Chapter 4
"His years but young, but his experience old, His heart unmellow'd, though his judgment ripe, And in a word, (for far behind his worth Come all the praises that we now bestow) He is complete in conduct and in mind, With all good grace, to grace a gentleman."
~42~~But dinner is over, and we must now accompany our triumvirate to the drawing-room, where we find them seated with bottles, gla.s.ses, &c.
determined to make a quiet evening after the fatigues of the journey, and with a view to prepare themselves for the more arduous, and to Tally-ho more interesting, pursuits in the new world, for such he almost considered London.
"Yes," said Sparkle, addressing himself to Bob, with whom a little previous conversation had almost rendered him familiar, "London is a world within itself; it is, indeed, the only place to see life--it is the "_multum in parvo_," as the old song says,
"Would you see the world in little, Ye curious here repair;"
it is the acme of perfection, the "_summum bonum_" of style---indeed, there is a certain affectation of style from the highest to the lowest individual."
"You are a merry and stylish fellow," said Tom; we should have been hipp'd without you, there is a fund of amus.e.m.e.nt in you at all times."
"You are a bit of a wag," replied Sparkle, "but I am up to your gossip, and can serve you out in your own style."
"Every body," says Tallyho, "appears to live in style."
"Yes," continued Sparkle, "_living in style_ is one of the most essential requisites for a residence in London; but I'll give you my idea of living in style, which, by many, is literally nothing more than keeping up appearances at other people's expence: for instance, a d.u.c.h.ess conceives it to consist in taking her breakfast at three o'clock in the afternoon--dining at eight--playing at Faro till four the next morning--supping at five, and going to bed at six--and to eat green peas and peaches in January--in making a half-curtsey at the creed, and a whole one to a scoundrel--in giving fifty guineas to an exotic capon for a pit-ticket--and treating the deserved claims of a parental actor with contempt--to lisp for the mere purpose of appearing singular, and to seem completely ignorant of the Mosaic law--to be in the reverse of extremes--to laugh when she could weep, and weep when she could.dance and be merry--to leave her compliment cards with her acquaintance, whom at the same moment she wishes she may never see again--to speak of the community ~43~~with marked disrespect, and to consider the sacrament a bore!"
"Admirable!" said Tom.
"Wonderful, indeed!" exclaimed Tallyho.
"Aye, aye, London is full of wonders--there is a general and insatiate appet.i.te for the marvellous; but let us proceed: Now we'll take the reverse of the picture. The Duke thinks he does things in style, by paying his debts of honour contracted at the gaming-table, and but very few honourable debts--by being harsh and severe to a private supplicant, while he is publicly a liberal subscriber to a person he never saw--by leaving his vis-a-vis at the door of a well-known courtesan, in order to have the credit of an intrigue--in making use of an optical gla.s.s for personal inspection, though he can ascertain the horizon without any--by being or seeming to be, every thing that is in opposition to nature and virtue--in counting the lines in the Red Book, and carefully watching the importation of _figurantes_ from the Continent--in roundly declaring that a man of fas.h.i.+on is a being of a superior order, and ought to be amenable only to himself--in jumbling ethics and physics together, so as to make them destroy each other--in walking arm in arm with a sneering jockey--talking loudly any thing but sense--and in burning long letters without once looking at their contents;... and so much for my Lord Duke."
"Go along Bob!" exclaimed Tom.
Tallyho conceiving himself addressed by this, looked up with an air of surprise and enquiry, which excited the risibility of Dashall and Sparkle, till it was explained to him as a common phrase in London, with which he would soon become more familiar. Sparkle continued.
"The gay young Peerling, who is scarcely ent.i.tled to the honours and immunities of manhood, is satisfied he is _doing things in style_, by raising large sums of money on _post-obit_ bonds, at the very moderate premium of 40 per cent.--in _queering_ the clergyman at his father's table, and leaving the marks of his finger and thumb on the article of matrimony in his aunt's prayer-book--in kicking up a row at the theatre, when he knows he has some roaring bullies at his elbow, though humble and dastardly when alone--in keeping a das.h.i.+ng _impure_, who publicly squanders away his money, and privately laughs at his follies--in buying a phaeton as high as a two pair of stairs ~44~~window, and a dozen of spanking bays at Tattersall's, and in das.h.i.+ng through St. James's Street, Pall Mall, Piccadilly, and Hyde Park, thus accompanied and accoutred, amidst the contumelies of the c.o.xcombs and the sighs of the worthy. And these are pictures of high life, of which the originals are to be seen daily.
"The haberdasher of Cheapside, whose father, by adherence to the most rigid economy, had ama.s.sed a competence, and who transmitted his property, without his prudence, to his darling son, is determined to shew his spirit, by buying a _bit of blood_, keeping his gig, his girl, and a thatched cottage on the skirts of Epping Forest, or Sydenham Common; but as keeping a girl and a gig would be a nothing unless all the world were _up to it_, he regularly drives her to all the boxing-matches, the Epping hunt, and all the races at Barnet, Epsom, Egham, and Ascot Heath, where he places himself in one of the most conspicuous situations; and as he knows his racing, &c. must eventually distinguish his name in the Gazette with a whereas! he rejoices in the progress and acceleration of his own ruin, and, placing his arms akimbo, he laughs, sings, swears, swaggers, and vociferates--'What d'ye think o'
that now,--is'nt this doing it in stile, eh?'
"Prime of life to go it, where's a place like London? Four in hand to-day, the next you may be undone."
[Ill.u.s.tration: page44 Epson Racers]
"Well, Sir, the mercer's wife, from Watling Street, thinks living in style is evinced by going once a
1 Mr. Wilson's flaming bills of "Dancing at the Old Bailey,"
which are so profusely stuck up about the city, are said to have occasioned several awkward jokes and blunders; among others related, is that of a great unintellectual Yorks.h.i.+re b.o.o.by, who, after staring at the bills with his mouth open, and his saucer eyes nearly starting out of his head with astonishment, exclaimed, "Dang the b.u.t.tons on't, I zee'd urn dangling all of a row last Wednesday at t' Ould Bailey, but didn't know as how they call'd that danzing,--by gum there be no understanding these here Lunnun folk!"
~45~~during Lent, declaring she never drinks any thing else but the _most bestest_ gunpowder tea, that she has a most _screwciating_ cold, and that the country air is always _salubrus_, and sure to do her good.
"So much for living in style, and good breeding."
"That's your true breeding--that's your sort my boys-- Fun, fire, and pathos--metre, mirth, and noise; To make you die with laughter, or the hiccups, Tickle your favourites, or smash your tea-cups."
"By the way, in former times the term _good-breeding_ meant a combination of all that was amiable and excellent; and a well-bred person would shrink from an action or expression that could possibly wound the feelings of another; its foundation was laid in truth, and its supporting pillars were justice and integrity, sensibility and philanthropy; but
"In this gay age--in Taste's enlighten'd times, When Fas.h.i.+on sanctifies the basest crimes; E'en not to swear and game were impolite, Since he who sins in _style_ must sure be right."
A well-bred person must learn to smile when he is angry, and to laugh even when he is vexed to the very soul.
"It would be the height of _mauvaise honte_ for a wellbred person to blush upon any occasions whatever; no young lady blushes after eleven years of age; to study the expression of the countenance of others, in order to govern your own, is indispensably necessary.
"In former times, no well-bred person would have uttered a falsehood; but now such ideas are completely exploded, and such conduct would now be termed a _bore_. My Lord Portly remarks, 'It is a cold day.' 'Yes, my Lord, it is a very cold day,' replies Major Punt. In two minutes after, meeting Lord Lounge, who observes he thinks the weather very warm--'Yes, very warm, my Lord,' is the reply--thus contradicting himself almost in the same breath. It would be perfectly inconsistent in a well-bred man to think, for fear of being absent. When he enters or leaves a drawing-room, he should round his shoulders, drop his head, and imitate a clown or a coachman. This has the effect of the best _ruse de guerre_--for it serves to astonish the ladies, when they afterwards ~46~~discover, by the familiarity of his address, and his unrestrained manners, what a well-bred man he is; for he will address every fair one in the room in the most enchanting terms, except her to whom in the same party he had previously paid the most particular attention; and on her he will contrive to turn his back for the whole evening, and if he is a man of fas.h.i.+on, he will thus cause triumph to the other ladies, and save the neglected fair one from envious and slanderous whisperings."
"An admirable picture of living in style, and good breeding, indeed!"
cried Tom. "The game is in view and well worth pursuit; so hark forward!
hark forward! my boys."
Sparkle, now recollecting his engagement--with "you know who" as he significantly observed in the last Chapter, withdrew, after promising to take a stroll by way of killing an hour or two with them in the morning; and Tom and his Cousin soon after retired to rest--
"Perchance to sleep, perchance to dream."
CHAPTER VI
"The alarm was so strong.
So loud and so long, 'Twas surely some robber, or sprite, Who without any doubt Was prowling about To fill ev'ry heart with affright."
~47~~THE smiles of a May morning, bedecked with the splendid rays of a rising sun, awakened Tallyho about five o'clock, and being accustomed to rise early in the country, he left the downy couch of soft repose, and sought his way down stairs. Not a sound of any kind was to be heard in the house, but the rattling of the carts and the coaches in the streets, with the deep-toned accompaniment of a dustman's bell, and an occasional _ab libitum_ of "Clothes--clothes sale," gave Bob an idea that all the world was moving. However he could find n.o.body up; he walked into the drawing-room, amused himself for some time by looking out of the window, indulging his observations and remarks, without knowing what to make of the moving ma.s.s of incongruities which met his eye, and wondering what time the servants of the house would wake: he tried the street-door, but found it locked, bolted, and chained; and if he had known where to have found his friend Tom, he would have aroused him with _the View halloo_.
"It is strange," thought he to himself, "all the world seems abroad, and yet not a soul stirring here!" Then checking the current of his reflections, "But this," said he, "is Life in London. Egad! I must not make a noise, because it will not be _good breeding_." In this wray he sauntered about the house for near two hours, till at last espying his portmanteau, which had been left in the pa.s.sage by the servants the previous evening--"I'll carry this up stairs," said he, "by way of amus.e.m.e.nt;" and carelessly shouldering the portmanteau, he was walking ~48~~deliberately up stairs, when his ears were suddenly attracted by a loud cry of "Murder, murder, thieves, murder!" and the violent ringing of a bell. Alarmed at these extraordinary sounds, which appeared to be near him at a moment when he conceived no soul was stirring, he dropped his portmanteau over the banisters, which fell, (demolis.h.i.+ng in its way an elegant Grecian patent lamp with gla.s.s shades, drops, &c.) into the pa.s.sage below with a hideous crash, while the cry of Murder, thieves, murder, was repeated by many voices, and rendered him almost immoveable.
In the next moment, the butler, the cook, the groom, and indeed every person in the house, appeared on the stair-case, some almost in a state of nudity, and shrinking from each other's gaze, and all armed with such weapons as chance had thrown in their way, to attack the supposed depredator.
Among the rest, fortunately for Tallyho, (who stood balancing himself against the banisters in a state of indecision whether he should ascend or descend) Tom Dashall in his night-gown burst out of his room in alarm at the noise, with a brace of pistols, one in his hand in the very act of c.o.c.king it, and the other placed in convenient readiness under his left arm. "Why, what the devil is the matter?" vociferated he, and at that moment his eye caught the agitated figure of his Cousin Bob, on the half-landing place below him. At the sound of his well-known voice, the innocent and unsuspecting cause of this confusion and alarm looked up at his friend, as if half afraid and half ashamed of the occurrence, and stammered out, "Where is the thief?--Who is murdered?--I'll swear there is something broke somewhere--tell me which way to go!" Tom looked around him at the group of half-clad nymphs and swains, (who were now huddling together, conceiving their security lay in combination, and finding all eyes were placed with astonishment and wonder on Bob) began to see through what had happened, and burst into an immoderate fit of laughter; which relieved the frightened damsels, but so confounded poor Tallyho, that he scarcely knew whether he was standing on his head or his heels. "Why," said Tom, addressing himself to his Cousin, "you will get yourself murdered if you go wandering about people's houses at the dead of the night in this manner--are you asleep or awake?--who have you made an a.s.signation with--or ~49~~where are you going to--what are you up to, Master Bobby, eh?--These tricks won't do here!"
"Is't Love's unhallow'd flame invites to roam, And bids you from your pillow creep?
Or say, why thus disturb my peaceful home, Like Macbeth, who doth murder sleep."
Tallyho was unable to reply: he looked down over the banister--he looked up at the risible features of Tom Dashall, who was almost bursting at the ludicrous situation in which he found his friend and his servants.
"Come," said Tom, "there are no thieves--all's right"--to the servants, "you may quiet your minds and go to business. Bob, I'll be down with you presently." Upon this, the stair-case was cleared in an instant of all but the unfortunate Tallyho; and peace appeared to be restored in the family, but not to Bob's mind, conceiving he had committed a gross violation of good breeding, and shewn but a bad specimen of his apt.i.tude to become a learner of London manners. It must be confessed, it was rather an awkward commencement; however, in a few minutes, recovering himself from the fright, he crawled gently down the stairs, and took a survey of the devastation he had made--cursed the lamp, d----d the portmanteau--then s.n.a.t.c.hing it from the ruin before him, and again placing his luggage on his shoulder, he quietly walked up stairs to his bed-room.
It is much to be lamented in this wonderful age of discovery and continual improvement, that our philosophers have not yet found out a mode of supplying the place of gla.s.s (as almost every thing else) with cast-iron. The subst.i.tution of gas for oil has long been talked of, as one of national importance, even so much so, that one man, whose ideas were as brilliant as his own experiments, has endeavoured to shew that its produce would in a short time pay off the national debt!{1}
"A consummation devoutly to be wished;" and experience has taught the world at large there is nothing impossible, nor is there any one in existence more credulous than honest John Bull. But we are
1 Mr. Winsor, the original lecturer on the powers of gas, in Pall Mall.
~50~~digressing from the adventure of the lamp, however it was occasioned, by clearly proving it was not a _patent safety-lamp_: and that among the luxuries of the Hon. Tom Dashall's habitation, gas had not yet been introduced, will speedily be discovered.
Upon arriving in his bed-room, wondering within himself how he should repair the blundering mistake, of which he had so unluckily been the unwilling and unconscious author, he found himself in a new dilemma, as the receptacle of the oil had fallen with the lamp, and plentifully bedewed the portmanteau with its contents, so that he had now transferred the savoury fluid to his coat, waistcoat, cravat, and s.h.i.+rt.
What was to be done in such a case? He could not make his appearance in that state; but his mortifications were not yet at an end--