Real Life In London, Volumes I. and II.
_beau militaire_. What will the world come to! I really have not common
patience with these creatures. I have long since left off going to the
play on a Saturday night, because, independently of my preference for
the Opera, these insects from Cornhill or Whitechapel, shut up their
shops, cheat their masters, and commence their airs of importance about
nine o'clock. Then again you have the same party crowding the Park on
a Sunday; but on the following day, return, like school boys, to their
work, and you see them with their pen behind their ear, calculating how
to make up for their late extravagances, pestering you with lies, and
urging you to buy twice as much as you want, then officiously offering
their arm at your carriage-door.”
Capt. Bergamotte at this moment came up to the carriage, perfumed like a
milliner, his colour much heightened by some vegetable dye, and resolved
neither to “blush unseen,” nor “waste his sweetness on the desert air.”
Two false teeth in front, shamed the others a little in their ivory
polish, and his breath savoured of myrrh like a heathen sacrifice, or
the incense burned in ~18~~one of their temples. He thrust his horse's
head into the carriage, rather abruptly and indecorously, (as one not
accustomed to the haut-ton might suppose) but it gave no offence. He
smiled affectedly, adjusted his hat, pulled a lock of hair across his
forehead, with a view of shewing the whiteness of the latter, and next,
that the glossiness of the former must have owed its lustre to at least
two hours brushing, arranging, and perfuming; used his quizzing-glass,
and took snuff with a flourish. Lady Townley condescended to caress the
horse, and to display her lovely white arm ungloved, with which she
patted the horse's neck, and drew a hundred admiring eyes.
The exquisite all this time brushed the animal gently with a
highly-scented silk handkerchief, after which he displayed a cambric
one, and went through a thousand little playful airs and affectations,
which Bob thought would have suited a fine lady better than a lieutenant
in his Majesty's brigade of guards. Applying the lines of an inimitable
satire, (The Age of Frivolity) to the figure before him, he concluded:
“That gaudy dress and decorations gay,
The tinsel-trappings of a vain array.
The spruce trimm'd jacket, and the waving plume,
The powder'd head emitting soft perfume;
These may make fops, but never can impart
The soldier's hardy frame, or daring heart;
May in Hyde-Park present a splendid train,
But are not weapons for a dread campaign;
May please the fair, who like a tawdry beau,
But are not fit to check an active foe;
Such heroes may acquire sufficient skill
To march erect, and labour through a drill;
In some sham-fight may manfully hold out,
But must not hope an enemy to rout.”
Although he talked a great deal, the whole amount of his discourse was
to inform her Ladyship that (_Stilletto_) meaning his horse, (who in
truth appeared to possess more fire and spirit than his rider could
either boast of or command,) had cost him only 700 guineas, and was
_prime blood_; that the horse his groom rode, was _nothing but a
_good one_, and had run at the _Craven--that he had been prodigiously
fortunate that season on the turf--that he was a bold rider, and could
not bear himself without a fine high spirited animal--and, that being
engaged to dine at ~19~~three places that day, he was desperately at a
loss to know how he should act; but that if her Ladyship dined at any
one of the three, he would certainly join that party, and _cut_ the
other two.
At this moment, a mad-brained ruffian of quality, with a splendid
equipage, came driving by with four in hand, and exclaimed as he flew
past, in an affected tone,--“All! Tom, my dear fellow,--why where the
devil have you hid yourself of late?” The speed of his cattle prevented
the possibility of reply. “Although you see him in such excellent trim,”
observed Tom to Lady Jane, “though his cattle and equipage are so well
appointed, would you suppose, it, he has but just made his appearance
from the Bench after _white-washing?_ But he is a noble spirited
fellow,” remarked the exquisite, “drives the best horses, and is one of
the first whips in town; always gallant and gay, full of life and good
humour; and, I am happy to say, he has now a dozen of as fine horses
as any in Christendom, _bien entendu_, kept in my name.” After this
explanation of the characters of his friend and his horses, he kissed
his hand to her Ladyship, and was out of sight in an instant, “Adieu,
adieu, thou dear, delightful sprig of fashion!” said Lady Jane, as he
left the side of the carriage.--“Fashion and folly,” said Tom, half
whispering, and recalling to his mind the following lines:--
“Oh! Fashion, to thy wiles, thy votaries owe
Unnumber'd pangs of sharp domestic woe.
What broken tradesmen and abandon'd wives
Curse thy delusion through their wretched lives;
What pale-faced spinsters vent on thee their rage,
And youths decrepid e're they come of age.”
His moralizing reverie was however interrupted by her Ladyship,
who perceiving a group of females decked in the extreme of Parisian
fashions, “there,” said she, “there is all that taffeta, feathers,
flowers, and lace can do; and yet you see by their loud talking, their
being unattended by a servant, and by the bit of straw adhering to the
pettycoat of one of them, that they come all the way from Fish Street
Hill, or the Borough, in a hackney-coach, and are now trying to play off
the airs of women of fashion.”
Mrs. Marvellous now drew up close to the party. “My dear Lady Jane,”
said she, “1 am positively suffocated with dust, and sickened with
vulgarity; but to be sure we ~20~~have every thing in London here, from
the House of Peers to Waterloo House. I must tell you about the
trial, and Lady Barbara's mortification, and about poor Mr. R.'s being
arrested, and the midnight flight to the Continent of our poor friend
W----.”
With this brief, but at the same time comprehensive introduction, she
lacerated the reputation of almost all her acquaintance, and excited
great attention from the party, which had been joined by several during
her truly interesting intelligence. Every other topic in a moment gave
way to this delightful amusement, and each with volubility contributed
his or her share to the general stock of slander.
Scandal is at all times the _sauce piquante_ that _currys_ incident in
every situation; and where is the fashionable circle that can sit down
to table without made dishes?--Character is the good old-fashioned roast
beef of the table, which no one touches but to mangle and destroy.
“Lord! who'd have thought our cousin D
Could think of marrying Mrs. E.
True I don't like such things to tell;
But, faith, I pity Mrs. L,
And was I her, the bride to vex,
I would engage with Mrs. X.
But they do say that Charlotte U,
With Fanny M, and we know who,
Occasioned all, for you must know
They set their caps at Mr. O.
And as he courted Mrs. E,
They thought, if she'd have cousin D,
That things might be by Colonel A
Just brought about in their own way.”
Our heroes now took leave, and proceeded through the Park. “Who is that
fat, fair, and forty-looking dame, in the landau?” says Bob.--“Your
description shews,” rejoined his friend, “you are but a novice in the
world of fashion--you are deceived, that lady is as much made up as a
wax-doll. She has been such as she now appears to be for these last
five and twenty years; her figure as you see, rather en-bon point, is
friendly to the ravages of time, and every lineament of age is artfully
filled up by an expert fille de chambre, whose time has been employed
at the toilette of a celebrated devotee in Paris. She drives through the
Park as a matter of course, merely to furnish an opportunity for saying
that she has been there: but the more important business of the morning
will be transacted ~21~~at her boudoir, in the King's Road, where
every luxury is provided to influence the senses; and where, by daily
appointment, she is expected to meet a sturdy gallant. She is a perfect
Messalina in her enjoyments; but her rank in society protects her from
sustaining any injury by her sentimental wanderings.
“Do you see that tall handsome man on horseback, who has just taken
off his hat to her, he is a knight of the ... ribbon; and a well-known
flutterer among the ladies, as well as a vast composer of pretty little
nothings.”--“Indeed! and pray, cousin, do you see that lady of quality,
just driving in at the gate in a superb yellow vis-à-vis,--as you seem
to know every body, who is she?”
“Ha! ha! ha!” replied Tom, almost bursting with laughter, yet
endeavouring to conceal it, “that Lady of Quality, as you are inclined
to think her, a very few years since, was nothing more than a pot-girl
to a publican in Marj'-le-bone; but an old debauchee (upon the look
out for defenceless beauty) admiring the fineness of her form, the
brilliancy of her eye, and the symmetry of her features, became the
possessor of her person, and took her into keeping, as one of the
indispensable appendages of fashionable life, after a month's ablution
at Margate, where he gave her masters of every description. Her
understanding was ready, and at his death, which happened, luckily for
her, before satiety had extinguished appetite, she was left with
an annuity of twelve hundred pounds--improved beauty--superficial
accomplishments--and an immoderate share of caprice, insolence,
and vanity. As a proof of this, I must tell you that at an elegant
entertainment lately given by this dashing cyprian, she demolished a
desert service of glass and china that cost five hundred guineas, in a
fit of passionate ill-humour; and when her paramour intreated her to be
more composed, she became indignant--called for her writing-desk in a
rage--committed a settlement of four hundred a year, which he had made
but a short time previously, to the flames, and asked him, with, a
self-important air, whether he dared to suppose that _paltry_ parchment
gave him an authority to direct her actions?”
“And what said the lover to this severe remonstrance?”
“Say,--why he very sensibly made her a low bow, thanked her for her
kindness, in releasing him from his bond, and took his leave of her,
determined to return no more.”
22~~“Turn to the right,” says Tom, “and yonder you will see on
horseback, that staunch patriot, and friend of the people, Sir----, of
whom you must have heard so much.”
“He has just come out of the K----B----, having completed last week
the term of imprisonment, to which he was sentenced for a libel on
Government, contained in his address to his constituents on the subject
of the memorable Manchester Meeting.”
“Ah! indeed, and is that the red-hot patriot?--well, I must say I have
often regretted he should have gone to such extremes in one or two
instances, although I ever admired his general character for firmness,
manly intrepidity, and disinterested conduct.”
“You are right, Bob, perfectly right; but you know, 'to err is human, to
forgive divine,' and however he may err, he does so from principle.
In his private character, as father, husband, friend, and polished
gentleman, he has very few equals--no superior.
“He is a branch of one of the most ancient families in the kingdom, and
can trace his ancestors without interruption, from the days of William