Real Life In London Part 65

"Whoe'er one night has slept within these walls, Has heard the din that each new comer calls, To where the keen-eyed Turnkeys wait to trace The lineaments of every novel face.

Each morning thro' the Bench goes forth a cry, By Colville sent thro' every gallery high.

To number "One," peals round the shout from "Ten,"

Far rolling heard, "Pull up! now Gentlemen!"

"This is the custom with every new comer, and is productive sometimes of much mirth to some, but of infinite mortification to others, according to the circ.u.mstances of the case. As it would occupy some time to describe them, I shall give you a poetical sketch of a morning in the Bench; and by the introduction of a fict.i.tious name, make you acquainted with a general practice. Imagine for a moment,

"Rous'd by the force of that Stentorian sound, Rose Belcour, dressed, and soon the lobby found.

About the door a throng of varlets stood, A grinning and ill-favoured brotherhood, That scoff and gibe at every wight that wears Linen less black, or better coat than theirs.

For these, young Belcour was too fair a mark; 'Make way,' cries one, 'he's going to the Park: His horses wait; he's going for a ride.'

'Fool, 'tis his tilbury,' another cried; 'D'ye think his lords.h.i.+p rides without his spurs?'

'A curse upon such base unmanner'd curs,'

Between his teeth impatient Belcour mutter'd, As each his wit so truly attic utter'd; Then, 'mid the laughter of the brutal throng, Dark frowning through the door he moved along.

Within the upper lobby Morris sate, And touch'd with easy complaisance his hat; And cried, not deigning from his seat to stir, 'We hope you're pretty comfortable, Sir.

'These chaps about the door are rather rum; 'But, love you! So they do to all that come.'

Short was the conference; the Turnkey's look Quick cognizance of Belcour's features took; And never, from that hour might he pa.s.s by Unnoted by that well-observing eye."

"Well," said Tallyho, "I must confess such scrutiny on the one part, and such observations on the other, would be more than likely to ruffle my temper, and I should be apt to signify my disapprobation, at least of all that was unnecessary."

"In that case," replied Merry well, "you would only subject yourself to additional torment: you would have songs, epigrams, lampoons, and epitaphs in abundance, which would prove still more irritating; for this is the seat of learning and of wit, of poets, painters, and musicians, who, being enraptured with their own arts, neglect that of book-keeping, till a residence here gives them a leisure opportunity to close their ledgers.

~55~~ Speaking on that subject, by the by, we have among us, at this moment, the publishers of the John Bull, whose combined efforts in the way of scurrility have rendered them notorious among the periodicals of present times. There is, however, little of public attraction about them; and although they profess to have a subscription opened, to enable them to pay the fine imposed upon them, it is doubted whether any such is really in existence. Here, however, is a character of another description:

Captain K---- is still a gay fellow, though I apprehend rather what we call hard up just now. He has had the opportunity of expending a very considerable property in seeing Life, but if report say true, it has been chiefly exhausted among the fair s.e.x, and coffee-house keepers.

Seldom much depressed in spirits, let the world wag as it will, he sometimes gives good dinners and enjoys himself with a friend, though I suspect that can, under present circ.u.mstances, only be done when he can pitch the gammon to the wine merchant, and induce him to stand the nonsense."

"And do wine merchants give credit to persons in confinement?" enquired Bob.

"Certainly," was the reply, "for services done or promised to be done, or upon the security of some friend, who perhaps intends soon after to pay his engagements by a similar mode to that of the person whose debt he pretends to secure. No place can be found where the study of ways and means is more closely attended to than this. Of our prisons in general, much the same may be said as of our gaming houses; very few get out of them as they went in. A dupe is the general character of those who first enter; but they seldom fail to acquire that of knave before their departure. The air is infectious, the society fatal to morality and to honesty; few pa.s.s through the ordeal with purity, and return uncontaminated to the world; and yet, after all the frauds, tricks, and speculations practised, it is well to be acquainted with them, in order to guard against the recurrence, if a man can but have fort.i.tude enough to avoid practising them himself.~56~~

"Think not that the action of the place Is all revealed upon this open s.p.a.ce; The darkest portion of the picture lies Obscur'd and cover'd up from public eyes; Here much you see, that bids you all mistrust, Much that provokes aversion and disgust; New friends, who coolly ask a one pound note, Or borrow for an hour, then p.a.w.n, your coat.

Such stuff as this upon the surface swims; He little sees who but the surface skims.

How much of fraud and finished wickedness, How much of deep despair and keen distress, Thought of by few, and seen by none, the while, Is chamber'd in the niches of this pile!"

"Zounds," cried Dashall, "your pictures have so much light and shade, so much to admire, and so much to condemn, that there is scarcely any possibility of arriving at any conclusion.--Bless me, there is d.i.c.k Rakewell!"

"Do you know him?" said Merry well.

"What the devil are you doing here?" cried a young man advancing, and at the same time catching the Honourable Tom Dashall by the hand; "Are you initiated, or merely come to take a peep at the curiosities of this menagerie? Have you tipp'd and shewn yourself in due form; or do you still sport a game leg among the gallants of Bond Street?"

"Fortunately," said Dashall, "I can still boast of the latter, and have no very strong inclination to aspire to all the honour and happiness of the former."

"Grown serious and sedate; I suppose married, and ca'nt come--pretty wife--lots of children--love and fireside comfort at home--pleasure abroad--cash in hand, and care for n.o.body. That's the sort--give you joy with all my heart--never were such times."

"I am glad you find them so," continued Tom; "but your antic.i.p.ations are a little too rapid, and your imagination rather too vivid for my proceeding; however, there is no knowing what we may come to; life is a labyrinth full of turnings and windings. But what brought you here?"

"Driven in by the Philistines," was the reply; "caught like a harmless dove by the Greeks--clean'd out.--By the cog, I was obliged to fly to this pigeon house, in order to avoid being cut up by my creditors; and, up to a little of the Newmarket logic, I am now crossing and justling though it is doubtful at present who will win the race."

"You have not far to run, however," replied Dashall, "and it is therefore fair to presume the heat will soon be over."

~57~~ "As usual," cried Rakewell, "always something short, but pungent, like a pinch of merry-go-up{1}--satire and sentiment--mirth, morality, and good humour--unmarried and still the same man. These are better subjects of congratulation than the former."

"We shall dine at half past three," said Merry well, "and if you are inclined to make one along with us, you will find me at home."

"I should have no objection to meet you abroad," exclaimed Rakewell; "but, however, I'm your man. Half past three, d----nd unfas.h.i.+onable; but never mind,

I'll pick a bone with you; and spite of dull care and high walls, 'locks, bolts, and bars, we'll defy you;' and my life for it we have a jolly afternoon. Is the cellar well stored, and the kitchen in good repair?"

"All right, my boy!" exclaimed Merrywell, "bring your bellows{2} in good order, and don't be afraid of your bread basket.{3} The dibs are in tune.{4} A ball of fire,{s} a dose of daffy, or a blow out of black strap, will set the blue devils at defiance, give a spur to harmony, and set the spirits a jogging."

"Then at half past three I'll have a turn to with you," continued Rakewell; "so no more at present from your loving Cousin. I am going now to call on Fred. Fearnought; that fellow has deceived me; I thought him a trump, but he's eaten up with hopes and fears, tormented in mind, body, and estate, no more pluck than a dunghill chick. I must stir him up with a long pole, give him a lesson or two, touch him to the quick, and then quickly adjourn to you; so adieu for the present."

Thus saying, he made his escape from his friends, and, pa.s.sing through one of the entrances to the interior, was quickly out of sight.

"That," said Dashall, addressing his Cousin, "was one of the gayest of the gay in all the leading circles of _haut ton_."

"And I a.s.sure you," said Merrywell, "he has not lost one atom of his vivacity, notwithstanding the alteration in his circ.u.mstances; he is always full of humour, ready for a bit of fun even in confinement; he plays, laughs, sings, drinks, and is about one of the most cheerful companions I know."~58~~

1 Merry-go-up--Snuff.

2 Bellows--A cant term for the lungs.

3 Bread-basket--The stomach.

4 The dibs are in tune--There is plenty of money.

5 A ball of fire--A gla.s.s of brandy.

"Then," rejoined Bob, "he is a philosopher, for he has learned to bear."

"Yes," continued Dashall, "but the other, and by far the most important, part of philosophy is to forbear."

"That," said Merry well, "he yet has to learn, and I have my doubts whether he will accomplish that desirable object while here. He has, with a moderate allowance from his father, contrived to drive his four-in-hand at times, to keep seven or more horses on his hunting and Town establishments; has kept some of the most das.h.i.+ng and expensive ladies, expensive male company; indulged in extravagant habits of all sorts, and has twinkled for a while in the highest gambling circles.

A run of ill luck has at last sent him here, but not before he had honoured almost all the horse-dealers, coach-makers, and saddlers, gunsmiths and tavern-keepers in Town, with his custom, or rather with his name on their books. His father is a man of considerable property, which must eventually come to him, and he may yet form a conspicuous figure in High Life."

"What have we here?" said Tallyho, stopping to read a paper displayed in the window of a barber's shop.

"The old and only established shop at the prison "price: shave well for one penny, hair fas.h.i.+onably cut "for twopence, at 17 in 16, first staircase round the corner."

"Seventeen in sixteen--I don't understand this."

"Each of the doors," said Merry well, "which lead to the apartments is numbered, as is likewise every room in each pa.s.sage, by which means much facility is afforded to visitors who come to make a call upon their friends. The operator himself is a prisoner, and so are most of those who carry on trades; but opportunities are afforded for any person to come in and supply articles to the inhabitants; and at an early hour in the morning you may hear almost all the cries of London."~59~~

"Milk, matches, eggs, and Epping sausages, Greens, water-cresses, chips, geranium trees; A brush or broom, deal wood, cow-heel, and tripe, Fresh b.u.t.ter, oranges all round and ripe; Rabbits, a kettle, jug, or coffee pot, Eels, poultry, home-bak'd bread, and rolls all hot; s.h.i.+rt b.u.t.tons, nosegays, coals, and G.o.d knows what Such are the goods that pa.s.s the lobby door, Cried in all tones that vary, squeak, and roar."

"A little further on," said Merry well, "is the public kitchen, where, for a trifling fee, cooking is performed for the prisoners, and hot water supplied at a penny per kettle. Then there is a coffee-room and a tap-room for general accommodation, according to the circ.u.mstances of the inmates; so that in point of fact there is little to be regretted here, but the loss of liberty, and the want of money."

"Zounds," said Bob, "those two articles const.i.tute all that is valuable in life, and in their absence it dwindles into mere existence.

"And bare existence man to live ordained, "Wrings and oppresses with enormous weight."