Real Life In London, Volumes I. and II.
continually hear such conversation as the following:--' Ah, how d'ye do?
I'm delighted to see you! How is Mrs. M----?'
'She's very well, thank you.' 'Has she any increase in family?' 'Any
increase! why I've only been married three months. I see you are talking
of my former wife: bless you, she has been dead these three years.'--Or,
'Ah, my dear friend, how d'ye do? You have been out of town some time;
where have you been? In Norfolk?' 'No, I have been two years in India.'”
This description of a friendly salutation appeared to interest and
amuse both Talltho and Mortimer. Tom laughed, shrugg'd up his shoulders,
acknowledged the picture was too true, and Sparkle continued.
“And thus it is, that, ignorant of one another's interests and
occupations, the generality of friendships of London contain nothing
more tender than a visiting card: nor are they much better, indeed they
are much worse, if you renounce the world, and determine to live only
with your relations and nearest connexions; for if you go to see them
at one o'clock, they are not stirring; at two, the room is full of
different acquaintances, who talk over the occurrences of the last
night's ball, and, of course, are paid more attention to than yourself;
at three, they are out shopping; at four, they are in this place dashing
among the Pinks, from which they do not return till seven, then they are
dressing; at eight, they are dining with two dozen friends; at nine and
ten the same; at eleven, they are dressing for the ball; and at twelve,
when you are retiring to rest, they are gone into society for the
evening: so that you are left in solitude; you soon begin again to try
the world--and we will endeavour to discover what it produces.
“The first inconvenience of a London Life is the late ~179~~hour of a
fashionable dinner. To pass the day in fasting, and then sit down to a
great dinner at eight o'clock, is entirely against the first dictates of
common sense and common stomachs. But what is to be done? he who rails
against the fashion of the times will be considered a most unfashionable
dog, and perhaps I have already said more than sufficient to entitle me
to that appellation.”
“Don't turn _King's Evidence_ against yourself,” said Tom; “for, if you
plead guilty in this happy country, you must be tried by your Peers.”
“Nay,” said Mortimer, “while fashion and reason appear to be in such
direct opposition to each other, I must confess their merits deserve
to be impartially tried; though I cannot, for one moment, doubt but the
latter must ultimately prevail with the generality, however her dictates
may be disregarded by the votaries of the former.”
“You are a good one at a ramble” said Tom, “and not a bad one in a
spree, but I cannot help thinking you are rambling out of your road;
you seem to have lost the thread of your subject, and, having been
disappointed with love and friendship, you are just going to sit down to
dinner.”
“Pardon me,” replied Sparkle, “I was proceeding naturally, and not
fashionably, to my subject; but I know you are so great an admirer of
the latter, that you care but little about the former.”
“Hit for hit,” said Tom; “but go on--you are certainly growing old,
Sparkle; at all events, you appear very grave this morning, and if
you continue in this humour long, I shall expect you are about taking
Orders.”
“There is a time for all things, but the time for that has not yet
arrived.”
“Well, then, proceed without sermonizing.”
“I don't like to be interrupted,” replied Sparkle; “and there is yet
much to be said on the subject. I find there are many difficulties
to encounter in contending with the fashionable customs. Some learned
persons have endeavoured to support the practice of late dinners by
precedent, and quoted the Roman supper; but it ought to be recollected
that those suppers were at three o'clock in the afternoon, and should be
a subject of contempt, instead of imitation, in Grosvenor Square. Women,
~180~~however, are not quite so irrational as men, in London, for they
generally sit down to a substantial lunch about three or four; if men
would do the same, the meal at eight might be relieved of many of its
weighty dishes, and conversation would be a gainer by it; for it must be
allowed on all hands, that conversation suffers great interruption from
the manner in which fashionable dinners are managed. First, the host and
hostess (or her unfortunate coadjutor) are employed during three parts
of the dinner in doing the work of servants, helping fish, or carving
venison to twenty hungry guests, to the total loss of the host's powers
of amusement, and the entire disfigurement of the fair hostess's face.
Again, much time is lost by the attention every one is obliged to
pay, in order to find out (which, by the way, he cannot do if he is
short-sighted) what dishes are at the extreme end of the table; and if
a guest is desirous of a glass of wine, he must peep through the Apollos
and Cupids of the plateau, in order to find some one to take it with;
otherwise he is compelled to wait till some one asks him, which will
probably happen in succession; so that after having had no wine for
half an hour, he will have to swallow five glasses in five minutes.
Convenience teaches, that the best manner of enjoying society at dinner,
is to leave every thing to the servants that servants can do; so that
no farther trouble may be experienced than to accept the dishes that
are presented, and to drink at your own time the wines which are
handed round. A fashionable dinner, on the contrary, seems to presume
beforehand on the silence, dulness, and insipidity of the guests, and
to have provided little interruptions, like the jerks which the Chaplain
gives to the Archbishop to prevent his going to sleep during a sermon.”
“Accurate descriptions, as usual,” said Tom, “and highly amusing.”
Tallyho and Mortimer were intent upon hearing the remainder of Sparkle's
account, though they occasionally joined in the laugh, and observed that
Sparkle seemed to be in a very sentimental mood. As they continued to
walk on, he resumed--
“Well then, some time after dinner comes the hour for the ball, or rout;
but this is sooner said than done: it often requires as much time to
go from St. James's Square to Cleveland Row, as to go from London to
Hounslow.
~181~~It would require volumes to describe the disappointment which
occurs on arriving in the brilliant mob of a ball-room. Sometimes, as
it has been before said, a friend is seen squeezed like yourself, at
the other end of the room, without a possibility of your communicating,
except by signs; and as the whole arrangement of the society is
regulated by mechanical pressure, you may happen to be pushed
against those to whom you do not wish to speak, whether bores, slight
acquaintances, or determined enemies. Confined by the crowd, stifled by
the heat, dazzled by the light, all powers of intellect are obscured;
wit loses its point, and sagacity its observation; indeed, the limbs
are so crushed, and the tongue so parched, that, except particularly
undressed ladies, all are in the case of the traveller, Mr. Clarke,
when he says, that in the plains of Syria some might blame him for not
making moral reflections on the state of the country; but that he must
own that the heat quite deprived him of all power of thought. Hence it
is, that the conversation you hear around you is generally nothing more
than--“Have you been here long?--Have you been at Mrs. H----'s?--Are
you going to Lady D----'s?”--Hence too,
Madam de Staël said very justly to an Englishman, “Dans vos routes le
corps fait plus de frai que l'esprit.” But even if there are persons of
a constitution robust enough to talk, they dare not do so, when twenty
heads are forced into the compass of one square foot; nay, even if, to
your great delight, you see a person to whom you have much to say, and
by fair means or foul, elbows and toes, knees and shoulders, have got
near him, he often dismisses you with shaking you by the hand,
and saying--My dear Mr.---- how do you do? and then continues a
conversation with a person whose ear is three inches nearer. At one
o'clock, however, the crowd diminishes; and if you are not tired by the
five or six hours of playing at company, which you have already had, you
may be very comfortable for the rest of the evening. This however is
the round of fashionable company. But I begin to be tired even of the
description.”
“A very luminous and comprehensive view of fashionable society however,”
said Tom, “sketched by a natural hand in glowing colours, though not
exactly in the usual style. I shall not venture to assert whether
the subjects are well chosen, but the figures are well grouped, and
~182~~display considerable ability and lively imagination in the
painter, though a little confused.”
“It appears to be a study from nature,” said Mortimer.
“At least,” continued Sparkle, “it is a study from Real Life, and
delineates the London manners; for although I have been a mingler in
the gaieties and varieties of a London Life, I have always held the
same opinions with respect to the propriety of the manners and customs
adopted, and have endeavoured to read as I ran; and it cannot be
denied, that, in the eye of fashion, nothing can be more amiable than to
deviate, or at least to affect a deviation, from nature, for to speak
or act according to her dictates, would be considered vulgar and
common-place in the last degree; to hear a story and not express an
emotion you do not feel, perfectly rude and unmannerly, and among the
ladies particularly. To move and think as the heart feels inclined,
are offences against politeness that no person can ever in honour or
delicacy forgive.”
“Come, come,” said Tom, “don't you be so hard on the blessings of Life--
“For who, that knows the thrilling touch
Which Woman's love can give,
Would wish to live for aught so much,
As bid those beauties live?
For what is life, which all so prize,
And all who live approve,
Without the fire of Woman's eyes,
To bid man live and love?”
Sparkle affected to laugh, appeared confused, and look'd down for a few
moments, and they walk'd on in silence.
“I perceive,” said Tom, “how the matter stands--well, I shall not be a
tormentor--but remember I expect an introduction to the fair enslaver. I
thought you 'defy'd the mighty conqueror of hearts,' and resolved to be
free.”
“Resolutions, as well as promises, are easily made,” said Sparkle,
“but not always so easily accomplished or performed--nor are you always
accurate in your conceptions of circumstances; but no matter, your
voyages are always made in search of discoveries, and, in spite of your
resolutions, ~183~~you may perchance be entrapp'd. But no more of this;
I perceive your raillery is directed to me, and I hope you enjoy it.”
“Faith,” replied Tom, “you know I always enjoy your company, but I don't
recollect to have found you in so prosing a humour before--Pray, which
way are you directing your coursel?”
During the latter part of this conversation, Bob and young Mortimer were
employed in admiring the fine piece of water which presented itself to
their notice in the Serpentine River.
“Merely for a ride,” was the reply; “any way you please, to pass away
the time.”
“Mighty cavalier, truly,” said Tom; “but come, here we are at
Kensington, let us mount, and away.”
“Remember, I expect you and Mr. Tallyho to accompany me in the evening
to a family-party. I have already stated my intention, and you are both
expected.”
“Upon these terms then, I am your man, and I think I may answer for my
Cousin.”
By this time they were at the gate, where, finding the curricle and the