Real Life In London, Volumes I. and II. Egan Pierce
of his friends, to quit the guards, and solicited an appointment in one of the Hessian corps, at that time raising for the British service in America, where the war of the revolution was then commencing, and obtained from the Landgrave of Hesse a captain's commission in his corps of Jagers.
Previous to his departure for America, finding he had involved himself in difficulties by a profuse expenditure, too extensive for his income, and an indulgence in the pleasures of the turf to a very great extent, he felt himself under the necessity of mortgaging an estate of about 11,000L. per annum, left him by his aunt, and which proved unequal to the liquidation of his debts. He remained in America till the end of the war, where he distinguished himself for bravery, and suffered much with the yellow fever. On his return, he obtained an introduction to the Prince of Wales, who by that time had lanched into public life, and became one of the jovial characters whom he selected for his associates; and many are the amusing anecdotes related of him. The Prince conferred on him the appointment of equerry, with a salary of 300L. a year; this, however, he lost on the retrenchments that were afterwards made in the household of His Royal Highness. He continued, however, to be one of his constant companions, and while in his favour they were accustomed to practice strange vagaries. The Major was always a wag, ripe and ready for a spree or a lark.
“To him a frolic was a high delight,
A frolic he would hunt for, day and night,
Careless how prudence on the sport might frown.”
At one time, when the favourite's finances were rather low, and the mopusses ran taper, it was remarked among the 60 vivants of the party, that the Major had not for some time given them an invitation. This, however, he promised to do, and fixed the day—the Prince having engaged to make one. Upon this occasion he took lodgings in Tottenham-court Road—went to a wine-merchant—promised to introduce him to the royal presence, upon his engaging to find wine for the party, which was readily acceded to; and a dinner of three courses was served up. Three such courses, perhaps, were never before seen; when the company were seated, two large dishes appeared; one was placed at the top of the table, and one at the bottom; all was anxious expectation: the covers being removed, exhibited to view, a baked shoulder of mutton at top, and baked potatoes at the bottom. They all looked around with astonishment, but, knowing the general eccentricity of their host, they readily fell into his humour, and partook of his fare; not doubting but the second course would make ample amends for the first. The wine was good, and the Major apologized for his accommodations, being, as he said, a family sort of man, and the dinner, though somewhat uncommon, was not such an one as is described by Goldsmith:
“At the top, a fried liver and bacon were seen;
At the bottom was tripe, in a swinging tureen;
At the sides there were spinach and pudding made hot;
In the middle a place where the pasty—was not.”
At length the second course appeared; when lo and behold, another baked shoulder of mutton and baked potatoes! Surprise followed surprise—but
“Another and another still succeeds.”
The third course consisted of the same fare, clearly proving that he had in his catering studied quantity more than variety; however, they enjoyed the joke, eat as much as they pleased, laughed heartily at the dinner, and after bumpering till a late hour, took their departure: it is said, however, that he introduced the wine-merchant to his Highness, who afterwards profited by his orders.{1}
1 This remarkable dinner reminds us of a laughable
caricature which made its appearance some time ago upon the
marriage of a Jew attorney, in Jewry-street, Aldgate, to the
daughter of a well-known fishmonger, of St. Peter's-alley,
Cornhill, when a certain Baronet, Alderman, Colonel, and
then Lord Mayor, opened the ball at the London Tavern, as
the partner of the bride; a circum-stance which excited
considerable curiosity and surprise at the time. We know the
worthy Baronet had been a hunter for a seat in Parliament,
but what he could be hunting among the children of Israel
is, perhaps, not so easily ascertained. We, however, are not
speaking of the character, but the caricature, which
represented the bride, not resting on Abraham's bosom, but
seated on his knee, surrounded by their guests at the
marriage-feast; while to a panel just behind them, appears
to be affixed a bill of fare, which runs thus:
First course, Fish!
Second course, Fish!!
Third course, Fish!!!
Perhaps the idea of the artist originated in the anecdote
above recorded.
It is reported that the Prince gave him a commission, under an express promise that when he could not shew it, he was no longer to enjoy his royal favour. This commission was afterwards lost by the improvident possessor, and going to call on the donor one morning, who espying him on his way, he threw up the sash and called out, “Well, George, commission or no commission?” “No commission, by G——, your Highness?” was the reply.
“Then you cannot enter here,” rejoined the prince, closing the window and the connection at the same time.
“His Lordship now resides in the Regent's Park, and may almost nightly be seen at a public-house in the neighbourhood, where he takes his grog and smokes his pipe, amusing the company around him with anecdotes of his former days; we may, perhaps, fall in with him some night in our travels, and you will find him a very amusing and sometimes very sensible sort of fellow, till he gets his grog on board, when he can be as boisterous and blustering as a coal-heaver or a bully. His present fortune is impaired by his former imprudence, but he still mingles with the sporting world, and a short time back had his pocket picked, at a milling match, of a valuable gold repeater. He has favoured the world with several literary productions, among which are Memoirs of his own Life, embellished with a view of the author, suspended from (to use the phrase of a late celebrated auctioneer) a hanging wood; and a very elaborate treatise on the Art of Rat-catching. In the advertisement of the latter work, the author engages it will enable the reader to “clear any house of these noxious vermin, however much infested, excepting only a certain great House in the neighbourhood of St. Stephen's, Westminster."{1}
1 It appears by the newspapers, that the foundation of a
certain great house in Pall Mall is rotten, and giving-way.
The cause is not stated; but as it cannot arise from being
top-heavy, we may presume that the rats have been at work
there. Query, would not an early application of the Major's
recipe have remedied the evil, and prevented the necessity
of a removal of a very heavy body, which of course, must be
attended with a very heavy expense? 'Tis a pity an old
friend should have been overlooked on such an occasion.
"Do you,” said Tom, pointing to a person on the other side of the way, “see that young man, walking with a half-smothered air of indifference, affecting to whistle as he walks, and twirling his stick? He is a once-a-week man, or, in other words, a Sunday promenader—Harry Hairbrain was born of a good family, and, at the decease of his father, became possessed of ten thousand pounds, which he sported with more zeal than discretion, so much so, that having been introduced to the gaming table by a pretended friend, and fluctuated between poverty and affluence for four years, he found himself considerably in debt, and was compelled to seek refuge in an obscure lodging, somewhere in the neighbourhood of Kilburn, in order to avoid the traps; for, as he observes, he has been among the Greeks and pigeons,