Real Life In London, Volumes I. and II.

marriage of a Jew attorney, in Jewry-street, Aldgate, to the daughter of a well-known fishmonger, of St. Peter's-alley, Cornhill, when a certain Baronet, Alderman, Colonel, and then Lord Mayor, opened the ball at the London Tavern, as the partner of the bride; a circum-stance which excited considerable curiosity and surprise at the time. We know the worthy Baronet had been a hunter for a seat in Parliament, but what he could be hunting among the children of Israel is, perhaps, not so easily ascertained. We, however, are not speaking of the character, but the caricature, which represented the bride, not resting on Abraham's bosom, but seated on his knee, surrounded by their guests at the marriage-feast; while to a panel just behind them, appears to be affixed a bill of fare, which runs thus: First course, Fish! Second course, Fish!! Third course, Fish!!! Perhaps the idea of the artist originated in the anecdote above recorded. ~28~~It is reported that the Prince gave him a commission, under an express promise that when he could not shew it, he was no longer to enjoy his royal favour. This commission was afterwards lost by the improvident possessor, and going to call on the donor one morning, who espying him on his way, he threw up the sash and called out, “Well, George, commission or no commission?” “No commission, by G----, your Highness?” was the reply. “Then you cannot enter here,”” rejoined the prince, closing the window and the connection at the same time. “His Lordship now resides in the Regent's Park, and may almost nightly be seen at a public-house in the neighbourhood, where he takes his grog and smokes his pipe, amusing the company around him with anecdotes of his former days; we may, perhaps, fall in with him some night in our travels, and you will find him a very amusing and sometimes very sensible sort of fellow, till he gets his grog on board, when he can be as boisterous and blustering as a coal-heaver or a bully. His present fortune is impaired by his former imprudence, but he still mingles with the sporting world, and a short time back had his pocket picked, at a _milling_ match, of a valuable gold repeater. He has favoured the world with several literary productions, among which are Memoirs of his own Life, embellished with a view of the author, suspended from (to use the phrase of a late celebrated auctioneer) a _hanging wood_; and a very elaborate treatise on the Art of Rat-catching. In the advertisement of the latter work, the author engages it will enable the reader to “clear any house of these noxious vermin, however much infested, excepting only a certain great House in the neighbourhood of St. Stephen's, Westminster.”{1} 1 It appears by the newspapers, that the foundation of a certain great house in Pall Mall is rotten, and giving-way. The cause is not stated; but as it cannot arise from being top-heavy, we may presume that the rats have been at work there. Query, would not an early application of the Major's recipe have remedied the evil, and prevented the necessity of a removal of a very heavy body, which of course, must be attended with a very heavy expense? 'Tis a pity an old friend should have been overlooked on such an occasion. ~29~~“Do you,” said Tom, pointing to a person on the other side of the way, “see that young man, walking with a half-smothered air of indifference, affecting to whistle as he walks, and twirling his stick? He is a _once-a-week man_, or, in other words, a _Sunday promenader_--Harry Hairbrain was born of a good family, and, at the decease of his father, became possessed of ten thousand pounds, which he sported with more zeal than discretion, so much so, that having been introduced to the gaming table by a pretended friend, and fluctuated between poverty and affluence for four years, he found himself considerably in debt, and was compelled to seek refuge in an obscure lodging, somewhere in the neighbourhood of Kilburn, in order to avoid the _traps_; for, as he observes, he has been among the _Greeks and pigeons_, who have completely _rook'd_ him, and now want to crow over him: he has been at hide and seek for the last two months, and, depending on the death of a rich old maiden aunt who has no other heir, he eventually hopes to '_diddle 'em_.'” This narrative of Hairbrain was like Hebrew ta Tallyho, who requested his interesting cousin, as he found himself at _falt, to try back_, and put him on the _right scent_. “Ha! ha! ha!” said Tom, “we must find a new London vocabulary, I see, before we shall be able to converse intelligibly; but as you are now solely under my tuition, I will endeavour to throw a little light upon the subject. “Your _once-a-week man, or Sunday promenader_, is one who confines himself, to avoid confinement, lodging in remote quarters in the vicinity of the Metropolis, within a mile or two of the Bridges, Oxford Street, or Hyde-Park Corner, and is constrained to waste six uncomfortable and useless days in the week, in order to secure the enjoyment of the seventh, when he fearlessly ventures forth, to recruit his ideas--to give a little variety to the sombre picture of life, unmolested, to transact his business, or to call on some old friend, and keep up those relations with the world which would otherwise be completely neglected or broken. “Among characters of this description, may frequently be recognised the remnant of fashion, and, perhaps, the impression of nobility not wholly destroyed by adversity and seclusion--the air and manners of a man who has ~30~~outlived his century, with an assumption of _sans souci_ pourtrayed in his agreeable smile, murmur'd through a low whistle of 'Begone dull care,' or 'No more by sorrow chased, my heart,' or played off by the flourishing of a whip, or the rapping of a boot that has a spur attached to it, which perhaps has not crossed a horse for many months; and occasionally by a judicious glance at another man's carriage, horses, or appointments, which indicates taste, and the former possession of such valuable things. These form a part of the votaries of Real Life in London. This however,” said he (observing his cousin in mute attention) “is but a gloomy part of the scene; vet, perhaps, not altogether uninteresting or unprofitable.” “I can assure you,” replied Tallyho, “I am delighted with the accurate knowledge you appear to have of society in general, while I regret the situation of the actors in scenes so glowingly described, and am only astonished at the appearance of such persons.” “You must not be astonished at appearances,” rejoined Dashall, “for appearance is every thing in London; and I must particularly warn you not to found your judgment upon it. There is an old adage, which says 'To _be_ poor, and _seem_ poor, is the Devil all over.' Why, if you meet one of these _Sunday-men_, he will accost you with urbanity and affected cheerfulness, endeavouring to inspire you with an idea that he is one of the happiest of mortals; while, perhaps, the worm of sorrow is secretly gnawing his heart, and preying upon his constitution. Honourable sentiment, struggling with untoward circumstances, is destroying his vitals; not having the courage to pollute his character by a jail-delivery, or to condescend to _white-washing_, or some low bankrupt trick, to extricate himself from difficulty, in order to stand upright again. “A _once-a-week man, or Sunday promenader_, frequently takes his way through bye streets and short cuts, through courts and alleys, as it were between retirement and a desire to see what is going on in the scenes of his former splendour, to take a sly peep at that world from which he seems to be excluded.” “And for all such men,” replied Bob, “expelled from high and from good society, (even though I were compelled to allow by their own imprudence and folly) I ~31~~should always like to have a spare hundred, to send them in an anonymous cover.” “You are right,” rejoined Tom, catching him ardently by the hand, “the sentiment does honour to your head and heart; for to such men, in general, is attached a heart-broken wife, withering by their side in the shade, as the leaves and the blossom cling together at all seasons, in sickness or in health, in affluence or in poverty, until the storm beats too roughly on them, and prematurely destroys the weakest. But I must warn you not to let your liberality get the better of your discretion, for there are active and artful spirits abroad, and even these necessities and miseries are made a handle for deception, to entrap the unwary; and you yet have much to learn--Puff lived two years on sickness and misfortune, by advertisements in the newspapers.” “How?” enquired Bob. “You shall have it in his own words,” said Dashall. “I suppose never man went through such a series of “calamities in the same space of time! Sir, I was five “times made a bankrupt and reduced from a state of “affluence, by a train of unavoidable misfortunes! then “Sir, though a very industrious tradesman, I was twice “burnt out, and lost my little all both times! I lived “upon those fires a month. I soon after was confined by a “most excruciating disorder, and lost the use of my limbs! “That told very well; for I had the case strongly attested, “and went about col--called on you, a close prisoner “in the Marshalsea, for a debt benevolently contracted “to serve a friend. I was afterwards twice tapped “for a dropsy, which declined into a very profitable “consumption! I was then reduced to--0--no--then, “I became a widow with six helpless children--after “having had eleven husbands pressed, and being left “every time eight months gone with child, and without “money to get me into an hospital!” “Astonishing!” cried Bob, “and are such things possible?” “A month's residence in the metropolis,” said Dashall, “will satisfy your enquiries. One ingenious villain, a short time back, had artifice enough to defraud the public, at different periods of his life, of upwards of one hundred thousand pounds, and actually carried on his fraudulent schemes to the last moment of his existence, for he ~32~~defrauded Jack Ketch of his fee by hanging himself in his cell after condemnation.”{1} Just as a tilbury was passing, “Observe,” said Tom, “the driver of that tilbury is the celebrated Lord Cripplegate with his usual equipage--his blue cloak with a scarlet lining, hanging loosely over the vehicle, gives an air of importance to his appearance, and he is always attended by that boy, who has been denominated his cupid; he is a nobleman by birth, a gentleman by courtesy, and a gamester by profession. He exhausted a large estate upon _odd and even, sevens the main_, &c. till having lost sight of the _main chance_, he found it necessary to curtail his establishment and enliven his prospects, by exchanging a first floor for a second, without an opportunity of ascertaining whether or not these alterations were best suited to his high notions or exalted taste; from which in a short time he was induced, either by inclination or necessity, to take a small lodging in an obscure street, and to sport a gig and one horse, instead of a curricle and pair; though in former times he used to drive four in hand, and was acknowledged to be an excellent whip. He still, however, possessed money enough to collect together a large quantity of halfpence, which in his hours of relaxation he managed to turn to good account, by the following stratagem:--He distributed his halfpence on the floor of his little parlour in straight