Real Life In London, Volumes I. and II.
your fine feathers for you, and make you look as foolish as a peacock
without his tail.” Mrs. Giblet's ire at length having subsided, she was
handed down in safety on _terra firma_, and our heroes transferred their
assistance to the other passengers. The violence of the concussion had
burst open the coach-door on one side, and a London _Dandy_, of the
exquisite genus, lay in danger of being pressed to a jelly beneath the
weight of an infirm and very stout old farmer, whom they had pick'd up
on the road; and it was impossible to get at, so as to afford relief to
the sufferers, till the coach was raised in a perpendicular position.
The farmer was no sooner on his legs, than clapping his hand with
anxious concern into an immense large pocket, he discovered that a
bottle of brandy it contained was crack'd, and the contents beginning to
escape: “I ax pardon, young gentleman,” says he, seizing a hat that the
latter held with great care in his hand, and applying it to catch the
liquor--“I ax pardon for making so free, but I see the hat is a little
out of order, and can't be much hurt; and its a pity to waste the
liquor, such a price as it is now-a-days.”--“Sir, what do you mean,
shouldn't have thought of your taking such liberties indeed, but makes
good the old saying--impudence and ~12~~ignorance go together: my hat
out of order, hey! I'd have you to know, Sir, that _that there_ hat
was bought of Lloyd, in Newgate-street,{1} only last Thursday,-and cost
eighteen shillings; and if you look at the book in his _vindow_ on
hats, dedicated to the head, you'll find that this here hat is a real
exquisite; so much for what you know about hats, my old fellow--I burst
my stays all to pieces in saving it from being squeezed out of shape,
and now this old brute has made a brandy-bottle of it.”--“Oh! oh! my
young Miss in disguise,” replied the farmer, “I thought I smelt a
rat when the Captain left the coach, under pretence of walking up the
hill--what, I suppose vou are bound for Gretna, both of vou, hev young
Lady?”
Every thing appertaining to the coach being now righted, our young
friends left the company to adjust their quarrels and pursue their
journey at discretion, anxious to reach the next town as expeditiously
as possible, where they purposed sleeping for the night. They mounted
the tandem, smack went the whip, and in a few minutes the stage-coach
and its motley group had disappeared.
Having reached their destination, and passed the night comfortably, they
next morning determined to kill an hour or two in the town; and were
taking a stroll arm in arm, when perceiving by a playbill, that an
amateur of fashion from the theatres royal, Drury Lane and Haymarket,
was just _come in_, and would shortly _come out_,
1 It would be injustice to great talents, not to notice,
among other important discoveries and improvements of the
age, the labours of Lloyd, who has classified and arranged
whatever relates to that necessary article of personal
elegance, the Hat. He has given the world a volume on the
subject of Hats, dedicated to their great patron, the Head,
in which all the endless varieties of shape, dependent
before on mere whim and caprice, are reduced to fixed
principles, and designated after the great characters by
which each particular fashion was first introduced. The
advantages to gentlemen residing in the country must be
incalculable: they have only to refer to the engravings in
Mr. Lloyd's work, where every possible variety is clearly
defined, and to order such as may suit the rank or character
in life they either possess, or wish to assume. The
following enumeration comprises a few of the latest fashions:
--The Wellington--The Regent--The Caroline--The
Bashful--The Dandy--The Shallow--The Exquisite--The Marquis
--The New Dash--The Clerieus--The Tally-ho--The Noble Lord--
The Taedum--The Bang-up--The Irresistible--The Bon Ton--The
Paris Beau--The Baronet--The Eccentric--The Bit of Blood,
&c.
~13~~in a favourite character, they immediately directed their steps
towards a barn, with the hope of witnessing a rehearsal. Chance
introduced them to the country manager, and Tom having asked several
questions about this candidate, was assured by Mr. Mist:
“Oh! he is a gentleman-performer, and very useful to us managers, for he
not only finds his own dresses and properties, but 'struts and frets
his hour on the stage without any emoluments. His aversion to salary
recommended him to the lessee of Drury-lane theatre, though his services
had been previously rejected by the sub-committee.”
“Can it be that game-cock, the gay Lothario,” said Tom, “who sports an
immensity of diamonds?”--
Of Coates's frolics he of course well knew, Rare pastime for the
ragamuffin crew! Who welcome with the crowing of a cock, This hero of
the buskin and sock.
“Oh! no,” rejoined Mr. Mist, “that cock don't crow now: this gentleman,
I assure you, has been at a theatrical school; he was instructed by the
person who made Master Bettv a young Roscius.”
Tom shook his head, as if he doubted the abilities of this instructed
actor. To be a performer, he thought as arduous as to be a poet; and
if _poeta nascitur, non fit_--consequently an actor must have natural
abilities.
“And pray what character did this gentleman enact at Drury-lane
Theatre?”
“Hamlet, Prince of Denmark,” answered Mr. Mist--“Shakespeare is his
favourite author.”
“And what said the critics--'to be, or not to be'--I suppose he repeated
the character?”
“Oh! Sir, it was stated in the play-bill, that he met with great
applause, and he was announced for the character again; but, as the Free
List was not suspended, and our amateur dreaded some hostility from that
quarter, he performed the character by proxy, and repeated it at the
Little Theatre in the Haymarket.”
“Then the gentlemen of the Free List,” remarked Bob, “are free and
easy?”
“Yes--yes--they laugh and cough whenever they please: indeed, they are
generally excluded whenever a ~14~~full house is expected, as _ready
money_ is an object to the poor manager of Drury-lane Theatre. The
British Press, however, is always excepted.”
“The British press!--Oh! you mean the newspapers,” exclaimed Tom--“then
I dare say they were very favourable to this Amateur of Fashion?”
“No--not very--indeed; they don't join the manager in his puffs,
notwithstanding his marked civility to them: one said he was a methodist
preacher, and sermonized the character--another assimilated him to a
school-boy saying his lesson--in short, they were very ill-natured--but
hush--here he is--walk in, gentlemen, and you shall hear him rehearse
some of King Richard”--
“King Richard!” What ambition! thought Bob to himself--“late a Prince,
and now--a king!”
“I assure you,” continued Mr. Mist, “that all his readings are new; but
according to my humble observation, his action does not always suit the
word--for when he exclaims--' may Hell make crook'd my mind,' he looks
up to Heaven”--
“Looks up to Heaven!” exclaimed Tom; “then this London star makes a
solecism with his eyes.”
Our heroes now went into the barn, and took a private corner, when they
remained invisible. Their patience was soon exhausted, and Bob and his
honourable cousin were both on the fidgits, when the representative of
King Richard exclaimed--
“Give me a horse----”
“--Whip!” added Tom with stunning vociferation, before King Richard
could bind up his wounds. The amateur started, and betrayed consummate
embarrassment, as if the horsewhip had actually made its entrance. Tom
and his companion stole away, and left the astounded monarch with the
words--“twas all a dream.”
While returning to the inn, our heroes mutually commented on the
ambition and folly of those amateurs of fashion, who not only sacrifice
time and property, but absolutely take abundant pains to render
themselves ridiculous. “Certainly,” says Tom, “this _cacoethes ludendi_
has made fools of several: this infatuated youth though not possessed
of a single requisite for the stage, no doubt flatters himself he is
a second Kean; and, regardless ~15~~of his birth and family, he will
continue his strolling life
Till the broad shame comes staring in his face,
And critics hoot the blockhead as he struts.”
Having now reached the inn, and finding every thing adjusted for their
procedure, our heroes mounted their vehicle, and went in full gallop for
Real Life in London.
CHAPTER III
“Round, round, and round-about, they whiz, they fly,
With eager worrying, whirling here and there,
They know, nor whence, nor whither, where, nor why.
In utter hurry-scurry, going, coming,
Maddening the summer air with ceaseless humming.”
~16~~OUR travellers now approached at a rapid rate, the desideratim
of their eager hopes and wishes: to one all was novel, wonderful, and
fascinating; to the other, it was the welcome return to an old and
beloved friend, the separation from whom had but increased the ardour
of attachment.--“We, now,” says Dashall, “are approaching Hyde-Park,
and being Sunday, a scene will at once burst upon you, far surpassing
in reality any thing I have been able to pourtray, notwithstanding
the flattering compliments you have so often paid to my talents for
description.”
They had scarcely entered the Park-gate, when Lady Jane Townley's
carriage crossed them, and Tom immediately approached it, to pay his
respects to an old acquaintance. Her lady-ship congratulated him on his
return to town, lamented the serious loss the _beau-monde_ had sustained
by his absence, and smiling archly at his young friend, was happy
to find he had not returned empty-handed, but with a recruit, whose
appearance promised a valuable accession to their select circle. “You
would not have seen me here,” continued her ladyship, “but I vow and
protest it is utterly impossible to make a prisoner of one's self, such
a day as this, merely because it is Sunday--for my own part, I wish
there was no such thing as a Sunday in the whole year--there's no
knowing what to do with one's self. When fine, it draws out as many
insects as a hot sun and a shower of rain can produce in the middle of
June. The vulgar plebeians flock so, that you can scarcely get into your
barouche without being hustled by the men-milliners, linen-drapers, and
shop-boys, who ~17~~have been serving you all the previous part of
the week; and wet, or dry, there's no bearing it. For my part, I am
_ennuyée_, beyond measure, on that day, and find no little difficulty in
getting through it without a fit of the horrors.
“What a legion of counter-coxcombs!” exclaimed she, as we passed
Grosvenor-gate. “Upon the plunder of the till, or by overcharging
some particular article sold on the previous day, it is easy for these
_once-a-week_ beaux to hire a tilbury, and an awkward groom in a pepper
and salt, or drab coat, like the _incog._ of the royal family, to mix
with their betters and sport their persons in the drive of fashion: some
of the monsters, too, have the impudence of bowing to ladies whom they
do not know, merely to give them an air, or pass off their customers for
their acquaintance: its very distressing. There!” continued she, “there
goes my plumassier, with gilt spurs like a field-officer, and riding
as importantly as if he were one of the Lords of the Treasury; or--ah!
there, again, is my banker's clerk, so stiff and so laced up, that he
might pass for an Egyptian mummy--the self-importance of these puppies
is insufferable! What impudence! he has picked up some groom out of
place, with a cockade in his hat, by way of imposing on the world for a