Real Life In London, Volumes I. and II. Egan Pierce
private character, as father, husband, friend, and polished gentleman, he has very few equals—no superior.
“He is a branch of one of the most ancient families in the kingdom, and can trace his ancestors without interruption, from the days of William the Conqueror. His political career has been eventful, and perhaps has cost him more, both in pocket and person, than any Member of Parliament now existing. He took his seat in the House of Commons at an early age, and first rendered himself popular by his strenuous opposition to a bill purporting to regulate the publication of newspapers.
“The next object of his determined reprehension, was the Cold-Bath-Fields Prison, and the treatment of the unfortunates therein confined. The uniformly bold and energetic language made use of by the honourable Baronet upon that occasion, breathed the true spirit of British liberty. He reprobated the unconstitutional measure of erecting what he termed a Bastile in the very heart of a free country, as one that could neither have its foundation in national policy, nor eventually be productive of private good. He remarked that prisons, at which private punishments, cruel as they were illegal, were exercised, at the mercy of an unprincipled gaoler—cells in which human beings were exposed to the horrors of heart-sickening solitude, and depressed in spirit by their restriction to a scanty and exclusive allowance of bread and water, were not only incompatible with the spirit of the constitution, but were likely to prove injurious to the spirit of the people of this happy country; for as Goldsmith admirably remarks,
“Princes and Lords may nourish or may fade,
A breath can make them as a breath hath made,
But a bold peasantry their country's pride,
When once destroyed can never be supplied.”
“And if this be not tyranny” continued the philanthropic orator, “it is impossible to define the term. I promise you here that I will persevere to the last in unmasking this wanton abuse of justice and humanity.” His invincible fortitude in favour of the people, has rendered him a distinguished favourite among them: and though by some he is termed a visionary, an enthusiast, and a tool of party, his adherence to the rights of the subject, and his perseverance to uphold the principles of the constitution, are deserving the admiration of every Englishman; and although his fortune is princely, and has been at his command ever since an early age, he has never had his name registered among the fashionable gamesters at the clubs in St. James's-street, Newmarket, or elsewhere. He labours in the vineyard of utility rather than in the more luxuriant garden of folly; and, according to general conception, may emphatically be called an honest man. “But come,” said Tom, “it is time for us to move homeward—the company are drawing off I see, we must shape our course towards Piccadilly.”
They dashed through the Park, not however without being saluted by many of his fashionable friends, who rejoiced to see that the Honourable Tom Dashall was again to be numbered among the votaries of Real Life in London; while the young squire, whose visionary orbs appeared to be in perpetual motion, dazzled with the splendid equipages of the moving panorama, was absorbed in reflections somewhat similar to the following:
“No spot on earth to me is half so fair
As Hyde-Park Corner, or St. James's Square;
And Happiness has surely fix'd her seat
In Palace Yard, Pall Mall, or Downing Street:
Are hills, and dales, and valleys half so gay
As bright St. James's on a levee day?
What fierce ecstatic transports fire my soul,
To hear the drivers swear, the coaches roll;
The Courtier's compliment, the Ladies' clack,
The satins rustle, and the whalebone crack!”
CHAPTER IV
“Together let us beat this ample field
Try what the open, what the covert yield:
The latent tracts, the giddy heights explore
Of all who blindly creep, or sightless soar;
Eye nature's walks, shoot folly as it flies,
And catch the manners living as they rise.”
IT was half past five when the Hon. Tom Dashall, and his enraptured cousin, reached the habitation of the former, who had taken care to dispatch a groom, apprizing Mrs. Watson, the house-keeper, of his intention to be at home by half past six to dinner; consequently all was prepared for their reception. The style of elegance in which Tom appeared to move, struck Tallyho at once with delight and astonishment, as they entered the drawing-room; which was superbly and tastefully fitted up, and commanded a cheerful view of Piccadilly. “Welcome, my dear Bob!” said Tom to his cousin, “to all the delights of Town—come, tell me what you think of its first appearance, only remember you commence your studies of Life in London on a dull day; to-morrow you will have more enlivening prospects before you.” “'Why in truth,” replied Bob, “the rapidity of attraction is such, as at present to leave no distinct impressions on my mind; all appears like enchantment, and I am completely bewildered in a labyrinth of wonders, to which there appears to be no end; but under your kind guidance and tuition I may prove myself an apt scholar, in unravelling its intricacies.” By this time they had approached the window.
“Aye, aye,” says Dashall, “we shall not be long, I see, without some object to exercise your mind upon, and dispel the horrors.
“Oh for that Muse of fire, whose burning pen
Records the God-like deeds of valiant men!
Then might our humble, yet aspiring verse,
Our matchless hero's matchless deeds rehearse.”
Bob was surprised at this sudden exclamation of his cousin, and from the introduction naturally expected something extraordinary, though he looked around him without discovering his object.
“That,” continued Tom, “is a Peer”—pointing to a gig just turning the
corner, “of whom it may be said:
To many a jovial club that Peer was known, With whom his active wit unrivall'd shone, Choice spirit, grave freemason, buck and blood, Would crowd his stories and bon mots to hear, And none a disappointment e'er need fear His humour flow'd in such a copious flood.”
“It is Lord C——, who was formerly well known as the celebrated Major H——, the companion of the now most distinguished personage in the British dominions! and who not long since became possessed of his lordly honours. Some particulars of him are worth knowing. He was early introduced into life, and often kept both good and bad company, associating with men and women of every description and of every rank, from the highest to the lowest—from St. James's to St. Giles's, in palaces and night-cellars—from the drawing-room to the dust-cart. He can drink, swear, tell stories, cudgel, box, and smoke with any one; having by his intercourse with society fitted himself for all companies. His education has been more practical than theoretical, though he was brought up at Eton, where, notwithstanding he made considerable progress in his studies, he took such an aversion to Greek that he never would learn it. Previous to his arrival at his present title, he used to be called Honest George, and so unalterable is his nature, that to this hour he likes it, and it fits him better than his title. But he has often been sadly put to his shifts under various circumstances: he was a courtier, but was too honest for that; he tried gaming, but he was too honest for that; he got into prison, and might have wiped off, but he was too honest for that; he got into the coal trade, but he found it a black business, and he was too honest for that. At drawing the long bow, so much perhaps cannot be said—but that you know is habit, not principle; his courage is undoubted, having fought three duels before he was twenty years of age.
Being disappointed in his hope of promotion