Real Life In London, Volumes I. and II.
full chorus, as plain as the fumes of the pipes and the
hiccups would allow the choristers at those hours to
articulate; and as it is probably the effusion of some
Shopmate in unison with the sentiments of many, it forms
part of Real Life deserving of being recorded in this Work.
Particular trades have particular songs suitable to the
employment in which they are engaged, which while at work
the whole of the parties will join in. In Spitalfields,
Bethnal-green, &c. principally inhabited by weavers, it is
no uncommon thing to hear twenty or thirty girls singing,
with their shuttles going--The Death of Barbary Allen--There
was an old Astrologer--Mary's Dream, or Death and the Lady;
and we remember a Watch-maker who never objected to hear his
boys sing; but although he was himself a loyal subject, he
declared he could not bear God Save the King; and upon being
ask'd his reason--Why, said he, it is too slow--for as the
time goes, so the fingers move--Give us _Drops of Brandy_,
or _Go to the Devil and Shake Yourself_--then I shall have
some work done.
~159~~This Song, which was repeated three or four times, was continued
till their arrival at Newport-market, where the Songsters divided: our
party pursued their way through Coventry-street, and arrived without
further adventure or interruption safely at home. Sparkle bade them
adieu, and proceeded to Bond-street; and Tom and Bob sought the repose
of the pillow.
It is said that “Music hath charms to sooth the savage breast,” and it
cannot but be allowed that the _Yo heave ho_, of our Sailors, or the
sound of a fiddle, contribute much to the speed of weighing anchor.
It is an indisputable fact that there are few causes which more
decidedly form, or at least there are few evidences which more clearly
indicate, the true character of a nation, than its Songs and Ballads. It
has been observed by the learned Selden, that you may see which way the
wind sets by throwing a straw up into the air, when you cannot make the
same discovery by tossing up a stone or other weighty substance. Thus it
is with Songs and Ballads, respecting the state of public feeling, when
productions of a more elaborate nature fail in their elucidations: so
much so that it is related of a great Statesman, who was fully convinced
of the truth of the observation, that he said, “Give me the making of
the national Ballads, and I care not who frames your Laws.” Every day's
experience tends to prove the power which the _sphere-born_ Sisters of
harmony, voice, and verse, have over the human mind. “I would rather,”
says Mr. Sheridan, “have written Glover's song of 'Hosier's Ghost' than
the Annals of Tacitus.”~160~~
CHAPTER XII
O what a town, what a wonderful Metropolis!
Sure such a town as this was never seen;
Mayor, common councilmen, citizens and populace,
Wand'ring from Poplar to Turnham Green.
Chapels, churches, synagogues, distilleries and county banks--
Poets, Jews and gentlemen, apothecaries, mountebanks--
There's Bethlem Hospital, and there the Picture Gallery;
And there's Sadler's Wells, and there the Court of Chancery.
O such a town, such a wonderful Metropolis,
Sure such a town as this was never seen!
O such a town, and such a heap of carriages,
Sure such a motley group was never seen;
Such a swarm of young and old, of buryings and marriages,
All the world seems occupied in ceaseless din.
There's the Bench, and there's the Bank--now only take a peep at her--
And there's Rag Fair, and there the East-London Theatre--
There's St. James's all so fine, St. Giles's all in tattery,
Where fun and frolic dance the rig from Saturday to Saturday.
O what a town, what a wonderful Metropolis,
Sure such a town as this was never seen!
A SHORT time after this day's ramble, the Hon. Tom Dash all and his
friend Tallyho paid a visit to the celebrated Tattersall's.
“This,” said Tom, “is a great scene of action at times, and you will
upon some occasions find as much business done here as there is on
'Change; the dealings however are not so fair, though the profits
are larger; and if you observe the characters and the visages of the
visitants, it will be found it is most frequently attended by Turf-Jews
and Greeks.{1} Any man indeed who dabbles in horse-dealing, must, like
a gamester, be either a rook or a pigeon; {2} for horse-dealing is a
species of gambling, in which as many
1 Turf-Jews and Greeks--Gamblers at races, trotting-
matches, &c.
2 Rooks and Pigeons are frequenters of gaming-houses: the
former signifying the successful adventurer, and the latter
the unfortunate dupe.
~161~~depredations are committed upon the property of the unwary as in
any other, and every one engaged in it thinks it a meritorious act to
dupe his chapman. Even noblemen and gentlemen, who in other
transactions of life are honest, will make no scruple of cheating you in
horse-dealing: nor is this to be wondered at when we consider that
the Lord and the Baronet take lessons from their grooms, jockeys, or
coachmen, and the nearer approach they can make to the appearance
and manners of their tutors, the fitter the pupils for turf-men, or
gentlemen dealers; for the school in which they learn is of such
a description that dereliction of principle is by no means
surprising--fleecing each other is an every-day practice--every one
looks upon his fellow as a bite, and young men of fashion learn how to
buy and sell, from old whips, jockeys, or rum ostlers, whose practices
have put them up to every thing, and by such ruffian preceptors are
frequently taught to make three quarters or seventy-five per cent,
profit, which is called turning an honest penny. This, though frequently
practised at country fairs, &c. by horse-jobbers, &c. is here executed
with all the dexterity and art imaginable: for instance, you have
a distressed friend whom you know must sell; you commiserate his
situation, and very kindly find all manner of faults with his horse, and
buy it for half its value--you also know a Green-horn and an extravagant
fellow, to whom you sell it for twice its value, and that is the neat
thing. Again, if you have a horse you wish to dispose of, the same
school will afford you instruction how to make the most of him, that is
to say, to conceal his vices and defects, and by proper attention to put
him into condition, to alter his whole appearance by hogging, cropping,
and docking--by patching up his broken knees--blowing gun-powder in his
dim eyes--bishoping, blistering, &c. so as to turn him out in good twig,
scarcely to be known by those who have frequently seen and noticed him:
besides which, at the time of sale one of these gentry will aid and
assist your views by pointing out his recommendations in some such
observations as the following:
'There's a horse truly good and well made.
'There's the appearance of a fine woman! broad breast, round hips, and
long neck.
'There's the countenance, intrepidity, and fire of a lion.
'There's the eye, joint, and nostril of an ox.
~162~~'There's the nose, gentleness, and patience of a lamb.
'There's the strength, constancy, and foot of a mule.
'There's the hair, head, and leg of a deer.
'There's the throat, neck, and hearing of a wolf.
'There's the ear, brush, and trot of a fox.
'There's the memory, sight, and turning of a serpent.
'There's the running, suppleness, and innocence of the hare.
“And if a horse sold for sound wind, limb, and eyesight, with all the
gentleness of a lamb, that a child might ride him with safety, should
afterwards break the purchaser's neck, the seller has nothing to do with
it, provided he has received the _bit_,{1} but laughs at the _do_.{2}
Nay, they will sometimes sell a horse, warranted to go as steady as ever
a horse went in harness, to a friend, assuring him at the same time that
he has not a fault of any kind--that he is good as ever shoved a head
through a horse-collar; and if he should afterwards rear up in the gig,
and overturn the driver into a ditch, shatter the concern to
pieces, spill Ma'am, and kill both her and the child of promise, the
conscientious Horse-dealer has nothing to do with all this: How could
he help it? he sold the horse for a good horse, and a good horse he was.
This is all in the way of fair dealing. Again, if a horse is sold as
sound, and he prove broken-winded, lame, or otherwise, not worth
one fortieth part of the purchase-money, still it is only a piece of
jockeyship--a fair manouvre, affording opportunities of merriment.”
“A very laudable sort of company,” said Bob.
“It is rather a mixed one,” replied Tom--“it is indeed a complete
mixture of all conditions, ranks, and orders of society. But let us take
a peep at some of them. Do you observe that stout fellow yonder, with
a stick in his hand? he has been a _Daisy-kicker_, and, by his arts and
contrivances having saved a little money, is now a regular dealer, and
may generally be seen here on selling days.”
“Daisy-kicker,” said Bob, “I don't comprehend the term.”
“Then I will explain,” was the reply. “Daisy-kickers are Ostlers
belonging to large inns, who are known to each other by that title, and
you may frequently hear them
1 Bit--A cant term for money.
2 Do--Any successful endeavour to over-reach another is by
these gentlemen call'd a do, meaning--so and so has been
done.
~163~~ask--When did you sell your Daisy-kicker or Grogham?--for these
terms are made use of among themselves as cant for a horse. Do you also
observe, he is now in close conversation with a person who he expects
will become a purchaser.”
“And who is he?”
“He is no other than a common informer, though in high life; keeps his
carriage, horses, and servants--lives in the first style--he is shortly
to be made a Consul of, and perhaps an Ambassador afterwards. The first
is to all intents and purposes a Lord of Trade, and his Excellency
nothing more than a titled spy, in the same way as a Bailiff is a
follower of the law, and a man out of livery a Knight's companion or a
Nobleman's gentleman.”
Their attention was at this moment attracted by the appearance of two
persons dressed in the extreme of fashion, who, upon meeting just by
them, caught eagerly hold of each other's hand, and they overheard
the following--'Why, Bill, how am you, my hearty?--where have you
been _trotting your galloper_?--what is you arter?--how's Harry and
Ben?--haven't seen you this blue moon.'{1}
'All tidy,' was the reply; 'Ben is getting better, and is going to sport
a new curricle, which is now building for him in Long Acre, as soon as
he is recovered.'
'Why what the devil's the matter with him, eh?'
'Nothing of any consequence, only he got mill'd a night or two ago about
his blowen--he had one of his ribs broke, sprained his right wrist, and
sports a _painted peeper_{2} upon the occasion, that's all.'
'Why you know he's no _bad cock_ at the Fancy, and won't put up with any
gammon.'
'No, but he was lushy, and so he got queer'd--But I say, have you sold
your bay?'
'No, d----n me, I can't get my price.'
'Why, what is it you axes?'{3}
'Only a hundred and thirty--got by Agamemnon. Lord, it's no price at
all--cheap as dirt--But I say, Bill,
1 Blue moon--This is usually intended to imply a long time.
2 Painted peeper--A black eye.
3 Axes--Among the swell lads, and those who affect the
characters of knowing coveys, there is a common practice of
endeavouring to coin new words and new modes of expression,