Real Life In London, Volumes I. and II.
the Conqueror. His political career has been eventful, and perhaps has
cost him more, both in pocket and person, than any Member of Parliament
now existing. He took his seat in the House of Commons at an early age,
and first rendered himself popular by his strenuous opposition to a bill
purporting to regulate the publication of newspapers.
“The next object of his determined reprehension, was the
Cold-Bath-Fields Prison, and the treatment of the unfortunates therein
confined. The uniformly bold and energetic language made use of by
the honourable Baronet upon that occasion, breathed the true spirit of
British liberty. He reprobated the unconstitutional measure of erecting
what he termed a _Bastile_ in the very heart of a free country, as
one that could neither have its foundation in national policy, nor
eventually be productive of private good. He remarked that prisons, at
which private punishments, cruel as they were illegal, were exercised,
at the mercy of an unprincipled gaoler--cells in which human beings were
exposed to the horrors of heart-sickening solitude, and depressed in
spirit by their restriction to a scanty and exclusive allowance of
bread and water, were not only incompatible with the spirit of the
constitution, but were likely to prove injurious to the spirit of the
23~~people of this happy country; for as Goldsmith admirably remarks,
“Princes and Lords may nourish or may fade,
A breath can make them as a breath hath made,
But a bold peasantry their country's pride,
When once destroyed can never be supplied.”
“_And if this be not tyranny_” continued the philanthropic orator,
“_it is impossible to define the term. I promise you here_ that I will
persevere to the last in unmasking this wanton abuse of justice and
humanity.” His invincible fortitude in favour of the people, has
rendered him a distinguished favourite among them: and though by some he
is termed a visionary, an enthusiast, and a tool of party, his adherence
to the rights of the subject, and his perseverance to uphold the
principles of the constitution, are deserving the admiration of every
Englishman; and although his fortune is princely, and has been at his
command ever since an early age, he has never had his name registered
among the fashionable gamesters at the clubs in St. James's-street,
Newmarket, or elsewhere. He labours in the vineyard of utility rather
than in the more luxuriant garden of folly; and, according to general
conception, may emphatically be called an honest man. “But come,” said
Tom, “it is time for us to move homeward--the company are drawing off I
see, we must shape our course towards Piccadilly.”
They dashed through the Park, not however without being saluted by many
of his fashionable friends, who rejoiced to see that the Honourable
Tom Dashall was again to be numbered among the votaries of Real Life in
London; while the young squire, whose visionary orbs appeared to be
in perpetual motion, dazzled with the splendid equipages of the moving
panorama, was absorbed in reflections somewhat similar to the following:
“No spot on earth to me is half so fair
As Hyde-Park Corner, or St. James's Square;
And Happiness has surely fix'd her seat
In Palace Yard, Pall Mall, or Downing Street:
Are hills, and dales, and valleys half so gay
As bright St. James's on a levee day?
What fierce ecstatic transports fire my soul,
To hear the drivers swear, the coaches roll;
The Courtier's compliment, the Ladies' clack,
The satins rustle, and the whalebone crack!”
CHAPTER IV
“Together let us beat this ample field
Try what the open, what the covert yield:
The latent tracts, the giddy heights explore
Of all who blindly creep, or sightless soar;
Eye nature's walks, shoot folly as it flies,
And catch the manners living as they rise.”
~~24~IT was half past five when the Hon. Tom Dashall, and his enraptured
cousin, reached the habitation of the former, who had taken care to
dispatch a groom, apprizing Mrs. Watson, the house-keeper, of his
intention to be at home by half past six to dinner; consequently all
was prepared for their reception. The style of elegance in which Tom
appeared to move, struck Tallyho at once with delight and astonishment,
as they entered the drawing-room; which was superbly and tastefully
fitted up, and commanded a cheerful view of Piccadilly. “Welcome, my
dear Bob!” said Tom to his cousin, “to all the delights of Town--come,
tell me what you think of its first appearance, only remember you
commence your studies of Life in London on a dull day; to-morrow you
will have more enlivening prospects before you.” “'Why in truth,”
replied Bob, “the rapidity of attraction is such, as at present to leave
no distinct impressions on my mind; all appears like enchantment, and
I am completely bewildered in a labyrinth of wonders, to which there
appears to be no end; but under your kind guidance and tuition I may
prove myself an apt scholar, in unravelling its intricacies.” By this
time they had approached the window.
“Aye, aye,” says Dashall, “we shall not be long, I see, without some
object to exercise your mind upon, and dispel the horrors.
“Oh for that Muse of fire, whose burning pen
Records the God-like deeds of valiant men!
Then might our humble, yet aspiring verse,
Our matchless hero's matchless deeds rehearse.”
~25~~Bob was surprised at this sudden exclamation of his cousin, and
from the introduction naturally expected something extraordinary, though
he looked around him without discovering his object.
“That,” continued Tom, “is a Peer”--pointing to a gig just turning the
corner, “of whom it may be said:
To many a jovial club that _Peer_ was known,
With whom his active wit unrivall'd shone,
Choice spirit, grave freemason, buck and blood,
Would crowd his stories and _bon mots_ to hear,
And none a disappointment e'er need fear
His humour flow'd in such a copious flood.”
“It is Lord C----, who was formerly well known as the celebrated Major
H----, the companion of the now most distinguished personage in the
British dominions! and who not long since became possessed of his
lordly honours. Some particulars of him are worth knowing. He was
early introduced into life, and often kept both good and bad company,
associating with men and women of every description and of every rank,
from the highest to the lowest--from St. James's to St. Giles's, in
palaces and night-cellars--from the drawing-room to the dust-cart. He
can drink, swear, tell stories, cudgel, box, and smoke with any one;
having by his intercourse with society fitted himself for all companies.
His education has been more practical than theoretical, though he was
brought up at Eton, where, notwithstanding he made considerable progress
in his studies, he took such an aversion to Greek that he never would
learn it. Previous to his arrival at his present title, he used to be
called Honest George, and so unalterable is his nature, that to this
hour he likes it, and it fits him better than his title. But he has
often been sadly put to his shifts under various circumstances: he was
a courtier, but was too honest for that; he tried gaming, but he was too
honest for that; he got into prison, and might have wiped off, but he
was too honest for that; he got into the coal trade, but he found it a
black business, and he was too honest for that. At drawing the long
bow, so much perhaps cannot be said--but that you know is habit, not
principle; his courage is undoubted, having fought three duels before he
was twenty years of age.
Being disappointed in his hope of promotion in the army, he resolved, in
spite of the remonstrances of his ~26~~friends, to quit the guards,
and solicited an appointment in one of the Hessian corps, at that
time raising for the British service in America, where the war of the
revolution was then commencing, and obtained from the Landgrave of Hesse
a captain's commission in his corps of Jagers.
Previous to his departure for America, finding he had involved himself
in difficulties by a profuse expenditure, too extensive for his income,
and an indulgence in the pleasures of the turf to a very great extent,
he felt himself under the necessity of mortgaging an estate of about
11,000L. per annum, left him by his aunt, and which proved unequal to
the liquidation of his debts. He remained in America till the end of the
war, where he distinguished himself for bravery, and suffered much with
the yellow fever. On his return, he obtained an introduction to the
Prince of Wales, who by that time had lanched into public life, and
became one of the jovial characters whom he selected for his associates;
and many are the amusing anecdotes related of him. The Prince conferred
on him the appointment of equerry, with a salary of 300L. a year; this,
however, he lost on the retrenchments that were afterwards made in the
household of His Royal Highness. He continued, however, to be one of
his constant companions, and while in his favour they were accustomed
to practice strange vagaries. The Major was always a wag, ripe and ready
for a _spree or a lark_.
“To him a frolic was a high delight,
A frolic he would hunt for, day and night,
Careless how prudence on the sport might frown.”
At one time, when the favourite's finances were rather low, and the
_mopusses ran taper_, it was remarked among the 60 vivants of the
party, that the Major had not for some time given them an invitation.
This, however, he promised to do, and fixed the day--the Prince
having engaged to make one. Upon this occasion he took lodgings in
Tottenham-court Road--went to a wine-merchant--promised to introduce
him to the royal presence, upon his engaging to find wine for the party,
which was readily acceded to; and a dinner of three courses was served
up. Three such courses, perhaps, were never before seen; when the
company were seated, two large dishes appeared; one was placed at the
top of the table, and one at the bottom; all was anxious expectation:
~27~~the covers being removed, exhibited to view, a baked shoulder of
mutton at top, and baked potatoes at the bottom. They all looked around
with astonishment, but, knowing the general eccentricity of their host,
they readily fell into his humour, and partook of his fare; not doubting
but the second course would make ample amends for the first. The wine
was good, and the Major apologized for his accommodations, being, as he
said, a family sort of man, and the dinner, though somewhat uncommon,
was not such an one as is described by Goldsmith:
“At the top, a fried liver and bacon were seen;
At the bottom was tripe, in a swinging tureen;
At the sides there were spinach and pudding made hot;
In the middle a place where the pasty--was not.”
At length the second course appeared; when lo and behold, another baked
shoulder of mutton and baked potatoes! Surprise followed surprise--but
“Another and another still succeeds.”
The third course consisted of the same fare, clearly proving that he
had in his catering studied quantity more than variety; however, they
enjoyed the joke, eat as much as they pleased, laughed heartily at the
dinner, and after bumpering till a late hour, took their departure: it
is said, however, that he introduced the wine-merchant to his Highness,
who afterwards profited by his orders.{1}
1 This remarkable dinner reminds us of a laughable
caricature which made its appearance some time ago upon the