Chapter 8
"Three young sprigs of fas.h.i.+on, in full dress, somewhat damaged and discoloured by a night's lodging in the cell of a watch-house, were yesterday brought before Mr. Birnie, charged with disorderly conduct in the streets, and with beating a watchman named Lloyd.
"Lloyd stated that his beat was near the Piazza, and at a very late hour on Thursday night, the three defendants came through Covent Garden, singing, and conducting themselves in the most riotous manner possible. They were running, and were followed by three others, all in a most uproarious state of intoxication, and he thought proper to stop them; upon which he was _floored san-ceremonie_, and when he recovered his legs, he was again struck, and called '_a b----y Charley_,' and other ungenteel names. He called for the a.s.sistance of some of his brethren, and the defendants were with some trouble taken to the watch-house. They were very jolly on the way, and when lodged in durance, amused themselves with abusing the Constable of the night, and took especial care that no one within hearing of the watch-house should get a wink of sleep for the remainder of the night.
Mr. Birnie.--"Well young gentleman, what have you to say to this?" The one who undertook to be spokesman, threw himself in the most familiar manner possible across the table, and having fixed himself perfectly at his ease, he said, "The fact was, they had been dining at a tavern, and were rather drunk, and on their way through the Piazza, they endeavoured by running away to give the slip to their three companions, who were still worse than themselves. The others, however called out Stop thief! and the watchman stopped them; whereat they naturally felt irritated, and certainly gave the watchman a bit of a thras.h.i.+ng."
Mr. Birnie.--"How was he to know you were not the thieves?
He did quite right to stop you, and I am very glad he has brought you here--Pray, Sir, what are you?" Defendant.--"I am nothing, Sir." Mr. Birnie (to another).--"And what are you?" Defendant.--"Why, Sir, I am--I am, Sir, nothing." Mr.
Birnie.--"Well, this is very fine. Pray, Sir, (turning to the third, who stood twirling his hat) will you do me the favour to tell what you are?"
This gentleman answered in the same way. "I am, as my friends observed, nothing."
Mr. Birnie.--"Well, gentlemen, I must endeavour to make something of you. Here, gaoler, let them he locked up, and I shall not part with them until I have some better account of their occupations."
We have heard it a.s.serted, that Nine tailors make a man. How many Dandies, professing to be Nothing, may be required to accomplish the proposed intention of making Something, may (perhaps by this time) be discovered by the worthy Magistrate. We however suspect he has had severe work of it.
~74~~"Leave me alone," exclaimed the almost petrified Dandy.
"Not till you have given me the satisfaction I have a right to demand,"
cried Tom. "I insist upon an explanation and apology--or demand your card--who are you, Sir? That's my address," instantly handing him a card. "I am not to be played with, nor will I suffer your escape, after the insulting manner in which you have spoken, with impunity."
Though not prepared for such a rencontre, the Dandy, who now perceived the inflexible temper of Tom's mind--and a crowd of people gathering round him--determined at least to put on as much of the character of a man as possible, and fumbled in his pocket for a card; at length finding one, he slipped it into Tom's hand. "Oh, Sir," said he, "if that's the case, I'm your man, _demmee_,--how, when, or where you please, 'pon honor." Then beckoning to a hackney coach, he hobbled to the door, and was pushed in by coachee, who, immediately mounted the box and flouris.h.i.+ng his whip, soon rescued him from his perilous situation, and the jeers of the surrounding mult.i.tude.
Tom, who in the bustle of the crowd had slipped the card of his antagonist into his pocket, now took Bob's arm, and they pursued their way down St. James's Street, and could not help laughing at the affair: but Tallyho, who had a great aversion to duelling, and was thinking of the consequences, bit his lips, and expressed his sorrow at what had occurred; he ascribed the hasty imputation of drunkenness to the irritating effects of the poor creature's accident, and expressed his hope that his cousin would take no further notice of it. Tom, however, on the other ~75~~hand, ridiculed Bob's fears--told him it was a point of honour not to suffer an insult in the street from any man--nor would he--besides, the charge of drunkenness from such a thing as that, is not to be borne. "D----n it, man, drunkenness in the early part of the day is a thing I abhor, it is at all times what I would avoid if possible, but at night there may be many apologies for it; nay in some cases even to avoid it is impossible. The pleasures of society are enhanced by it--the joys of love are increased by the circulation of the gla.s.s--harmony, conviviality and friends.h.i.+p are produced by it--though I am no advocate for inebriety, and detest the idea of the beast--
"Who clouds his reason by the light of day, And falls to drink, an early and an easy prey."
"Well," said Bob, "I cannot help thinking this poor fellow, who has already betrayed his fears, will be inclined to make any apology for his rudeness to-morrow."
"If he does not," said Tom, "I'll wing him, to a certainty--a jackanapes--a puppy--a man-milliner; perhaps a thing of shreds and patches--he shall not go unpunished, I promise you; so come along, we will just step in here, and I'll dispatch this business at once: I'll write a challenge, and then it will be off my hands." And so saying, they entered a Coffee-house, where, calling for pen, ink and paper, Tom immediately began his epistle, shrewdly hinting to his Cousin, that he expected he would act as his Second. "It will be a fine opportunity for introducing your name to the gay world--the newspapers will record your name as a man of ton. Let us see now how it will appear:--On ---- last, the Honourable Tom Dashall, attended by his Cousin, Robert Tallyho, Esq.
of Belleville Hall, met--ah, by the bye, let us see who he is," here he felt in his pocket for the card.
Bob, however,
"Hallo!" exclaimed Tom with surprise, as he drew the card from his pocket, and threw it on the table--"Ha, ha, ha,--look at that."
Tallyho looked at the card without understanding it. "What does it mean?" said he.
~76~~"Mean," replied Tom, "why it is a p.a.w.nbroker's duplicate for a Hunting Watch, deposited with his uncle this morning in St. Martin's Lane, for two pounds--laughable enough--well, you may dismiss your fears for the present; but I'll try if I can't find my man by this means--if he is worth finding--at all events we have found a watch."
Bob now joined in the laugh, and, having satisfied the Waiter, they sallied forth again.
Just as they left the Coffee-house, "Do you see that Gentleman in the blue great coat, arm in arm with another? that is no other than the ----. You would scarcely conceive, by his present appearance, that he has commanded armies, and led them on to victory; and that having retired under the shade of his laurels, he is withering them away, leaf by leaf, by attendance at the _h.e.l.ls_{1} of the metropolis; his unconquerable spirit still actuating him in his hours of relaxation. It is said that the immense sum awarded to him for his prowess in war, has been so materially reduced by his inordinate pa.s.sion for play, that although he appears at Court, and is a favourite, the demon Poverty stares him in the face. But this is a vile world, and half one hears is not to be believed. He is certainly extravagant, fond of women, and fond of wine; but all these foibles are overshadowed with so much glory as scarcely to remain perceptible. Here is the Palace," said Tom, directing his Cousin's attention to the bottom of the street.
Bob was evidently struck at this piece of information, as he could discover no mark of grandeur in its appearance to ent.i.tle it to the dignity of a royal residence.
"It is true," said Tom, "the outside appearance is not much in its favour; but it is venerable for its antiquity, and for its being till lately the place at which the Kings of this happy Island have held their Courts. On the site of that palace originally stood an hospital, founded before the conquest, for fourteen leprous females, to whom eight brethren were afterwards added, to a.s.sist in the performance of divine service."
"Very necessary," said Bob, "and yet scarcely sufficient."
1 h.e.l.ls--The abode or resort of black-legs or gamblers, where they a.s.semble to commit their depredations on the unwary. But of these we shall have occasion to enlarge elsewhere.
~77~~"You seem to quiz this Palace, and are inclined to indulge your wit upon old age. In 1532, it was surrendered to Henry viii. and he erected the present Palace, and enclosed St. James's Park, to serve as a place of amus.e.m.e.nt and exercise, both to this Palace and Whitehall. But it does not appear to have been the Court of the English Sovereigns, during their residence in town, till the reign of Queen Ann, from which time it has been uniformly used as such.
"It is built of brick; and that part which contains the state apartments, being only one story high, gives it a regular appearance outside. The State-rooms are commodious and handsome, although there is nothing very superb or grand in the decorations or furniture.
"The entrance to these rooms is by a stair-case which opens into the princ.i.p.al court, which you now see. At the top of the stair-case are two rooms; one on the left, called the Queen's, and the other the King's Guard-room, leading to the State-apartments. Immediately beyond the King's Guard-room is the Presence-chamber, which contains a canopy, and is hung with tapestry; and which is now used as a pa.s.sage to the princ.i.p.al rooms.
"There is a suite of five rooms opening into each other successively, fronting the Park. The Presence-chamber opens into the centre room, which is denominated the Privy-chamber, in which is a canopy of flowered-crimson velvet, generally made use of for the King to receive the Quakers.
"On the right are two drawing-rooms, one within the other. At the upper end of the further one, is a throne with a splendid canopy, on which the Kings have been accustomed to receive certain addresses. This is called the Grand Drawing-room, and is used by the King and Queen on certain state occasions, the nearer room being appropriated as a kind of ante-chamber, in which the n.o.bility, &c. are permitted to remain while their Majesties are present in the further room, and is furnished with stools, sofas, &c. for the purpose. There are two levee-rooms on the left of the privy-chamber, on entering from the King's guard-room and presence-chamber, the nearer one serving as an ante-chamber to the other. They were all of them, formerly, meanly furnished, but at the time of the marriage of our present King, they were elegantly fitted up. The walls are now covered with tapestry, very beautiful, and of rich colours--tapestry which, although it ~73~~was made for Charles II. had never been used, having by some accident lain unnoticed in a chest, till it was discovered a short time before the marriage of the Prince.
"The canopy of the throne was made for the late-Queen's birth-day, the first which happened after the union of Great Britain and Ireland. It is made of crimson velvet, with very broad gold lace, embroidered with crowns set with fine and rich pearls. The shamrock, emblematical of the Irish nation, forms a part of the decorations of the British crown, and is executed with great taste and accuracy.
"The grand drawing-room contains a large, magnificent chandelier of silver, gilt, but I believe it has not been lighted for some years; and in the grand levee-room is a very n.o.ble bed, the furniture of which is of Spitalfields manufacture, in crimson velvet. It was first put up with the tapestry, on the marriage of the present King, then Prince of Wales.
"It is upon the whole an irregular building, chiefly consisting of several courts and alleys, which lead into the Park. This, however, is the age of improvement, and it is said that the Palace will shortly be pulled down, and in the front of St. James's Street a magnificent triumphal arch is to be erected, to commemorate the glorious victories of the late war, and to form a grand entrance to the Park.
"The Duke of York, the Duke of Clarence, the King's servants, and many other dignified persons, live in the Stable-yard."
"In the Stable-yard!" said Bob, "dignified persons reside in a Stable-yard, you astonish me!"
"It is quite true," said Tom, "and remember it is the Stable-yard of a King."
"I forgot that circ.u.mstance," said Bob, "and that circ.u.mstances alter cases. But whose carriage is this driving with so much rapidity?"
"That is His Highness the Duke of York, most likely going to pay a visit to his royal brother, the King, who resides in a Palace a little further on: which will be in our way, for it is yet too early to see much in the Park: so let us proceed, I am anxious to make some inquiry about my antagonist, and therefore mean to take St. Martin's Lane as we go along."
With this they pursued their way along Pall Mall. The rapidity of Tom's movements however afforded little opportunity for observation or remark, till they ~79~~arrived opposite Carlton House, when he called his Cousin's attention to the elegance of the new streets opposite to it.
"That," said he, "is Waterloo Place, which, as well as the memorable battle after which it is named, has already cost the nation an immense sum of money, and must cost much more before the proposed improvements are completed: it is however, the most elegant street in London. The want of uniformity of the buildings has a striking effect, and gives it the appearance of a number of palaces. In the time of Queen Elizabeth there were no such places as Pall Mall, St. James's-street, Piccadilly, nor any of the streets or fine squares in this part of the town. That building at the farther end is now the British Fire-office, and has a pleasing effect at this distance. The cupola on the left belongs to a chapel, the interior of which for elegant simplicity is unrivalled. To the left of the centre building is a Circus, and a serpentine street, not yet finished, which runs to Swallow Street, and thence directly to Oxford Road, where another circus is forming, and is intended to communicate with Portland Place; by which means a line of street, composed of all new buildings, will be completed. Of this dull looking place (turning to Carlton House) although it is the town-residence of our King, I shall say nothing at present, as I intend devoting a morning, along with you, to its inspection. The exterior has not the most lively appearance, but the interior is magnificent."--During this conversation they had kept moving gently on.
[Ill.u.s.tration: page79 The Kings Levee]
Bob was charmed with the view down Waterloo Place.
"That," said his Cousin, pointing to the Arcade at the opposite corner of Pall Mall, "is the Italian Opera-house, which has recently a.s.sumed its present superb appearance, and may be ranked among the finest buildings in London. It is devoted to the performance of Italian operas and French ballets, is generally open from December to July, and is attended by the most distinguished and fas.h.i.+onable persons. The improvements in this part are great. That church, which you see in the distance over the tops of the houses, is St. Martin's in the fields."
"In the fields," inquired Bob; "what then, are we come to the end of the town?"
~80~~"Ha! ha! ha!" cried Tom--"the end--no, no,--I was going to say there is no end to it--no, we have not reached any thing like the centre."
"_Blood an owns, boderation and blarney_," (said an Irishman, at that moment pa.s.sing them with a hod of mortar on his shoulder, towards the new buildings, and leaving an ornamental patch as he went along on Bob's shoulder) "but I'll be a'ter _tipping turnups_{l} to any b----dy rogue that's tip to saying--_Black's the white of the blue part of Pat Murphy's eye_; and for that there matter," dropping the hod of mortar almost on their toes at the same time, and turning round to Bob--"By the powers! I ax the Jontleman's pardon--tho' he's not the first Jontleman that has carried mortar--where is that _big, bully-faced blackguard_ that I'm looking after?" During this he brushed the mortar off Tallyho's coat with a snap of his fingers, regardless of where or on whom he distributed it.
The offender, it seemed, had taken flight while Pat was apologizing, and was no where to be found.
"Why what's the matter?" inquired Tom; "you seem in a pa.s.sion."
"Och! not in the least bit, your honour! I'm only in a d----d rage. By the mug of my mother--arn't it a great shame that a Jontleman of Ireland can't walk the streets of London without having _poratees and b.u.t.ter-milk_ throw'd in his gums?"--Hitching up the waistband of his breeches--"It won't do at all at all for Pat: its a reflection on my own native land, where--