Читать книгу Real Life In London, Volumes I. and II - Egan Pierce - Страница 21

“I'm the boy for a bit of a bobbery,

Nabbing a lantern, or milling a pane;

A jolly good lark is not murder or robbery,

Let us be ready and nimble.”

Hark, (said he) there's a fiddle-scraper in the house—here goes;” and immediately they entered.

They had no occasion to repent of their movements; for in one corner of the tap-room sat Billy Waters, a well-known character about town, a Black Man with a wooden leg was fiddling to a Slaughterman from Fleet-market, in wooden shoes, who, deck'd with all the paraphernalia of his occupation, a greasy jacket and night-cap, an apron besmeared with mud, blood, and grease, nearly an inch thick, and a leathern girdle, from which was suspended a case to hold his knives, and his sleeves tuck'd up as if he had but just left the slaughter-house, was dancing in the centre to the infinite amusement of the company, which consisted of an old woman with periwinkles and crabs for sale in a basket—a porter with his knot upon the table—a dustman with his broad-flapped hat, and his bell by his side—an Irish hodman—and two poor girls, who appeared to be greatly taken with the black fiddler, whose head was decorated with an oil-skinned cock'd hat, and a profusion of many coloured feathers: on the other side of the room sat a young man of shabby-genteel appearance, reading the newspaper with close attention, and purring forth volumes of smoke. Limping Billy and Mother Mapps were immediately known, and room was made for their accommodation, while the fiddler's elbow and the slaughterman's wooden shoes were kept in motion.

Max{l} was the order of the day, and the sluicery{2} in good request. Mother Mapps was made easy by being informed the Street-keeper had her valuables in charge, which Limping Billy promised he would redeem. “Bring us a

1 Max—A very common term for gin.

2 Sluicery—A gin-shop or public-house: so denominated from

the lower orders of society sluicing their throats as it

were with gin, and probably derived from the old song

entitled “The Christening of Little Joey,” formerly sung

by Jemmy Dodd, of facetious memory.

“And when they had sluiced their gobs

With striving to excel wit,

The lads began to hang their nobs,*

* Nobs—Heads.

** Frows—Originally a Dutch word, meaning wives, or girls.

*** Velvet—The tongue.

noggin of white tape,{1} and fill me a pipe,” said he—“d——n my eyes, I knowed as how it vou'd be all right enough, I never gets in no rows whatever without getting myself out again—come, ould chap,{2} vet your vistle, and tip it us rum—go it my kiddy, that are's just vat I likes.”

“Vat's the reason I an't to have a pipe?” said Mother Mapps.

“Lord bless your heart,” said the Donkey-driver, “if I did'nt forget you, never trust me—here, Landlord, a pipe for this here Lady.”

“Which way did the bull run?” said the Irishman.

“Bl——st me if I know,” replied Limping Billy, “for I was a looking out for my own ass—let's have the Sprig of Shelalah, ould Blackymoor—come, tune up.”

The old woman being supplied with a pipe, and the fiddler having rosined his nerves with a glass of blue ruin{3} to it they went, some singing, some whistling, and others drumming with their hands upon the table; while Tom, Bob, and Sparkle, taking a seat at the other side of the room, ordered a glass of brandy and water each, and enjoyed the merriment of the scene before them, perhaps more than those actually engaged in it. Bob was alive to every movement and every character, for it was new, and truly interesting: and kept growing more so, for in a few minutes Limping Billy and Mother Mapps joined the Slaughterman in the dance, when nothing could be more grotesque and amusing. Their pipes in their mouths—clapping of hands and snapping of fingers, formed a curious accompaniment to the squeaking of the fiddle—the broad grin of the Dustman, and the preposterous laugh of the

1 White Tape—Also a common term for gin, particularly among

the Ladies.

2 Ould Chap, or Ould Boy—Familiar terms of address among

flash lads, being a sort of contraction of old acquaintance,

or old friend.

3 Blue Ruin—Gin.

Irishman at the reelers in the centre, heightened the picture—more gin—more music, and more tobacco, soon ad a visible effect upon the party, and reeling became unavoidable. The young man reading the paper, found it impossible to understand what he was perusing, and having finished his pipe and his pint, made his exit, appearing to have no relish for the entertainment, and perhaps heartily cursing both the cause and the effect. Still, however, the party was not reduced in number, for as one went out another came in.

This new customer was a young-looking man, bearing a large board on a high pole, announcing the residence of a Bug-destroyer in the Strand. His appearance was grotesque in the extreme, and could only be equalled by the eccentricities of his manners and conversation. He was dressed in a brown coat, close buttoned, over which he had a red camlet or stuff surtout, apparently the off-cast of some theatrical performer, but with a determination to appear fashionable; for

“Folks might as well be dead—nay buried too,

As not to dress and act as others do.”

He wore mustachios, a pair of green spectacles, and his whole figure was surmounted with a fur-cap. Taking a seat directly opposite our party at the same table—“Bring me a pint,” said he; and then deliberately searching his pockets, he produced a short pipe and some tobacco, with which he filled it—“You see,” said he, “I am obliged to smoke according to the Doctor's orders, for an asthma—so I always smokes three pipes a day, that's my allowance; but I can eat more than any man in the room, and can dance, sing, and act—nothing conies amiss to me, all the players takes their characters from me.”

After this introduction—“You are a clever fellow, I'll be bound for it,” said Dashall.

“O yes, I acts Richard the Third sometimes—sometimes Macbeth and Tom Thumb. I have played before Mr. Kean: then I acted Richard the Third—'Give me a horse! '—(starting into the middle of the room)—'no, stop, not so—let me see, let me see, how is it?—ah, this is the way—Give me a horse—Oh! Oh! Oh!—then you know I dies.”—And down he fell on the floor, which created a general roar of laughter; while Billy Waters struck up, “See the conquering Hero conies!” to the inexpressible delight of all around him—their feet and hands all going at the same time.

Mother Mapps dropp'd her pipe, and d——d the weed, it made her sick, she said.

Limping Billy was also evidently in queer-street.

“Come,” said Sparkle, “won't you have a drop more?”

“Thank ye, Sir,” was the reply; and Sparkle, intent upon having his gig out, ordered a fresh supply, which soon revived the fallen hero of Bosworth-field, and Richard was himself again.

“Now,” said he, “I'll sing you a song,” and immediately commenced as follows:—

“My name's Hookey Walker, I'm known very well,

In acting and eating I others excel;

The player-folks all take their patterns from me,

And a nice pattern too!—Don't you see? don't you see?

Oh! [glancing at his fingers] It will do—it will do. At Chippenham born, I was left quite forlorn, When my father was dead and my mother was gone; So I came up to London, a nice little he, And a nice pattern too!—Don't you see? don't you see? Oh! it will do—it will do. A courting I went to a girl in our court, She laugh'd at my figure, and made me her sport; I was cut to the soul—so said I on my knee, I'm a victim of love!—Don't you see? don't you see? Oh! it won't do—it won't do. Now all day I march to and fro in the street, And a candle sometimes on my journey I eat; So I'll set you a pattern, if you'll but agree, And a nice pattern too! you shall see—you shall see. Oh! it will do—it will do.”

This Song, which he declared was all made out of his own head, was sung with grotesque action and ridiculous grimace, intended no doubt in imitation of Mr. Wilkinson in his inimitable performance of this strange piece of whimsicality. The dancing party was knock'd up and were lobbing their lollys,{1} half asleep and half awake, on the table, bowing as it were to the magnanimous influence

1 Lobbing their lollys—Laying their heads.

of Old Tom.{1} The Dustman and the Irishman laugh'd heartily; and Das hall, Tallyho, and Sparkle, could not resist the impulse to risibility when they contemplated the group before them. The Bug-destroyer munched{2} a candle and sluiced{3} his greasy chops{4} with Jacky{5} almost as fast as they could supply him with it, when Sparkle perceiving the boy was still at the door with the runaway ass,

“Come,” said he, “we'll start 'em off home in high style—here, you Mr. Bugman, can you ride?”

“Ride, aye to be sure I can, any of Mr. Astley's horses as well as the Champion of England,"{6} was the reply.

1 Old Tom—It is customary in public-houses and gin-shops

in London and its vicinity to exhibit a cask inscribed with

large letters—OLD TOM, intended to indicate the best gin in

the house.

2 Munched—Eat.

3 Sluiced—Washed. See Sluicery.

4 Chops—The mouth.

5 Jacky—A vulgar term for gin.

6 Any person would almost suspect that Hookey had been

reading the newspapers by this allusion; but that certainly

could not be the case, for, spurning all education in early

life, this representative of the immortal bard—this

character of characters from Shakespeare, could neither read

nor write, but made all he acted, as he said, from his own

head: however, it may fairly be presumed, that in the course

of his travels during the day he had heard something of the

Champion intended to appear at the approaching Coronation,

of whom the following account has recently been circulated

through the daily press, and, with his usual consistency,

conceived his own innate abilities equal to those which

might be acquired by Mr. Dymocke, though his claims were not

equally honourable or advantageous.

Mr. Dymocke, the nephew of the gentleman (who is a

Clergyman) entitled by hereditary right to do the service of

the Champion to his Majesty, is still in hopes he may be

permitted to act under his Uncle's nomination, although he

wants a few months of being of age. A petition is before the

King on the subject; and Mr. Dymocke, by constant practice

at Astley's Hiding-school, is endeavouring to qualify

himself for the due fulfilment of the office. On Thursday

lie went through his exercise in a heavy suit of armour with

great celerity. The horse which will be rode by the Champion

has been selected from Mr. Astley's troop. It is a fine

animal, pieballed black and white, and is regularly

exercised in the part he will have to perform.

“Walk in—walk in, Ladies and Gentlemen, just going to begin—come, Mr. Merryman, all ready—Ladies and Gentlemen, please to observe, this here horse is not that there horse.”

“So we laugh at John Bull a little.”

"Come, then,” continued Sparkle, “another glass—half-a-crown to ride to the bottom of the lane and up Holboru-hill on that donkey at the door, and you shall be our Champion.”

“A bargain—a bargain,” said the assumed Hookey Walker, rubbing the tallow from his gills.{1}

“Here goes then,” said Sparkle; then slipping half-a-crown into the boy's hand, desiring him to run as far as the Traveller-office, in Fleet-street, and get him a newspaper, promising to take care of his ass till his return. The lad nibbled the bait, and was off in a pig's whisper{2} Sparkle called to Tom and Bob, and putting them up to his scheme, Hookey was quickly mounted, while Dashall and his Cousin, assisted by the Hibernian and Dust-ho, succeeded in getting Mother Mapps out, who was placed in the front of the Champion, astride, with her face towards him and Limping Billy, who though beat to a stand still,{3} was after some difficulty lifted up behind. Hookey was then supplied with his board, the pole of which he placed on his foot, in the manner of a spear or lance. Then giving the Irishman and the Dustman some silver, to act as Supporters or Esquires, one on each side, they proceeded along Shoe-lane, preceded by Billy Waters flourishing his wooden-leg and feathers, and fiddling as he went—the Irishman roaring out with Stentorian lungs,

“Sure won't you hear

What roaring cheer

Was spread at Paddy's wedding O,

And how so gay

They spent the day,

From the churching to the bedding O.

First book in hand came Father Quipes,

With the Bride's dadda, the Bailey O,

While all the way to church the pipes

Struck up a jilt so gaily O.

“Kim ap—be after sitting fast in the front there, old Mapps, or you'll make a mud-lark of yourself.” The Dustman rang his bell; and thus accompanied with an immense assemblage of boys, girls, men, women, and

1 Gills—The mouth.

2 Pig's Whisper—A very common term for speed.

3 Beat to a dead stand still—Means completely unable to

assist himself.

children, collected from all the courts and alleys in the neighbourhood, joining in a chorus of shouts that rent the air, poor Balaam continued to bear his load; while our party, after watching them till nearly out of sight, passed down Harp-alley into Fleet-market,” and turning to the right, very soon regained Fleet-Street, laughing heartily at the bull's cookery of mackarel buttered with brick-dust, and very well satisfied with their spree.

Engaged in conversation upon this adventure, they found nothing of interest' or amusement to attract their notice till they arrived at the warehouse of the London Genuine Tea Company, except merely remarking the grand appearance of St. Paul's, from that situation.

“Genuine tea” said Bob; “what can that mean—Is tea any thing but tea?”

“To be sure it is,” said Sparkle, “or has been—anything but tea,"{l} strongly marking the latter part of the

1 Tea and Coffee—The adulteration of articles of human food

is a practice of the most nefarious description, and cannot

be too strongly deprecated, although it has been carried to

an alarming extent. There is scarcely an article of ordinary

consumption but has been unlawfully adulterated, and in many

cases rendered injurious by the infamous and fraudulent

practice of interested persons. Bread, which is considered

to be the staff of life, and beer and ale the universal

beverage of the people of this country, are known to be

frequently mixed with drugs of the most pernicious quality.

Gin, that favourite and heart-inspiring cordial of the lower

orders of society, that it may have the grip, or the

appearance of being particularly strong, is frequently

adulterated with the decoction of long pepper, or a small

quantity of aqua-fortis, a deadly poison. Sugar has been

known to be mixed with sand; and tobacco, for the public-

houses, undergoes a process for making it strong and

intoxicating; but the recent discovery of the nefarious

practice of adulterating tea and coffee, articles of the

most universal and extensive consumption, deserves

particular reprehension.

Tea has been adulterated by the introduction of dried sloe

leaves; the practice is not very new, but its extensive

adoption, and the deleterious properties ascribed to them by

physicians, have been, at length, successfully exposed by

the conviction of many of the venders, so, it is hoped, as

to prevent a repetition of the crime. The sloe leaf, though

a spurious commodity when sold as tea, might afford a

harmless vegetable infusion, and be recommended to the poor

and frugal as a cheap succedaneum for the Chinese vegetable.

The establishment of the Genuine Tea Company on Ludgate-hill

originated in the recent discoveries, promising to sell

nothing but the Unadulterated Tea, and it is sincerely to be

hoped has done some good.

sentence as he spoke it: “horse-beans have been converted to coffee, and sloe-leaves have been transformed into tea; hog's lard has been manufactured for butter; an ingenious gentleman wishes to persuade us Periwinkles{1} are young Lobsters; and another has proposed to extract sugar, and some say brandy, out of pea-shells! London is the mart for inventions and discoveries of all kinds, and every one of its inhabitants appears to have studied something of the art of Legerdemain, to catch the eye and deceive the senses.”

“Wonderful!” exclaimed Bob.

“Not more wonderful than true,” continued Sparkle; “invention is always on the stretch in London. Here we have cast-iron Bridges{2}—a cast-iron Sugar-house—

1 Sparkle appears to have been rather sceptical on the

subject of Periwinkles being young Lobsters, though the

opinion is not very new. A gentleman, whose indefatigable

research appears to be deserving of encouragement and

support, has recently issued the following advertisement,

inviting the curious and the learned to inspect the result

of his discoveries, which seems, at least, to warrant

something more than conjecture.

“J. Cleghorne having in his possession some specimens which

prove, in his opinion, a circumstance before suggested, but

treated by the scientific as a vulgar error, any known

naturalist willing to view them, by noticing by letter,

within a week, may have J. C. attend with his specimens. The

subject is a curious change in the formation of Lobsters

from various species of the Winkle, the Winkle being

considered the larva;.

The only advantage J. C. desires from the communication is,

the credit of advancing his proofs, and the stimulating

further enquiry.—A line addressed to J. Cleghorne,

Architectural Engraver, No. 19, Chapman-street, Black-road,

Islington, will have immediate attention.”

It is sincerely to be hoped that proper notice will be taken

of this advertisement, for in times of general scarcity like

the present, such a discovery might be turned to great

national advantage, by the establishment of proper depots

for the cultivation of lobsters, as we have preserves for

game, &c.

2 Cast-iron has become an object of general utility. The

Southwark or New London Bridge consists of three arches, the

centre of which is a span of 240 feet, and the other two 210

feet each; the Vauxhall Bridge consists of nine arches, over

a width of 809 feet; and it is a fact, that a Sugar-house is

building with cast-iron floors, window-frames, and rafters,

to prevent fire. Cast-iron holds fire and resists fire; but

it is probable that all its properties and powers are not

yet discovered, and that we may some day or other witness

the ascension of a cast-iron balloon inflated with steam!

coaches running, and barges, packets, and sailing-boats navigated, by Steam{1}—St. Paul's, as you perceive, without its ball—smoke burning itself, and money burning men's consciences.”

“Well done, Sparkle!” cried Tom; “your ideas seem to flow like gas, touch but the valve and off you go; and you are equally diffusive, for you throw a light upon all subjects.”

Bob was now suddenly attracted by a full view of himself and his friends at the further end of Everington's{2}

1 Steam—Here is a subject that evaporates as we approach;

it soars beyond finite comprehension, and appears to be

inexhaustible—every thing is done by it—machinery of every

kind is set in motion by it—a newspaper of the most

extensive circulation in the kingdom is printed by it, and

the paper supplied sheet by sheet to receive the impression.

Tobacco is manufactured, and sausage-meat cut, by steam—

nay, a celebrated Vender of the latter article had asserted,

that his machinery was in such a state of progressive

improvement, that he had little doubt before long of making

it supply the demands of his customers, and thereby save the

expense of a Shopman; but, it is much to be regretted, his

apparatus made sausage-meat of him before the accomplishment

of his project.

Considering the increasing, and by some Philosophers almost

overwhelming population of the country at the present

moment, it is certainly an alarming circumstance, that when

employment is so much required, mechanical science should so

completely supersede it to the injury of thousands,

independent of the many who have lost their lives by the

blowing up of steam-engines. It is a malady however which

must be left to our political economists, who will

doubtless at the same time determine which would prove the

most effectual remedy—the recommendation of Mr. Malthus to

condemn the lower orders to celibacy—the Jack Tars to a

good war—or the Ministers to emigration.

2 If an estimate of the wealth or poverty of the nation

were to lie formed from the appearance of the houses in the

Metropolis, no one could be induced to believe that the

latter had any existence among us. The splendour and taste

of our streets is indescribable, and the vast improvements

in the West are equally indicative of the former.

The enormous increase of rents for Shops, particularly in

the leading thoroughfares of London, may in a great measure

be attributed to the Linen-drapers. The usual method

practised by some of these gentry, is to take a shop in the

first-rate situation, pull down the old front, and erect a

new one, regardless of expense, a good outside being

considered the first and indispensable requisite. This is

often effected, either upon credit with a builder, or, if

they have a capital of a few hundreds, it is all exhausted

in external decorations. Goods are obtained upon credit, and

customers procured by puffing advertisements, and exciting

astonishment at the splendid appearance of the front. Thus

the concern is generally carried on till the credit obtained

has expired, and the wonder and novelty of the concern has

evaporated; when the stock is sold off at 30 per cent,under prime cost for the benefit of the creditors! This is so common an occurrence, that it is scarcely possible to walk through London any day in the year, without being attracted by numerous Linen-drapers' shops, whose windows are decorated with bills, indicating that they are actually selling off under prime cost, as the premises must be cleared in a few days. The most elegant Shop of this description in the Metropolis is supposed to be one not a hundred miles from Ludgate-hill, the front and fitting up of which alone is said to have cost several thousand pounds. The interior is nearly all of looking-glass, with gilt mouldings; even the ceiling is looking-glass, from which is appended splendid cut-glass chandeliers, which when lighted give to the whole the brilliance of enchantment; however it is not very easy to form an idea of what is sold, for, with the exception of a shawl or two carelessly thrown into the window, there is nothing to be seen, (the stock being all concealed in drawers, cupboards, &c. ) except the decorations and the Dandy Shopmen, who parade up and down in a state of ecstasy at the reflection of their own pretty persons from every part of the premises! This concealment of the stock has occasioned some laughable occurrences. It is said that a gentleman from the country accidentally passing, took it for a looking-glass manufactory, and went in to inquire the price of a glass. The Shopmen gathered round him with evident surprise, assured him of his mistake, and directed him to go to Blades,{1} lower down the Hill. The Countryman was not disconcerted, but, after surveying them somewhat minutely, informed them it was glass he wanted, not cutlery; but as for blades, he thought there were enow there for one street, at least. Another is said to have been so pleased with a row of grotesque Indian-China jars, which embellish one side of the entrance, and which he mistook for pots de chambre, that after returning home and consulting his rib, he sent an order per post for one of the most elegant pattern to be forwarded to him! There is a similar Shop to this, though on a smaller scale, to be seen in a great leading thoroughfare at the West end of the Town; the owner of which, from his swarthy complexion and extravagant mode of dress, has been denominated The Black Prince, a name by which he is well known in his own neighbourhood, and among the gentlemen of the cloth. This dandy gentleman, who affects the dress and air of a military officer, has the egregious vanity to boast that the numerous families of rank and fashion who frequent his shop, are principally attracted to view his elegant person, and seems to consider that upon this principally depends the success of his trade. 1 A large Glass-manufacturer.

128—shop, and without observing the other persons about him, saw himself surrounded with spectators, unconscious of being in their company. He look'd up—he look'd down—he gazed around him, and all was inconceivable light. Tom's allusion to the gas flashed upon him in a moment—“What—what is this?” said he—“where, in the name of wonder, am I?” A flash of lightning could not have operated more suddenly upon him. “Why,” said Sparkle, “don't you see?

“You are not here, for you are there,”

pointing to his reflection, in the looking-glass.

“Egad,” said Bob, under evident surprise, and perhaps not without some apprehension they were playing tricks with him—“I wish you would explain—is this a Drawing-room, or is it the Phantasmagoria we have heard so much of in the country?”

“No, no, it is not the Phantasmagoria, but it forms a part of metropolitan magic, which you shall be better acquainted with before we part. That is no other than a Linen-draper's shop, 'papered,' as an Irishman one day remarked, 'vvid nothing at all at all but looking-glass, my dear '—one of the most superb things of the kind that perhaps ever was seen—But come, I perceive it is getting late, let us proceed directly to Dolly's, take our chop, then a rattler,{1} and hey for the Spell."{2}

Bob appeared almost to be spell-bound at the moment, and, as they moved onward, could not help casting

“One longing, lingering look behind.”

1 Rattler—A coach.

2 Spell—The Play-house; so denominated from its variety of

attractions, both before and behind the curtain.