Real Life In London, Volumes I. and II.
giving a high-flown description of the articles, and with an extravagant
price. Proceeding nearly in the same way as the money-droppers with the
dupe, the finder proposes, as he is rather short of _steeven_,{1} to
_swap_{2}his share for a comparatively small part of the value stated in
the bill of parcels: and if he succeeds in obtaining one-tenth of that
amount in hard cash, his triumph is complete; for, upon examination, the
diamonds turn out to be nothing but paste--the pearls, fishes' eyes--and
the gold is merely polished brass gilt, and altogether of no value.
But this cannot be discovered beforehand, because the _bilk_{3} is in a
hurry, can't spare time to go to a shop to have the articles valued,
but assures his intended victim, that, as they found together, he should
like to _smack the bit_,{4 }without _blowing the gap_,{5} and so help
him G--d, the thing wants no _buttering up_,{6} because he is willing to
give his share for such a trifle.”
1 Steeven--A flash term for money.
2 Swap--To make an exchange, to barter one article for
another.
3 A swindler or cheat.
4 Smack the bit--To share the booty.
5 Blowing the gap--Making any thing known.
6 Buttering up--Praising or flattering.
This conversation was suddenly interrupted by a violent crash just
behind them, as they passed Drury Lane Theatre in their way through
Bussel Court; and Bob, upon turning to ascertain from whence such
portentous sounds proceeded, discovered that he had brought all the
Potentates of the Holy Alliance to his feet. The Alexanders, the
Caesars, the Buonapartes, Shakespeares, Addisons and Popes, lay strewed
upon the pavement, in one undistinguished heap, while a poor Italian lad
with tears in his eyes gazed with indescribable anxiety on the shapeless
ruin--' Vat shall me do?--dat man knock him down--all brokt--you
pay--Oh! mine Godt, vat shall do! ' This appeal was made to Dashall and
Tallyho, the latter of whom the poor Italian seemed to fix upon as the
author of his misfortune in upsetting his board of plaster images; and
although he was perfectly unconscious of the accident, the appeal of the
vender of great personages had its desired effect upon them both; and
~362~~ finding themselves quickly surrounded by spectators, they gave
him some silver, and then pursued their way.
“These men,” said Dashall, “are generally an industrious and hard-living
people; they walk many miles in the course of a day to find sale for
their images, which they will rather sell at any price than carry back
with them at night; and it is really wonderful how they can make a
living by their traffic.”
“Ha, ha, ha,” said a coarse spoken fellow following--“how the Jarman
Duck diddled the Dandies just now--did you twig how he queered the coves
out of seven bob for what was not worth _thrums._{1} The _Yelper_{2}
did his duty well, and finger'd the _white wool_{3} in good style. I'm
d------d if he was not up to slum, and he whiddied their wattles with
the velvet, and floored the town toddlers easy enough.”
“How do you mean?” said his companion.
“Why you know that foreign blade is an ould tyke about this quarter, and
makes a good deal of money--many a _twelver_{4} does he get by buying
up broken images of persons who sell them by wholesale, and he of course
gets them for little or nothing: then what does he do but dresses out
his board, to give them the best appearance he can, and toddles into
the streets, _touting_{5} for a good customer. The first genteel bit of
flash he meets that he thinks will dub up the possibles,{6} he dashes
down the board, breaks all the broken heads, and appeals in a pitiful
way for remuneration for his loss; so that nine times out of ten he gets
some Johnny-raw or other to stump up the rubbish.”
“Zounds!” said Dashall, “these fellows are smoking us; and, in the midst
of my instructions to guard you against the abuses of the Metropolis, we
have ourselves become the dupes of an impostor.”
1 Thrums--A flash term for threepence.
2 The Yelper--A common term given to a poor fellow subject,
who makes very pitiful lamentations on the most trifling
accidents.
3 White wool--Silver.
4 Twelver--A shilling.
5 Touting--Is to be upon the sharp look out.
6 To dub up the possibles--To stand the nonsense--are nearly
synonimous, and mean--will pay up any demand rather than be
detained.
~363~~ “Well,” said Tallyho, “it is no more than a practical
illustration of your own observation, that it is scarcely possible for
any person to be at all times secure from the arts and contrivances of
your ingenious friends the Londoners; though I confess I was little in
expectation of finding you, as an old practitioner, so easily let in.”
“It is not much to be wondered at,” continued Tom, “for here we are in
the midst of the very persons whose occupations, if such they may be
termed, ought most to be avoided; for Covent Garden, and Drury Lane,
with their neighbourhoods, are at all times infested with swindlers,
sharpers, whores, thieves, and depredators of all descriptions, for ever
on the look out. It is not long since a man was thrown from a two-pair
of stairs window in Charles Street,{1} which is just by, having been
decoyed into a house of ill fame by a Cyprian, and this in a situation
within sight of the very Police Office itself in Bow Street!”
“Huzza! ha, ha, ha, there he goes,” vociferated by a variety of voices,
now called their attention, and put an end to their conversation; and
the appearance of a large concourse of people running up Drury Lane,
engrossed their notice as they approached the other end of Russel Court.
On coming up with the crowd, they found the cause of the vast assemblage
of persons to be no other than a Quaker{2} decorated with a tri-coloured
cockade, who was
1 A circumstance of a truly alarming and distressing nature,
to which Dashall alluded in this place, was recently made
known to the public in the daily journals, and which should
serve as a lesson to similar adventurers.
It appeared that a young man had been induced to enter a
house of ill fame in Charles Street, Covent Garden, by one
of its cyprian inmates, to whom he gave some money in order
for her to provide them with supper; that, upon her return,
he desired to have the difference between what he had given
and what she had expended returned to him, which being
peremptorily refused, he determined to leave the house. On
descending the stair-case for which purpose, he was met by
some men, with whom he had a violent struggle to escape;
they beat and bruised him most unmercifully, and afterwards
threw him from a two-pair of stairs window into the street,
where he was found by the Watchman with his skull fractured,
and in a state of insensibility. We believe all attempts
have hitherto proved fruitless to bring the actual
perpetrator or perpetrators of this diabolical deed to
punishment.
2 Bow-street.--Thursday morning an eccentric personage, who
has for some time been seen about the streets of the
Metropolis in the habit of a Quaker, and wearing the tri-
coloured cockade in his broad white hat, made his appearance
at the door of this office, and presenting a large packet to
one of the officers, desired him, in a tone of authority, to
lay it instantly before the Magistrate. The Magistrate (G.
R. Minshull, Esq.) having perused this singular paper,
inquired for the person who brought it; and in the next
moment a young man, in the garb of a Quaker, with a broad-
brimmed, peaceful-looking, drab-coloured beaver on his
head, surmounted by a furious tri-coloured cockade, was
brought before him. This strange anomalous ' personage
having placed himself very carefully directly in front of
the bench, smiled complacently upon his Worship, and the
following laconic colloquy ensued forthwith:--
Magistrate--Did you bring this letter?
Quaker--Thou hast said it.
Magistrate---What is your object in bringing it?
Quaker--Merely to let thee know what is going on in the
world--and, moreover, being informed that if I came to thy
office, I should be taken into custody, I was desiroiis to
ascertain whether that information was true.
Magistrate--Then I certainly shall not gratify you by
ordering you into custody.
Quaker--Thou wilt do as seemeth right in thy eyes. I assure
thee I have no inclination to occupy thy time longer than is
profitable to us, and therefore I will retire whenever thou
shalt signify that my stay is unpleasant to thee.
Magistrate--Why do you wear your hat?--are you a Quaker?
Quaker--Thou sayest it--but that is not my sole motive for
wearing it. To be plain with thee, I wear it because I chose
to do so. Canst thee tell me of any law which compels me
to take it off?
Magistrate--I'll tell you what, friend, I would seriously
recommend you to retire from this place as speedily as
possible.
Quaker--I take thy advice--farewell.
Thus ended this comical conversation, and the eccentric
friend immediately departed in peace.
The brother of the above person attended at the office on
Saturday, and stated that the Quaker is insane, that he was
proprietor of an extensive farm near Ryegate, in Surrey, for
some years; but that in May last his bodily health being
impaired, he was confined for some time, and on his recovery
it was found that his intellects were affected, and he was
put under restraint, but recovered. Some time since he
absconded from Ryegate, and his friends were unable to
discover him, until they saw the account of his eccen-
tricities in the newspapers. Mr. Squire was desirous, if he
made his appearance again at the office, he should be
detained. The Magistrate, as a cause for the detention of
the Quaker, swore the brother to these facts. About three
o'clock the Quaker walked up Bow-street, when an officer
conducted him to the presence of the Magistrate, who
detained him, and at seven o'clock delivered him into the
care of his brother.
~365~~ very quietly walking with a Police Officer, and exhibiting a
caricature of himself mounted on a velocipede, and riding over
corruption, &c. It was soon ascertained that he had accepted an
invitation from one of the Magistrates of Bow Street to pay him a visit,
as he had done the day before, and was at that moment going before him.
“I apprehend he is a little cracked,” said Tom; “but however that may
be, he is a very harmless sort of person. But come, we have other game
in view, and our way lies in a different direction to his.”
“Clothes, Sir, any clothes to-day?” said an importunate young fellow at
the corner of one of the courts, who at the same time almost obstructed
their passage.
Making their way as quickly as they could from this very pressing
personage, who invited them to walk in.
“This,” said Tom, “is what we generally call a _Barker_. I believe the
title originated with the Brokers in Moor-fields, where men of this
description parade in the fronts of their employers' houses, incessantly
pressing the passengers to walk in and buy household furniture, as they
do clothes in Rosemary Lane, Seven Dials, Field Lane, Houndsditch, and
several other parts of the town. Ladies' dresses also used to be barked
in Cranbourn Alley and the neighbourhood of Leicester Fields; however,
the nuisance has latterly in some measure abated. The Shop-women in that