you might want a ladle, And if I'm not too late, Buy a trencher or wood plate. Or if not it's no great matter, So you take a wooden platter. It may help us both to dinner, If you'll buy a wooden skimmer. Come, neighbours, don't be shy, for I deal just and fair, Come, quickly come and buy, all sorts of wooden ware.” “Very well, indeed, for a wooden poet,” exclaimed Bois; “he certainly deserved custom at all events: his rivals, Walter Scott or Lord Byron, would have turned such a poetical effusion to some account--it would have been dramatized--Murray, Longman, &c. would have been all in a bustle, puffing, blowing, and advertising. We should have had piracies, Chancery injunctions, and the d------1 to pay; but alas! it makes all the difference whether a poet is fashionable and popular or not.”{1} 1 Lord Byron, in his preface to a recent publication, complains that among other black arts resorted to, for the purpose of injuring his fair fame, he has been accused of receiving considerable sums for writing poetical puffs for Warren's blacking. We can safely acquit his Lordship of this charge, as well as of plagiarism from the poems he alludes to; but it has led to a curious rencontre between the blacking-laureat, and his patron the vender of the shin-ing jet; and after considerable black-guardism between the parties, the matter is likely to become the subject of legal discussion among the gentlemen of the black robe. The poet, it appears, received half a crown for each production, from the man of blacking, which the latter considered not only a fair, but even liberal remuneration for poetic talent; not overlook-ing, that while the pecuniary reward would produce comfort, and add a polish to personal appearance, the brilliance of the composition, (both of poetry and blacking), would be fairly divided between he authors of each; and that the fame of both would be conjointly handed down to posterity, and shine for ever in the temple of fame. Now it requires no uncommon sagacity to perceive, that but for this unfortunate mistake of the public, the poet would have remained satisfied, as far as pecuniary recompence went, with the half-crown,--looking to futurity for that more complete recompence, which poets ever consider far beyond pudding or sensual gratification,--fame and immortality; but, alas! “From causes quite obscure and unforeseen, What great events to man may sometimes spring.” Finding from Lord B.'s own statement, that the public had duly appreciated the merit of these compositions, and had attached so high a value, as even to mistake them for his Lordship's productions, our bard was naturally led into a train of reasoning, and logical deductions, as to what advantage had, and what ought to have resulted to himself,