Real Life In London, Volumes I. and II.
remarks, and animadversions.
“Why, Sir, I must say it is a new way of introducing a story, and
appears to me very irregular.--What! tumble your hero neck and heels
into the midst of a drunken fox-hunting party, and then carry him
off from his paternal estate, without even noticing his ancestors,
relatives, friends, connexions, or prospects--without any description
of romantic scenery on the estate--without so much as an allusion to the
female who first kindled in his breast the tender passion, or a detail
of those incidents with which it is usually connected!--a strange, very
strange way indeed this of commencing.”
“My dear Sir, I agree with you as to the deviation from customary rules:
but allow me to ask,--is not one common object--amusement, all we have
in view? Suppose then, by way of illustration, you were desirous of
arriving at a given place or object, to which there were several roads,
and having traversed one of these till the monotony of the scene had
rendered every object upon it dull and wearisome, would you quarrel with
the traveller who pointed out another road, merely because it was a new
one? Considering the impatience of our young friends, the one to return
to scenes in which alone he can ~6~~live, and the other to realize
ideal dreams of happiness, painted in all the glowing tints that a
warm imagination and youthful fancy can pourtray, it will be impossible
longer to continue the argument. Let me, therefore, entreat you to cut
it short--accompany us in our rapid pursuit after Life in London; nor
risk for the sake of a little peevish criticism, the cruel reflection,
that by a refusal, you would, probably, be in _at the death_ of the
Author--by Starvation.”
CHAPTER II
“The panting steed the hero's empire feel,
Who sits triumphant o'er the flying wheel,
And as he guides it through th' admiring throng,
With what an air he holds the reins, and smacks the silken thong!”
ORDINARY minds, in viewing distant objects, first see the obstacles that
intervene, magnify the difficulty of surmounting them, and sit down in
despair. The man of genius with his mind's-eye pointed steadfastly, like
the needle towards the pole, on the object of his ambition, meets and
conquers every difficulty in detail, and the mass dissolves before
him as the mountain snow yields, drop by drop, to the progressive but
invincible operation of the solar beam. Our honourable friend was well
aware that a perfect knowledge of the art of driving, and the character
of a “_first-rate whip_,” were objects worthy his ambition; and that,
to hold four-in-hand--turn a corner in style--handle the reins in
form--take a fly off the tip of his leader's ear--square the elbows, and
keep the wrists pliant, were matters as essential to the formation of a
man of fashion as _dice or milling_: it was a principle he had long laid
down and strictly adhered to, that whatever tended to the completion
of that character, should be acquired to the very acmé of perfection,
without regard to ulterior consequences, or minor pursuits.
In an early stage, therefore, of his fashionable course of studies,
the whip became an object of careful solicitude; and after some private
tuition, he first exhibited his prowess about twice a week, on the
box of a Windsor stage, tipping coachy a crown for the indulgence and
improvement it afforded. Few could boast of being more fortunate
during a noviciate: two overturns only occurred in the whole course of
practice, and except the trifling accident of an old lady being killed,
a shoulder or two dislocated, and about half a dozen legs and arms
~8~~broken, belonging to people who were not at all known in high
life, nothing worthy of notice may be said to have happened on these
occasions. 'Tis true, some ill-natured remarks appeared in one of the
public papers, on the “conduct of coachmen entrusting the reins to
young practitioners, and thus endangering the lives of his majesty's
subjects;” but these passed off like other philanthropic suggestions of
the day, unheeded and forgotten.
The next advance of our hero was an important step. The mail-coach is
considered the school; its driver, the great master of the art--the
_Phidias_ of the statuary--the _Claude_ of the landscape-painter. To
approach him without preparatory instruction and study, would be like
an attempt to copy the former without a knowledge of anatomy, or the
latter, while ignorant of perspective. The standard of excellence--the
model of perfection, all that the highest ambition can attain, is to
approach as near as possible the original; to attempt a deviation, would
be to _bolt out of the course, snap the curb, and run riot_. Sensible
of the importance of his character, accustomed to hold the reins of
arbitrary power; and seated where will is law, the mail-whip carries
in his appearance all that may be expected from his elevated situation.
Stern and sedate in his manner, and given to taciturnity, he speaks
sententiously, or in monosyllables. If he passes on the road even an
humble follower of the profession, with four tidy ones in hand, he
views him with ineffable contempt, and would consider it an irreparable
disgrace to appear conscious of the proximity. Should it be a country
gentleman of large property and influence, and he held the reins,
and handled the whip with a knowledge of the art, so to “get over the
ground,” coachy might, perhaps, notice him “_en passant_,” by a slight
and familiar nod; but it is only the peer, or man of first-rate sporting
celebrity, that is honoured with any thing like a familiar mark of
approbation and acquaintance; and these, justly appreciating the proud
distinction, feel higher gratification by it than any thing the monarch
could bestow: it is an inclination of the head, not forward, in the
manner of a nod, but towards the off shoulder, accompanied with a
certain jerk and elevation from the opposite side. But here neither pen
nor pencil can depict; it belongs to him alone whose individual powers
can nightly keep the house ~9~~in a roar, to catch the living manner and
present it to the eye.
“----A merrier man
Within the limit of becoming mirth,
I never spent an hour's talk withall:
His eye begets occasion for his wit;
For every object that the one doth catch
The other turns to a mirth-moving jest.”
And now, gentle reader, if the epithet means any thing, you cannot but
feel disposed to good humour and indulgence: Instead of rattling you
off, as was proposed at our last interview, and whirling you at the
rate of twelve miles an hour, exhausted with fatigue, and half _dead_
in pursuit of _Life_, we have proceeded gently along the road, amusing
ourselves by the way, rather with drawing than driving. 'Tis high time,
however, we made some little progress in our journey: “Come Bob,
take the reins--push on--keep moving--touch up the leader into a
hand-gallop--give Snarler his head--that's it my tight one, keep out of
the ruts--mind your quartering--not a gig, buggy, tandem, or tilbury,
have we yet seen on the road--what an infernal place for a human
being to inhabit!--curse me if I had not as lief emigrate to the back
settlements of America: one might find some novelty and amusement
there--I'd have the woods cleared--cut out some turnpike-roads, and,
like Palmer, start the first mail”----“Stop, Tom, don't set off yet
to the Illinois--here's something ahead, but what the devil it is I
cant guess--why it's a barge on wheels, and drove four-in-hand.”--“Ha,
ha--barge indeed, Bob, you seem to know as much about coaches as Snarler
does of Back-gammon: I suppose you never see any thing in this quarter
but the old heavy Bridgewater--why we have half a dozen new launches
every week, and as great a variety of names, shape, size, and colour,
as there are ships in the navy--we have the heavy coach, light coach,
Caterpillar, and Mail--the Balloon, Comet, Fly, Dart, Regulator,
Telegraph, Courier, Times, High-flyer, Hope, with as many others as
would fill a list as long as my tandem-whip. What you now see is one of
the _new patent safety-coaches_--you can't have an overturn if you're
ever so disposed for a spree. The old city cormorants, after a gorge of
mock-turtle, turn into them for a journey, and drop off in a ~~10~~nap,
with as much confidence of security to their neck and limbs as if they
had mounted a rocking-horse, or drop't into an arm-chair.”--“Ah! come,
the scene improves, and becomes a little like Life--here's a dasher
making up to the Safety--why its--no, impossible--can't be--gad it
is tho'--the Dart, by all that's good! and drove by Hell-fire
Dick!--there's a fellow would do honour to any box--drove the Cambridge
Fly three months--pass'd every thing on the road, and because he
overturned in three or four hard matches, the stupid rascals of
proprietors moved him off the ground. Joe Spinum, who's at Corpus
Christi, matched Dick once for 50, when he carried five inside
and thirteen at top, besides heavy luggage, against the other
Cambridge--never was a prettier race seen at Newmarket--Dick must
have beat hollow, but a d----d fat alderman who was inside, and felt
alarmed at the velocity of the vehicle, moved to the other end of the
seat: this destroyed the equilibrium--over they went, into a four-feet
ditch, and Joe lost his match. However, he had the satisfaction of
hearing afterwards, that the old cormorant who occasioned his loss, had
nearly burst himself by the concussion.”
“See, see!--Dick's got up to, and wants to give the Safety the go
by--gad, its a race--go it Dick--now Safety--d----d good cattle
both--lay it in to 'em Dick--leaders neck and neck--pretty race
by G----! Ah, its of no use Safety--Dick wont stand it--a dead
beat--there she goes--all up--over by Jove “----“I can't see for that
tree--what do you say Tom, is the race over?”--“Race, ah! and the coach
too--knew Dick would beat him--would have betted the long odds the
moment I saw it was him.”
The tandem had by this time reached the race-course, and the disaster
which Tom had hardly thought worth noticing in his lively description of
the sport, sure enough had befallen the _new 'patent Safety_, which was
about mid way between an upright and a side position, supported by the
high and very strong quicksett-hedge against which it hath fallen. Our
heroes dismounted, left Flip at the leader's head, and with Ned, the
other groom, proceeded to offer their services. Whilst engaged in
extricating the horses, which had become entangled in their harness, and
were kicking and plunging, their attention was arrested by the screams
and outrageous vociferations of a very fat, middle-aged woman, who
had ~11~~been jerked from her seat on the box to one not quite so
smooth--the top of the hedge, which, with the assistance of an old alder
tree, supported the coach. Tom found it impossible to resist the violent
impulse to risibility which the ludicrous appearance of the old lady
excited, and as no serious injury was sustained, determined to enjoy the
fun.
“If e'er a pleasant mischief sprang to view,
At once o'er hedge and ditch away he flew,
Nor left the game till he had run it down.”
Approaching her with all the gravity of countenance he was master
of--“Madam,” says he, “are we to consider you as one of the Sylvan
Deities who preside over these scenes, or connected in any way with the
vehicle?”--“Wehicle, indeed, you _hunhuman-brutes_, instead of assisting
a poor distressed female who has been chuck'd from top of that there
_safety-thing_, as they calls it, into such a dangerous _pisition_, you
must be chuckling and grinning, must you? I only wish my husband, Mr.
Giblet, was here, he should soon wring your necks, and pluck some of